“Mm,” I murmured. I saw on his face that he knew I was holding something back, and I wondered if he, too, had not spoken with complete frankness in the presence of those other men.

“But not now,” Johnny said. “You look quite ill. Best go and lie down for a while.” His gray eyes were searching. “You can’t save everyone.”

~Felix~

Night falls once more. At last it is quiet.

A man died today, in a fall from a cliff top. The infirmary was full of folk; I heard this news as they spoke together. One of the visitors. An accident. I saw the glances they gave me, the men who came in and out with their wounds to be dressed and their friends in attendance. I read the message in their cold eyes, their grim-set mouths. They looked, then turned their backs on me. That’s him. That’s the ill luck man. Even the warriors who are only visiting this island give me those looks. I am not welcome here. Perhaps I never was. What am I to this community but a burden and a trouble? I should go. As soon as I can, I will go and take my ill luck with me. Never mind the mission. Never mind the shadow that hovers just beyond the grasp of my mind, the darkness that nudges at me, seeking to be understood. I might linger here all summer and not remember. I might linger here forever, a blight on this place and its good people.

Gull comes to tend to me, gentle as always. He helps me wash and dry myself. He holds the pan for me, then squints at my water, nodding sagely.

“Gull,” I tell him, “I will go soon.”

“Mm-hm.” He sets the pan by the door, ready to be emptied. “And where would you be going?”

“Away. Away from the island.”

“That was always the intention, of course,” says Gull, coming to stand by the pallet, on whose edge I sit awkwardly, my shoulders slumped, my legs dangling. “That you’d all go home when you were well, yourself, Knut and Svala. But you’re not well yet, Ardal. It’ll be some time before you’re fit to travel. You must know that.”

I do know. If I were well, I would have hurt Knut when he came this morning. I would have done him harm. I still see his eyes, cold with fear, hot with violent anger. He chose the moment when Muirrin went out; he must have been keeping watch. In an instant, there he was in the infirmary, right beside my bed. I had not even time to sit up.

“You remembered,” he said. “You told.”

“I remember nothing.”

“You’re lying. The girl, Sibeal. You told her about your brother.”

I felt my whole body tighten. Sibeal. To hear her name from his lips filled me with horror.