He turned to look at her, his brows knitted. “Caiseal’s too far as well.”
“Not Caiseal,theCaiseal,” she replied. “You know, Cnoc Rua, The Red Hill.”
“Cnoc Rua? That place is haunted.”
“Aye. By ghost flowers.”
He turned around with her favorite put-upon sigh—something she’d missed more than she’d expected—and nudged the horse across the courtyard to the gate. “You’re going to be the death of me, Woman.” Even as he said the words, she could hear the smile in his voice.
“I cannot believeyou talked me into this,” Dallan whispered, pulling his cloak tighter as they stood at the foot of Cnoc Rua.
A gently sloping hill flowed like a skirt of green from a circle of giant standing stones. The charcoal sky surrounded them, the moon shining silvery light onto the ancient tomb. Long ago, an earthen mound had been built inside the stones, but only a hand-span here and there remained around the circle. Niamh couldn’t even imagine how long ago it was built to have eroded so much already.
“We always said we’d go,” Niamh whispered back. It felt inappropriate to raise her voice, so she matched his hushed tone.
A breeze rushed by, whistling over the rocky hillside and chilling Niamh to the bone. She shivered beneath her own cloak but pressed onwards. “It’ll be fun,” she added hesitantly.
Taking a deep breath, she took several steps up the gentle hill when a warm weight enveloped her shoulders, startling her.
Dallan’s deep, low voice spoke closer than she’d expected, sending chills of anticipation down her spine. “You’re shivering.”
So he’d given her his cloak, ever the honorable prince.
“Won’t you be cold?”
His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
As he looked into her eyes, his jaw tightened, like he was swallowing down his desire. Niamh’s stomach flipped when she realized that was likely exactly what he was doing.
Remembering their kiss earlier that day, her eyes fell to his lips, willing him to kiss her. Instead, he took a step away.
“So what does this ghost flower look like?” he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the top of the hill.
Now that they were closer, the stones felt like a third person joining them for the evening. Some were large—as tall as Dallan. Others only reached Niamh’s ankle.
“It’s white, I should think.”
He leveled her a look. “You don’tknowwhat it looks like?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
He shook his head with a sideways grin, looking intently at the ground as he started wandering the clearing.
Niamh went the opposite way, running her hand along the cool stones as she walked. They had designs carved into them, swirls and lines and all manner of patterns. Invisible in the dark, only the tips of her fingers knew of the secret spirals that followed her around the mound. She came upon a group of the tallest stones, stacked together to form a small corridor. As she rounded the outside corner of the structure, Dallan jumped out from the other side, scaring her silly.
Her scream echoed off the stones, followed by his laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he managed, bending over as he laughed at his joke. “I couldn’t resist.”
She couldn’t believe she’d spent years away from him. Dallan had been her best friend since that day in the courtyard seven years ago. Living without his ridiculous jests and endearing boasts, his quiet courage and unwavering support—living withouthim—Niamh realized she hadn’t really been living at all.
“I need to tell you something, and I want you to know that this is quite difficult for me, so please be patient if I don’t explain it terribly well.”
Dallan took her hands in his, warm and strong. “There’s something I want to tell you as well. You go first, though.”
“When we left Nás,” she began, “it wasn’t only because I’d refused your betrothal. When I told you my father was gone, I didn’t mean he’d died. He left us. His family found him another wife, and he left us to go marry her.”
Dallan looked so horrified that it gave Niamh hope. “What?” he exclaimed, clearly shocked. “Why would he do such a thing?”
