It was some time before either of us spoke. I lay tucked against his side, his arm around me, my head against his shoulder. My body touched his in a hundred, a thousand points of skin against skin; I felt each one of them. I never wanted to move from this spot.
“By all the saints,” murmured Anluan.There was a note of utter wonder in his voice. “I feel as if I could do anything. Anything.”
“You can,” I said. “I always knew that.” I did not ask him why he had believed this was a thing he could not do. If he wanted to tell me, in time he would.
“Caitrin?”
“Mm?”
“Will you stay this time? Stay and be my wife?”
For a moment my heart was too full to let me speak.“I’d be honored,” I whispered.“I never want to leave you again.” And it came to me that this had not, in fact, been like the vision in the mirror, where Anluan had seen a perfect version of himself making love to me.That had been a fantasy, an embodiment of what could not be.This had been real: real in its flaws and uncertainties, real in its small triumphs, real in its compromises and understanding. “Anluan, will you forgive me for what I said to you the night we quarreled? I didn’t mean it. It hurt so much that you didn’t want me, I think a sort of madness must have come over me . . .”
“Shh,” he said, touching his fingers to my lips. “There’s no need to speak of that. Besides, I was as cruel as you. I banished you in the unkindest way possible. If I had allowed myself to soften, I could not have spoken the words. I feared for your safety.” His cheeks flushed.“That was not the only reason. I suppose you know that I have just surprised myself somewhat. Caitrin, I longed to keep you by my side; I longed to have you in my bed. But I did not believe I could ever be . . . adequate.”
“I have little experience in these matters,” I said, blushing in my turn. “But it seemed to me you were a great deal more than adequate. Anluan, I read your little book over and over.When I left here, I thought you didn’t love me; not as I loved you.The book told me how wrong I was.”
“How could you not know?” His voice was full of wonderment.“You changed me utterly.You were like a . . . like a bright, wonderful bloom in a garden full of weeds. Like a graceful capital on a page of plain script, a letter decorated with the deepest, finest colors in all Erin. Like a flame, Caitrin. Like a song.”
I held these words to me as we lay there together, at rest but not asleep. Beyond the closed door of the south tower the full moon crossed the sky and the night wore on towards dawn. So little time. And then he must march out to a battle so uneven, so unpredictable that the thought of it made my heart clench tight with fear. I said nothing of this. Anluan’s newfound belief in himself might be his best weapon.
Inevitably, there came a tap on the door.
“My lord?” Gearróg’s voice. “There’s food and drink here. Orna brought it over. Rioghan said I should wake you; you need something before you march out.”
Anluan sighed. “Thank you, Gearróg,” he called.
“I’m hungry,” I said, realizing it was rather a long time since that uncomfortable meal eaten by the roadside. “I’ll fetch it, shall I?”
“Not like that.” Anluan regarded me from the bed as I wriggled out to stand stark naked in the center of the room.“Put the shirt on, at least. Even so, you’ll shock that devoted guard of yours. He’s done a fine job, Caitrin. Rewarded your trust a hundredfold. I’ve asked him to stay with you when we go down the hill today.”
At the door, I took the tray from Gearróg. There was a smile on his blunt features. Orna had assembled a tasty meal for two, some kind of cold roast meat, slabs of dark bread, eggs cooked with herbs.A little jug held ale. It seemed to me the whole household must be awake, and doubtless the whole household had worked out what Anluan and I were doing alone together in his chamber, but I did not really care. The Tor was full of hope tonight. Hearts were high. I had found the treasure I had believed lost forever, and a little embarrassment was neither here nor there.
I poured two cups of ale, then passed one to Anluan, who was sitting up on the bed with the blanket across his lap. I was cold in the borrowed shirt. I moved to the storage chest, rummaging through the heap of garments for a tunic or cloak. Later I would see if any of the clothing I had left was still in the house.
A sound from behind me, like a faint cough or clearing of the throat; then a thud as something fell to the floor. I turned. Anluan had dropped the cup. He had both hands at his throat and his face was gray.
“What?” I was by his side, my heart pounding. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He gestured frantically, trying to convey some message to me, but I could not understand what he meant. As I reached to support him he fell back onto the bed, his eyes rolling up.
