We kept our voices to an undertone. Although the courtyard was deserted, Geiléis’s retainers had a habit of appearing without warning. Then there was Grim. If there was anyone I didn’t want to hear this conversation it was him.

“I thought you wanted to do it,” Flannan said. “I thought you wanted to help her. Another day or two, it’s not long.”

“I do. I did. Only . . . I think I’m missing something. It feels a bit too clear-cut, the appearance of this manuscript too timely, everything a little too neat. And . . .”

“And what?”

“I went out to visit some local people earlier today. That visit made me sad. Disillusioned. I never had a lot of faith in folk’s natural goodness, not even when I was young. Didn’t have much cause to. But this . . . Since we came here, I’ve started thinking we’re all selfish bastards, every last one of us. Don’t care about anything but our own interests.”

“That’s pretty harsh.”

“There might be a handful of exceptions.” Prince Oran and Lady Flidais. Donncha, when he wasn’t under Geiléis’s thumb. Emer, the young woman I was training back at Winterfalls. Grim. “But they’re not enough to balance up the hate and selfishness and distrust. And I’m sick of dealing with it.” My promise to Conmael meant I must use my gifts only for good. It bound me to say yes to anyone who asked for my help. And it forbade me from leaving Dalriada or seeking revenge against my old enemy. Within days I would break that third part and head south with Flannan. As for the second part, I was having difficulty finding the will to help anyone. I wondered if it was really worth the effort. Especially when I might get myself killed trying.

“Blackthorn,” said Flannan softly. He stopped walking and took my hands in his. “That doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You and I have a mission, and it’s far bigger than Geiléis and her monster in the tower. But you need to think this through. The time for us to leave is Midsummer Eve, as we planned. After you break the curse, everything will be confusion for a while. It’s the ideal time to slip away unnoticed. Provided Grim’s not around, that is.”

“You can leave Grim to me. Just don’t say anything in front of him about what time on Midsummer Eve we’ll be attempting this. His work at St. Olcan’s isn’t finished yet, and if he plans to spend tomorrow teaching me how to chop off a man’s head, it most likely won’t be finished by Midsummer Eve. I’ll tell him he can fit in a half day’s work and still be back in time.” Now I was sounding as selfish and untrustworthy as the rest of humankind. And who, after all, was I to judge anyone? A worn-out, angry apology for a wise woman, who only did good deeds because Conmael’s agreement bound me to it. That solitary cottage deep in the woods, the one I sometimes imagined for myself, was sounding very appealing: a bolt-hole where I could live out my life and be as bitter and cantankerous as I wanted. “Only . . . I have a strange feeling about this. About Geiléis and the whole thing with the tower. As if there’s something more, something I need to know or it will all be a disaster.” Not to speak of having to lie to Grim and get away with it.