Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier

truth from you, always.’

      ‘You will get the truth.’

      ‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘why have you not offered for my sister Niamh, instead of me? That was what everyone expected.’

      Eamonn took my hand in his, and touched it to his lips.

      ‘Your sister is indeed very beautiful,’ he said with a trace of a smile. ‘A man might well dream of such a woman. But it would be your face he wanted to see on his pillow when he woke.’

      I felt myself blushing crimson, and was quite lost for words.

      ‘I’m sorry, I have offended you,’ he said hastily, but he held onto my hand.

      ‘Oh no … not at all,’ I managed. ‘I’m just – surprised.’

      ‘I have spoken to your father,’ he said. ‘He has no objection to our marriage. But he told me the decision is yours. He allows you a great deal of freedom.’

      ‘You disapprove of that?’

      ‘That depends on your answer.’

      I took a deep breath, hoping for some inspiration. ‘If this were one of the old tales,’ I said slowly, ‘I would ask you to complete three tasks, or kill three monsters for me. But there is no need to test you in such a way. I recognise that this would be a highly – suitable match.’

      Eamonn had put my hand down and was studying the ground at my feet, where he still knelt.

      ‘I hear unspoken words here,’ he said, frowning. ‘A reservation. You had better tell me.’

      ‘It’s too soon,’ I said bluntly. ‘I am not able to answer, not now.’

      ‘Why not? You are sixteen years old, a woman. I am sure of my own mind. You know what I can offer you. Why cannot you answer?’

      I took a deep breath. ‘You know my mother is very ill. So ill that she will not recover.’

      Eamonn glanced at me sharply, and then he moved to sit beside me on the bench. The tension between us eased just a little.

      ‘I have seen how pale she looks, and wondered,’ he said gently. ‘I did not know it was so serious. I’m sorry, Liadan.’

      ‘We don’t speak of it,’ I said. ‘Not many are aware that we count each season, each cycle of the moon, each day that passes. It is for this reason that I can make no commitment to you, or to any other.’

      ‘There is another?’ His voice was suddenly fierce.

      ‘No, Eamonn,’ I said hastily. ‘You need have no concern on that score. I’m aware of how fortunate I am to receive even one offer such as yours.’

      ‘You underestimate yourself, as always.’

      A silence fell again. Eamonn stared at his hands, frowning.

      ‘How long must I wait for your answer?’ he asked eventually.

      It was hard to reply, for to do so was to set a measure on Sorcha’s days.

      ‘For my mother’s sake, I will make no decision before Beltaine, next year,’ I said. ‘That is long enough, I think. I will give you an answer then.’

      ‘It’s too long,’ he said. ‘How can a man wait so long?’

      ‘I must be here, Eamonn. They will need me more and more. Besides, I do not know my own heart. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I will return your honesty with the plain truth.’

      ‘A whole year,’ he said. ‘You expect a great deal of me.’

      ‘It is a long time. But I do not mean to bind you to me for the passing of these four seasons. You are under no obligation towards me. If you meet another during this time, if you change your mind, you are quite free to pledge yourself, to marry, to do whatever you wish.’

      ‘There is no chance of that,’ he said with absolute finality. ‘None whatever.’

      At that moment I felt a shadow pass over me, and all at once I was cold. Whether it was the intensity of his voice, or the look in his eyes, or something quite different, for an instant the peaceful, sunny garden grew dark. Something about my expression must have changed.

      ‘What is it?’ he asked anxiously. ‘What’s the matter?’

      I shook my head. ‘Nothing,’ I told him. ‘Don’t be concerned. It’s nothing.’

      ‘It’s nearly time for me to go,’ he said, getting up. ‘They’ll be expecting me. I would be happier if we had at least some – understanding. A betrothal, perhaps, with the marriage delayed until – until you are ready. Or – or might not the lady Sorcha wish to see you happily settled before … might she not wish to be there at your wedding feast?’

      ‘It’s not that simple, Eamonn.’ All at once I was terribly tired. ‘I can agree to no betrothal. I want no commitment. I have told you when I will answer, and that will not change. A year may not seem so long.’

      ‘It seems forever. A great deal can change, in a year.’

      ‘Off you go,’ I said. ‘Aisling will be waiting. Go home. Sort out your household, put your people to rights. I will still be here, next Beltaine eve. Go home, Eamonn.’

      I thought he would leave with no more said, he was silent so long, arms folded, head bowed in thought. Then he said, ‘It will be home when I see you waiting there in the doorway, with my child in your arms. Not till then.’ And he strode away through the arch in the wall, with never a backward glance.

       Chapter Three

      My mind did not dwell long on this, for events soon overtook our household with a swiftness that came close to overwhelming us. We were already unhappy, divided amongst ourselves by Niamh’s unwillingness to so much as consider her suitor’s offer, and her total silence on the reasons why. By Liam’s anger, by my father’s frustration at his inability to make peace between them. My mother was distressed at seeing her menfolk at odds thus. Sean was missing Aisling, and snapped with irritation at the slightest thing. In desperation, one warm afternoon close to midsummer, I went out into the forest alone. There was a place we used to visit often in our childhood, a deep secluded pool fringed by ferns and bracken, filled by a splashing waterfall and protected by the gentle shade of weeping willows. The three of us had swum and played there many a time on hot summer days, filling the air with our shrieks and splashing and laughter. We were too old for that now, of course. Men and women, as Eamonn had reminded me. Too old for fun. But I did remember the sweet herbs which grew lush and wild near that place, parsley, chervil and abundant cresses, and I thought to make a little pie with eggs and soft cheese, that might tempt my mother’s failing appetite. So I took a basket, and tied back my hair, and set off alone into the forest, glad of some respite from the emotionally charged atmosphere of the house.

      It was a warm day, and the herbs were plentiful. I picked steadily, humming under my breath, and soon enough my basket was full. I sat down to rest with my back against a willow. The woods were alive with little sounds: the rustle of squirrels in the undergrowth, the song of a thrush overhead, and stranger voices, too, subtle whispers in the air, whose words I could not comprehend. If there was a message in it, it could scarcely be for me. I sat very still, and thought perhaps I could see them: faint, ethereal shapes passing between the branches, a scrap of floating veil, a wing transparent and fragile as a dragonfly’s, hair which was shining filaments of gold and silver. Perhaps a slender hand, beckoning. And bell-like laughter. I blinked, and looked again. The sun must have been making me foolish, for now there was nothing. I must return to the house, and make my pie, and hope my family might become friends again.

      There was someone there. Down between the rowans, a flash of deep blue, gone again as quickly as it had appeared. Had I heard footsteps on the soft path? I got up,