“Did we have to bring so much inside the tent?” Donal asked. “I can’t lay flat.”

“You could move your own things out to the wagon,” Niall said.

Donal listened to the rain bouncing off the fabric above their heads. He raised his legs and rested his feet on the closest bag—Finn’s things, hopefully.

The abandoned house in front of the old graveyard was more than an hour behind them when the rains returned. The others spent most of that first hour slouched forward in their respective seats. Donal caught his brother’s head bobbing on several occasions. He struggled to keep his own head from leaning back onto the wagon’s wall. The trip was a trudge before a single drop fell.

Niall and Siobhan decided to press on until a suitable campsite presented itself. Any pause to even assemble the tent in the wagon was not worth the delay.

It was Maeve who found a location far enough from the main road, under the right amount of tree cover and close enough to running water—thanks to an overtopped creek bed.

The measurement of time under leaden skies was a skill beyond Donal’s grasp, but by his estimate the rain had not ceased over the past four hours. He had spent only the previous hour in his tent. The tent bottom had dried from its exposure during assembly, but Donal wondered if he’d ever feel dry again.

He and Niall had borrowed two supports from the assembly to hold up a lean-to in the wagon. It left their shelter less stable, but as long as the winds didn’t change the angle of the rainfall, Maeve might avoid further soaking as she surveilled their camp.

“I don’t hear the others,” Donal said. “Have they changed watch yet?”

“Not yet. In the meantime, I hope those two are sleeping. For several reasons, actually.”

Niall sighed and turned his head to Donal.

“Since you prefer me awake for some reason,” he said, “Let me ask you a question.”

“Go on,” Donal said.

“How’s your head after what happened today?”

“I didn’t get hit in the head.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Niall said. “But an extended fight in limited visibility—it can fray the nerves of the most hardened men.”

“I was a little shaky at first, but I got my legs back quickly.”

“What about your ‘friend?’”

“What friend?”

“That part of you that always eats at you, pokes at you, battles with you—whatever you want to call it. Did it come out?”

“Don’t think so,” Donal said. “Why do you ask?”

“We’ve been either riding or fighting from before dawn to well past sunset. We’re road-weary, battle-weary, weighed down and chilled by rain. We don’t know what we’ll find tomorrow at the abbey. And in spite of all that, you’d rather talk to me instead of trying to rest.”

“You’re stating facts but looking at me like you asked me something,” Donal said.

“Here are two questions, then,” Niall said. “‘Why don’t you want to sleep?’ and ‘What are you afraid of seeing if you do sleep?’”

Donal looked at the tent roof.

“I don’t need to see horrible things to see, well, horrible things,” Donal said. “Why are we tempting things by talking about it?”

“For the same reason we don’t train when we’re in the middle of battle,” Niall said. “Your brother’s luck today notwithstanding. Trying to control that thing when it’s already got your head spinnin’ doesn’t seem too effective, does it?”

Niall was right, but Donal chose not to say so.

“Now you choose silence?” Niall asked.

Donal wasn’t taking the bait.

“Have you talked to Finn about this? Siobhan?"

“Maeve, actually,” Donal said.

He squeezed his jaw shut once he realized that he did take the bait.

“You’re joking. How did that go?”

“Fine.”

Niall let Donal’s answer hang in the air.

“Grand, actually. She made me feel loads better. Except for one thing, anyway.”

“What was it?”

“She seems to think that my troubles aren’t connected at all to this Tuatha Dé stuff.”

“Why is that a problem?” Niall asked.

Donal worked over the word choice in his head, letting out a grunt or two to hold his place in the conversation.

“It’s a big problem if the two aren’t connected.”

“Why, though?”

“Because that means there’s no reason for what’s happening to me. If that shadow in my head has to do with the sílrad and Breaslin, then it’s something we can stop. It’s something that we can fix. If it’s not…”

Donal lost all interest in finding his words.

“…then you get your brother, your uncle, myself, even the ladies,” Niall said, “and we help you learn to handle this when we’re done. Sounds like some of us already have been. We’re not going anywhere. Whatever it takes to help you find peace or balance, you’re not alone. Which brings me to another topic.”

Donal nodded his head.

“Finn,” he said.

“You can’t shut him out. Not anymore. It doesn’t matter if you’re shutting him out because you blame him for something or if you blame yourself and can’t face it. You have to let him in. He deserves that much. You deserve that much.”

Donal picked at Niall’s advice from every direction. He couldn’t find an angle that worked. He sighed and surrendered. For now.

“One thing’s for certain: my uncle has pretty good taste in his company,” Donal said.

“Not before he met me, he didn’t,” Niall said.

Donal cackled.

“Thanks, Niall.”

“Night, lad. Oi, wait—”

“What?”

“Maeve really didn’t try to take the piss out of you when you opened up to her? Not even one time?”

“Not about that, no. In an odd way, it was a little awful. I kept bracing for it, dreading it, but it never came.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I’d be unsettled, too. Now let an oul’ man have his sleep.”

