What had got into Flidais? She was being quite civil. Had she finally realised she needed help, or was this all some elaborate game? I went out, closing the door behind me. As I made my way to the kitchen, where a few of Brid’s helpers were doing the last of the after-supper cleaning, I found myself wishing Grim was at hand so I could ask him for his opinion before I spoke to Flidais again. Was I crazy to think it possible that swimming in Dreamer’s Pool had somehow switched maid and mistress into each other’s bodies? Should I press this with Flidais if she gave me the chance, or was it best to wait and speak to Conmael first? If I put my theory to her and it turned out to be wrong, she’d have good cause to throw me out of the prince’s household for suggesting she had lied, and there’d be no way of solving the mystery before the hand-fasting.

Unfortunately, Grim was on night watch. There’d be no going out looking for him without attracting a lot of attention and wasting too much time. I’d have to leave it until tomorrow.

I made up the sleeping draught, taking particular care with the measurements. If Flidais took this on top of the other potion she should enjoy a good night’s rest, no matter what demons beset her. By the time I got back to the women’s quarters most folk were abed, though lamps were still burning in the hallway outside Flidais’s bedchamber. I tapped on the door and, somewhat to my surprise, was quickly admitted by Mhairi.

Flidais was sitting up in bed, drinking the warm milk I had requested, and there was more colour in her cheeks.

Perhaps it had helped when I’d imagined she was the maid, Ciar, out of her depth in this odd situation. Of course, if that was true, she had been telling lies since the moment she came out of Dreamer’s Pool. Enough lies to weigh a woman down until her dying day, if she had a conscience at all. She’d have been terrified when the changeover happened; she would still be frightened.

‘Here is your sleeping draught. It’s quite safe to take this along with the headache remedy.’ I poured a measure into the cup I had brought and set it on the chest beside her bed. ‘Lady Flidais,’ I ventured, ‘I can see that you are upset, and I don’t want to tax you further. But something you said earlier is troubling me. About Prince Oran.’

Neither of them offered a comment. Flidais sipped her milk; Mhairi stood looking at me.