He knows. He knows I snuck into Niall’s quarters.
And he heard I’m failing my Bard training. He realizes this has been a terrible mistake. He finally sees the truth—I’m not gifted, but cursed—and I’m going to pay for it. I’ll be thrown out, or made an example of.
He’ll reconsider having me executed.
I can’t stop shaking. I rub my arms, trying to keep calm as I follow Cathal. The castle seems busier the farther we walk, with servants and guards rushing to and fro. They all glance nervously at Cathal as he passes, as though worried he’s there to assess their work. Clearly, I am not the only one on edge.
Cathal only slows his stride when a chamberlain falls in step with us, wringing his hands as he speaks. From a few steps behind, I can hear their conversation, but that doesn’t seem to bother Cathal. His calm demeanor doesn’t falter even for a moment, as usual.
“It’s simply dreadful, Lordship.” The chamberlain is nearly frantic. “In all my years, I’ve never seen a gallery so dusty!”
“I am sure it is an absolute tragedy. I am more interested in our security issue, however,” Cathal replies. “The report I was given mentioned our guards would be insufficient.”
“For retinues as large as Ambassador Richter’s and the archbishop’s, yes,” the chamberlain replies, growing more flustered, if even possible. “We simply do not have enough security present for a fête of this size!”
“Requisition forces from outside,” Cathal states. “The usual candidates ought to suffice.”
The chamberlain bows with a dramatic flourish before departing. Cathal glances over his shoulder at me with his customary disarming smile.
“The trials and tribulations of throwing a ball for foreign dignitaries.” He chuckles. For a moment, I forget the possibility that I’m in huge trouble.
We arrive at our destination far too quickly, and my apprehension from before crashes over me in a wave. High House has a way of expanding and contracting, or maybe my nervousness is making time rush forward. Well before I’m ready, a massive door is opening in front of us.
“Please make yourself comfortable.” Cathal gestures with a flourish as I step inside a different sitting room than last time. The ceiling is an intricate glass dome that seems to beckon golden sunlight into the room. Elegant hothouse orchids, strategically placed around chaise longues, complete the illusion that we’re sitting outdoors.
My eyes dart around, attempting to figure out where we are while trying not to be distracted by the splendor.
“Thank you.” I bite my lip slightly and gratefully sink onto one of the cushions. It’s so soft, I want to melt into it. The clouds have assumed a pink hue through the dome above. I must have been trying to part the waterfall the entire day.
“First things first,” he says. “I have a very important question for you, Shae, if you will indulge me.” Cathal gracefully seats himself across from me, a serious look in his eyes. I stiffen, bracing myself for the inevitable. You are a disappointment, Shae. A fake. “Do you like olives?” he asks. There’s a tiny smile playing at his lips.
I am so startled, I’m pretty certain my jaw nearly falls off its hinges. “I’m not sure I’ve had any,” I reply awkwardly.
“We will have to change that,” he says. I shiver slightly, unsure how to feel right now. Am I in trouble or not? “Do you have a favorite food? I can have it sent for. You must be hungry.”
“Famished,” I correct him with a slight grimace, which broadens his smile.
“Do not be shy asking for anything you want. It is my honor to provide it,” Cathal says. “Duck, perhaps? Moose cheese? Both?”
“Both?”
“Both it is.” He claps his hands twice and another servant hiding nearby scurries away. He grins boyishly at me. “I know you are humoring me, Shae. I appreciate it.”
“Well, now I’m curious about this moose cheese,” I admit.
“Curiosity and a sense of humor?” Cathal laughs. “Rare traits in a Bard. Hang on to those.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Ravod said the opposite. I bite my tongue to keep from asking why. Ravod also told me to be careful around Cathal, but I’m beginning to wonder about that too. Cathal’s company is the most reassuring in this whole place.
“My lord, why did you ask me here?” I blurt out. I don’t know if I mean right this minute, or the bigger question of why he put his faith in me at all, thinking I, of all people, could be a Bard.
A servant appears with a tray heaped with smooth brown almonds, shiny olives, moist cheeses, colorful fruit, and all sorts of delicacies I’ve never eaten. He bows as he places the tray before us and then leaves.
“Something concerning has come to my attention,” Cathal says, and I swallow nervously. I long to devour the food, but my throat is constricting with fear. “I have been closely observing your performance. I am—to put it mildly—displeased.”
I’m suddenly so ill at ease, I fear I am going to burst out sobbing. “I … I’m sorry,” I muster.
“What? Do not be sorry. I am not displeased with you. What displeases me is the manner in which Kennan has been conducting your tests.”
“My tests? How so?” My pulse is racing. Maybe this meeting is not a referendum on me but on her. Is it possible he sees how cruel she has been?
“Her daily reports to me state that your talents are meager at best,” he goes on. “I believe this to be false.”
I stare at him, speechless. When I am unable to look him in the eyes any longer, I glance away, only to realize Imogen has come into the room and begun to quietly dust a pedestal with an ornate statue on it. A shudder of relief goes through me when I see her face. She gives me a small wink over her shoulder.
Cathal calmly watches me. “In your most recent session, I noticed Kennan went to great lengths to undermine you.” Understatement, I think. “In the waterfall cave, I witnessed it firsthand. I know what she was doing to you.”
I pause, watching Cathal carefully. A tiny, disarming smile continues to play at the corners of his mouth. Cathal is so different from everyone else at High House. He’s open and honest while everyone else is closed off, hostile. My eyes sear with unshed tears as I recall the bet against my sanity, Ravod’s harsh words when I first arrived, and the hatred in Kennan’s eyes over the past week.
“I don’t understand.” My brow knits.
Cathal waves his hand. Imogen slips from the room, and we are alone once more.
“Kennan was performing a Counter-Telling,” he says.
