‘It is?’ Maeve asked, voice trailing up at the end as she moved back to her feet.
‘Praying won’t help us return the magic to the saints. Not even praying to ourselves. Although, I do think it serves a purpose. If others praying to icons increases the Abbey’s power – if it allows them to steal more magic from us, and therefore more memories – maybe praying to ourselves does something similar.’
‘Maybe it increases the magic, too,’ Maeve added. Her face had regained some of its colour as her eyes searched his. ‘Like a catapult. The harder you pull it back, the further it will go. Maybe that’s why praying to your icon affected you like it did. You had to give more of yourself to get more in return once the icon was destroyed.’
Jude ran both hands over his head. ‘We should’ve just destroyed the icon straight away.’
‘And ruin all my hard work?’
He caught her eye. ‘Hm. True.’
She shrugged, smile still on her lips. ‘If you hadn’t prayed to your icon first, maybe the effect of burning it wouldn’t have been so intense. Maybe you would have had fewer memories returned to you.’
‘I wish it was more. But burning the icons… I must have learned it worked years ago at the Abbey.’ He planted his hands on his hips and surveyed the burnt icon. Now that he was focused on it, the smell was all-consuming. He certainly couldn’t sleep here tonight. The tang was heavy in his nose, almost like altar incense—
Jude froze. His mouth dropped open. ‘Oh—’
A memory surged to the surface. Fire, burning hot and bright.The sound of his footsteps running down stone floors, his chest burning with exertion.Panic.He was rushing, frantic to accomplish his task before he was noticed. In his hand, burnt matches.
The Abbey. Fire.Icons.
‘Maeve,’ he gasped, realization slamming into him. ‘I tried to burn the Abbey. Tried to burn…’ he shut his eyes. ‘Icons? I think. But I failed. That’s why I was exiled. It wasn’t just the magic. It was a punishment. But why? Why burn the icons?’
He swung around to face her. ‘That’s it – burning icons restores memory.’
She inhaled, short and fast. ‘Is that what we do, then? Return to the Abbey and burn the icons?’
‘Not just the icons. We burn the whole Abbey down.’
‘What?’
‘Is that not what you were thinking?’
‘I – no.’ She laughed breathlessly. ‘Not exactly. I was thinking more along the line of the individual icons. Not… arson.’
‘Oh.’ Jude shrugged. ‘What if we accidentally miss some? It all needs to go. If there’s even the smallest hope it could restore memories to the saints. To everyone that the Abbey has harmed. Elden. To you, too, Maeve.’
She swayed where she stood. ‘If you’ve tried before, why would this time be any different?’
‘We can only make a plan and try again. We have each other, this time. And we know more about how our magic works. How the Abbey works, too,’ he replied. ‘I don’t know what went wrong the first time, but we have to try.’ He pulled in an unsteady breath. ‘We have to return.’
‘Every warning we’ve heard, from Felix, from Bethan… even – even Siobhan’s death. It all was to prevent us from returning.’ Maeve shook her head. Her face had gone ashen. ‘But you’re right. I can’t see another way.’
The Abbey.Jude saw the promise of it reflected in her gaze.
He remembered its facade with near-perfect accuracy now.Three spires reached towards the heavens, reinforced by flying buttresses embellished with colonnades and carved portraits of saints long passed. Large windows broke up the face of the main basilica, understated compared to the crown jewel of the Abbey – the rose window. Even now, he remembered the intricacies of its glass pattern with nostalgic reverence. He’d spent many mornings kneeling under it, letting its beauty lull him closer to devotion.
Jude was no longer a child. The glory of stained glass wouldn’t sway him. But, as he looked at Maeve, he realized he was not so very far from the boy he had once been. Urged to worship the closest thing to divinity he’d ever seen.
‘Yes,’ he replied hoarsely. ‘We go back. Together.’
Maeve wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shoulders bunched close to her ears. Oh, how he ached to hold her. To fold her into his arms and keep her safe.
‘Together,’ she echoed.
Her eyes met his, and a piece of his armour flaked off to float amongst the rafters.
36
