She stayed with Audrina a little longer, just talking and laughing about the old times. Both of them seemed to feel the same subconscious urge to avoid speaking of heavier things — there was enough grim reality to be faced out there in the cold night air. For now, in this room, with a fire roaring happily in the hearth, they could just be together. Cora laughed until her sides ached at impressions she’d forgotten of various people they knew at the hospital, but she retained the presence of mind to stop Audrina from leaping out of bed to imitate people’s walks. She’d remembered the good times she’d had with Audrina of course, but she’d forgotten how funny the woman could be when she tried.

But by the time true night had fallen, with servants coming demurely in to light the torches on the wall, Cora could tell that her old friend was getting weary — as well she might. She could’ve talked all night, but instead she tucked the blankets close around Audrina and stole away to the door. That bossy voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You will talk to Mary, won’t you, Cora?”

“Yeah. I’ll ask about Bellatrix.”

“Bellina,” Audrina corrected irritably. “Take it seriously.”

“I will. Sorry, love. You get some rest. I’ll come in and check on you in the morning, okay?”

“Mm. Night, Cora.”

“Goodnight — Maeve,” she corrected herself, spying a servant nearby. But over her shoulder, she mouthed ‘Audrina’.

Of course, she’d completely forgotten to ask where she might find Mary at this time of night. The castle was bustling, as it always seemed to be, but there was a different energy now — she realized this must be the mood in the air when dinner was being prepared. It felt strange to realize that she’d not even been there a full twenty-four hours. It was already beginning to feel like home, like she’d been there much longer than just a day. San Francisco was clear in her memory, but distant. That scared her, just a little. It was uncomfortable to think of her memories just…fading away, like old photographs. Ephemeral. Things always felt so real when you were there with your hands on them. But memory was as weak and fragile as paper, and as easily destroyed or manipulated.

Lost in these rather somber thoughts, Cora’s nose took over, and soon enough led her to the dining hall. The kitchens were clearly in full swing, with servants bustling back and forth carrying jugs of drink and great plates heaped high with meat. Well, she was a working member of the household now, wasn’t she? It wouldn’t do to stand on ceremony. Cora took the nearest free seat at the table she could find and began helping herself to an enormous side of what she guessed was roast pork.

“The men went huntin’ today,” a small bright voice piped up beside her. “This is the great boar they caught! Ten feet long ‘e was, with tusks as long as a man’s arm and as sharp as great swords!”

“Hello, Donal.” Cora grinned at the little boy, then gestured for him to continue with his story. It seemed he’d been allowed to go along with a hunting party that afternoon — something his mother had only recently lifted a fairly substantial ban on. That was (if Donal was to be believed) to do with how brave and fierce he was, which made the grown men feel ashamed that a boy of nine and three quarters was a better hunter than them. Cora, reading between the lines, figured that it had to do with the boy’s ill health — Ian had mentioned a series of long illnesses that the lad had thankfully seemed to stop succumbing to in recent years. Perhaps that had something to do with a certain healer that had joined the castle staff in that time, Cora thought smugly to herself, feeling proud of her friend for making such a difference in the lives of these people.

“Did you meet your new baby niece and nephew yet?”

“Not yet,” Donal groaned. “Mam says I’ve got to wait and be patient like a good uncle. But I need to start imparting my wisdom onto them! Every single day I learn new things, what if I forget something because Mam won’t let me near the bairns?”

His honest outrage was deeply comical, and Cora found herself hiding her laughter in great big bites of pork. The wild boar had been expertly roasted, and when the meal was over (Donal having already sprinted off to some bold new adventure, his meal only half wolfed down) she found her way into the kitchen. Just as she’d thought — Margaret presiding.

“That was the best roast pork I’ve ever had in my life,” she told her quietly.

Margaret smiled — a surprising gesture that transformed her stern face. “Kind of you to say, ma’am.”

“Would you know where the Lady MacClaran can be found? I wanted to thank her for her hospitality.”

Margaret nodded to something behind her, then turned back to her stove. Cora followed the gesture to find Mary MacClaran, resplendent in a simple but elegant gown, her eyes dark and shadowed. “You will always be welcome in this house,” she said lightly, but there was an unusual stress on the word ‘this’ that made Cora frown at the compliment. “Shall we talk?”

“Please.”

Mary led her through the castle to a small, unused room toward the south wall. There was not much more than a few chairs in it, and no fire burning in the grate. Nevertheless, Mary lit one of the torches and settled in a chair, gesturing wordlessly for Cora to take the one opposite. She did so, nervously smoothing the fabric of the dress that covered her knees. The flickering of the torchlight brought out strange shadows that danced across Mary’s worn, though beautiful, face. And though Cora was frightened, she had promised Audrina that she would follow this line of inquiry down to its result, as unpleasant as that result may be. No sense in being coy about it. If Cora had a problem, she faced it head-on.

