The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Nina could feel the fear radiating off Ylva, the anger that came from Brum—and the uncertainty in both of them too. They knew Hanne had been disobedient in the past. But how far had she gone? Nina wasn’t sure herself.

Hanne took a deep breath. “The riding clothes were mine.”

Damn it, Hanne. What had Nina said? Deny everything.

“Oh Hanne,” Ylva cried, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

Brum’s face flushed red.

But Hanne stepped forward, her chin held high, radiant with the pride and rigid will she’d inherited from her father. “I’m not ashamed.” The sound of her voice was pure and certain. Her eyes met Nina’s, glanced away again. “I didn’t know who I was then or what I wanted. Now I know where I want to be. Here with you.”

Ylva stood and took Hanne’s hand. “And the icons? The prayer beads?”

“I don’t know anything about them,” Hanne said without hesi- tation.

“Were they found with Hanne’s riding clothes?” Nina asked, taking a chance.

“No,” the Wellmother admitted. “They were not.”

Ylva drew Hanne close. “I’m proud of your honesty.”

“Wellmother,” said Brum, his voice icy, “you may have the ear of Djel, but so do the drüskelle. You will think more carefully the next time you come to my home to accuse my daughter.”

The Wellmother rose. She looked indomitable, not remotely chastened by Brum’s words. “I serve the spiritual well-being of this country,” she said. “The Apparat, a heathen priest, is beneath this roof. I have heard tales of heathen worship in this very town. I will not be swayed in my mission. Still,” she said, and smoothed the woolen skirts of her pinafore, “I am glad Hanne has finally found her way. I will hear her confession before I go.”

Hanne curtsied, head bowed, the very picture of obedience. “Yes, Wellmother.”

“And I will hear Mila Jandersdat’s as well.”

Nina couldn’t hide her surprise. “But I was only a guest of the convent. I was never a novitiate.”

“And do you not have a soul, Mila Jandersdat?”

More of a soul than you, you pinch-faced prune pit. But Nina couldn’t protest further, not in front of the Brums. Besides, she was nearly giddy with relief. They hadn’t been found out. And while the idea of Hanne being accused of false worship was no small thing, it was nothing compared to what the Wellmother might have said. So if Madame Prune Pit wanted her to make up a few good sins, she’d be happy to entertain her for a quarter of an hour.

“I’ll go first,” she said to Hanne, and cheerfully followed the Wellmother into the small receiving room that had been selected for her confessional.