“I know. But I don’t want to go back. Gwyn lied to me my whole life. What kind of life would I be going back to? How could I live under her roof now that I know the truth she kept from me? Besides, people are bound to talk about what happened, with the fire I mean.”
“They won’t know it was you, surely?”
“There were already rumours. About Morwena mostly but I know that some were suspicious of me too.”
“Gwyn will be expecting you. She’ll worry,” he said.
“Hetty’s going to get a message to her so she knows I’m going with you.”
“She’ll still worry.”
“You don’t want me to go with you.” It was half statement, half question. Her throat tightened and tears prickled her eyes. “I know the truth, Aedan. I know you’re my father. But I’m not asking you to be responsible for me. It’s safest for us to travel together but, when we get to Braddon, I can look after myself. We don’t even have to tell anyone we’re family, if you’re ashamed of having me for a daughter.”
“Of course I’m not ashamed of you. I’m afraid for you. And not only because the guards could still be after me. Kaetha,” he studied the reins in his hands. “I don’t know how to be a father.”
“Well, I don’t really know how to be a daughter,” she muttered. “I only found out last night that Morwena was my mother.”
He was stunned into silence.
She sniffed and started Lossie walking again, overtaking Aedan. “It’s not safe for us to turn back now,” she said. “We go north.” The buckle was undone on one of her saddlebags, making it gape open. She noticed Aedan looking at it and saw how its contents wriggled.
“You brought that cat, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said, smiling as she caught his eye. “I did.”
SIX
Dreams and Revelations
The sun was high when they stopped to rest beside a stream.
“What’s for us won’t go by us,” he said as they drank from the clear water. “As toasts go, it’s the one that sounds the luckiest, I reckon. And luck is something we could certainly do with.” He led the horses down the hill where he’d spied some good grazing for them and Kaetha leant against a rock, yawned and closed her eyes, the cat curled up beside her.
Sleep called to her, offering the chance to escape from her thoughts for a while. Yet anxiety clutched at her through fragmented dreams – rock cracked and crumbled beneath her, air pounded with thunder and whipped at her skin, a blaze of scorching fire snaked around her. Then she shivered, chilled and damp, trying to look around her, though she saw nothing but darkness. She tried to reach out but her hand pressed against cold earth. With a surge of panic, she realised she had been buried alive. She woke with a jolt.
A tingling ran from her neck down the lengths of her arms. It made her think of the Fuathan and the Annisith but she told herself it was from sleeping awkwardly against the hard rock. The cat mewed, stretching out of its coiled position against her feet and sat up, staring at her, opening and closing its mouth.
“More meat later,” she said. “Wait there.”
She walked, hoping she could shake away the uncanny feeling her dreams had impressed upon her. She’d never had a dream like that before. It was as vivid as it was strange. What if it wasn’t an ordinary dream. Perhaps as it was about being buried alive, it was alerting her to the fact that Morwena wasn’t really dead. She had a sudden urge to return to Feodail, home pulling at her just as danger and pride pushed her back.
She’d never been this far north before. It was as if a veil had been drawn over her old life and, as she viewed the new and unknown world around her, she pulled Morwena’s cloak tight around her. I cannot go home, she thought, picturing the embroidered map, the glittering fish. “I am going to Braddon with my father.” Saying it aloud made it feel more real.
A stag trotted nearby, seeming to be in a hurry but, upon turning its regal, antlered head to face her, it stopped in its tracks and looked her in the eyes. Then it turned and ran again, as if being chased, disappearing behind a huge rock. If there were hunters nearby, it was about time she and Aedan left. When the stag came into view again, she noticed it was heading north-west – in the direction of Braddon, she realised. Perhaps it was best to ignore the confused uncertainties of her dream. Perhaps this was the sign she should pay attention to, a good omen about her chosen path.
They’d wound through deer trails and forded streams, eventually considering it safe to rejoin the road where their progress was swifter.
“I thought we’d have reached Glenstead by now,” said Kaetha, blinking away rain.
They just managed to find a barn to sleep in before the last of the sunlight faded. Curled up in the hay, Kaetha found a nudge of warmth, though it feebly countered the punch of cold that blew through the gaps in the walls. Despite this, as well as her constant whirling of anxious thoughts, she found it surprisingly easy to sink into the sleep her exhausted body needed.
Gwyn had gone out early and Morwena dismissed the servants. It was just the two of them. She watched her guardian ladle porridge into a bowl before sitting beside her. The oaty smell comforted her like a warm blanket and she suddenly felt hungrier than she ever had before. Pains gripped her stomach, she knew she needed to eat or she might die but, as she reached for the bowl, Morwena snatched it
