“No,” I said, backing away, wrenching my hair from her grasp. “That is, no thank you. I’ll dress it myself, or Eilis will. And I will find something to wear—” I glanced longingly at the door.

“I am your mother now, Sorcha,” Oonagh said with a chilling finality. “Your father expects you to obey me. Your upbringing is in my charge from now on, and you will learn to do as you are told. So, you will wear the green. The woman will come tomorrow to fit your gown. Meantime, try to keep yourself clean. There are servants here to dig up carrots and turn the dungheap—henceforth your time will be better spent.”

I fled; but knew I could not escape her will. I would wear green for the wedding, like it or no, and I would stand by with my brothers and watch the lord Colum wed a—what was she? A witch woman? A sorceress like the ones in the old tales, with a fair face and an evil heart? There was a power about her, that was certain, but she was never one of Them. The Lady of the Forest, whom I believed I had seen in her cloak of blue, inspired more awe—but she was benign, though terrible. I thought Oonagh was of another kind, at once less powerful but more dangerous.

I stood in front of the mirror in my green gown, as she plaited ribbons into my hair and grilled me about my brothers. Again the strange creatures fixed their ruby eyes on me and I answered despite myself.

“Six brothers,” she murmured. “What a lucky girl you are, growing up in a houseful of fine men! No wonder you are unlike other girls of your age. The little Eilis, for instance. Sweet girl. Fine head of hair. She’ll breed well, and lose her bloom soon enough.” She dismissed poor Eilis with a flick of the fingers as she knotted the green ribbon and twisted the end tight. “Your brother could have done better. Much better. Serious boy, isn’t he? So intense.”

“He loves her!” I blurted out unwisely, rushing to Liam’s defense without thinking. I may once have resented his love for Eilis, but I would not stand by and listen to this woman criticizing my brother’s choice. “How can you do better than wed for love?”

This sally was greeted with cascades of laughter; even the dour maidservant smiled at my naïveté.

“How indeed?” said Oonagh lightly, fitting a short veil over my plaited and woven hair. The figure in the mirror was unrecognizable, a pale, distant girl with shadowy eyes, her elegant dress at odds with her haunted expression. “Oh, that looks much better, Sorcha. See how it softens the line of the cheek? I may yet be proud of you, my dear. Now tell me, it seems twins run in the family—and yet I have never seen a pair more different in character than young Cormack and Conor. Like peas in a pod, physically, of course. You are all alike, with your long faces and wide eyes. Cormack is a charming boy, and your father tells me he is shaping up to be a promising fighter. His twin is very—reserved. In some ways, almost like an old man.”