Poor Father. Only yesterday he had got his little son back. Only today he had persuaded his influential guests to sign the treaty and made a fragile peace with his estranged son-in-law. And tonight, after first Cathal, then Ciarán explained the true situation to him, he was being asked to let his daughter marry and leave home within a few days of her arrival back from a long and perilous journey to the Otherworld. In that series of extraordinary events, the fact that my bridegroom was the son of a dark prince of the Tuatha De loomed less large than it might otherwise have done.

It helped that Cathal had conducted himself so well since our return. It helped that he had treated Father with courteous respect while at the same time contributing to the debate as if they were equals. Both Johnny and Gareth spoke up in support of him as a future husband for me. Ciarán presented the case strongly, making it quite clear that I was at immediate risk if I stayed at Sevenwaters, whether or not Cathal and I married, for Mac Dara knew his son loved me; he knew Cathal would do anything to keep me safe. That gave the Lord of the Oak a strong advantage. Conor was impressed by Ciarán’s arguments, but unsure that heading north was the wisest choice for me. Perhaps he did not understand that love could be the sharpest weapon of all.

We sat up long into the night as the matter was debated. I refrained from saying what was foremost in my mind, and no doubt also in Cathal’s: that, even if Father withheld his consent to our marriage, we would be leaving Sevenwaters together. Our love bound us to each other more strongly than any formal hand-fasting could; it would endure until death, whether or not we were officially husband and wife. To be married would be good, because it would please my family better than an unorthodox arrangement. The latter could make things awkward between Father and Johnny if we were living on the island. But a hand-fasting was not essential. Leaving Sevenwaters was. Mac Dara was only a breath away.

Finally, as the candles in the small council chamber were dying down to stubs and Gareth, by the door, had given up any attempt to conceal his yawns, Father said he would allow the hand-fasting provided Mother agreed to it; he would ask her in the morning. If she was happy with the idea, the ritual would be conducted as soon as his guests had left the keep, probably within two days. That would allow time to organize a suitable escort for us—it must be substantial. I was almost too tired to take in the good news. Cathal kissed me in front of everyone, and I retired to bed. I was asleep the moment I laid my head on the pillow.