“Not so well, my lady.” She had the grace to blush. “This is for Muirrin and me and Orlagh, who’s watching the door. Lady Aisling won’t eat. It’s been hard to get her to take even water. She’s just sitting on the bed staring at nothing. I don’t think she really understands what’s happened.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure you’re doing your best.” What more could I say? I wanted to go in there and put my arms around my mother. I wanted to tell her that if this really was my fault I was sorrier than anyone could ever imagine, and that I wished above anything in the world that I had the power to make things right for her. But what was the point of that? I couldn’t fix it. Nobody would listen to me. If anyone had asked me yesterday whether I would ever lie to my father, I would have been affronted that they considered such a thing possible. Today I had done it. And in my bedchamber, tucked up in Finbar’s soft shawl, lay the thing that had been left in place of my mother’s darling son.

When I came out of the kitchen into the downstairs hallway Aidan was there waiting for me. He hadn’t rushed off to snatch well-deserved sleep after all.

“Aidan,” I said, jug and pot clutched awkwardly to my chest.

“May I speak to you for a moment?” He sounded constrained, formal. It was another mark of how much things had changed since yesterday.

“Of course. Thank you for helping my father.”

“This may seem discourteous, Clodagh, but I have to ask it. What happened yesterday with Cathal? What did he say to you? I know you’ve told it already, but . . .”

At least he hadn’t asked, Did you encourage him to kiss you? “Something about going away,” I said, setting my load down in an alcove. “He implied that it might be better if he wasn’t here. He didn’t explain it properly. He said I’d probably be glad he was gone, and I said I had mixed feelings about it. I asked him where he was going, but he didn’t say. But it was plain to me he wasn’t expecting to come back. Not ever.”

“And he kissed you.”