“My lady.”

Aine groaned into her pillow and pulled the coverlet over her head. Surely it couldn’t be morning already. That meant this was simply another dream in a series of awful ones.

“My lady, you need to wake up and eat something. It’s nearly supper.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t bring to mind a name for the speaker. She squinted in the dim light that spilled through the window. “It’s early yet. The sun is not even up.”

“The sun is about to go down, my lady.”

Morrigan stood at the edge of the bed, looking even more uncomfortable about her presence than Aine felt. “Master Eoghan has sent me up to check on you several times, but he insists you eat. If not for you, for your child.”

Eoghan. Of course he would be checking on her. The fact that he sent Morrigan seemed to imply other intentions, though. She pushed herself up on one elbow and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I’ve slept all day?”

“Aye, my lady.”

She must have been more exhausted from last night’s ordeal than she’d thought. Last night’s ordeal. The siege on Ard Bealach. How could she have fallen asleep? Why hadn’t Conor contacted her? She sat straight up, her heart leaping into action. “What news? Is it done? Have we heard?”

Morrigan’s smile broke through her worried expression. “Aye, my lady. It’s over. We won. The bird arrived a few hours ago.”

Aine’s relief whistled out with her sigh. “Thank Comdiu. Casualties? Conor?”

“Conor is fine, my lady. Only one man lost, none wounded. An answer to prayers.”

“Indeed,” she murmured, though she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for whoever the lost man was. She had known much of the party only by sight, but they were still part of the city —still part of the brotherhood —and knowing Conor, he would feel responsible for that life.

“Brothers Eoghan and Riordan wish you to dine with them if you feel well enough. Should I tell them you’ll join them, or will you take your supper here?” Morrigan’s voice was perfectly polite and measured, but there was something underlying it that said she resented being sent to fetch and carry.

“Why are you here? There are a number of women they could have asked.”

“I suspect this is Master Eoghan’s way of giving me something to do while he still keeps an eye on me. And perhaps reminding me that I’m at your mercy.”

“If you want to leave your chamber, aye, I suspect that’s right.” Aine nodded her head toward the table holding her toiletries. “I’ll eat with them. While you’re here, will you help me with my hair?”

“Aye, my lady.” She didn’t seem perturbed or insulted by the question, merely retrieved the brush and gestured for Aine to move to the chair. Morrigan drew the brush through her hair with surprising gentleness, but she didn’t say anything.

“Tell me one thing, Morrigan. Why did you not warn the men about the sidhe?”

Morrigan’s movements faltered. “The sidhe?”

“Aye. Surely you knew about them. You must have realized the influence they had at Ard Bealach and how the rune rendered them powerless. Why did you let Conor and the rest of the men go in without knowing what they would face?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Morrigan. You have been holding back, if not telling complete fibs, and it almost cost Conor his life.” She twisted around to stare into Morrigan’s eyes, to impress on her the seriousness of her intentions. “If I tell Eoghan that you’re a threat, you will be put in the dungeons. However soft you may think me, I will make it so you never see the light of day. So tell me the truth, and Comdiu help you if you lie to me.”

“I do not think of you as soft, my lady,” Morrigan said. She put down the brush and moved to the edge of the bed. “Anything but, in fact. Anyone can see —”

“And now you are attempting to manipulate me.”

Morrigan’s expression closed. “The truth doesn’t help you, Lady Aine. The truth is, I have no idea how much of what happened there was real and how much was an illusion.”

“So Meallachán might not even be there? That could have all been a fabrication of the sidhe?”

“It’s possible, but not likely. Their glamour is one that steals your worst fears and amplifies them. At least that’s what I believe now. What I endured at Somhairle’s hands —I think that was real. But I have no way of knowing for sure.”

Despite the fact Morrigan had not been completely honest since she arrived, Aine wanted to believe she was finally telling the truth. “Why not just admit it? Why not just be honest from the start?”

Morrigan trembled —with anger, Aine thought. “Because what happened to me took something from me. My pride. My free will. It doesn’t matter if my body experienced it. My mind still remembers.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would strike deeper to the heart. Aine had tried to tell herself that Conor would be okay, that because what he’d experienced had happened only in his mind, he’d be able to forget it. But the depth of the mental torture he’d experienced, so intense he had been on the brink of death —that could be something from which he might never fully recover. Even worse was the realization that he had lived out his greatest fears —and memories. How much of that had he actually experienced at the hands of the Sofarende? How much had he kept hidden from her?

Like the woman you saw in his mind?

