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“Have you heard?” I murmur as soon as his door is shut.
“The palace does seem to be in a mild uproar this afternoon.”
I quickly fill him in on Genevieve’s arrival and subsequent actions. “Yes,” he says when I have finished. “She paid me a visit earlier. You just missed her.”
Just missed her. The words poke at my memory. “You were the one who led me to the chapel that day. I had no intention of praying. You knew who she was, didn’t you?”
I hear the faint whisper of fabric as he shrugs. “Let us say suspected.”
So he, too, played a part in all this. “Do you think she is telling the truth?”
“I do. She has asked to meet with the queen, is eager to make her apology and offer whatever aid she can to set things right.”
“Or she wishes to get close enough to harm her,” I mutter.
“You don’t truly believe that.”
His calmness scrapes on my nerves like a rasp. “She’s not simply made some little mistake that is easily fixed. Monsieur Fremin has reported his missing henchmen to the king and has accused me of being responsible for it. With Genevieve’s confession, he has made a shrewd guess about me and is now inclined to give serious weight to Monsieur Fremin’s claims. And if anything happens to my sisters, she will pay for it with her—”
“It is not her fault.” Father Effram’s voice is no longer gentle, but a bracing slap.
“Of course it is her fault. It no longer matters that she meant well—she has set in motion the ruin of everything, including the lives of those I care deeply about.”
“You think she is more powerful than the gods and saints?”
“No, but since you speak of them, shouldn’t Mortain have foreseen this before he gave up his godhood?”
“How do you know that he didn’t?”
I feel like a rabbit stunned by a hunter’s club. “Are you saying he knew?”
“I’m saying that what the gods set in motion is not knowable to mere mortals. We are simply caught up in the movement of their dance and there are still eight gods, each of them more than willing to meddle in the affairs of mortals for their own purposes.” The thought is terrifying. My fingers drift to the small weight resting against my leg and the faint warmth it gives off. “Does the Dark Mother meddle in the affairs of mortals?” The words bring not a chill, but a faint wash of heat along my skin. “Is she behind this?” There is a rustle of woolen cloth as he shrugs. “I would not say she meddles so much as when one thing dies and gives way to the new, it is she who guides that process. If we let her.”
I am quiet a moment before saying, “The holly branch is dying.”
“What holly branch?”
“The one I brought with me from Rennes. It stayed green this entire time, until this morning.” A thought floats by, and I grasp at it. “Could it be that it’s simply too far removed from its source? Where the remnants of Mortain’s power cannot reach? Or is it simply his power withdrawing from the world, just as he has done?”
The question renews the familiar anger I have carried since that eventful battle. “Did Mortain know that by choosing life, he would leave his faith and followers to the jackals?”
“Did he know it would fade? Yes. The passing of the Nine has been coming for a long time. We have all known it. Ever since we signed the original agreement with the Church.”
Agreement? What agreement? But before I can voice the question, he continues.
“Do not begrudge him love, child. That love provided him something to move toward rather than simply cease is a gift beyond measure. One I’ve no doubt the Dark Matrona herself had a hand in.”
“So you are saying she is guiding this?”
“No, it is but one among many possibilities. We have all been given a part to play, and play it we must. Only at the end, if then, will we know if we were hero or villain.”
Anger spikes through my gut. I am sick of these riddles. “I refuse to accept that.”
“You are not meant to accept it. To accept it would change the outcome of the dance.”
“Then what am I to do?” I spit out.
He is quiet so long that I fear I have finally gone too far and offended him. Just as I open my mouth to apologize, he speaks.
“Remember,” he says simply, “you and Genevieve are not only mortal, but part god as well. It is not simply Mortain’s blood that flows in your veins, but his divinity, too.”
Against my thigh, the small pebble burns like a brand.
Chapter 6
The news I must share with the queen fills me with dread. I’ve no desire to drag this fresh disaster to her door, nor the possible repercussions. But I made the mistake of not telling her in the past, which proved worse. And Genevieve’s actions will affect her most directly.
I wait until Elsibet steps away from the bed, then curtsy. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” While the queen smiles in welcome, she is pale and her skin clammy. I snag Elsibet’s elbow. “I need to speak with the queen alone. Can you make the others disappear?”
She shoots me one quick glance of concern. “But of course, my lady. Heloise? Could you assist me?”
Heloise collects a covered basin from the bedside, then hurries after Elsibet, casting a curious look my way.
When we are alone, the queen frowns. “Lady Sybella.” She lowers her voice. “Is everything all right?”
I cannot help but wonder when she will ever be allowed to find the happiness—or even simply the peace—that she so deserves. “I’m afraid matters are developing faster than we would have wished.”
She sits up a little higher against the pillows. “Which matters are those?”
“The men who accompanied Monsieur Fremin have gone missing.” I keep my voice casual, as if merely discussing the latest gossip. “The lawyer is most overwrought and went at once to the king. He seems to think that I am behind their disappearance.”
Her eyes never leave mine. “But that is ridiculous. How could a lady like yourself have had anything to do with men like that?”
“That is precisely what I pointed out, Your Majesty. Indeed, when they went looking for me this morning, they found my room empty, not just of me, but of my sisters as well.”
The queen says nothing, but a small satisfied smile plays about her lips. Truly, one could not ask for a better ally.
“I told th
e king that it was obvious that Monsieur Fremin, not liking the king’s decision, sent his men to take the girls by force.”
She smiles briefly. “I am certain you are correct. Let us hope the king will now put the matter to rest.”
“Unfortunately, the king is inclined to give more weight to Monsieur Fremin’s words than mine.”
She frowns in surprise. “Why?”
Merde, this is hard. “Because he has learned of my involvement with the convent of Saint Mortain and the nature of my service.”
Her already pale face grows even whiter. “Who would have told him such a thing?” she whispers.
I close my eyes briefly. While news of my exposure alarms her, what I have to say next will hurt her. “That is the one piece of good news. It appears the convent’s hidden initiate returned to court.”
Her eyes harden in anger. “And blabbed your identity to the king? Surely that is not something one with your sort of training would do.”
“It was an attempt to help, Your Majesty. She had been told the king already knew of the convent, and had ordered it disbanded, the novitiates farmed out to the Church or suitable husbands.”
There is a long beat of silence as the queen digests this. “And how did she think confirming such revelations about the convent would help?”
“She thought she could persuade the king to reverse his decision.”
Never the lackwit, the queen’s interest sharpens. “Persuade him how?”
No amount of gentleness will soften the blow. “The king had expressed an interest in her once, long before you came to court. She thought to use that interest to extract a favor on behalf of the convent.”
The queen’s face grows as cold as marble. “Are we certain the girl is working for us? Our enemies could not have done a better job of weakening what few advantages we hold.”
“I believe she is, but I have only spoken with her twice. Father Effram believes she was sincerely trying to help.”
