Dornoll was seated at the head of the meeting table. She appeared to be expecting them, eyes steely, mouth downturned, fingers interlocked, hands resting in front of her.

“He told you then,” she said as they reached the table.

“Told us what?” Genonn asked.

“Told you I took away his innocence,” Dornoll laughed.

Fedelm had never heard the druidess laughing so maniacally. Dornoll had always been so placid, self-assured, unperturbed, unperturbable. Listening to the thinly hidden shriek on the edge of something, which would not be classed as sane, caused Fedelm’s guts to flutter.

“He was such an innocent boy before I got my hooks in him.”

“Innocent? No, I think not, but he was far from what he became,” Genonn hissed.

Fedelm took his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. She needed him to be careful. The hall was surrounded by guards who would kill on Dornoll’s command.

“And what might that be, Genonn?” Dornoll asked with a sneer.

“A murderer. He killed our father.”

“What has that to do with me?” she spat.

“We know you convinced him to kill Kathvar. Fed him full of lies–”

“Genonn,” Fedelm interrupted, squeezing his hand harder.

“–you told him our father was scheming to get Mac Nessa on the throne,” Genonn continued, ignoring her warning.

“You think to trick me into some lame confession,” Dornoll said with a sneer. “It was your brother killed Kathvar. Where is he?”

“He might have shot the arrow that killed my father. But you are the reason. You convinced him Kathvar was an enemy of the Five Kingdoms and hanged your niece without reason.”

“Genonn, we should leave it–”

“I am not to blame if your brother is a born killer. He took it upon himself to avenge the death of my niece. I had no part in it.”

“And yet, a woman brokered a deal hiring a fían to kill my father.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“I know you paid for my father to be murdered, woman.”

“You dare call me woman? You, boy, are walking across a lough with a very thin ice covering. If not for your recent loss, you would already be in chains.”

“What reason could you have for putting me in chains,” Genonn scoffed.

Fedelm squeezed his hand again, but she recognized the futility of the gesture. She could feel his anger pulsing through his veins.

“You come into my hall with wild theories about a fían and this man Nechtan being paid to kill your father because Bréannin said he brokered such a deal–”

“No one mentioned Bréannin or Nechtan,” Genonn said.

Fedelm looked at Dornoll. How could it be? She’d not believed in Dornoll’s guilt. Not really. But how did the druidess know the names unless she hired them?

“Imrinn mentioned them during our after-sex chats,” Dornoll said, leering. “He admitted his dealings with these men, Nechtan and Bréannin.”

“Bréannin said it was a woman who brokered the deal,” Genonn said. “Imrinn never mentioned hiring anyone. He did not know about Nechtan and Bréannin.”

“And you believe this Bréannin over the leader of the Elder Council?” Dornoll hissed, spittle spraying so much he was forced to wipe his face with the back of a hand.

“Honestly, yes, I do. You’re agitated, and he was calm.”

“Genonn.”

Fedelm’s tone pleaded with him to stop. She knew he was upset, but Dornoll didn’t seem ready to admit any part she’d played. They needed to get away from Caer Leb while they still could.

“Let us say, for one moment, Genonn, your accusations have some merit. What can you do? Nothing. I am the leader of the Elder Council. You are not even a druid. The Council will not listen to the words of a mere commoner.”

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“The Council will do what needs to be done. It is their duty.”

“But you have never believed in the Council’s ability to deliver justice. Do you not call yourself justice of the people, or have I been misinformed?”

“The Elder Council are the peoples’ justice,” Fedelm said, shocked at the words she was hearing.

“You are so innocent, child,” Dornoll said, smiling in apparent sympathy. “The Council will do what is in their best interest, as always. The one who makes the final decision sits at the head of the table. Why do you think there is so much conflict over who sits as Council Leader?”

“Someone has to pay for the deaths,” Genonn seethed. “Kathvar, Lee, and now Imrinn have all died because of your scheming,” he said with a suddenly horrified tone.

It was as though he was beginning to understand that justice would not be served here. As the power on the island, Dornoll had the controlling influence. Who on the Council would gainsay her? Mug, Taidle? Were they even on the island?

“Genonn,” Fedelm said, squeezing his wrist again.

Genonn freed himself from her grasp and turned away, storming from the hall. Fedelm opened her mouth as if to speak but covered it with her hand instead. She’d not expected him to succeed in facing Dornoll, but she’d not expected him to run out when he failed, either.

“What do you think you are doing, child?” Dornoll asked, her tone sympathetic and understanding.

The question confused Fedelm. Dornoll’s smile disarmed her, showing none of the mania of a few moments before. All her doubts resurfaced. Pressing. Forceful. She glanced at the druidess she’d loved and respected from the outset. The woman who’d always been so solid and unflappable. The rock in the storm of shite the men of the Five Kingdoms constantly created.

