I can see in his eyes, even though they are averted from me, and feel from the timbre of his voice just how sorely his entrapment chafes at him. Just how thoroughly it has corroded not only his view of the world, but his view of himself.
And that has been my gift to him. Not just now, or in the last few months, but since I was young, I have always seen him as a man and honored the gifts he brings to the world. I have loved him for those things long before I understood the nature of who he was.
I reach out and take his hand in mine. “I would gladly share your prison, but I am not worthy of such an honor. I am bastard-born, and mortal through and through, as I have surely proven to you over and over again throughout the time we have known each other.”
He throws back his head and laughs, surprising me. “And I am Death. Unwelcome, the thief in the night, destroyer of lives.” And that is when I see that he is in danger as well, in danger of believing all that is said of him, of forgetting his own true essence. He turns to face me, pulling me close. “Don’t you see? Your mortal heart shines like a candle flame and I, like one of those hapless black moths you used to leave as an offering, am helpless before its lure.”
I step fully into his arms, and place my head against his chest, his words wrapping themselves around me. To him, my brokenness, my muddied birth, my scars—none of that defines me, it is all encompassed within the entirety of who I am, just as Death encompasses sorrow and joy, justice and mercy, and the beginnings of new life. We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the sum and total of who we are.
I feel his heart beating against my ear, marvel that a god even has such a human thing as a heart. “It does not matter,” I say. “For there is something else I must do.”
“What is that?”
I take a deep breath, for I know he will not like what is coming. “Our country is beset from all sides and there is a chance that I have the power to help. So I must.”
He pulls back and stares down at me, brow furrowed. “How?”
“I will use the arrow—your arrow—on the French king and see if it will compel him to turn his affections toward our duchess rather than his armies.”
He gestures to the thousands of tents stretched out before the city walls. “You will have to ride through thousands of French to do it—surely that is madness. Impossible!”
“I think it can be done. At the very least, I have to try.” As I draw back to look at him, the sorrow and desolation I see is almost more than I can bear. I raise my hand and place it against his cheek. “Would that you could join me in my world, rather than me in yours.”
He grows utterly still, except for his eyes, which shine with intensity. “But I have no place there, not once my unwelcome duties have been seen to.”
I slip my arms up around his neck. “You have a place with me, in my heart, at my side.”
He laughs, a sour, distressing sound. “You would upend the very nature of Death so that we could be together?”
“I would, for I will no longer sit and wait patiently for my happiness to grow like some budding fruit on the limbs of a tree, but will mold it and shape it with my own hands.”
I find Father Effram in the chapel. He has just lit fresh candles and is placing them under the nine niches. “Father.”
He turns around, pleased to see me. “Annith. What brings you here so late at night?”
“I have a question I would ask you.”
“Another one?”
I wince at his words, until I see that he is teasing. Even so, I can only imagine what a trial I am making of myself.
“Oh, do not look so! I was only jesting. In truth, it is refreshing having someone to discuss these esoteric theological issues with.”
Feeling somewhat mollified, I approach the nave. “This will be my most far-fetched question yet,” I assure him.
He sets down the last candle and rubs his hands in anticipation, but I do not know how to frame the question. “If a god grows tired of his duties or is no longer believed in or worshiped, what paths does he have open to him?”
Father Effram holds very, very still. “Do you know such a god as this?” he finally asks.
Unwilling to lie to him, I shrug. “It is a question I have been thinking much upon lately, that is all.”
His face furrows in thought, his long bony fingers reaching up to pluck at his chin. He comes to some silent decision, then takes a seat on the prayer bench and motions for me to join him. “If a god should grow weary of his burden—and some do—there is a way to set aside their godhood, if they so choose.”
“Truly?”
“Dear child, when Christ died on the cross, He was not only creating a way for man to become immortal and live forever in God’s kingdom, but also showing those few immortals left in the world how they could become mortal if they chose. Thus they would be able to access the kingdom of heaven if they wished. God is the maker of all things, and He would never abandon any of His creatures.”
“So they—and those of us who worship them—are not outside His grace?”
Father Effram gives a firm shake of his head. “No. They were always part of His plans for this mortal world.”
“Do the gods themselves know this?”
He nods. “Yes.” There is an ocean of sympathy and compassion in his face. “Child.” He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Your love cannot change a man—or a god. All it can do is open a door, create a new path for him to choose. One that has not been open to him before. That is what the power of your love can offer him—all of that, and no more.”
I look away. “I have no desire to change him, only to see him happy.”
“I am certain your love does make him happy. Whether it will give him the courage to step through that door remains to be seen.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
TWO DAYS LATER, the planning begins in earnest. The duchess insists on being a part of it, claiming if I can make the sacrifice, the least she can do is stay informed. Ismae and Sybella are there as well, but more as moral support, I suspect, than in any official capacity. The abbess too has somehow managed to worm her way into the proceedings, and it is all I can do not to ask the duchess to order her from the room.
Beast has invited both the Arduinnites and the charbonnerie to attend, arguing that they have skills and knowledge that may prove useful to us. The Arduinnites have only been helping with maintaining order in the city for a matter of days, and already he is impressed with them.