‘Why do I go to the mirror at night?’ Irenya tucked her feet beneath the folds of a new woollen skirt. Her toes were cold. ‘Because there’s no one around.’ Her lack of success at the mirror was no secret, but her feelings on the matter were private.
‘Would you simply go without a word?’ Olwin’s sewing lay forgotten in her lap. ‘I, at least, would want to wish you farewell.’
Irenya picked words carefully for Gedric’s niece. ‘When I return to my home I hope I won’t remember a single thing about this place. It would be too complicated and no one would believe me anyway.’
A sharp hiss and spark from the fire made her jump. Winter fires had always been a pleasure, for the warmth and for the cosy sounds. Now, she could not look at a flame without remembering the circle of fire.
Olwin held up