“Mary, I want to know more about Bellina. I can’t tell you if I share a face with her the way the woman I know as Audrina does with Maeve — I don’t know myself. All I know is that I come from the same future world as your daughter-in-law does, and I was brought back here the same way that she was. Whether that makes the connection more likely —”

Mary nodded. “I was afraid of that. When I realized that you weren’t her —” Her face twisted and her hands clenched a little on the necklace Cora suddenly realized she was clutching between her fingers like a lifeline. “I knew. That was when I knew for certain she was dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Cora said quietly, reaching out unconsciously to touch Mary’s hand — but she flinched away as though from something unclean, and the look on her face in that moment made Cora recoil in fear and shame. “She was your cousin?” she prompted, to break the awful tension that that brief interaction had caused.

“Yes. A distant relative, from Italy originally — dark hair, pale skin…well, you’d know all about it, wouldn’t you? You see her face every time you look in a mirror. Truly, the spitting image.” Mary gazed at her face openly for what felt like a full minute, lost in her remembrance.

“Please,” Cora said finally, trying to speak as gently as she could to a woman who was clearly going through a lot. “I need to know more about her. Audrina — Maeve was saying she learned about her ancestor through dreams, and began to share her memories. Maybe if I learn a little more about Bellina from you, I’ll start having similar dreams —”

Mary’s face tightened. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, child. There are things — there are things one shouldn’t ask questions about. That’s all.”

“Like what? What was it that happened? I know she was tried as a heretic — but what then? What was it about her that made them —”

“That’s enough,” Mary murmured, but she sounded like she was talking to herself and not to Cora. “That’s quite enough. Oh, Lord, why did you send this poor girl to us? What has she done to deserve such a trial by fire?”

“Mary? What do you mean?”

“All it would take would be one.” Mary turned her green eyes back to Cora, and there was nothing but dread in them. It was as though the stately woman was looking straight through her to some terrible fate beyond. “Just one of the wrong people to lay eyes on your face, and all would be lost. Her enemies would be your enemies — nobody would believe you’re not one and the same... Oh, Bellina, I wish I could have been there. I hope —” A tear rolled down her cheek and her mouth twisted to the side. “God help me, I pray she went quickly.”

Cora took Mary’s hand again, and this time the woman didn’t resist, so lost she was to her own grief. She stayed with her for a long time, stroking her hand over and over, murmuring soothing, wordless things until Mary was calm. The woman took a great, shuddering breath and then released it — and like a cloud passing over the sun, her expression cleared again. No, not like a cloud clearing, Cora realized — this was more like watching a knight put his armor back on after bandaging a wound.

“You’re a brave woman, Lady MacClaran,” she said, and she meant it. To be caught in the midst of a war like the one between the Scottish and the English…to try to run a household in the face of Inquisitions, of family and loved ones dying and going missing, to have a son like Donal who seemed determined to catch his death some way or another — this woman led a life that was mostly fear and had little power to do anything about it.

“That’s too kind of you.” Mary deflected the compliment like an expert, then rose resolutely to her feet. “I apologize for losing my composure. The resemblance you bear my cousin — it stirred up some memories.”

“Of course,” Cora said gently, sensing that the conversation was over for now. “I hope you’ll get some rest.”

Mary smiled, a worn smile. “With two newborns in the castle? Not likely. But thank you.”

Cora watched her go, admiration mingling with frustration. She’d almost said so many intriguing things! Something about an Inquisition — and about Bellina’s enemies becoming her enemies too…she made a mental note to get hold of some kind of writing implement to keep track of this information. Surely there was some kind of medieval pen she could use…they certainly had charcoal, as the drawings that were scattered around Audrina’s chambers attested.

This train of thought was interrupted by a yawn that nearly took the roof off the castle. Cora chuckled to herself. She’d spent the whole day telling other people to get some rest — it was high time she took her own advice. She ambled up the stairs at an easy pace, nodding to the servants she met as she went — it was amazing what a difference a day had made to her comfort in this strange old stone building. It almost felt like it could be home, one day.

And it felt even more like that when she stepped into her chambers. A fire had been set in the grate, and a cheery warmth and light bathed the room. There was even a plate of the pastries she’d so enjoyed earlier, fresh and steaming slightly — and a small plate of leftover roast pork beside them. How had Margaret known she was still a little hungry? That woman was a miracle. Smiling to herself, she polished off the beef and the pastries while she warmed her toes by the fire. Yes, this was definitely something she could get used to.

She hardly remembered climbing into bed — just an overwhelming sense of pleasant exhaustion, bearing her body and soul deeper and deeper into the comforting oblivion of sleep at last.