Rorie’s eyes meeting hers jolted her from her train of thought. The music and chatter was too loud. Had he asked her to dance? He lifted his hand and she placed hers in it, her face growing suddenly warm. His other hand was a gentle pressure on her waist. She laughed and danced, finding herself thinking of nothing but the music and Rorie.
When she was too tired to dance anymore, Kaetha took a seat in the corner next to Finola. They watched, laughing as Rorie’s arm was grabbed by a surprisingly strong seamstress named Muireal who thrust and whirled him through them next dance.
“It’s been a long while since I last saw you,” said Finola.
Kaetha looked down when some of the townsfolk she didn’t know shot Finola and her stony looks.
“The people on our side who are here tonight outnumber those fearful of our magic,” said Finola. “I’m sure we’re safe, though perhaps we shouldn’t be seen talking together for too long.” She clutched a carved wooden charm which hung around her neck. “It’s a protection charm,” she said when she noticed Kaetha looking.
Finola sat with a heavy stillness, as though her usual light energy had been stolen. Her eyes darted, following the motions of the dance.
“Can’t you—?” said Kaetha. “Don’t you want to dance?”
“The wounds are much better, thanks to Cailean’s poultices, but some went deep. They’re still tender with sudden movements.”
“I’m sorry—” A lump swelled in Kaetha’s throat. “I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I could have stopped it.”
Finola dropped her voice. “What you did . . . the sparks, his hand . . . I know it was you. You put yourself at risk to defend me. Thank you.” She squeezed Kaetha’s hand before getting up. Kaetha sat alone, feeling the curved grooves of the protection charm Finola had left in her palm. Whilst grateful for her kindness, she had no faith in the charm’s power. She thought it would be more dangerous than helpful if it was found in her possession by the wrong people.
She pocketed it surreptitiously, her eyes fixed on the musicians. Alan Sangster took up his harp, thrusting the fiddle into Donnan’s hands. He frowned as he ran his fingertips over the strings, like he was caressing someone’s face. He caught Kaetha’s eye, then took up the fiddle, joining in Alan’s tune. He carried himself differently as if the music lifted away all his cares. A smile spread over Kaetha’s face as she clapped along, wondering at this talent that he’d hidden from her, watching him play as if she was seeing him for the first time.
Aedan had seen Donnan too and was grinning broadly. Then something caught his eye and he froze, a shadow passing over his face. Through the window, Kaetha glimpsed a slight figure in a dark cloak, face concealed under its hood, and she knew it to be the woman from the secret meeting weeks ago. The woman slipped out of sight.
Aedan smiled and chatted, masking his discomfort well as he worked his way across the room. When most people were distracted by Muireal’s solo display of spins, leaps and kicks, he slipped through the door.
Kaetha found herself actually feeling sorry for Mairi. How could they ever be happy if this affair continued? ‘Morwena was better off without me’ he’d said to her once. She’d often wondered what he’d meant. Would he try to see this other woman in secret whilst he was married? Was that really the kind of man he was? She decided to follow him.
Hushed voices came from the alleyway at the side of the tavern and she pressed herself against the wall near the corner of the tavern. How could you, she thought. On your wedding day.
“How else was I to get your answer?” whispered the woman. Her voice was familiar, though it was too hushed to recognise.
Aedan gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll send it,” said Aedan. “But I have others to think about as you well know. . .”
“Why are you out here, Kaetha?” said Donnan. She came back to the doorway where he stood with a puzzled expression. “A new dance is starting. I wondered if you—”
Then Rorie appeared, taking her hand again. “Come on, lass. That’s not how we ceilidh around here. Come and dance some more.”
She glanced back once more in her father’s direction before going back inside, masking her confusion with what she hoped was a carefree smile.
“Dance with Elspet, Donnan. She’s expecting you to ask her.” She smiled as Donnan’s cheeks went pink. Rorie led her into the centre of a ring of dancers where they were clapped and cheered as they danced. Aedan took up his place beside Mairi as if he’d never been gone. Rather than taking Kaetha’s advice, Donnan joined in the tune, sawing his bow feverishly over the strings, so fast that Alan and his musicians struggled to keep up.
Then it was Aedan and Mairi’s turn to dance in the ring. Kaetha was clapping along with the others but stopped to rub the back of her neck. Her smile dropped. She knew that the prickling on her skin wasn’t from the heat of the room or an insect bite.
Music and laughter dulled, the sound of her own breathing rushing in her ears. The roaring fire in the circular stone hearth at the far end of the room drew her gaze. The fire was brighter than before. A Faydrake. She sensed its presence in the flames and, more than that, she realised now that she recognised