“A what?”
“She used the tea to disguise the movement of her lips, but from where I stood, it was obvious what she was up to. She was performing her own Tellings to prevent yours from succeeding. Quite skillfully, but that is beside the point. It would seem she is threatened by your gift.”
What he’s saying makes my gut lurch uncomfortably. Cathal may still believe in me, but Kennan hasn’t just been cruel, she’s been purposefully causing me to fail. In my shock, I don’t know whether to be furious at her or terrified of what this means, for either her or myself. I shouldn’t care after how she’s treated me, but it sends a tremor of worry through me. Will she be punished?
Cathal leans back into his settee. “Relax, Shae. That you were able to perform at all today shows me that you are far more adept with the gift than Kennan let on.”
“I know Kennan isn’t exactly fond of me, but why would she do that?”
“If someone were to look into it, I would be very interested in knowing the answer to that question as well.” I frown, unable to read Cathal’s tone. “Nevertheless, I can confirm for you with great certainty that things are going to be very different going forward. You will be provided with a new trainer. Someone who will not be so petty as to sabotage your progress. You have enough to worry about.” His tone shifts to cautionary. “Not all the dangers of being a Bard come from without, after all. Some lie within.”
“The madness,” I say, a low waver in my voice, as if speaking the words louder will somehow bring it upon me. Cathal nods.
“I see a lot of myself in you, Shae. Perhaps it is what compels me to help you reach your full potential. I want you to succeed.” He sighs, his eyes piercing into mine. “I, too, understand what it is like to be different. To be cut off from the rest of the world. To be alone.” His voice quivers slightly around the final syllable. My body relaxes. I felt the same way in Aster.
“At home, everyone thought I was cursed,” I say quietly. “They hated me. I had precious few friends who would treat me like I was a human being.”
Cathal gives me a grim smile. “Sometimes being extraordinary is to be extraordinarily lonely.”
It’s strange to think I have something in common with the Lord of High House. Even stranger that he thinks I am extraordinary.
Cathal leans forward on his knees and watches me, his face serious. His translucent gray eyes search mine.
“The death of your mother must have been very difficult,” he says.
Tears spring in my eyes, and I swiftly blink them away.
“I would love to know more about your home,” he says.
“I can’t imagine how a place like Aster could possibly interest you,” I admit. “It’s just a small town on the plains. Most of us are simple villagers going about our lives.”
The corner of Cathal’s mouth curves upward. “Simple villagers do not often leave their simple villages,” he points out. “Much less infiltrate my castle and become Bards. I get the distinct impression that there is much more to you than you let on, Shae. I would very much like to hear the whole story.” Cathal grimaces. “I do not mean to pry. You need not share anything you do not wish to. I have no desire to make you uncomfortable.”
“No,” I interject. “I’m not uncomfortable.” In truth, my only current fear is that Cathal will realize I’m not as interesting as he thinks and will refuse to help me after all.
“Wonderful.” Cathal seems relieved. “My curiosity can be off-putting to some.”
“In my experience, curiosity and trouble often go hand in hand.” I allow myself a chuckle, thinking back on the mishaps that led me here.
“Indulge me, then,” Cathal says. “Start from the beginning.”
I take a deep breath, and before I know it, I’m sharing everything from my upbringing in Aster, the accidental Tellings I performed with my embroidery, my assumption I was cursed, to the Telling I snuck out to see. From there, I describe Ma’s murder and the strange cover-up. I disclose again my suspicions that a Bard must be involved. I go on to describe how I left Aster and my journey. Cathal listens with rapt attention to all of it.
When I finish, his eyes are wide, twinkling with attentiveness. “So … Do you believe me?” I ask.
There’s an expression I can’t quite read on his face. His dark brows are furrowed, his lips pressed to a thin line.
“Every word.” His statement is slow, deliberate. Sincere.
I breathe a sigh of relief. The air in my lungs feels lighter. My indignation from when I talked to Constable Dunne and Fiona about Ma’s death fades. It doesn’t matter that they chose to think I’m crazy. Cathal is the one I needed to convince. His opinion on this is the only one that matters. And he believes me.
I feel a sting at the corners of my eyes. This time, I don’t blink them away. For so long I’d been keeping everything bottled up and secret because I was afraid. I was so afraid …
Cathal gets up when my hands rise to wipe my tears away. He steps elegantly around the table and kneels in front of me, gently taking my hands. His aristocratic fingers are soft and warm as he rubs his thumbs over my knuckles.
Pa used to hold my hands like this, when I was a little girl. If I scraped my knee playing or got in a fight with Kieran. The hands are different, but the feeling is the same.
“Cry if you need to, Shae,” Cathal says softly. “You have been through a lot.”
I sniff as a tear falls onto my lap. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Once my breath steadies, he releases my hands and gets to his feet. He begins to slowly pace the room, rubbing the dark silver stubble on his chin, deep in thought.
“There are hundreds of Bards,” he says. “Each would be capable of hiding what they have done. But there is a way to discover the truth and bring about the justice you seek. However, it will take patience. And I will need your help to do it.”
A flood of gratitude rushes through me. He holds my gaze, unblinking, for a long while before his eyes flick away.
“Why me though?” Surely there must be someone more experienced he can put his faith in.
“I have a bit of a gift for spotting talent.” He quirks his head. “What you did at the waterfall is, shall we say, different. Inspired. Same as the day you first arrived. There is something very special about you, Shae. And our task requires someone special.”
I think it’s a compliment, but can’t help fearing Cathal is misled in believing in my talent. I have hardly proven myself. But if Kennan really has been holding me back, there’s a chance I don’t know my own strength, as Cathal says.
“What do I need to do?”
When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You will need to find the Book of Days,” he says. “And I will teach you how to read it, understand it, and use it.”