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one of two copies the convent owned - and placed it on the table. Where was Seelie? The girl should have been back by now.
    Maere leaned forward and pulled her shawl up and around her shoulders. Why in heaven’s name had she let the girl talk her into such foolishness? She never should have agreed to lie. Seelie shouldn’t be cavorting around at night. And especially not with a priest! What would become of all their souls?
    The worry ate at her insides and made her head hurt. Maere lifted a cup of water from the table, then froze, the vessel halfway to her lips. What was that? Her ears pricked up, setting all her senses on edge. A muffled scratching was coming from outside the window.
    Maere’s first thought was to investigate, but she hesitated when a second thought entered her mind. What if it was him - the devil himself - come to claim her for her sinful dreams? Come to claim her for helping Seelie lie? Then she heard the noise again, followed by a woman’s voice, weak and barely discernible.
    “Maere?” A pause. “Maere?”
    She dropped her shawl and hurried to the shutters. She pulled them open and peered outside. There was no moon to light the grounds and she strained her eyes to see with what feeble light the candle could offer. There, huddled in a tight ball under the window, was Seelie. Maere reached out her hand to her friend. Gingerly, Seelie stood and leaned through the open window into the room. With Maere’s help, Seelie made it through the opening, falling to the floor once inside.
    “Sweet Jesus,” Maere cried. Seelie’s habit was torn and covered with dirt. Her eyes were angry purple bruises, almost swollen shut. Blood seeped through her clothing, staining the lower half of her habit. Maere dropped to her knees, frantic. “Seelie! Who did this to you?”
    Seelie turned her eyes away and stared blankly at the wall, whimpering. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her skin clammy.
    “I’ll go for help.”
    With a firm grip that belied her condition, Seelie grabbed Maere’s arm. “No,” she whispered. “They can’t know. I don’t want them to know.”
    Maere’s eyes moved frantically over her companion. Seelie’s face was growing paler and paler as the blood continued to flow bright red. How was she going to make it stop? And why wouldn’t Seelie say who had attacked her? Oh God, no, she thought, as her entire being filled with horror. “It was the priest, wasn’t it?”
    “I had no idea,” Seelie murmured. “No idea at all.” Her eyes fluttered, then closed. “He was so handsome.”
    “Handsome? That’s all you can say?” Maere raged, her voice low. She waved her hand. “He’s all but killed you, girl, and you can only talk about how handsome he is?”
    “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have tempted him.” Seelie let out a ragged sigh. “He told me I was an evil woman to lure him away from the monastery and I should be punished. I should have left when I had the chance. Before—” Seelie began to sob.
    “Oh, Seelie. Is that what he told you?” Maere asked, incredulous. “You’re not evil, girl.” Maere’s whole body shook and she looked up, fighting to control the anger roiling inside of her. She wanted to run out into the night and find him. She wanted to show the others what he’d done to her friend. She wanted to see him punished for the deed. Maere swallowed back the bitter taste for vengeance that threatened to shatter her composure. She must tend to her friend right now. There’d be time enough later to deal with the man.
    “Maere?”
    “Aye?”
    “I can’t feel my body.” Seelie coughed, hard. Bright red blood trickled down her lips, staining them the color of summer berries. “It’s so cold.” As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Seelie’s head rolled to one side. Her eyes lost their focus and went blank.
    “Seelie?” Maere gently shook her. “Seelie?”
    Seelie’s eyes remained blank.
    “Dear Lord, no,” Maere whispered. She leaned back on