It took her longer than it should to realize that it was a mirror. She flinched back, blinking in surprise. Her own face stared back.
When did my face get so thin?She used to have round, soft cheeks when she was a wee lass.Are thosefreckles?
She leaned closer again, nervously brushing back a stray piece of dark hair from her forehead. Her eyes, large and hazel and fringed with long dark lashes like a cow, bulged strangely in her reflection.
“Sister Hortense disapproves of the mirror.”
She flinched, spinning around. The Abbess was sitting back in her seat, smiling wryly. Una flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at herself.
“She believes that mirrors remind us of our vanity,” the Abbess continued. “And that vanity has no place in a convent. There aren’t many mirrors here. But this one was a gift from a family in town. The father and the son joined the battle against Laird Dickson. The father died and the son was wounded, but we saved him. The mother—an accomplished artisan—made this mirror as a gift. For me, specifically, although I told her that Sister Abigail deserves the credit for saving the boy. Do ye know what she said?”
Una shook her head wordlessly.
The Abbess chuckled, half to herself. “She said that the gift was for me. It’s a fine piece of craft, to be sure, but there’s a meaning in it. She said that none of us must ever forget to look back at ourselves, no matter what. So, she chose to make a mirror. I suppose the gift is a bittersweet one, since she lost her husband, but her son was saved.”
“She’s lucky,” Una responded shortly. “Some of us lost our whole families in one fell swoop.”
“Perhaps so. But enough of that. Take a seat, lass.”
The two chairs angled in front of the Abbess’ desk were piled high with papers and books. The woman sat calmly while Una shifted them away and plumped herself down.
The Abbess was a tall, stocky woman and had large, work-roughened hands that she folded in front of herself now. Her gaze was cool and clear and seemed to drag the truth out of people.
Una, however, had been practicing her steely gazes and stared straight back at her.
“I understand that ye are refusing to take yer turn in bringing Struan’s tray down to him.”
Una’s whole body tensed. Her mind threw up the image of Struan’s dark, miserable little cell, far beneath the floors of the convent. She could see him now, sitting up or lying on his side, back turned from the door. He’d never spoken to her, not a single word, and she didn’t believe he spoke to anybody else, either.
“I don’t much like going down there,” Una responded crisply. “There are… spiders.”
The Abbess lifted her eyebrows. “Ye expect me to believe that a woman like ye, Una, trained and tested in battle, is afraid of spiders?”
She shrugged. “We all have our fears, aye?”
“Hmm. Well, Struan is a dangerous man, to be sure, and an important prisoner. A lot of the sisters here don’t much enjoy taking their turn in bringing him his food. But he must eat, and heaven knows he’s never tried to attack anybody since his imprisonment, or even throw a curse their way. He just sits there, silently.”
Una bit her lower lip until it stung. “I don’t want to see him. He and his family put me through so much.”
The Abbess tilted her head thoughtfully. “Did Struan hurt ye personally? I understand that ye were kept as a prisoner in Keep Dickson for many years.”
“He never hurt me himself,” Una admitted. “But he saw all the wrong his father did and didnothing.”
“And his inaction is a crime he’ll answer for. Struan Dickson has blood on his hands, to be sure. Truth be told, I can’t imagine he’ll be here for much longer.”
Una brightened. “Ye think not?”
The Abbess shook her head. “His wounds are healed, and so long as he’s here, we’re in danger from the Dickson army. The Grahame and Kenneth clans are making plans to move him, but that’s all I can tell ye at this time. In the meantime, please take yer turn in bringing him his food. Ye don’t have to speak to him or even really look at him. Just push his tray through the wee slot in the door and take the old tray back. That’s all.”
Una nodded, glancing away. Quite a few of the nuns were too old or infirm to handle the dozens of stairs, steep and slippery, which led down into the cellar where Struan was kept, so the duty fell to younger women.
I should be more diligent,Una thought miserably.Heaven knows they haven’t given me any other chores.
“I’ll take all of his meals, then,” Una whispered.
The Abbess blinked, frowning. “That’s not necessary.”
“No, I… I don’t do much else. I’ll take his food. It’ll only take me ten minutes to climb up and down there.”
