“Hartley,” she said, stretching her hand into the cage as far as she could reach. “Fight. You will have Donal. You can take him back to your land, where he will be safe. I give you my blessing.”
He lay still where he had fallen. Eden pushed harder, until her shoulder was in danger of leaving its socket. “Hartley. I love you.”
Claudia tried to pry her fingers from the bars. Eden acted without thinking. She flung herself about and struck wildly with her fists and feet. Claudia gasped and rolled away. Eden scrambled after her.
“The key!” she demanded, pinning Claudia to the ground.
“Do as she says, Sister.”
Eden looked up. Lord Bradwell stood over them, a pistol held loosely in his hand.
“I wished to be absolutely sure that I was not mistaken in my judgment this time,” he said. “But it is clear that Eden loves this man by whatever name or shape he chooses, and he would die for her. I am sorry that I waited so long to act.” He glanced at the weapon with a grimace of loathing. “I will use this, Claudia, to save my niece and her son.”
“You haven’t the courage, Cyrus—”
“We have all changed, haven’t we, Sister? Do you wish to find out how much?”
Eden wasted no time in surprise. “The key,” she repeated.
Claudia lay unresisting, her expression as hard as Lakeland granite. “You will have to kill me, Cyrus. My death is a small price to pay for Eden’s freedom.”
Choose. Choose, Eden. “Give me the pistol, Papa.” She held out her hand, hoping that she could see well enough through her tears to grip the handle.
“Eden.”
She heard the hoarse whisper and turned toward the cage. Hartley still lived. His eyes held the only color in his face, but they lit the dusk like torches.
“Forgive her, Eden. Let there be… no more hatred.”
She dropped her hand. Lord Bradwell bent and pulled Claudia to her feet. Eden crawled toward the cage through the trampled, melting snow, her hair trailing like mourning ribbons.
“No hatred,” she whispered. “Only forgiveness.”
He smiled and closed his eyes and lay back. Eden bent her face to the ground.
Strange vibrations beat an uneven rhythm under her knees and palms. Behind her, Cyrus Fleming swore. She turned her head and stared down the fell through her veil of hair.
Coming up the fell, seemingly alone, was Donal. He raced swift as a young calf, with leaps and bounds that should have been impossible for a boy of his size. Just over his head, visible only to those with eyes to see, was the trailing, glittering mist of unearthly flight. Tod.
“Mother!” Donal cried. “Da!”
He reached Eden and she caught his wiry body in her arms. “Donal! Donal, my son—”
“The hunter let me go. Tod let Mrs. Byrne out of the house, and she told Mr. Blake that he shouldn’t listen to Aunt Claudia. He went away to America.” He wriggled free and stared through the bars at Hartley. Before Eden could stop him, he touched the metal. Pain screwed up his features, but he held on.
“Da,” he said. “I’ll help you.” He looked straight up at Claudia, and she leaned back into Cyrus’s hold. There was an instant of total silence. And then, from every direction, came the rustling of grass and the patter of little feet and the grunts and snuffles of a hundred animal voices. All converged upon the cage.
Eden watched them with prayers of joy and gratitude. Field mice, voles, foxes, and every sort of creature not asleep for the winter arrived in their varied legions—all accepting the truce that Donal imposed with his call. Claudia shrieked. Donal smiled.
“We will protect you, Da,” he said, holding out his hand so that a pair of field mice could run up to perch on his shoulder. Three grumpy badgers, awakened from their sleep, planted themselves at Claudia’s feet and glared up at her. The rest formed a large, loose circle about the humans.
Hartley raised his head, and tears fell from his eyes to pool on the cold metal floor of his cage.