****

The sound of his name crept into Finn’s dreams.

“Finn.”

“Finn.”

An unknown character within his dream shook his shoulder so hard he swore it was real.

“Finn!”

He opened his eyes as Siobhan’s shadow pulled away from his arm. She grinned.

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re still awake.”

Finn rubbed his eyes. The tent was nearly as dark as the inside of his eyelids.

“Right, who could possibly sleep after a day like that?” he asked.

She sat upright, crossed her legs and grabbed her feet. Finn took it as a suggestion to do the same.

“What is it?” he said.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I read your bard book after you fell asleep,” she said. “I wanted to find the spell you used to burn the talisman and its offering pile.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “You didn’t have to wake me up for it. The book and all the spells within are technically Murrough’s, anyway.”

“That’s the thing,” she said. “I skimmed through every spell in there. None of them are meant to do what you did today. How did you manage it?”

“I don’t know for certain,” he said. “I was desperate, of course. The the curse felt dark. Not the kind of dark that spreads in the absence of light, more like a kind dark that eats light. I needed something ancient, before the Catholics, before the Tuatha Dé, before most things. The air got thin, and I asked it to bring and end to the evil before me.”

“‘It?’” Siobhan asked. “Who or what did you ask?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t realize I asked someone or something specific until I retold the story to you.”

“It sounds like you tapped into Mag Sen,” she said. “The ancient plane.”

“Is that good? Is ancient good or bad?”

“A plane isn’t ‘better’ or ‘worse’ than any other. They are all different.”

Finn’s stomach twisted at a realization.

“I tapped a new plane without you watching! Without being at a stone circle—”

“—Finn—”

“—It was even a sustained spell—”

“—Finn, would you—”

“—That could have been disastrous!”

Siobhan once again took hold of Finn’s shoulder and shook him.

“Oi!”

“Sorry,” Finn said.

“You’re right, it could have gone horribly, but it didn’t. The fact that your first thought just now wasn’t about self-aggrandizing, but the spell’s potential dangers, shows me that your head’s in a good place. And why wouldn’t it be? Your teacher is pure class.”

Her mouth settled into a warm, easy smile that glinted what little light breached into the unlit tent.

“She is quality,” he said.

The tiny reflections in her eyes disappeared and her shadow drew closer. He felt her breath on his face and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What is it?” she said. “I’m sure they can’t hear us over the rain.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I fancy you.”

“Now I’m truly confused,” she said.

“I didn’t realize it before. I didn’t realize how much.”

“And that’s bad?”

“It will be,” Finn said. “I’m not dumb, Siobhan. You’re mother’s a shrewd woman. Your dad’s kin are ambitious. That alone makes you a smart match for any clan with notions.”

“You’ve got every bit your mother’s mind,” he said. “And her heart. Don’t deny it. She’s had enough cause to send us packing at any point over the past two years—even before the blight. She won’t admit it, but there was one thing keeping us in our home: your mam’s good graces.”

Siobhan’s smile widened. The reflections in her eyes brightened.

“Perhaps there were two things,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

He took her hands in his.

“See! That’s it, isn’t it? And look at the way you and Murrough eased me into this whole mess in spite of myself. The way you’ve kept my brother’s spirits up. I know what I said a few days ago, and I was an arse for saying it. I realize now that the Treasach I knew wasn’t the man he truly was. The way you rally people and build them up is out in front, not subtle like your mam. That’s who your father was. Am I right?”

Siobhan nodded.

“And look at ya,” he said. “After full day of fighting and riding, you’re as soggy as a sail left unfurled in a storm, and still..."

He waved his free hand in several directions.

"'Still,' what?" Siobhan asked.

"Oh, you know yourself that you're beautiful."

She chuckled.

"Never hurts to hear it," she said. "Even when the messages I'm getting are this mixed. Are you getting to a point?"

"My point is, you’ll marry some O’Neill or O’Connor and your kids might go off and rule the northern half of the island. And it won’t matter if I’m still on my farm or in a monastery. I already know it’s going hurt. I’ve got to try and protect myself while it only hurts a little. I’m sorry, Siobhan. I really am.”

He patted her hand and let go. He wanted to run out and take over for Maeve early. If the skies were dry he would have. Instead he slid down and turned away from Siobhan.

She didn’t say a word or shift her body. She sniffed and let out a sigh from her chest.

“Absolutely no sense to you at all,” she said with a clearing of her throat. “I could take you to the top of Errigal, and you would tell me every type of tree in the forest. You’d tell me the name of every river that flowed below us. You’d point to a lake and tell me what fish swam in it. You’d point to these things, and you’d tell me something about each place that you knew I liked.”

“And if I asked you what you liked about these places, you’d struggle for an answer because it never dawned on you to have one.”

Finn turned up his head but kept his back to her.

