disappointed!’ I said angrily. ‘Our mother loved us, she trusted us. She told my brothers to look after me, and they have. Maybe I’m not your idea of a lady, but –’
She interrupted me with her cascade of laughter, and her arm around my shoulders. I tensed under her touch.
‘Oh, my dear,’ she purred, ‘you’re so young. Of course you defend your brothers; and I expect they did the best job they could. But they’re only boys, after all, and there’s nothing like a woman’s touch, don’t you agree? And it’s never too late to start. We have a year or two, before we must think of a betrothal for you; time enough. Your father wants a good match for you, Sorcha. We must polish your manners, and your appearance, before then.’
I pulled away from her. ‘Why should I be polished and improved like goods for sale? I might not even want to marry! And besides, I have many skills, I can read and write and play the flute and harp. Why should I change to please some man? If he doesn’t like me the way I am, then he can get some other girl for his wife.’
She laughed again, but there was an edge to it, and a sharpness in her glance.
‘Not afraid to speak your mind, are you? A trait you share with certain of your brothers, I notice. Well, we shall talk more of this later. I hope you will learn to trust me, Sorcha.’
I was silent.
Oonagh went over to the bed, where a profusion of cloth was tumbled. She lifted a corner of gauzy green stuff.
‘I thought, this one, for the wedding. There’s an excellent seamstress in the village, I hear, who’ll make it up for you in a day. Come here, my dear.’
I was powerless to refuse. She placed me before a mirror I had never seen before. Its still surface was circled with twining creatures. Their red jewel eyes were on me as I looked at my reflection. Small, skinny, pale. Untidy mop of dark curls, roughly tied back. Neat nose, wide mouth, defiant green eyes. My version of the family face had not the far-seeing serenity of Conor’s or the pale intensity of Finbar’s. It was softer than Liam’s and more fine-boned than Padriac’s. The dimples that made Cormack’s and Diarmid’s smiles so charming were lacking from my thin cheeks. Nonetheless, I saw my brothers’ images as I gazed on my own.
The lady Oonagh had taken up a bone hairbrush, and as I stood there she undid the crude tie that kept my curls off my face, and began to brush out the tangles. I clenched my fists and remained still. Something in the steady motion of the brush, and the way her eyes watched me in the polished bronze of the mirror, sent a chill deep through me. A tiny voice was alive inside me, a little warmth; I focused on the words. You will find a way, daughter of the forest. Your feet will walk a straight path.
‘You have pretty hair,’ she said. The brush moved rhythmically. ‘Unkempt, but pretty. You should let me cut it for you. Just a little tidy up – it will sit better under a veil that way. Oh! What has happened here?’ Her predatory fingers fluffed the short ends over my brow, where Simon’s knife had shorn away a curl.
‘I –’ I was manufacturing an excuse in my head when my eyes met hers in the mirror. Her face was cold, so cold she seemed not quite human. The brush fell to the ground; her fingers still twined in my hair, and it was as if she could see into me, could read my thoughts, knew exactly what I had been doing. I shrank away from her.
It was only a moment. Then she smiled, and her eyes changed again. But I had seen, and she had seen. We recognised that we were enemies. Whatever she was, whatever she wanted, my heart quailed at it. And yet I believe she was taken aback by the strength she saw in me.
‘I’ll show you how we’ll dress your hair for the wedding,’ she said as if nothing had happened. ‘Plaited at the sides, and drawn up at the back –’
‘No,’ I said, backing away, wrenching my hair from her grasp. ‘That is, no thank you. I’ll dress it myself, or Eilis will. And I will find something to wear –’ I glanced longingly at the door.
‘I am your mother now, Sorcha,’ Oonagh said with a chilling finality. ‘Your father expects you to obey me. Your upbringing is in my charge from now on, and you will learn to do as you are told. So, you will wear the green. The woman will come tomorrow to fit your gown. Meantime, try to keep yourself clean. There are servants here to dig up carrots and turn the dungheap – henceforth your time will be better spent.’
I fled; but knew I could not escape her will. I would wear green for the wedding, like it or no, and I would stand by with my brothers and watch the lord Colum wed a – what was she? A witch woman? A sorceress like the ones in the old tales, with a fair face and an evil heart? There was a power about her, that was certain, but she was never one of Them. The Lady of the Forest, whom I believed I had seen in her cloak of blue, inspired more awe – but she was benign, though terrible. I thought Oonagh was of another kind, at once less powerful but more dangerous.
I stood in front of the mirror in my green gown, as she plaited ribbons into my hair and grilled me about my brothers. Again the strange creatures fixed their ruby eyes on me and I answered despite myself.
‘Six brothers,’ she murmured. ‘What a lucky girl you are, growing up in a houseful of fine men! No wonder you are unlike other girls of your age. The little Eilis, for instance. Sweet girl. Fine head of hair. She’ll breed well, and lose her bloom soon enough.’ She dismissed poor Eilis with a flick of the fingers as she knotted the green ribbon and twisted the end tight. ‘Your brother could have done better. Much better. Serious boy, isn’t he? So intense.’
‘He loves her!’ I blurted out unwisely, rushing to Liam’s defence without thinking. I may once have resented his love for Eilis, but I would not stand by and listen to this woman criticising my brother’s choice. ‘How can you do better than wed for love?’
This sally was greeted with cascades of laughter; even the dour maidservant smiled at my naivety.
‘How indeed?’ said Oonagh lightly, fitting a short veil over my plaited and woven hair. The figure in the mirror was unrecognisable, a pale, distant girl with shadowy eyes, her elegant dress at odds with her haunted expression. ‘Oh, that looks much better, Sorcha. See how it softens the line of the cheek? I may yet be proud of you, my dear. Now tell me, it seems twins run in the family – and yet I have never seen a pair more different in character than young Cormack and Conor. Like peas in a pod, physically, of course. You are all alike, with your long faces and wide eyes. Cormack is a charming boy, and your father tells me he is shaping up to be a promising fighter. His twin is very – reserved. In some ways, almost like an old man.’
I made no comment. The maidservant was rolling up ribbons, her lips thin. Behind me, the seamstress from the village still worked on the fall of the skirt. It was a graceful gown; some other girl might have worn it with pride.
‘Conor disapproves of me, I think,’ said Oonagh. ‘He seems to throw himself into the affairs of the household with a single-mindedness unusual in one so young. Do you think perhaps he is jealous that his twin shines so? Does he really wish to be a warrior and excel in his father’s eyes?’
I stared at her. She saw so much, and yet so little. ‘Conor? Hardly. He follows a path of his own choice, always.’
‘And what is that path, Sorcha? Does a virile young man really wish for a life as a scribe, as a manager of his father’s household? A glorified steward? What boy wouldn’t rather ride and fight, and live his life to the full?’
Her eyes met mine in the mirror; and the bronze creatures gained power from her gaze, and fixed their baleful glare on me. I was unable to stay silent.
‘There is an inner life,’ I whispered. ‘What you see is Conor’s surface, a tiny part of what is there. You’ll never know Conor if you only look at what he does. You need to find out what he is.’
There was a short silence, broken only by the rustle of Oonagh’s gown as she moved about behind me.
‘Interesting. You’re an odd girl, Sorcha. Sometimes you seem such a child, and then you’ll come out with something that makes you sound like