“Of what?”
He hesitated, fingers worrying the seam of his cuff. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
She almost laughed at that. She was lost to him at the moment as it was, trapped inside the estate, but she didn’t want to break the moment. Instead, she reached for his hand. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
Literally.
His fingers tightened around hers. “Then come with me. Leave this place.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can.” His voice was firmer now, his eyes searching her face. “You don’t belong here, Aoife. Not with him. I could carry you off to the Otherworld, like in the stories.”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
She hesitated too long, and the realisation dawned in his eyes before she spoke. “I swore an oath,” she said.
He sat up straighter despite the pain. “What kind of oath?”
She could see the apprehension in his eyes. She knew what he was hoping she would say or wouldn’t say. “To the Sheedar.”
“Curse the crows.” He sank against the headboard. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
“What exactly did you say?”
“I swore I wouldn’t leave the estate until I gave my heart to one who abides here.”
“Did you…?”
He didn’t need to finish. She knew what he was asking. “A drop of blood to the hawthorn tree.”
“Crows,” he swore again. “The Sheedar won’t let that go.” He looked away, jaw clenched. “That goat’s arse.”
For a long moment neither spoke. The fire crackled faintly in the grate.
He stared down at his hands, shoulders tense. The news had hit him harder than she’d expected.
She reached for the tray and nudged it toward him. “You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need your strength.”
It was the same argument they’d had a dozen times since the harvest failed. It had never seemed as important as now.
He gave her a tired look. “You eat it.”
She smiled faintly. “I’ve had enough. Please, Cormac.”
He didn’t move.
“You’ll have to stay here a few days at least, heal, recover your strength. You might as well eat while you can.”
But as soon as she said it, guilt settled heavy in her chest. He must have noticed how her cheeks had filled, how her wrists no longer looked like they might snap in the breeze. To him, it must look obscene her eating at Halverton’s table while the village starved. She looked down at her hands, ashamed.
