“Witnesses. You must be out of your mind.” But my heart had been racing, my thoughts leaping ahead. “What witness would be prepared to come forward? Everyone knows that would amount to suicide. Or worse.”

“It’s the weakest part of the plan, I would be the first to agree.” Flannan had reached out to take my hands in his. “But you could help. What I thought was that you might find some of those women you told me of, the ones whose cases you tried to draw to Mathuin’s attention. You could talk to them, persuade them to speak out.”

“You’re crazy. Why would those women risk everything, after what happened to them? Not only were they assaulted, they were then publicly shamed and ridiculed. Some of them have got Mathuin’s little bastards to raise. Some of them were thrown out by their families—they may be destitute. And you’re asking me to drag them all the way to Mide so they can stand up and perhaps face another dose of the same? I can’t do it. I won’t do it. I’ve made promises to folk here in Dalriada, Flannan. Promises I mean to keep, one of which is that I won’t try this again.” I’d refrained from telling him what I thought about his expecting me to walk back into Laois as if I had no fear of what Mathuin might do to me. I’d held back my opinion on Flannan’s expectation that I would do this when he wasn’t prepared to go back there himself.

He’d turned a very direct look on me. I’d waited for another accusation of cowardice; waited for him to say I was no longer the woman he’d known and admired before my life turned to ashes. But what he’d said was, “I won’t ask who extracted that promise from you. As far as I’m aware there’s only one man in these parts who knows your story, and he’s got a vested interest in keeping you in the north.”

For a moment I’d thought he meant Conmael, though there was no way Flannan could know about the bond that held me in Dalriada. Then I’d realized he was speaking of Grim. “It makes no difference who it was,” I’d snapped.

“Shh. Keep your voice down.” Flannan had glanced toward the closed door of the stillroom.

“Flannan, I have to be honest. The way you set it out, my part in this sounds ill-conceived. I’m assuming you dreamed this up once you found I was still alive. It’s hard to believe you would ask it of me.”

“I ask it because you’re brave,” he’d said. “You’ve always been brave. I can’t promise the plot will succeed this time; nobody can. But it gives us the best chance we’re likely to get of seeing justice done. Yes, your part in it would be risky. I wouldn’t insult you by pretending otherwise. But I believe you can do it.”

“What happens if this plot fails as the last one did?” I’d whispered, tempted despite all my reservations. Knowing that if I acted sensibly and said no, I would always regret the missed opportunity. “What if all the conspirators make their way to Mide, or to Laois to gather witnesses, and Mathuin’s henchmen find out what’s being planned before this council of Lorcan’s gets a chance to happen? It only takes one person to get scared and whisper in the wrong ear. It only takes one careless word, one misstep, and the whole thing comes tumbling down, and us with it. You know that.” One shaky breath. “And don’t you dare tell me this is what Cass would want me to do, or I swear I’ll hit you.”