“If you think I spend my spare time dreaming up exciting stories about your misspent youth, Cathal, your capacity for self-delusion is more impressive than I realized. Besides, how can I accept the truth if I don’t know what it is?”

“Why should you want to know? Have I ever asked you about your childhood?”

“If you did, I’d have no reason not to tell you.” As soon as I had said this, I realized how wrong it was—any tale about Sevenwaters had to include the uncanny influence of the Fair Folk. I could imagine how Cathal would respond if I told him, for instance, that Conor and his brothers had once spent three years in the form of swans. “But you wouldn’t ask,” I added. “In your book, my story would be unutterably boring.”

There was a silence, and then he surprised me by saying, “I’m sorry I called you that, Clodagh. These remarks come out sometimes, and once they’re spoken it’s too late to withdraw them. I did not know you then.”

“You scarcely do now, Cathal. Nor I you.”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s my story that is the boring one. My mother was Aidan’s wet-nurse. He and I were born within days of each other and were suckled together. Aidan’s father is a good man. He saw that my mother would have difficulty in providing for me as I grew up, so he took me into his household as a friend and companion for his son. Thus I gained an education beyond what might be considered my natural entitlement in the scheme of things. I received a training in arms that allowed me to accompany Aidan when he went to Inis Eala. That’s the end of the story. I told you it was tedious.” His elbows were on his knees now, his dark head bowed. He was making his fingers into a knot.

There was an obvious element missing from his story. At least I know who my father is, Aidan had said, taunting his friend. It was not something I could ask Cathal about.

“Clodagh.” Cathal’s tone had changed again.

“What?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. You may not like it much. Will you hear me out?”

I was intrigued. “That depends on what it is,” I said. “I can’t stay out here long.”

“I want you to consider a hypothetical situation. It concerns a strategic matter.”

This was the last thing I had expected. “You’re talking to the wrong person,” I told him. “Speak to Johnny. Or to my father.”

“Wait till I’m finished, Clodagh, will you? You remember what Sibeal said about twins in your family and the special ability they are supposed to have?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously. “I thought that where such phenomena were concerned you were a complete cynic.”