Page 49

Da peels back the oilcloth carefully, protecting the damp pages from tearing. The ink has blurred at the edges, but not enough to hide the truth.

He reads in silence.

I watch him take it in, line by line, each word waking up older and ugly anger. When he folds the pages again, he does it with careful precision. Then he turns for the door.

Robert stops pacing abruptly. “Well?”

Da doesn’t answer. He walks out with the papers in his hand, boots heavy on the boards, that same intentional silence he uses when he’s keeping his temper on a leash.

For a beat, the study holds nothing but rain tapping at the window.

Then Robert paces again, sharper than before, his boots cutting back and forth across the boards like he’s trying to wear a path through the waiting.

Then multiple sets of footsteps come back down the corridor.

Da comes back with Ma close behind him, her shawl thrown over her shoulders as if she snatched it up on the way. Róisín and Ellen follow, all three drawn tight, eyes bright with dread.

“What is it?” Ma demands, trying for sharp and not quite managing it. “Go on, Taskill. Don’t stand there makin’ a show of it.”

“Aye,” Róisín says. “Please. Say it plain.”

Da steps in close enough to set a steady hand on Róisín’s shoulder and gives a small grounding squeeze.

“Let Robert read it first,” he says, quiet but leaving no room for argument. “Let him take it in proper. Then we’ll speak of it.”

Robert takes it like it’ll burn if he doesn’t. His mouth hardens, and the way his fingers pinch the paper tells me he’s holding himself back from crumpling it.

Long enough time passes that I count heartbeats without meaning to.

At last Robert exhales sharply through his nose and hands the packet to Alex. “Read,” he says.

It sounds less like an instruction than a demand.

Alex’s eyes move over the paper. His expression tightens, as though he’s bitten down on something barbed. It looks unnatural on him.

“That bad?” I ask, and my attempt at lightness falls flat in the warm air.

Alex doesn’t snap, but the silence he gives me is answer enough. He slides the paper across the table without speaking.

I snatch it up. The damp edge sticks to my thumb.

The first thing that hits me is the bold, shouting header, too large and too gleeful for what it carries.

I read it out in a voice so blank it might as well be a sneer.

EXTRAORDINARY INTELLIGENCE FROM IRELAND

Dublin—Thursday, May the Twenty-Fourth, 1798

My stomach drops as I read on, because I know what sort of voice prints a headline like that. Not a voice that brings hope.

Ma’s face pales. “So, it’s true. The news we’ve been hearin’ about Dublin.”

Da takes a single step to her side, his hands settling on her shoulders, and whispers something meant only for her.

I glance up and find Róisín by the hearth, blinking hard.

Alex quietly stands and crosses over to her. He doesn’t make a show of it.