Cate placed a hand on my arm, her expression serious. “Cailleach’s hounds rarely travel alone and I’d rather not face an entire pack so close to the palace gates. Please get into the carriage before it’s too late. I promise, you’ve nothing to fear from me.”
An image popped into my head, clear as day and so real I nearly cried out in fear. Hounds were everywhere, prowling the woods, whining anxiously as they awaited another chance to strike. This other, more terrifying possibility quelled my apprehension toward Cate. Still light-headed, I swayed again at the carriage door. Cate caught my elbow and gave me a boost inside where I flopped onto the padded leather bench. It was pitch black until she came in a moment later holding a lantern. Sitting on the opposite bench, she looked the picture of serenity in the small circle of light, her gown immaculate and every auburn curl pinned in place. A familiar smile played on her face, the smile of a perfectly composed, slightly amused lady.
The driver whistled and the carriage lurched forward, the momentum pressing me farther into the seat back. The horses picked up speed, and we were soon hurtling down the road away from the palace. No longer running for my life or facing imminent death, my breath slowed and the dizziness faded from my head. I stared at Cate, ours eyes locked as one question rose up amongst a thousand.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice even despite the emotions churning inside of me.
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out by now, given how careless I’ve been of late. In the very least, the hound’s demise should have told you something of my identity.”
I stared at her in silence. To be sure, I had killed one of the creatures myself, but only with the help of Brigid’s knife. And even that had been an accident. Cate had killed one with her bare hands, the same small, delicate hands now folded demurely in her lap. If anything the incident told me that this woman was more deadly than a gigantic, bloodthirsty hound. Maybe even a whole pack.
Cate sighed. “Perhaps we should try a different approach.” She glanced at my arm. “What do you think happened to the burn you got at the docks? Quite a coincidence that it disappeared the same night you fainted on my front steps, no? I admit it was hardly necessary to sustain life, but such burns can be troublesome for our kind. If left untreated, there’s a good chance the wound would have festered, so you should be thankful that I went ahead and healed it. Besides,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “it was unsightly.”
Our kind.
The notion left a sour taste in my mouth, a taste I associated with deceit and gullibility. I brushed a hand across the newly mended skin, desperate for another explanation.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. “You did this?”
“That hound must have rattled your wits more than I thought,” she laughed. “Of course it was me. I also left the basket on the porch.”
Words failed me, and I blinked at her as the facts continued to pile up between us. Is it possible?
Julian had been so easy to believe the first time we met, but Cate...to believe her now would mean she had been playing me false for the past week. I studied her face, the eyes I had so readily trusted, trying to decipher the truth from the lies.
She winked at me. “Stop looking so grim. I’ve saved your life twice now. That alone should be proof to my identity and that I mean you no harm.”
I gave her a puzzled look. There was little doubt she had saved me tonight, but twice?
“You poured so much of your own life into little Charlie, the boy will probably live to be a hundred years old. Fortunately, I was at home when Henry carried you into the drawing room, or your spirit wouldn’t have been able to hold on much longer. Yet from the look on your face, you still doubt my sincerity. Maybe I should have just grown a strawberry rather than kill Cailleach’s hound? Though to be fair, I haven’t the green thumb like Julian.”
I started. “You know about him?”
“More or less. I was acquainted with his mother years ago, and have been keeping an eye on him since he arrived in London this past spring. As for the strawberry, one of my spies followed the two of you into the garden. I knew the hounds were loose tonight, and when word arrived that you had stumbled into the king’s private courtyard, I was already waiting in the carriage. Peter, bless his heart, nearly signed your death warrant by letting you out that way. A few more seconds and you would have been beyond even my reach, which is saying something.” Her dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Have I convinced you yet? Most goddess born need only hear ‘Brigid Burdach’ to be satisfied. Shall I list the bitter herbs or recite the words to cross over? Maybe I could describe Brigid herself and her garden in the Otherworld? Would that suffice?”