“Something concerning has come to my attention,” Cathal says, and I swallow nervously. I long to devour the food, but my throat is constricting with fear. “I have been closely observing your performance. I am—to put it mildly—displeased.”
I’m suddenly so ill at ease, I fear I am going to burst out sobbing. “I … I’m sorry,” I muster.
“What? Do not be sorry. I am not displeased with you. What displeases me is the manner in which Kennan has been conducting your tests.”
“My tests? How so?” My pulse is racing. Maybe this meeting is not a referendum on me but on her. Is it possible he sees how cruel she has been?
“Her daily reports to me state that your talents are meager at best,” he goes on. “I believe this to be false.”
I stare at him, speechless. When I am unable to look him in the eyes any longer, I glance away, only to realize Imogen has come into the room and begun to quietly dust a pedestal with an ornate statue on it. A shudder of relief goes through me when I see her face. She gives me a small wink over her shoulder.
Cathal calmly watches me. “In your most recent session, I noticed Kennan went to great lengths to undermine you.” Understatement, I think. “In the waterfall cave, I witnessed it firsthand. I know what she was doing to you.”
I pause, watching Cathal carefully. A tiny, disarming smile continues to play at the corners of his mouth. Cathal is so different from everyone else at High House. He’s open and honest while everyone else is closed off, hostile. My eyes sear with unshed tears as I recall the bet against my sanity, Ravod’s harsh words when I first arrived, and the hatred in Kennan’s eyes over the past week.
“I don’t understand.” My brow knits.
Cathal waves his hand. Imogen slips from the room, and we are alone once more.
“Kennan was performing a Counter-Telling,” he says.
“A what?”
“She used the tea to disguise the movement of her lips, but from where I stood, it was obvious what she was up to. She was performing her own Tellings to prevent yours from succeeding. Quite skillfully, but that is beside the point. It would seem she is threatened by your gift.”
What he’s saying makes my gut lurch uncomfortably. Cathal may still believe in me, but Kennan hasn’t just been cruel, she’s been purposefully causing me to fail. In my shock, I don’t know whether to be furious at her or terrified of what this means, for either her or myself. I shouldn’t care after how she’s treated me, but it sends a tremor of worry through me. Will she be punished?
Cathal leans back into his settee. “Relax, Shae. That you were able to perform at all today shows me that you are far more adept with the gift than Kennan let on.”
“I know Kennan isn’t exactly fond of me, but why would she do that?”
“If someone were to look into it, I would be very interested in knowing the answer to that question as well.” I frown, unable to read Cathal’s tone. “Nevertheless, I can confirm for you with great certainty that things are going to be very different going forward. You will be provided with a new trainer. Someone who will not be so petty as to sabotage your progress. You have enough to worry about.” His tone shifts to cautionary. “Not all the dangers of being a Bard come from without, after all. Some lie within.”
“The madness,” I say, a low waver in my voice, as if speaking the words louder will somehow bring it upon me. Cathal nods.
“I see a lot of myself in you, Shae. Perhaps it is what compels me to help you reach your full potential. I want you to succeed.” He sighs, his eyes piercing into mine. “I, too, understand what it is like to be different. To be cut off from the rest of the world. To be alone.” His voice quivers slightly around the final syllable. My body relaxes. I felt the same way in Aster.
“At home, everyone thought I was cursed,” I say quietly. “They hated me. I had precious few friends who would treat me like I was a human being.”
Cathal gives me a grim smile. “Sometimes being extraordinary is to be extraordinarily lonely.”
It’s strange to think I have something in common with the Lord of High House. Even stranger that he thinks I am extraordinary.
Cathal leans forward on his knees and watches me, his face serious. His translucent gray eyes search mine.
“The death of your mother must have been very difficult,” he says.
Tears spring in my eyes, and I swiftly blink them away.
“I would love to know more about your home,” he says.
“I can’t imagine how a place like Aster could possibly interest you,” I admit. “It’s just a small town on the plains. Most of us are simple villagers going about our lives.”
The corner of Cathal’s mouth curves upward. “Simple villagers do not often leave their simple villages,” he points out. “Much less infiltrate my castle and become Bards. I get the distinct impression that there is much more to you than you let on, Shae. I would very much like to hear the whole story.” Cathal grimaces. “I do not mean to pry. You need not share anything you do not wish to. I have no desire to make you uncomfortable.”
“No,” I interject. “I’m not uncomfortable.” In truth, my only current fear is that Cathal will realize I’m not as interesting as he thinks and will refuse to help me after all.
“Wonderful.” Cathal seems relieved. “My curiosity can be off-putting to some.”
“In my experience, curiosity and trouble often go hand in hand.” I allow myself a chuckle, thinking back on the mishaps that led me here.
“Indulge me, then,” Cathal says. “Start from the beginning.”
I take a deep breath, and before I know it, I’m sharing everything from my upbringing in Aster, the accidental Tellings I performed with my embroidery, my assumption I was cursed, to the Telling I snuck out to see. From there, I describe Ma’s murder and the strange cover-up. I disclose again my suspicions that a Bard must be involved. I go on to describe how I left Aster and my journey. Cathal listens with rapt attention to all of it.
When I finish, his eyes are wide, twinkling with attentiveness. “So … Do you believe me?” I ask.
There’s an expression I can’t quite read on his face. His dark brows are furrowed, his lips pressed to a thin line.
“Every word.” His statement is slow, deliberate. Sincere.
I breathe a sigh of relief. The air in my lungs feels lighter. My indignation from when I talked to Constable Dunne and Fiona about Ma’s death fades. It doesn’t matter that they chose to think I’m crazy. Cathal is the one I needed to convince. His opinion on this is the only one that matters. And he believes me.
I feel a sting at the corners of my eyes. This time, I don’t blink them away. For so long I’d been keeping everything bottled up and secret because I was afraid. I was so afraid …
Cathal gets up when my hands rise to wipe my tears away. He steps elegantly around the table and kneels in front of me, gently taking my hands. His aristocratic fingers are soft and warm as he rubs his thumbs over my knuckles.
Pa used to hold my hands like this, when I was a little girl. If I scraped my knee playing or got in a fight with Kieran. The hands are different, but the feeling is the same.