She looked up toward the high window. She said something, but the voice from the tower drowned it. He was not so much wailing now as shouting. Trying to say something, trying to form words we could understand. But all I could hear was pain, grief, longing.

Geiléis turned toward me. Pointed, gestured. This way. I did not say I knew already where the door was, or that the unerring path she took to that spot told me more than she realized. It was too late for doubts. Too late for accusations. Too late for anything but getting on with the job. Here I was, just below the high window; this was where the little man had sent up the basket. Geiléis stepped away, leaving me on my own. Now it really was time.

My palms were too sweaty to hold anything steady. As for my heartbeat, if I’d been tending to anyone with such a fast rate I’d have thought them about to expire on the spot. Slow your breathing, I told myself. Concentrate. Call upon your training. It may have been long ago, but a wise woman never forgets. This is a good thing you’re doing. A good thing. And when it’s done, you’re going on your true mission, the one you’ve been waiting for. Breathe deep. Strike hard. Strike true.

I faced the hedge of thorns. I had thought perhaps the creature might fall silent. But his strangled attempts to speak continued as I drew my knife. I shut out the memory of Onchú’s scars, and Caisín’s, and of the man who had died from his wounds. I gritted my teeth and cut into a branch.

There was a groaning sound, then a cracking and splitting; pieces of wood flew through the air all around me, making me duck. I shut my eyes.

The noise ended; the creature in the tower fell silent. Now there was a pathway before me, arched with thorns and just wide enough for one woman to walk along without being damaged. At its other end, the door to the tower stood ajar. The hedge had opened to let me through.

No matter how many old stories a person knows, there is no preparation for finding yourself right in the middle of one. I drew a breath and moved forward. One step. Another step. The pathway ahead remained open. But behind me I heard the thorny branches snapping back into place, barring the way to anyone who wanted to follow.

Red flowers and white bloomed side by side on the bushes; underfoot the earth was broken and uneven, as if the hedge had pulled back its roots to make the path. Deeper in, I thought I saw a scatter of bones where some poor creature had crept in long ago and been trapped. What if—no, I would not consider the possibility that the thorns would bar my way out. If I completed the task, the curse would be broken. I just had to cut off someone’s head. I just had to get my mind into the fighting mode Grim had spoken of, where all you thought of was killing the other fellow before he killed you.