“One would imagine,” Flannan said, “that after two hundred years, the lovers might be considered to have paid the price for their offense—surely even the hardest-hearted person would recognize that. Or were you thinking of a different kind of aftermath? One involving someone else?”

Oh, gods. It was in the manuscript. What else could he mean? She would have to do it. She would have to call in her guards and give the order.

“The curse is thorough,” he said, “is it not? Everything provided for, down to the last detail. The creature shut away where nobody can reach him. The years of howling, a stark reminder of his presence. The chances offered, leaving a slender thread of hope. But only once in fifty years, so that even if the charm of forgetting failed, even if someone lived long enough to recall the last time, what they said would likely be dismissed as an old person’s ramblings, or as a fanciful tale. The small folk of the forest—they do indeed sound like something from a tale, but since the creature has not yet died of starvation, I’m inclined to believe them real—to provide for the monster and to keep quiet about its presence. A terrible penalty to be paid if they broke that rule. Lily unable to break the curse herself; that, I take it, applied also to her descendants, if indeed they in their turn attempted it. And . . . an aftermath. A cruel and unnecessary aftermath, which seems entirely characteristic of the fey woman who ruined two young lives all those years ago.”

Geiléis could not reply. Rage and grief tore at her. He could not snatch this chance away. She could not let him do it.

“You know, don’t you?” he said. “All of it, or most of it. And, of course, although you could have shared this tale with Blackthorn—she is a woman who believes almost as passionately in honesty as she does in justice—there is that one crucial piece of information you can’t afford to have her know. Something that would make even the bravest woman in all Erin walk away. Am I right?”

Geiléis rose to her feet. One click of the fingers, and three men-at-arms would be in the chamber. Still she hesitated. There could be another way out. “What is your price?” she asked. “For silence?”

“You ask that, knowing Blackthorn is my childhood friend?”

“I ask it, knowing you have chosen to bring this to me before you took it to her. I’m not sure you understand how important this is to me, Master Flannan. I will take whatever action is necessary to set things right. To undo the curse, to free him . . . Whatever action is required. You understand?”

“One thing I do understand: that once Blackthorn hears the terms of the curse in full, she will no longer be a suitable candidate to undertake the task. It specifies that the woman should be willing. Who would be willing, knowing what the document contains?”