There was no sound in the cavern, but in my mind I heard his voice. I want him to know that I am content, he said. He should feel no regret for what happened. We always knew, my father, my mother and I, that he was the one who would make his mark, break new ground, find paths hitherto unexplored. It was in him from the first, when he was only a scrap of a boy. It’s not his fault that I’m gone. I made my choice, and this is where it led me. He should go forward, speak out, be the brave heart he always was. I don’t think he ever knew how proud Father was of him; I don’t think my brother ever understood how rare such courage is. Paul looked out of the water and straight into my eyes, and he smiled. With you by his side, he will be happy, he said, making tears well in my eyes. Look after him for me, will you? And with a ripple and a passing shadow, he was gone.

“I can’t,” I whispered into the silence. “I can’t do it. I can’t honor your wishes. I can’t obey the gods. I can’t do anything at all.” It seemed I still had not yet wept all my tears, for they flowed now as they had the day before, helpless tears, the tears of a child lost in a maze and running out of choices. I sobbed until my nose ran and my chest hurt. There wasn’t a scrap of druidic strength to be found in me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it anyway. I buried my head in my hands and let sorrow claim me.

Much later, when the worst of it was over, I lifted my head, wiped my face on my sleeve and became aware that I was no longer alone in the cavern. Ciarán was sitting a short distance away, in his usual cross-legged, straight-backed pose, not looking at me, simply waiting, his eyes calm and clear as he gazed across the water. In a moment he would ask me what was the matter. I had no idea what to say to him.

“Perhaps it will help if I tell you I’m aware that you are struggling with your vocation, Sibeal, and that I know your young Armorican, Felix, is part of the problem. Don’t look so surprised; I had only to see him take your hand on the jetty to be aware of the bond between you.”

“I’m—I can’t—you won’t understand. Even I don’t understand.” If this was what it meant to grow up, I thought I might prefer to stay a child forever. And yet . . .

He gave a little smile. “Try me, Sibeal.”

“You won’t like it.”

“You know better than to anticipate my response. I see how unhappy you are. Tell me why.”