She pulled that thought out ruthlessly, even though it had planted itself in the back of her mind like a weed. She had no way of knowing if that were real. Perhaps he only feared that weakness. She owed him the opportunity to tell her the truth in person.

Aine cleared her throat. “Finish my hair, if you would, please.”

“Of course, my lady.” Morrigan straightened herself quickly and picked up the brush before going back to work on a simple braid. When she was finished, she tied it with a ribbon and smoothed down the back of Aine’s dress. “There. Neat and simple.”

“Thank you for your help, Morrigan. And your honesty. I wish it had come sooner.”

Morrigan just bowed her head to accept the chastisement. But when Aine rose to leave, her hand shot out and clamped around Aine’s wrist. “My lady, just beware. You may think they have your best interests in mind, but they will use you until you are no more help to them. And then they will discard you.”

Aine just stared, shocked by the vehemence of Morrigan’s words. In contrast to her usual strategic, calculated speech, she sensed sincerity in the warning. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s what men do.”

Aine swallowed, unable to put together a response. Instead, she just nodded and continued past Morrigan’s guards to the great hall to meet with Eoghan and Riordan.

But when she arrived, the entire Conclave waited. Gradaigh stood when he saw her. “Lady Aine, the heroine of the moment.”

She looked around at the men’s earnest expressions. “I don’t understand.”

“You broke the glamour, my lady,” Eoghan said. “We owe you our success at Ard Bealach.”

He pulled out the chair between him and Riordan, and she sat, still bewildered. “I broke nothing. I merely convinced Conor that what he was seeing was not real.”

“Well, the service that you did for him is a service to us all.” Gradaigh gave her a smile that made her vaguely uncomfortable, and she focused instead on serving herself a portion of the hot stew that sat on the table before her. “Have you heard anything from him yet?”

“No. And I wouldn’t expect to until later tonight.” She stared at her stew silently, willing him to leave her alone. She couldn’t relive what had happened last night. Those memories would haunt her without giving them voice. But she could see that the men were disappointed she wouldn’t tell them more.

They will use you until you are no more help to them.

No. She wouldn’t let Morrigan’s twisted outlook poison her mind.

When she looked up again, Eoghan was watching her with an uncomfortably piercing expression. Then he gave her a little nod and addressed the rest of the table. “We have a decision to make, brothers. The fortress needs a commander now that Daigh is gone, and Conor is needed back at Ard Dhaimhin right away.”

“It was Daigh who died?” she blurted. “How?”

“He never woke from the glamour,” Eoghan explained. “The fortress was deserted, so there were no other casualties.”

She really needed to speak with Conor now. Why were the sidhe protecting an unmanned fortress? Where were all the men? And had Conor been even closer to death than she had thought?

She made it through the rest of supper without being pressed for information. After a lengthy debate, the Conclave selected a man Aine didn’t know to take command of the fortress and then excused themselves. Aine lingered behind and Eoghan remained seated beside her. “Is there something wrong, my lady?”

That was a question she couldn’t begin to answer. There was nothing right about this whole situation. “Lady Morrigan says she knew about the sidhe.”

He let out a little sigh. “I was afraid of that. I trusted that you would understand why I sent her to you. Did she say anything else?”

“She’s angry. Whether what she experienced at Ard Bealach was real or imagined, she holds all men responsible.”

“I suppose I can’t entirely blame her for that,” Eoghan said. “Do you think you can get her to open up?”

“I don’t know. I think she sees me as her jailer, in a way. And that makes me the enemy. Worse yet, a collaborator.”

“Noted. I wish there were something we could do, but I simply don’t trust her enough to give her access to the rest of Ard Dhaimhin, which is what I suspect she wants most of all. Especially now that she’s proven herself to be holding back important information.” He hesitated. “Lady Aine, I know you don’t want to talk about what happened last night. But is there anything else we need to know? Did Conor tell you anything you haven’t mentioned to us?”

That he wanted to die? That he loved her? That he feared she would turn to Eoghan in his absence? No, she would never betray Conor’s confidence by giving away what he had thought in pain and despair and weakness.

“Nothing,” she said finally.

“Let us know when he contacts you tonight. We’ll wait up in the Ceannaire’s office. And if you need anything . . .”

“Aye. Thank you.” She rose and then paused. “Eoghan?”

“Aye, my lady?” His expression was completely open, guileless, but the eagerness in his expression was almost painful to see.

“Nothing. I’ll let you know what I learn.”

She fled to her room, praying as she went. For wisdom, for favor, for Conor’s swift return.

And that he would still be the person she remembered when he came back.