“Who are you?” Geiléis whispered. “Pretender! I do not know you.”

Her reflection gazed back, eyes wide, brows lifted as if in silent mockery. Behind her the bedchamber was quiet, shadowed, a single lamp casting soft light from the chest in the corner, by the little stairway to her tower. Up there, the shutters had been closed for the night. She had come too late for dusk. Across the forest in his own tower, he would be sleeping. A blessed time of respite, until tomorrow’s dawn.

“This is impossible.” Despite her best efforts, her voice shook. By all the powers, could she not keep a rein even on that? She made herself breathe deeply; tried to hold herself tall, as that other woman did. “It is intolerable. I look at you and I see—I see weakness. I see falsehood. I see failure.”

Perhaps the woman in the bronze smiled just a little. It was hard to tell.

“The healer—this Blackthorn—she will be as useless as the others, and you know it,” Geiléis muttered. “They’ve all been useless. Nobody can do it. Who but a fool or a half-wit would undertake such a task willingly? Blackthorn is neither. Indeed, I believe she may be altogether too astute.”

A tap at the door. She flung the cloth over the mirror, veiling the lying mask of her reflection. “Come in!”

Senach, with a tray. “My lady, your supper.”

“I can’t eat.”

“Perhaps later, my lady. I will leave it here.” Her steward set the tray down on a chest carved with oak leaves and acorns. “Your guests are settled. All that you requested has been provided for them. And word came from Father Tomas. He will send one of the brothers in the morning to escort Master Flannan to St. Olcan’s.”

“Thank you, Senach.” He was a good servant. It was too easy to take him—to take all of them, patient and loyal as they were—for granted. “You have done well.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment. They expected little from her. Which was as well, since she had little left to give.

“There are times when it is near impossible to go on, Senach. When the flame of hope might be extinguished by the merest sigh. I do not think I can bear another failure.”

A silence.

“Nothing to say?”

“It is not for me to express an opinion, my lady. I serve you. I serve your will.”

“And if I told you my will is as fragile as that flame I spoke of? That I look at myself in the mirror and see beneath the surface an old woman, weak and exhausted?”

“Then I would say, my lady, that Midsummer Eve is not far away. Whatever is needed to keep that flame burning, we will do it for you. We would give our lives for you, Lady Geiléis. Every one of us.”

“I know.” She drew a deep breath; released it in a sigh. “And what choice is there, when it comes to it? Very well; here are my instructions, for now. The woman, Blackthorn—she is inquisitive, Senach. Clever. Observant. Not like the others. I don’t want her discovering the full truth too early, or she may turn tail and run. But we mustn’t appear to be impeding her investigations. I persuaded her to come to Bann on the grounds that she might find a solution for me, and we must allow her to take what steps she thinks appropriate. We should let her learn enough to hold her interest until the time comes. But not too much. She is the kind of person who might want to meddle. Already she shows a desire to take control of the situation. That we cannot have.”