He sways. Hervé’s grip on his elbow tightens.
Lukas hears God whisper to him. He raises his head to listen.
“Alleluia.”
His brother is blessing the union.
“Alleluia.”
It all makes sense.
Christ’s blood glistens above the altar. Jesus raises his head and looks straight at Lukas, and the friar understands. He has brought the bride to the bedchamber, but his work is unfinished. It’s a test.
54
Aleys
The church empties. Lukas comes to the parlor window.
“Where have you been?” Aleys demands. It’s been days. Everyone but Marte has abandoned her.
“Fasting. In preparation.”
“What for? The wedding?”
“No.” There’s an undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “I told you the swiftest route to God.”
“You said it was obedience.” She’s annoyed. “I’ve been obedient.”
“That’s the broad path.”
“The long path.” And it feels like a dead end.
“I know you’re weary, daughter. But ...” She can sense him looking over each shoulder to ensure no one overhears, though the parlor is empty. He says, his voice growing animated, “There’s another path.”
“Sacrifice?” She thinks of Kat. She wants it in writing.
“Sacrifice? No.” His voice is barely audible. “Aleys, I have been sent signs. He has spoken to me.”
“To you?”
“You doubt.”
Yes, she doubts. She resists the urge to tear open the curtain to read his face.
He says, “There’s a hidden path.”
“That you’ve kept from me?”
“It’s shown only to the chosen.”
But Iamchosen, she thinks. Or I was. “What path?”
“What is the antidote to snakebite?”
“Just tell me.”
“You must say the remedy.”
