Resolve fluttered across Diarmuid's face and he straightened his shoulders.
"Bramble. Brigit." He took a deep breath and tried again. "Brigit, I came to apologise."
"For what?"
My heart is hard, like rock. I will not bend like a willow, like a weak woman.
"For… for everything. For not seeing you, not listening to you. For taking you for granted. For letting you think I didn't w-want you."
"Right from the start you were trying to shove me off onto someone else." My tone was hard with accusation. "You wanted to leave me at Owain's house."
"I was trying to do what was best for you." His eyes begged me to believe. "I didn't know what was ahead of me and thought you would be safer if you stayed with Owain. You seemed to like him. I thought you would be happy there."
"So you thought you had the right to make decisions for me?"
"You were a dog. Or, that is, I thought you were. You were already special to me. We needed each other those first nights in the woods. Neither of us would have survived alone. I thought you belonged to someone who lived nearby and if you stayed with Owain, they might find you. And if they didn't, I knew Owain would take good care of you. And that's all I wanted. To protect you."
What I wanted was to throw my arms around him and never let him go, but I held them stiffly to my chest, sternly forbidding them to move. I would
not
fall for his sweet words.
"I didn't need protecting."
"Brigit, you were half dead when you found me. I didn't think you would survive the night."
"I would have gotten through somehow. I didn't need you to come sweeping in and rescue me."
"All right, then, I'm sorry." There was a hint of frustration in his voice. "I'm sorry I saved your life. I'm sorry I didn't leave you to bleed to death in the forest, sorry I tried to protect you. I'm sorry for everything."
Diarmuid ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned back to his horse. "I'm sorry I disturbed you today. You don't have to worry about it happening again. You won't see me again." He grasped the reins and set a foot in the stirrup.
My heart stirred and myriad images flashed through my mind: Diarmuid tenderly washing the blood from my paw. Cupping his hand and filling it with water so I could drink. Lifting the blanket so I could curl up next to him, his warmth holding the freezing night at bay. Wrapping his arms around me at night as he prattled endlessly while I wished he would shut up and go to sleep. He was the reason the fey had sent me on such a journey. I could be stubborn and let him leave, or I could let him in.
"Wait," I said.
Diarmuid turned back to me so quickly his foot caught in the stirrup and he almost fell. He said nothing, but at least he waited.
My mouth went dry and my knees started to shake. I didn't know what to say. Yes, there were probably things I needed to apologise for but my mind was as blank as his face. So I did the only thing I could. I threw my arms around him and wept.
Diarmuid didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms firmly around me.
"Bramble-" he started.
"Ssh," I said, wiping away tears. "It's all right."
"I might not have seen what you really were but I loved you from the first moment I saw you. You were covered in blood and barely able to stand and yet you held your head high as you stumbled towards me. A scruffy little beast so full of courage."
There was only one answer I could give. "Diarmuid, I suggest you shut up and kiss me."
"Happy to oblige," he said.
As his lips met mine, a warm tingle raced through my whole body. I didn't know why the fey wanted us together but clearly this was what they intended when they ordered me to journey to an undisclosed destination. If only I had known.
I kissed Brigit and my heart sang. When we finally drew apart, she took my hand.
"Come inside and meet my mother," she said. "I suspect she knew you were coming today."
"How would she know such a thing?"
"The visions," she said, as if that explained everything. "Mother is a wise woman. She has trained me for the same career."
"You're a wise woman?"
"Not yet but I'm learning. I could have helped you much on your journey, had I been in my own form."
"You helped enough."
My legs trembled with sudden nerves as we approached the stone lodge. It was smaller than the house at Silver Downs but looked cozy and sturdily made. The front door opened and the woman who stood there had the same sharp nose as Brigit and the same hair that refused to be restrained. The apron over her work dress was smudged with evidence of the day's chores. She smiled at me and her eyes shimmered with tears.
"You come at last," she said and hugged me fiercely. "I'm Treasa."
I stiffened and awkwardly hugged her back.
