Blackthorn smiles, a good smile that lights up her face. I think of her in the tower, facing the monster all on her own, and it twists the heart in my chest. I give her a smile back. For a bit, it feels like just the two of us in the room.

Then she says, “Flannan, I’d like a private word, if you have time. Will you be staying here tonight?”

“Since it’s so late, I must request Lady Geiléis’s hospitality again, I fear.”

“But of course. You’ve done us such an immense favor, Master Flannan, with this discovery . . . Senach has sleeping quarters prepared for you already, in anticipation of this.”

“Thank you. Blackthorn, perhaps we might walk around the courtyard?”

They get up and go out, the two of them. Leaving me with Senach and Geiléis, and the whole heavy weight of what Flannan’s told us, an odd tale indeed. Something about it doesn’t add up. Hope Blackthorn’s not long; I want to hear what she thinks.

“I’ll take my leave,” I say. “Might stroll over to the stables and have a word with Onchú tonight, see about a weapon for Blackthorn. Sooner the better.”

“Take a lantern,” says Senach. “Dau will have one in the kitchen. We don’t want you tripping and breaking a leg, so close to midsummer.”

Funny how that sounds more like a threat than a warning. Got too much on my mind, not thinking straight. Tired too. Long day. Telling my story up at St. Olcan’s, that’s the part that wore me out, not climbing around on the roof. Felt good when I’d got it all out, cried some tears that have been a long time coming. Felt almost peaceful. Didn’t last long. She’s going to do it. She’s really going to do it. Hack through the thorns, rush up the tower, chop off the monster’s head. All by herself. Crazy. What if that thing Flannan translated is only a made-up story? What if it’s all a trick?

Shut it, Grim. Get your big self over to the guards’ quarters and do the stuff you can do. And if Blackthorn’s out there having a heart-to-heart talk with Flannan, be glad she’s got a friend, a proper one who’s book-learned and clever. A man she’s known since she was young. A man who’s not carrying a burden on his back, a man who won’t lose himself in his own troubles. A man she can trust. What you think of him doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter one little bit.

35

Blackthorn

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” Flannan said. “Lady Geiléis will be devastated.”

“I’m not. Not now I’ve heard the story. But you can’t deny the risk. Even if this creature was once a man, the curse transformed it. It could be all teeth and claws, and strong enough to snap me in two. But then, you probably don’t believe any of it. You always said the old tales were too fanciful to contain any grain of truth. So why aren’t you simply dismissing this whole thing? What do you care about Lady Geiléis’s feelings? It would make more sense for us to forget her and her monster and slip away south while everyone else is planning for Midsummer Eve. Wouldn’t it? We could do it as soon as Grim goes back up to St. Olcan’s.”