“Crunard was blackmailing you.”
“Yes.” Her voice is as flat and hard as her eyes. “If I did not help him, he was going to expose me to the world. He did not know about you. I made certain to keep that from him.” She drops her head into her hands for a long moment. When she looks up again, her face is soft, pleading. “Don’t you see, sweeting? That is why I was going to have you be seeress. Together we could decide what would be best for the convent and the country and we could steer the others to fulfill those plans.”
“Were you ever going to tell me all this?” The force of this second betrayal nearly brings me to my knees, for I had come to understand why a desperate young mother might need to take shelter. But this . . . this committing murder—and now, years later, laying it at my feet—has turned my entire world upside down. “How were you going to force me to See what you wanted?”
“You were always biddable and obedient. At least, before Sybella arrived. You seemed to sense what others wanted or needed from you and were only too happy to provide it. I was simply going to let you continue on that course. That and help you interpret your visions and read the signs of augury.”
“That is why you sent Sybella away so soon!”
“She was ruining you. Corrupting your innocence and your cooperativeness. She was ruining Ismae as well,” she adds as an afterthought.
“She was my friend. And your sacred charge, and you betrayed her for your own ends.”
The abbess lifts her shoulders in a cold, unfeeling gesture. “She was not you, and you were all that I cared about. All that I still care about.”
I feel sick, tainted with the stain of her sins.
The abbess stands up and comes around to my side of the desk. She reaches out to take my hand, but I jerk it away from her. Pain flares in her eyes. “You were to be my sacrifice to Mortain,” she says. “My penance. My atonement. By dedicating you to His service, I was certain He would grant us forgiveness.”
“But it was not your life to sacrifice to him.”
“If not for me, you would not have had life in the first place. If not for me, that wretched Dragonette would have killed or maimed you.”
I clench my fists in frustration. She is right. In some ways, I owe her much. But not my life. My gratitude, perhaps. And my loyalty?
It feels as if she lost her right to that when she murdered people and tried to blame it on me. Slowly, I look up and meet her gaze. “I owe you nothing.” My voice is quiet but sure. “Any loyalty or respect I might have felt for you was lost the day you killed others and risked young girls’ safety to try and shelter me.”
She reels back, as if my words have the force of a blow. After a moment, she puts her hands into her sleeves and returns to the other side of the desk. “Very well.” When she looks at me again, she is all business, any signs of the pleading mother gone. “Then I will give you what you have always wanted. If you say nothing of this to anyone, you can be an assassin. I will not make you seeress. I had hoped to protect you, not only your physical self, but your immortal soul as well. But if you do not care, so be it. You have only to hold your tongue.”
I nearly laugh at how little she offers me and how far too late it comes. “No. I will never serve under you, nor carry out your wishes. I will not even maintain this charade of yours much longer.”
Then I turn and leave the room, every belief I have ever held, about myself, the abbess, even the world, crushed beneath her crimes.
It is time to have Father Effram call a convocation of the Nine.
Chapter Fifty
THREE DAYS LATER, I am in the solar with the duchess and her ladies in waiting. They are stitching, but I find I cannot sit still. I feel as if every bone in my body has been taken out and put back in in the wrong place, and I must relearn how to move, to think, to act. I try to be subtle about it, but the duchess keeps glancing in my direction, looking as if she is about to say something then changing her mind. I am supposed to offer her protection and comfort, not disturb her with my restlessness. I have just decided that, propriety be damned, I will tie myself to one of the chairs in order to keep still when there is a commotion just outside the door. The duchess and I exchange glances, then I move in that direction, my hands reaching for my weapons. Just as my blades clear their sheaths, Duval comes through the door. His eyes are bright and tension runs through his body like a bow that has just been drawn. He glances at my knives, nods in approval, then turns to the duchess. “Ismae has returned,” he says, and it is impossible not to love him a little for the relief that colors his voice. “She wishes to speak with you immediately.”
The duchess has already risen to her feet and is handing her embroidery to one of her attendants. “Shall we call the other councilors?”
“Yes.”
Duval sends a swarm of pages off to collect the others, then together, the three of us make our way to the council chambers. When we arrive, we find Ismae already there. She has not taken the time to change from her traveling gown. “Your Grace.” She sinks into a low curtsy.
The duchess puts out her hand and helps her rise. “I am glad you are safely returned to us,” she says.
“As am I. I only wish I had better news to bring you.” Before she can elaborate further, the rest of the councilors begin filing into the chamber. The bishop and the abbess arrive together, a most disconcerting sight, and I cannot help but wonder if she has decided to try to curry his favor in preparation for the accusations I will soon be making.
When Sybella arrives and sees that Ismae is safe, her lips curve in pleasure, but she says nothing as she comes to stand beside me at our post behind the duchess’s chair. She nudges my elbow with her own, whether in joy at Ismae’s return or simply to annoy the abbess, I do not know. One never knows with Sybella.
When everyone is seated, Duval motions to Ismae. “Tell us what you have learned.” His face is tense and grim and I wonder if she has already told him what transpired in private.
“The French hold the city of Nantes easily enough—there is no resistance.” She glances apologetically at the duchess as she says this. “I was not able to get into the palace proper. They have double guards posted at every entrance, and everyone who comes through the doors must be vouched for by at least two others. They are taking no chances. They closed the gates to the city shortly after I got there and are not letting anyone out. There were also reports that they were going to post checkpoints along the northern roads.”