Madeleine sat frozen, barely able to breathe. She’d been part of many unpleasant conversations and witnessed more than a few shouting matches, but none of them had left her paralyzed. There didn’t seem to be a single thing in the world to say except Goodbye, followed by another chilly bike ride. She and Jonathan would have to meet another time, without the maddeningly attractive woman who’d inexplicably stormed out of here.

Jonathan cursed softly and then gave Madeleine an apologetic wince. “Sorry, Sist…Madeleine. I don’t know what’s got into her. She can have a temper, but⁠—”

“It’s fine.” Madeleine tried to smile. This wasn’t his fault.

Jonathan would not be interrupted. “She’s a good lass. She just has some…er, issues.”

Obviously. Madeleine remembered, suddenly, that Harry Duggan had said Hæra was injured when she’d arrived on Jorsay. Maybe she’d had a lot of traumatic experiences that made her volatile.

“Will you stay here, please? I’ll talk to her.” Jonathan looked at Madeleine pleadingly. “Let’s not leave it like this, all right?”

Madeleine remembered his brown eyes from the night they’d met: glazed with drink and anger. Now they were bright and clear, and there wasn’t a spot of alcohol on the table. Whatever had happened on the beach that night had changed them both.

“I’ll wait,” she said. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll want to speak to her again.”

“Hell if I’d blame you. I’ll be back in two shakes.”

Even under the circumstances, Madeleine couldn’t resist. “Of a lamb’s tail?”

Jonathan blinked at her. Then a grin widened his mouth. “Just so. Sit tight, lass. I’m off to have a word with a horse’s arse.”

Hæra leaned against the fence. The wind blew hard in her face, as if reprimanding her for her foolishness.

The foolishness of faith. The foolishness of hope. The foolishness of the last five years.

The clouds had cleared enough to reveal the sun. Full dark wouldn’t fall until half past ten, and it wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet. There was a little more time to enjoy the daylight.

Hæra could still remember the first time she’d seen the sun. She’d been a young filly. Her father had taken her to the surface, a secret from Beathag and Asgall. Hæra’s eyes had adjusted quickly from darkness to the light. Nobody on Jorsay took a sunny day for granted, but she appreciated it even more than most.

Not tonight, though. No sunlight could reach her now. She was dark as the deep trenches, where no light existed save phosphorescence, and whose pressures even an Each-uisge could not survive.

“Oi!”

Hæra groaned and rubbed her forehead. Of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Bugger off,” she said when Jonathan’s footsteps were close enough for him to hear her.