“What is all this talk about marriage—and at a time like this?” she asked. “I mean this as nicely as possible, but you have no cause to be giving my future husband and children more consideration than I have myself. I’m old enough to be married off for allegiances if that’s what I wanted or even consented to. But I don't—and it’s not what my mother wants, either.”

“Saerlaith mentioned your conversation at the feast. After the way my granddad and uncle treated my parents—even the way they treat Faelan now—why would my mam care what they thought about my future? You’re worried about politics when we’re fighting headless demons and shape-shifting creatures. Who asked for your opinion on any of it?”

Finn sat up to face her.

“I’m sorry, Siobhan, I was—”

“—Still my turn. I know exactly what Mam’s and Murrough’s plans are for me. Between you and I, I’m still unsure about it at times. But it’s still loads better than having my counsel humored on ceremony for the rest of my life like my grandmother.”

“Then there’s you. The state of you! You’ve had one goal your entire life: lock yourself away in a monastery and spend your time learning everything about everything.”

Finn raised his hand.

“That’s not entirely—”

“—Finn, if you stop me from getting this out one more time I’m going to take that leine you’re wearing and cram the entire thing down your bake. Then I’m walking out of this tent and taking your next shift on watch for myself.”

Finn put one hand over his mouth and held up the other hand in appeasement.

“Good,” she said.

“You lost both your parents, and it took less than a week for you put your life’s goal aside to care for your brother. We weren’t close before it happened, but Murrough talked constantly about you two to my mother. I know how hard Donal struggled even before your parents died.”

“You talk about my mam, but you’ve had every opportunity over the past two years to go to Murrough and say, ‘I’m sorry, all this is beyond me,’ and leave your brother with an uncle that loves him. Lesser men would have done that, but you never considered it. Not really. You chose to stay, and I’m glad for it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, part of me feels horrible for what I’m about to say because it was your life’s goal and the past three years have been so hard for you. But I can’t deny that I’m happy you’re out here in the world. I’m happy that you’re here right now.”

Siobhan exhaled and patted her legs. Finn suspected she was out of words. She stared at him for a moment and then squirmed.

“Well?” she asked.

“Sorry, I was afraid of eating my shirt.”

“MacLaughlin, I swear—”

Finn grabbed her hand.

“What of the next time we visit Doe Castle? Will you feel compelled to make excuses for having me on your arm?”

She laughed and leaned closer to him.

“You’ve already been to one of my family gatherings, remember?” she said. “You were charming, handsome and you went the whole time without punching Uncle Lorcan in his gob even once.”

“Only because he left early.”

“Well, that’s more than some in my family can say.”

Finn narrowed his eyes.

“Brotherly row?”

“It was my mother! I was only twelve years old, but even then I enjoyed seeing it happen.”

Finn relaxed his spine and chuckled. He raised his hand to her cheek and studied what little he could see of her face.

“You’re right,” Finn said. “I presumed too much and let it get in my way.”

“‘In our way,’ is more like it,” she said.

Finn nodded.

“Here’s to getting hurt someday, I suppose.”

“Or not,” Siobhan said.

She leaned over and kissed him. Finn’s grasp of time left him. Everything around him—the raindrops, the wind buffeting their shelter, their movements within the tent—had slowed, yet he felt the moment slipping away too quickly. Perhaps he heard Maeve’s footsteps approaching the entry flap of the tent.

A gust of wind blew through the tent, and it carried countless heavy, cold raindrops with it. Finn and Siobhan looked to the entrance and found Maeve failing to keep a straight face.

“Your turn, Finn,” Maeve said. “I trust you’ve gotten enough sleep for it?”

Siobhan leaned back to let Finn sit up.

“Plenty,” Finn said.

He held Siobhan’s hand one last time and the pair exchanged smiles. He leaned forward and brought himself up to a stoop and stepped out of the tent. Maeve grabbed his arm, the force and quickness of the pull almost toppling him into the mud.

“I’m sure that you’ve found this to be a whirlwind adventure, full of fun and excitement,” she said. “But this isn’t a sightseeing trip. Whatever is waiting for us tomorrow, we can’t afford for you to be distracted and making puppy eyes at Siobhan.”

“If you put us at risk because you’re trying to impress her or if you try to protect her from something she is capable of handling herself, you and I are going to have problems. You two being close now doesn’t render her incapable of doing the things she’s always done.”

Finn heard her words, but his spirits were too high for them to have the usual effect.

“I thought you already had problems with me.”

She wrinkled her nose and drew one side of her mouth up into a sneer.

“That’s what you’ve thought?” Maeve said. “Outside of an isolated issue of ingratitude, I haven’t had much issue with you, actually. You can imagine, though, what it’s going to look like when you and I do have problems.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Finn said.

“Says you. G’night.”

Maeve started to lay into Siobhan as Finn walked toward the lean-to in the wagon.

“And as for yourself…”

Finn found the rain cold and miserable but he was grateful that its noise would muffle the rest of that conversation.