We made our way to the little walled garden outside the stillroom door. It was a peaceful place set with stone benches and shaded by flowering trees, with a lovely lilac in the center. The air was full of the healing scents of lavender and thyme. Step across the field of thyme, fall so far you cannot climb . . . I would never feel quite the same about that smell again. Cathal and I sat down on a bench, side by side, hand in hand, and waited.

The first person to find us was my father, who stepped out through the stillroom door looking every bit the chieftain in his council attire of dark tunic and trousers, pristine linen shirt and short cloak, only to run across to me and, as I stood up, envelop me in a fierce embrace.

“Clodagh!” he said indistinctly. “You’re safe! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“It’s all right.” My reply was shaky in the extreme. “I understand why you acted as you did, Father. Mac Dara cast his net over all of us for a while. How is Mother? Is she well? What about Finbar?”

But Father was looking at Cathal now, and Cathal, standing very still beside me, was meeting his gaze steadily. There was much in that look; almost too much. I opened my mouth to offer explanations, but at that moment Johnny strode out of the house, a big smile on his tattooed features, and threw his arms around Cathal.

“You’re back,” my cousin said. “Thank all the gods.”

“It is not the gods you should thank,” said Cathal quietly, “but Clodagh. I owe my presence here today entirely to her intervention.” He took my hand again; I felt the trembling in his. His uncertainty about the future was real, despite the bright welcome in Johnny’s eyes.

“I’ll need an account of your actions as soon as possible,” Father said, his gaze still on Cathal. “We have a number of influential chieftains gathered in the house, and your return has . . . implications.” Behind his words loomed not only the doubt that had hung over Cathal himself, but the issue of Glencarnagh, and the fact that it was Cathal who had called Illann’s role into question.

I glanced at Johnny, trying not to make it too obvious. “We’re both very tired,” I said. “Most of what we have to say can wait, can’t it? But I should tell you about Glencarnagh . . .” Faces, walls, bushes began to turn in circles around me and I swayed, then sagged down onto the bench. “Sorry,” I murmured as Cathal came to sit by me, his arm around my shoulders.

“Glencarnagh?” Cathal queried, as if he had never heard the name before. It took a moment for me to remember that he had been away a long time.