“You’re saying you won’t go with me.” Now Brión looked up at her, and his eyes were bleak. “You don’t love me enough to go.”

“That’s not fair!” Was this to be their first argument? “You must know that! You ask me to leave everything behind, to leave my family without a word of farewell, to travel away when I don’t even know where I’m going, and you expect me to do it without any idea why? I’ve always thought that if you love someone, you trust them with the truth. If you can’t do that, then perhaps . . .” Then perhaps we should not be together. Perhaps we are not right for each other after all. She could not say it. She loved him with all her heart; she knew he was the only one.

“I should go,” Brión said. “I should go away and leave you to get on with your life. I am no good for you, Lily.”

“No,” said Lily. “You should be brave. Running away isn’t brave. The brave thing, the hard thing is to tell the truth. To face up to whatever it is.”

Brión glanced across the garden to where Muiríol and the gardener were still engaged in conversation. He looked back toward the house, then over to the outer gate, as if there might be listening ears everywhere. “Not here,” he said. “I can’t risk anyone overhearing.”

“Then we’ll walk a little way. You’re supposed to be walking to get your strength back.” It had surprised her that he had not wanted to exercise much; indeed, he had seemed reluctant to venture far at all. Now he got to his feet and they walked together, down to the far end of the garden, farther away from the others. The little gate in the outer wall stood open; that would earn the kennel lads a reprimand. “Why don’t we go out toward the forest, just for a short while?” Lily suggested, at the same time gesturing to Muiríol across the garden to indicate what she intended. Muiríol was sympathetic; she would turn a blind eye unless there was a real risk involved. “We’ll stay close to the gate, of course. But out there, we can talk in private.”

It was most improper, and perhaps unwise as well. Lily slipped her hand through Brión’s arm and felt him shivering, deep within. Probably she should send for someone to take him inside, and straight back to bed. But Lily had a greater fear—that the mystery would never be properly explained, and that the man she loved would head off home or, worse still, run away to an unknown destination on his own, and that she would never see him again. That fear was enough to draw her out through the gate, leading her sweetheart with her. And now they were on the greensward, between the outer wall of her father’s stronghold and the edge of the forest. The day was fine; the birds were singing; a light breeze tossed little clouds about in the sky. Here and there flowers bloomed in the long grass. Not far away, a stream gurgled into a small pool; frogs sang a croaking chorus. From this spot only the very highest point of the tower could be seen above the dark blanket of the trees. Lily screwed up her eyes, trying to see the window. Were the shutters open or closed?