My sisters and I had remained in the hall after the meal to watch the signing, for the treaty was a momentous achievement by any measure. We had left the table once supper was over and now stood by the hearth as the men completed their formal business. Inis Eala guards were stationed around the hall, a presence that could never be described as discreet, since their tattooed faces and generally fearsome air must always draw attention. However, tonight it seemed Johnny had told them to be unobtrusive; they did their best to blend into the background, but their eyes were knife sharp. Cathal was not present. I had not seen him since the meeting with Illann. I hoped he was sleeping.

“Thank goodness,” murmured Deirdre in my ear as Conor sprinkled sand over the treaty document to hasten the drying of the ink, and the chieftains mingled affably around the dais. “It’s signed at last. Illann said Cathal apologized this afternoon. Did you make him do that, Clodagh?”

“Me? No. It was all his own idea.”

“It surprised me,” Deirdre said. “He doesn’t seem the kind of man who would ever admit to an error. He really is an odd choice as a future husband, Clodagh.”

“All the same, I hope you’ll be able to stay on for our hand-fasting.”

“When is it to be?”

Since Father had not actually agreed to our marriage yet, I had no answer for her.

Muirrin, who was on my other side, said, “I’m traveling back to Inis Eala in about ten days. It would make sense for us to share an escort, Clodagh.”

Ten days. It wasn’t long to arrange a wedding. But then, I didn’t need the feast, the dancing and the fine guests. “That would be good,” I said. “I’ll speak to Father.”

“It’s rather soon,” commented Deirdre, narrowing her eyes at me. “Is there something you’re not telling us, Clodagh?”

At first I had no idea what she meant. Then I recalled that sufficient time had passed in the human world for me to have shared Cathal’s bed, conceived a child and had the first indications of pregnancy. Gods, I thought, if things had worked out differently, I might have been carrying that boy Mac Dara wanted. I might have walked away from the Otherworld with Cathal’s son, or his father’s, in my belly and a dark promise hanging over me. “No, Deirdre,” I said. “Nothing at all.”

A sudden hush in the hall; the signing done, Father had stepped onto the dais and was raising his hands for quiet.