Heart's Blood

As he went to fill a cup I reached for my shawl, then realized the ghost child was wrapped up in it.The chamber was full of little drafts.

“You’re cold.” He was beside the bed, holding the cup.“You should be in a chamber with a fire, not up here.” He put the cup in my hand, then took off his cloak and laid it around my shoulders. His arm did not linger.

“Thank you, Anluan.You must be tired. Magnus said it went well this morning, with the Norman emissaries.” My words sounded awkward, artificial, as if I were making polite conversation with someone I hardly knew.

“So they’re telling me.” He moved to stand awkwardly by the wall. He looked as if he wanted to be somewhere else. “Caitrin, there’s something I must say to you. I need to do it before I . . .” He glanced at the sleeping Fianchu and the little spirit curled up beside him. “I need to do it right now.”

Now I was really cold; chill to the bone. “Go on, then,” I said.

“This morning I spoke words of challenge down in the settlement. I vowed that I would lead my people against anyone who tried to take our land and our independence. I committed myself and my household to action. Most likely that means armed conflict. I did what you challenged me to do, Caitrin. I acted like a chieftain.”

“I know how much courage that took,” I said, but my voice was small amid the shadows of the chamber.The image in my mind, his hand smashing the mirror, his cruel visions of the man he could never be, did not fit with this grim-jawed stranger. There was a core of iron in his voice. “I always knew you could do it, Anluan. They will follow you, I’m sure of it—not only the host, but your people all over your territory. We’ll stand by you, whatever happens . . .” I faltered to a halt. He had turned to look at me, and what I saw in his eyes made it impossible to go on. “What?” I croaked. “What’s wrong? What is it you need to tell me?”

“Caitrin, you can’t stay here. I want you to leave.”

I couldn’t have heard right. “What did you say?” I whispered.

“Your work is done here at Whistling Tor. You cannot stay any longer.”

“But—” In my visions of the future, some less realistic than others, I had not once considered the possibility that I might leave before summer’s end.

“You wanted me to be a leader. A leader makes decisions, and this one is made. There’s no point in arguing about it. I regret the inconvenience, but you must go as soon as possible. It will take a day or two to make some arrangements for you.”

This was a bad dream, it couldn’t be happening. It made no sense at all. “What about the grimoires? What about the counterspell?” Even as I spoke, it dawned on me that he had been working up to this for some time. Magnus had said, There might be a few hard choices ahead. Rioghan had made a point of explaining my legal rights and taxing me with the idea of going home.They’d known, the two of them. Perhaps even Muirne had known. “I haven’t finished the job you hired me for!” I protested. “You said I had until the end of summer!” I love you; please don’t send me away.

“We won’t discuss this any further, Caitrin. The search for a counterspell has been overtaken by the probability of war.The grimoires must be set aside until the question of Stephen de Courcy is resolved one way or another. There’s no longer any work for you at Whistling Tor. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

“But, Anluan, even if there is no work, even if—”

“No.” The word cut off my hopes with brutal sharpness. “I hired you for a job, Caitrin, and the job is done, as far as is possible.There is nothing else for you here.”

“But . . . I had thought . . . I had hoped . . .” With the images from the shattered mirror in my mind, I struggled for a response. “Anluan, why—”

“Don’t press me on this, Caitrin.”The tone was a warning.

I sat motionless.This was no well-meaning attempt to send me out of harm’s way until the conflict was over. I would not be coming back in time of peace. He was banishing me forever.

“You will be paid for the whole summer, of course,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “You’ll need funds to travel home.”

“Home,” I said blankly. “Home.” Cillian slamming my head into the door frame, making my teeth rattle; Ita pinching the tender flesh of my breast, setting her own mark on me as she hissed vile insults. Myself cringing, trembling, silent. Helpless, voiceless, cowardly Caitrin. I drew a deep, steadying breath and felt anger come alight inside me, a small, hot flame. “Home?” I said, getting to my feet. “How dare you order me to go back to Market Cross, knowing Cillian is there? How dare you give me your trust and your friendship, and let me help you, and tell me . . .” Remembering the tender words, the gentle touches, I almost lost that fire. I’ve never met anyone like you, he’d said. His eyes had been soft then, soft with what I had foolishly thought might be the same feelings that had throbbed through my body as he held me. All I could see in those eyes now was cold determination.

The flame flared up, hot and indignant, and with it came a flood of words, words that, before tonight, I would never have believed I could say to him.“How dare you! How dare you offer me payment, as if all I needed was a bag of silver to take away from here and a pat on the head for a job well done! How dare you take that arrogant tone with me, when you made me a friend! Is this the way you treat your friends, sending them back to a place where they’ll be beaten and abused and terrified? What kind of man does that?”

His eyes darkened. His mouth tightened. He took a step towards me, bunching his left hand into a fist. I forced myself to keep still, holding his gaze. I will stand my ground. I will not flinch. I will never be cowardly Caitrin again.

“There’s more of Nechtan in you than I thought,” I said.

It was as if I had slapped him.The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as winter. A single lock of fiery hair was hanging down over his brow; he pushed it back with some violence, then turned on his heel and strode to the door, where he paused with a hand against the frame, as if to steady himself.“You believe that of me.” He spoke with his back to me, his tone incredulous. “You think I would dispatch you back to Market Cross, into the arms of that—that vile oaf. Since your opinion of me is so low, you’ll be relieved that it’s Magnus making the arrangements: an escort to Whiteshore initially, then safe carriage to the place where your sister and her husband are staying.You are too free with your challenges, Caitrin.You ask much of me.And yet, you are afraid to face your own greatest challenge, the one that sent you running up Whistling Tor and into my garden.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Anluan was gone into the night. He did not shut the door behind him; where the gallery was open to the outside I could see the dark field of the sky, sown with bright stars. Fianchu had lifted