“I don’t know.”

And she didn’t know.

They were not just words. Fedelm feared she was losing control of herself. She had not believed Biróg capable of treachery, but that lack of belief was nothing compared to what she now felt. How could the woman she had worshiped be capable of such malfeasance? And now, the man she’d begun to have feelings for had run from a confrontation. She knew he was not the best warrior she’d ever met. She knew he didn’t have that advantage, which gave warriors the upper hand, the edge Conall was wont to speak of. But she had never thought he would run.

Dornoll’s force of will had driven him away.

“I know these last few days have been hard. First, you lost Cú Chulainn and then Kathvar, but it is not right for you to come into my hall and accuse me of murder.”

“I’ve not accused you of anything,” Fedelm said, pushing her breasts up with folded arms. She knew she was pouting but unable to stop it.

“As good as, coming in here with your new lover–”

“How did you know?”

“You are obvious, child. All blushes and coy glances when you think no one is paying attention.”

“I’d no idea I was so obvious.”

“What in the name of the Tuatha do you think you are doing?” Dornoll shrieked and then started to laugh maniacally again.

Fedelm looked over her shoulder.

She gasped. Genonn was walking down the aisle wearing blood-spattered robes. They were the robes she removed when preparing Kathvar for his final journey, which she left on her cot. He was also carrying his father’s staff. She remembered wondering what she was supposed to do with it. She hadn’t been sure whether it should be buried with Kathvar, and then she’d forgotten about it lying against her table. Everything had happened so fast that it drove the staff from her mind. It was made with black wood, which shined when polished. She knew it came from faraway lands and had been Kathvar’s most prized possession. Genonn carried it with authority. He appeared to be comfortable with its heaviness.

“What are you doing, Genonn, pretending to be your father?” Dornoll hissed.

“Who was my father?” he asked. Fedelm wondered briefly if everything had tipped him over the edge. If he had lost his mind.

“What do you mean?” Dornoll asked, her confusion evident.

“Say his name.”

“You are rambling, boy. Get out of my sight before I have the guards shackle you.”

“Who was my brother? Say his name.”

“You are going to die for this.”

“You are under my judgment, Dornoll, and I find you guilty of murder. Therefore, I condemn you to death–”

“You cannot condemn me, boy,” Dornoll interrupted, her earlier disdain replaced by an edge of panic. “Only a member of the Elder Council can condemn me. Are you Mug? Are you Biróg or Taidle? No, you are a boy grown too big for his robes, so you stole those of another–”

She did not finish because he struck her with the staff. Fedelm heard a little “oh,” just like the squeak of a mouse, and her legs crumpled under her. Genonn brought the staff down on her head with a sickening crack and again and again and again.

The noise was just a slapping when Fedelm took his forearm and said, “She’s dead, Genonn. It’s over.”

As he turned towards her, the light of sanity returned to his eyes. The guards from the door came up the aisle, lances poised threateningly. “Get the captain,” one said, leveling his lance at Genonn’s chest.

“It’s not what it seems,” Fedelm said.

“No, Lady, it never is, and that’s the truth.”

“Dornoll ordered the death of Kathvar,” Fedelm tried to explain.

But the guard was not accepting the excuse, “Kathvar was killed by the fénnid Nechtan. It’s well known.”

“Yes, and it was Dornoll who ordered it. She admitted it to us,” Fedelm said, continuing with the same argument.

There was a commotion at the entrance to the hall, and a warrior ran up the aisle, buckling on her sword belt.

“What is happening here?” she demanded.

“I have performed a summary execution. Dornoll was guilty of murder and sentenced to death. Stand at your ease,” Genonn ordered.

“Who are you to give us orders?” the female warrior asked. There was hesitancy in the way the warrior chewed her bottom lip. Good. Genonn did not need a determined warrior, someone without doubts. Indecision would be his greatest ally.

She need not have worried. When Genonn spoke, she thought even a doubt-free captain would have jumped to fulfill his orders.

“I am Kathvar, the new leader of the elder Council. You will do well to remember it. Now get some people in to clear up this mess.”

“You have no authority here. As far as I know, you’re not even a member of the Council. Where are the members?”

“I’m here,” Biróg called as she walked up the aisle. “Kathvar is the new leader. He has our sanction.”

“Now, do as I say and get this mess cleaned up,” Genonn ordered again.

“Yes, Lord. What should be done with the body?”

“In the bog with it. Headfirst. No ceremony.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“What is your name, Captain?”

“Clodagh, Lord.”

“Well, Clodagh, I am not a lord. I am a druid. In future, you should call me Kathvar.”