"You recognise him," Brigit said. She sounded unsurprised.
Treasa raised a hand to rest it against Brigit's cheek. "Brigit, my dear, I knew he was for you the first time the Sight showed him to me and that was long before your birth."
"How much-" I stammered. "That is, do you know-"
"I know enough," Treasa said, kindly. "What the Sight didn't show, Brigit told me. And now you must carry the consequences with you. It must be very difficult."
It was the first time anyone had shown sympathy and my eyes burned. I quickly blinked away the tears.
"It was difficult at first but I'm growing more used to it every day. She doesn't seem very strong yet but Fiachra, my brother who is a druid, says she will regain her strength in time. I don't know whether I can keep her contained for ever."
As I spoke, Treasa led us into the kitchen. She took three mugs from a shelf and added a scoop of something from one container, a pinch from another, and a sprinkle from a third, then filled them with water from a pot on the wood stove.
"Is there any other option?" Treasa set the mugs on the well-worn table and motioned for me to sit.
I pulled out a sturdy wooden chair. Bramble sat close beside me, her hand still tucked in mine.
"No," I said. "There is no other option. If I do not keep her contained, she might take over my body or she could escape. And I don't think I could restrain her if she got away from me again."
"We do what we must," Treasa said. "And that is as it should be. Now, your tales. Do you still tell them?"
I inhaled the spicy scent rising from my mug. "I will never tell another tale. I can't, now I know what I can do."
"Brigit said you only recently discovered the key to your ability."
"I'm not taking any chances. What if I'm wrong? Or what if I'm right but there's more to it? I can't put more lives at risk."
"So what will you do?" Brigit asked.
"My brother Sitric needs an assistant. He has more work than he can manage. I'm going to Maker's Well to work with him. He says there is enough scribing work for us both to make a living, good enough to support a family."
Treasa nodded and swirled the tea in her mug. "Yes," she said. "That will be suitable."
"Where is the rest of your family?" I asked Brigit. "Your father?"
I wished I hadn't spoken for a cloud quickly settled over both Brigit and her mother.
"You don't need to tell me," I added quickly.
"You should know," Brigit said. She leaned across the table to grasp Treasa's hand. Treasa lifted her chin defiantly, a gesture I recognised from Brigit.
"I can tell him, Mother," Brigit said, softly. "You don't need to do this. Diarmuid, my father was killed. Murdered."
I inhaled a sharp breath. "I had no idea. I wouldn't have asked…"
Brigit smiled grimly. "We don't know who organised it, although we have our suspicions." She and Treasa exchanged a look. "Father had upset a certain person. A very wealthy and powerful person. We suspect he arranged for Father to be killed."
"By someone like Owain?"
"By someone exactly like Owain." Brigit's voice was milder than I might have expected.
I looked from Brigit to her mother. Treasa didn't look as accepting as Brigit did. "You don't think…"
Brigit shrugged. "I don't believe in coincidence."
"I don't know what to say."
"I've made my peace with it. If it was Owain, he was doing his job. I don't blame him, I blame the man who hired him."
Our conversation was interrupted by laughter which preceded Bramble's sisters. They swarmed into the house, rosy-cheeked and with hair flying every which way from their adventures.
"My sisters," Bramble said with a suppressed smile. "Clidna, Sulgwenn, Keena, Myrna. Don't worry about which is which. You'll never remember and they all look much the same anyway."
"Brigit!" one of the girls exclaimed. "Mother, she is so rude to us."
Treasa said nothing and they didn't seem to notice. Brigit pursed her lips and grinned at me when the girls weren't looking.
I stayed a little longer and then left with the excuse that I wanted to be home before dark. In truth, the noise of Brigit's sisters made my head spin and it was difficult to concentrate on Ida's box. They were loud and vivacious, constantly teasing and arguing and shouting. Sometimes all four of them would burst into laughter at the same moment while I was left wondering what had happened. Perhaps it was me they found so amusing. I would have to get used to them for they might one day be my sisters.
