They had all day to look at the farm, and it was harder to talk while driving. It would be even harder while surrounded by animals and other farmhands. Hæra said, “Soon. Tell me about your doubts.”

Madeleine’s brow creased. “Why do you want to know about my doubts?”

Because I want to know everything about you. “What we don’t believe matters as much as what we do. But it’s in the middle where things get interesting.” She’d known that all her life. She’d always been one to question the traditions of the herd, and later, many things about human existence too. “If we don’t doubt or question what we’ve been told, we don’t learn. Haven’t you found that’s true?”

Madeleine looked stunned at Hæra’s words, for some reason. “The Catechism teaches the difference between voluntary and involuntary doubt. One is a sin, and the other⁠—”

“I didn’t ask what the Cat…thing teaches,” Hæra said impatiently. “I asked what you think.” A dreadful thought occurred to her. “Or don’t you question it? Do you just believe whatever it says?”

“I was taught its precepts when I was a little girl, and I dedicated my entire life to following them for fifteen years,” Madeleine said between her teeth.

“But then you left.” A question occurred to Hæra. “Why did you join the Daughters of Grace in the first place?”

She’d never wondered that before. Years ago, when she’d overheard Sister Madeleine talking to the girl Ava on the beach, Madeleine had spoken of her “calling” to the order as if it was a fact of her existence. But now she’d left that same order, so that couldn’t be the case.

“That’s a personal question.” Madeleine had her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Especially given how, last night, you judged me for leaving it.”

“I said I’d apologize for that if you wanted me to,” Hæra reminded her. “Do you?”

After a moment, Madeleine said, “That’d be nice, actually. Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Hæra said promptly. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now please tell me why you joined the Daughters of Grace.”

Madeleine looked at her without saying anything. Then, suddenly, she shook her head and laughed. Her smile flashed like whitecaps on a rough ocean. She propped her elbow on the back of the seat and rested her head against it, her dark hair mussed from the wind. “You’re something else,” she said, grinning.

Sweat broke out in Hæra’s palms and lower back. Something else. Could Madeleine see Hæra wasn’t what she pretended to be? “What do you mean?”

“You don’t even know me, and you’re asking me the most intimate questions about my life.”