“Any time,” Cathal said lightly. “Be honest, that’s my advice. This isn’t a woman you can sweet-talk into forgiveness. If you want her to change her mind, do what you should have done right at the beginning. Tell her the truth.”

The sound of horses moving, then, and from around the corner of the stables new voices, Doran’s, Eilis’s. I seized the opportunity to head off for the house, deeply embarrassed and much surprised. Aidan really was serious about me. And Cathal, it seemed, was not entirely the unpleasant character he appeared to be, at least not where his friend was concerned. Today’s picnic had indeed come about through a conspiracy, but it was of Cathal’s making. It had been set up solely to give Aidan the opportunity to explain himself to me. I would not have believed Cathal capable of such a generous act of friendship—I did not imagine he himself relished the prospect of such an outing. As I packed up food for our midday meal, I was forced to acknowledge that I might possibly have misjudged him.

It was a crisp, bright morning. The sky was cloudless, the forest alive with creatures chirping and buzzing their responses to the spring sunshine. As we rode along the light-dappled tracks, further and further from the keep of Sevenwaters, the magic of the day settled over me. For a little, I thought, I would set aside worries about my mother’s health or my father’s political problems or indeed about Aidan and the awkward conversation that was looming. I would simply enjoy the day and deal with things as they arose.

“We can go all the way to the Pudding Bowl, can’t we, Clodagh?” asked Eilis. I was riding alongside her. Doran was in front with Coll, and the others were spread out behind—Aidan, Sibeal, Cathal. The path rose slowly through the reaches of Sevenwaters forest, winding around the hillside and crossing several streamlets on its way up toward the lake. In some places it was wide enough to accommodate three riders abreast, but there were narrow, steep sections where it must be traversed in single file.

“I told Johnny that’s where we’d go,” I said. “It means you children can stretch your ponies.”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep calling us children, Clodagh,” said Coll over his shoulder. “I’m nearly eleven, you know. Cormack wasn’t much older than that when he fought in his first battle.” Cormack was the next brother, and a warrior of some note.

“He was at least fourteen,” I said. “And there’s a lot of difference in those four years. But if you hate it so much, I won’t call you a child. Eilis, now, she’s a different matter.” I glanced at my little sister. “When she learns to do her share of household duties without a fuss, I might start referring to her as a young lady.”