Aoife’s breathing quickened as something unsaid hung in the air between them.
“Here.” He slipped something small from his pocket and held it out.
A leather bracelet lay in his palm. The braid was tight and even, every knot made with care.
“I made it for your birthday,” he said. “But I might not get the chance to give it to you then.”
Aoife turned it in her hands, running her thumb over the rough edges. “You’ve been working on this a while,” she said.
He shrugged. “Whenever I had a moment between things.” His voice caught, and she looked up, but he was already looking away.
She held it out to him. “Would you?” She extended her wrist, pulling the sleeve up a fraction.
Cormac looked at her, and she smiled. He took the leather strap and slipped it around her wrist. His fingers touched her skin as he tied the ends together. The heat lingered long after the touch was gone.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, turning her wrist over to look at every intricate knot. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
The branches creaked above them, the wind moving through the leaves in slow, whispering waves. The easy warmth between them cooled into silence.
Aoife looked out over the fields, the scattered roofs, the faint glow of the village in the distance.
“I am going with Lord Halverton,” she said at last.
Cormac didn’t move. “You don’t have to. We could run, hide in the woods.”
She shook her head. “No. I realised something earlier. I might have an opportunity here. He can’t be as bad as people say. Maybe he doesn’t know what’s happening out here, that the entire country is struggling. He can’t understand we’re all at risk of starving. He can’t be a landlord without tenants. Who’ll till the fields next year if he lets us all die? No, Cormac. I think I can open his eyes to what’s going on. Maybe this is a chance to change all our destinies.”
His mouth tightened. “No one can change a man like that.”
“Maybe no one has tried,” Aoife said.
Cormac scoffed and turned away, jaw tight. “You’re not going to change him, Aoife. He’ll change you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“When have you ever seen a man like him change?”
“That’s not fair. I don’t know any other men like him.”
“People don’t change.”
“Of course they do. You’re not the same person you were ten years ago. Or are you going to argue twelve-year-old you was just as wise as you are now?”
“Fine,” he said. “Adults don’t change.”
Aoife’s faith in her plan faltered. “Maybe. But what if I’m right? If he’s not what you think? If he’s capable of listening?”
“Aoife,” he said, almost pleading now. “Men like him don’t listen. He doesn’t see you as an equal. He sees you as a pretty thing he wants to own.”
The words hurt more than she expected. “I’ll make him listen.”
“How? Once you’re under his roof, he’ll be the one doing the changing. And he has all the power.”
“I won’t let him change me.” In that moment, her determination was as strong as the iron in her father’s forge. Until she saw the look Cormac gave her, full of pity, and she couldn’t stand it.
“It happens slowly,” he said. “You’ll tell yourself you’re doing it for good reasons. To keep the peace, to soften him, to help your father, the village. And by the time you realise what he’s made of you, it’ll be too late.”
