“I’m sending for Father Brien, Sorcha,” he said gravely. “Do you think he will come?”

I nodded. “If it’s just for the day, for the wedding ceremony, then he will come. Who are you sending?”

He looked at me, reading the unspoken question in my eyes. “I suppose it will have to be Finbar, if I can find him. There is certainly no possibility of your going back, Sorcha. She is watching you closely. You must take great care.”

“You feel it too then?” I was suddenly cold, looking up into my brother’s pale face.

He was calm as always, but his unease was palpable. He nodded.

“She watches those of us who are the greatest threat, and she reads us accurately. Diarmid and Cormack are nothing to her, poor innocents, and she sees no threat in Padriac, young as he is. But you, and Finbar, and myself—we have enough strength, perhaps, to resist her if we stand together. That makes her uncomfortable.”

“Liam?”

Conor sighed. “She tried her charms on him too, make no doubt of it. She discovered soon enough that he was cut from different cloth. Liam fights her in his own way. If he could gain Father’s ear, he might speak a word of warning and be heeded. But he, too, has his weak point. I do not like the way this is heading, Sorcha. I wish you had been able to stay away.”

“So do I,” I said, thinking of the work I had abandoned. Still, at least Father Brien would be coming, and could give me news.

“Sorcha.”

I looked up at Conor again. He must have been struggling with himself—not sure how much to tell me, lest he should frighten me.

“What?”

“You must be very watchful,” he said slowly. “They will wed, I have no doubt of it. Whether or not we speak to Father alone before that day, the result can hardly be different now. What could we say? Lady Oonagh sets not a foot wrong; our fears are based on fantasy, he would tell us, on the wish to resist change, on ignorance. For once she has hold of you, you no longer see her true self. She clothes herself in a mist of glamor; the weak and the vulnerable have no chance.”

“And after they are married?”

Conor’s lips became a thin line. “Perhaps then we will see something of the truth. Believe me, if I could send you away before then, I would do so. But Father is still head of this household, and such a request, so close to his wedding day, would seem passing strange. I will look out for you as best I can, and so will Liam; but you must be careful. As for Finbar…”

“Who is she, Conor? What is she?” In my newfound knowledge of Conor, I thought he could answer my question if anyone could.

“I can’t say. Nor can I be sure of her reasons for doing this. We have no choice but to wait, hard as that may be. There may be some pattern to this, so large, so complex that only time will make it clear. But it is too late to prevent the marriage. Now off you go, little owl—you look as if some sleep would do you good. How was he?”