EPILOGUE

I have one last thing to tell you before we part ways. It concerns Geanann’s last visit to the isle.

It had been a year since I had seen him, and I felt awkward in his presence as I never had before. Living with women as I did, I thought little of my appearance and had barely noticed the changes that had steadily transformed my angular girl’s frame into a woman’s body. Now, though, as he sat so near to me, I was aware of the thrust of my breasts against my shift as if they had sprung out overnight, and I could not find a way to sit that did not seem to display them. And when he rolled back his sleeves to catch the cooling breeze, the sight of the golden hair glinting on the swell of his forearm was such a distraction to me I could hardly follow his words.

You will be laughing at me now, I am sure. A young woman taken with a man, and so cut off from her own heart she could not see the obvious!

But I could not let myself see. Not with a purple track carved down my face that ensured no man would ever be taken with me. I had not been long recovered from that wound when I determined that the only way to deal with such a thing was to keep a firm leash on my own heart and to be content with the love between friends.

And I managed it too. I tore my eyes from the strong hands, the bright smile, and concentrated on his words, and gradually the self-consciousness left me and I was once again at ease. And we traded news of our lives like old friends: Geanann’s travels and adventures and his testing soon to come, my studies and my growing interest in the law.

And then I told him of the name Tlachta had given me on Samhain. I shook my head.

“I am getting used to it. I like that my name is linked to Fintan’s—it speaks to the bond between us. But really. White Blossom? It is a name for a woman of great beauty, not—”

“Then it is a name for you.”

Startled, I could not stop my eyes from finding his, and there was something in their gray depths that held me. As if in protest, my hand rose to cover the scar—but Geanann reached out and caught my wrist and pulled it down.

“Don’t. You need never hide that from me. What do you think I see when I look at that scar that I made myself, though it was the hardest thing I ever had to do? It’s a young girl’s courage I see, courage to shame a warrior. And Luaine—Finscoth—I see a woman’s beauty shining through it, so bright it nearly blinds me.”

He had never loosed his hold on my wrist, and he pulled gently on it now, leaning forward to take my head in his other hand. He put his lips just under my eye where the scar began and he slowly traced its length, over the swell of my cheekbone to the point of my jaw. And by the time he arrived at its end I was lost. He did not have to search for my lips—I could no more have kept them from him than stop my own breath. And for a long time there were no words between us, for it was a different language altogether we were speaking.

“It is so long I have been dreaming of that kiss.” His smile washed over me, and I basked shamelessly in it. It made me happy just to look at his face, and it was a wonder to me that his eyes lingered over my features with the same delight.

“How long?” I had had no idea.

“Oh, now... These things creep up on a person unawares. But I believe it may have been the day you jumped on your horse and galloped off without me, and your wound barely set.”

“Why did you wait to tell me, then? I was old enough.” Even as I said the words I knew they were untrue. I may have been old enough, but I had not been ready.

Geanann was shaking his head. “I wanted your love freely given,” he said. “You were so alone and so young. I was afraid you might feel I was demanding repayment. Worse, I was afraid you might feel compelled to give it.”

“But I am old enough now,” I said, and this time I didn’t get his light-up-the-world smile but a smoldering look that sparked a rising heat in my belly.

“Oh yes,” he said softly. “You are old enough now.”

He left the next morning, with a promise to return to me soon.

“We have much to talk about,” he said seriously, “but it is hard now to talk when you are by me.”

I smiled—a part of me still dazed to find myself trading lovers’ jokes—but I knew he was right. It was not so simple between us, not if I was to continue my training. And that, Geanann had made clear, he would not interrupt. “You have only started to discover your gifts,” he said, “and while, if the gods are with me, I will be resplendent in feathers the next time you see me, I am not qualified to take an apprentice. Even if I were, I could not match the richness of learning you have here.”

But I didn’t fret over it. I was learning to trust my path. If we were meant to be together, a way would reveal itself.

At the causeway, Geanann held me tight and kissed me one last time. I threaded my arms around his neck and let the world fall away. And then I watched him ride onto the mainland and disappear down the road.

I could hear the whispers and giggles behind me. There are some thirty women on the isle, druidesses, apprentices and servants, and by the time I returned to my studies there would not be one who had not heard about me and Geanann. I didn’t mind. One of Roisin’s down-to-earth homilies came to mind: A man who proclaims his love before witnesses is a man who will stand by his word. It would be long before we could marry, but we would pledge to each other at Beltane all the same.

So much of life is a mystery, hidden even from the wisest. I had not looked for love, but it found me all the same. And it made me think again on Emer and Cuchulainn, and on the love that was between them.

I understand my mother’s choice better now. Her life with Cuchulainn had blazed like a bright flame. It must have seemed to her that what remained after his death was a spark so faint and feeble it was not worth the tending. Better to go out together. And yet...our lives are a gift from the gods. As long as the light still glows within us, no matter how faint, should we be so quick to stamp it out?

It takes courage to die in battle, or to take one’s own life as my mother did. But it takes courage to live as well: to face the long black nights of grief, to rise from the ashes and begin again. To trust that like the warmth of spring or the light from the Samhain fire, happiness may yet return.

I have so much to learn. But some things I have learned, not least about who I am. As I turned back from the causeway and returned to the island that has become my home, a triad came to me. The words sounded in my head like a heartbeat, and I knew them to be true. They are three petals on the white blossom I am cultivating within me. I wake to the knowledge of them every day:

My name is Finscoth.

I follow the druid’s path.

I am loved.