I regarded her from where I was sitting in the shallow tub, knees drawn up. The water was cooling fast, but I couldn’t find the energy to get out. “I’m fine,” I said, taking in my twin sister’s rich gown, carefully tended hair and pallid, troubled features. “Stark naked and half asleep, but fine.”

“Where’s Cathal? He came with you, didn’t he? Has he talked to Father and explained what he said about Illann? It’s caused so much trouble!”

I shut my eyes and let her words flow over me. When she eventually came to a halt I said, “If Cathal has any sense he’ll be in bed fast asleep by now. And be careful what you say about him, because he’s your future brother-in-law.”

“What?” I might as well have said I was planning to wed a man-eating ogre.

“I’m marrying Cathal. We’re going to Inis Eala to live. As for Glencarnagh, it’s for Cathal to explain what he said. But it’s all right; I have information that completely exonerates Illann. I think your husband will be receiving a few apologies before the day is out. Father just needs to talk to Cathal and me again first.”

“Really?” Deirdre’s tone had changed abruptly. I thought she was almost in tears. “You really have proof that Illann wasn’t involved, something Father will accept? I can’t believe it. This has been so awful. It’s gone on so long. It’s as if they hate each other. I’ve tried hard to fix it, Clodagh; to make peace between them. But neither of them listens to me.”

“Believe me,” I said grimly, “I know exactly how that feels. Deirdre, I’m nearly asleep and my hair’s filthy. Will you wash it for me, please?”

“Brighid save us,” my sister said, giving me a close scrutiny.

“And you were always the neat and tidy one. How did you get those cuts on your face?” She found the soap and a scoop, rolled up the sleeves of her fine gown and set to work.

As she lathered and scrubbed, I gave her a brief version of the story. I said I was sorry I had not let her into my mind when she wanted to speak to me; I reminded her that she was the one who had first decided we should stop that form of communication. When my hair was clean, Deirdre wrapped a towel around my head, helped me out of the bath and into a nightrobe, then sat me in front of the mirror, in which she gazed at me critically.

“If you’re getting married, you’ll be wanting something to help these cuts heal and fade as soon as possible,” she said. “I can’t believe Father agreed to it. A man who is only half human . . . You’re the last person I would expect to choose someone so—so unusual.”

“Father hasn’t agreed, but he will. As for the cuts, Muirrin gave me a salve. I’ll dab it on while you comb my hair. That’s if you don’t mind doing it for me.”