My heart was light as I clambered up onto my horse and headed back to Silver Downs. I hadn't dare let myself anticipate how Brigit might greet me but when she had been cold and a little disdainful, it had seemed no more than I deserved.
I still saw Bramble every time I looked at her and perhaps I always would. It seemed that Brigit had come to terms with what had happened to her and it wasn't fair of me to cling to Bramble but, still, I missed her warm body beside me at night. I missed the way she pressed her head into my hand when I rubbed her ears. I even missed the disdainful sniffs she gave when she thought I was being a fool.
Someone else I missed was Caedmon. As much as I hoped we might still receive a message from him to explain his delayed return to the campaign, I was certain I had killed him with my ill-considered tale. All because I had let myself be consumed by jealousy and bitterness.
I would probably never tell another tale but sometimes I let myself hope that one day I might be brave enough to try again. I kept remembering what Brigit had said about telling the right sort of tale. If Ida ever got away from me again, she would need to know about honour and bravery and integrity. If I ever told another tale, that was the kind I would tell.
But for now, the pain of losing Caedmon and the agony of knowing that I was responsible for Ida's actions at Crow's Nest were still too raw. I would live with that for the rest of my life but maybe one day, I could try again. If I ever had sons, I would want to be able to pass on the knowledge of how our ability worked. I wondered how Brigit would feel about seven sons.
A few evenings after my visit with Brigit, I went out to Eithne's herb garden after dinner. Sitting in the garden my sister loved so much made me feel closer to her, even if she wasn't here. I still didn't know where she had gone. Fiachra wouldn't tell and it seemed nobody else knew the details. How my chronically ill sister would handle any sort of journey, I didn't know, and I lacked the courage to ask. Grainne had been still healing when she and Eithne disappeared on their mysterious journey but at least Eithne wasn't alone.
As I sat on the little wooden bench, which was still warm from the afternoon sun, peace seeped into me for perhaps the first time since I had told the tale about the soldier and his bride. Maybe for the first time since my tenth summer.
The herb garden was mostly still bare for without Eithne, nobody had thought to plant it for the new season. A couple of spiky bushes had survived, rosemary perhaps, and something that I thought might be mint but the rest of the garden contained only bare earth beneath melting snow. Even though little remained alive after the winter, the air still bore traces of the scent of herbs.
I should re-plant the garden for her. Tomorrow perhaps. Eithne would have saved some seeds and I figured that as long as I could find them, I could manage the task.
I didn't notice Papa's arrival until he stood right beside me.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked. His face bore a few more wrinkles than it used to, probably due to all the grief his wretched children had caused of late.
I moved over to give him room and he eased onto the bench with a sigh. I continued to look out over the garden, breathing in the herb-scented air and keeping my thoughts calm. I had found that the calmer I was, the less Ida was interested. She typically only stirred if I was anxious or angry or upset. So I was trying to be more placid.
"It's a gift, you know," Papa said. "I know it mightn't seem like it right now, and it took me many years to see it as such. Why it was granted to our family, I don't know."
"Titania seems to have taken great interest in us."
"Aah Titania." Papa made a noise that might almost have been a laugh. "She was furious with me. Did she offer to take your ability away?"
I nodded. "I refused."
"As did I," he said. "And many others before us, from what I gather. Titania lives in hope that one day one of our bards will be foolish enough to agree. That's what makes me think it is supposed to be a gift. The fact that she wants it so much."
"Who do you think might have granted it?"
Papa shrugged and rubbed his stubbled chin. "One of the fey, I assume. Many generations ago."
"Maybe it was intended as a curse." Bitterness edged my voice and immediately Ida stirred. I smoothed out my feelings, pushing the bitterness away, and she settled again.
"I don't think so, given how desperate Titania is to reclaim it. I've always regretted that I didn't take the time to learn how it worked. Part of me died the day I stopped telling tales and a little more of me died every day since then. Don't let that happen to you, son. You're the first one in several generations who has a chance to learn how to use the power properly. Make it count."