“I doubt if you’ll be able to stop yourself,” I said dryly. “But not if any of Father’s guests are about, do you understand?”

“Yes, Clodagh.” The compliant words were belied by her cheeky grin. Well, I supposed it would be an open secret soon enough, that one of Lord Sean’s daughters was marrying a man who was only half human. This would make it doubly important for Eilis to wed as well as Deirdre had, when her turn came. I wished her a man who would be suitable both in the eyes of the world and in hers.

I went out into the courtyard, wondering whether Cathal, too, had found himself unable to sleep. Strolling down toward the stables, I remembered housing Willow in the little harness room during her visit to our home. I thought again of her strange tales and how I had been so slow to understand their true meanings. The clurichauns, the magical signs hidden in clothing, the significance of green; it should have alerted me to the importance of Cathal’s cloak with its cargo of talismans designed to protect him from his father. Instead, for a little I had believed it might mean he was a traitor. Wolf-child; I had seen Cathal in that tale from the first. I had recognized in it his chill awareness of being forever outside, forever different. As for the story of the fairy woman and her half-human daughter, the charm cast by Albha had been exact in its revelation of what awaited Cathal in the Otherworld. He had understood it; I had failed to do so until it was almost too late. And if I hadn’t left the hall halfway through the tale, perhaps I would have realized right at the start that even the most powerful of charms can be undone, if only one has the key.

By the stables something stirred. I squinted against the sun, trying to make it out. What was that by the door to the harness room, a shadow against the silver-gray of the weathered wood . . . a figure in a hooded cloak? A chill ran through me, deep in the marrow. Mac Dara couldn’t be here, not so soon, surely. The Lord of the Oak was subtle, a plotter. If he came back in a fresh attempt to harm me or to lure Cathal—when he came—he would plan his mission with care. I looked again. Now there were several men there, Inis Eala warriors leading horses out to the yard. One man wore a gray cloak, but the hood was down, revealing close-cropped hair and facial tattoos. The others were in tunics and trousers. A false alarm. Probably. Later, I would tell Cathal. And I would tell Father. Mac Dara must not be given an opportunity to use my family as leverage again. And I would die before I let him take Cathal.

“Clodagh?”

I whirled around.