I would not let myself say an impetuous yes to Flannan’s plan. I’d nearly made a bad mistake last autumn when I’d rushed off south without thinking things through. I had to consider this soberly, when the thrill of terrified excitement had died down. I needed to weigh up the risks and advantages of each course of action. I could come back to court after midsummer. I could honor my promise to Flidais and respect my vow to Conmael. I could set aside the burning need that had kept me alive all those years since Cass and Brennan died, and all those filthy, desperate days in Mathuin’s lockup. Or I could choose to slip away with Flannan, turn my back on Dalriada, seize the unexpected gift of another chance. How likely was it, really, that Conmael would make good on his threat to send me back to the lockup if I went south? I could bear witness as Mathuin faced justice; I could have vengeance for my dear ones at last.

As for Grim and what would happen to him if I chose the second course, I would face that difficulty when the time came.

• • •

So we rode out: Geiléis and her men-at-arms, Flannan, Grim and me, with the dog, Ripple, running alongside. Geiléis had told us the journey would take five days. I discovered at the end of the first day that the lady’s idea of camping was to have her men erect a tentlike shelter for her, make a fire, prepare her a meal and generally attend to all her needs. The men-at-arms had brought all the materials for a camp, either on the pack horse or in their saddlebags. They set everything up with such practiced efficiency that it did not feel right to offer help, though Grim did knock in a few tent pegs. Geiléis offered me a shelter of my own for the night, along with soft bedding, and I declined.

“We’re used to sleeping in the open. And the weather’s dry. We’ll find ourselves a spot by the fire. But thank you,” I made myself add, thinking how odd it felt to be treated like a lady, even though Lady had been Grim’s name for me in that place, when it had been more or less the opposite of what incarceration had reduced me to.

Cormac’s Crossing, where we’d stopped, was at the edge of some woodland, with a sizable stream nearby. We’d been well supplied from the royal kitchens, but from force of habit Grim and I dropped lines in the water and, somewhat to our surprise, caught enough fish for everyone to have a share. Grim cleaned them and cooked them over the fire; Ripple stayed close to him, eager for scraps. I gathered a supply of edible greens to make it into more of a meal. Flannan didn’t have much to say. He watched us with what appeared to be amusement, making me even edgier than I already was.