Mortal Heart (His Fair Assassin 3)

“I did not want his identity to prejudice any conclusions she might draw.”

“And what of Ismae’s letters?”

The abbess blinks. “What letters?”

“The ones she sent to me that I never received. The one asking if I knew the antidote to a poison.”

Our gazes hold for a long moment before I lean forward and plant my hands on her desk. “You never even told her of the entirety of her gift. How she was able to draw poison from others’ skin, just like Sister Serafina.”

“I had to be certain she was able to fulfill her duties for Mortain without remorse or second thoughts. I feared that her kind heart would cause her to use it without permission, and those fears proved founded when she wrote to you.”

“You had no right to take my letters—”

“No right? What rights do you think you have but those that are granted to you by me? All that you have, the clothes on your back, the food that has filled your belly, and any rights, are at my discretion. You seem to have forgotten that.”

“I forget nothing.”

“And so I ask again, what do you want from me?”

“I want to know that you have the novitiates’ best interests at heart. That you are not picking and choosing who to send based on some whim or personal favorite.”

The abbess snorts. “Do not flatter yourself. I do not care for you that much. I have been kind to you, that is all.”

While the words she speaks have the weight of truth to them, I do not believe them all the same. She has cared more for me than for the others, for all that she wishes to deny it now. “I want an explanation for why I have not been sent out, then.”

“Must I carve it upon the skin of your arm? You have been chosen to be the convent’s seeress. Where did you think they came from if not from the ranks of our initiates? We plucked them from a magical tree?”

“Except I have had a chance to research this matter and now know that there are many others qualified to be the convent’s seeress. Anyone who is a virgin, or who is past childbearing years and swears celibacy. I am not the only one who can serve in this manner. Why are you so set on me?”

“How do you know that I am? Is not the first mission a novitiate is given one meant to prove her absolute obedience and loyalty? A task designed to demonstrate she can be trusted to carry out her duties?”

Ignoring the sudden uncertainty that twists in my belly, I tilt my head and allow a bitter smile to play about my lips. “That is most odd, because I distinctly remember you telling Sister Thomine it was precisely because I was so biddable and obedient that I would excel as seeress.”

Her eyes widen at the recognition of just how often I must have listened at her door, and the blood drains from her face. She turns to look at the papers on her desk to hide it, but it is too late. I have seen it and know that she is afraid of what I may have overheard.

“Perhaps it is not what you have, but what you lack,” she says at last.

Her words are like a slap. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have no gifts, no special skills, nothing that would be of any use to Mortain in the execution of His wishes. Augury can be taught. The sorts of gifts the other novitiates possess cannot. However”—she leans back in her chair again and lifts a folded message from her desk—“this latest turn of events should please you greatly. In spite of your lack of true gifts, I will have to send you out on assignment after all. It will give you a chance to prove yourself. To convince me I was wrong to waste you as seeress.”

And there it is: everything I have ever wanted, everything I have trained and fought for, only now I do not trust it. “You will have to forgive me if I seem less than grateful, for I find it hard to have confidence in such an order—now, at this time.”

“You have asked me for an explanation, and I have given you one. I use the tools Mortain gives me in the manner best suited to their gifts. Matelaine, for all her youth, had inherent gifts that made her more valuable in her service to Mortain than you. But she is gone now and all the others are too young, as you have so movingly pointed out, so there is no one left but you.” She tilts her head. “I thought you were willing to do anything to prove your ability to serve Him in just such a manner?”

Her faintly mocking tone sets my teeth on edge. “It is too late to catch me with that trap. Besides, the duchess has requested I assist her in caring for Isabeau, and I cannot turn my back on a command from my sovereign.”

Her face tightens in annoyance. “That was a request, not a command, and likely made just as a favor to Ismae to give you something to do. And as Sybella is back, she can assist Isabeau in your stead.” Then she arches her brows at me in such a way that causes all the muscles along my neck and shoulders to clench in apprehension. “Besides, the man to be killed is not only a proven traitor to the crown but also the man responsible for Matelaine’s death.”

And just like that, I am hooked like a fish. And she knows it. Even so, I try to feign indifference. “And who is this proven traitor to the crown?”

“Chancellor Crunard. Or, I should say, the former chancellor Crunard.”

I glance at the empty perch behind her desk. “Has Sister Vereda Seen this?”

“Yes.” Our gazes meet, and I think of all the times I thought she was telling the truth only to learn later that she had lied. There is no way I can take her word on this.

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“Why? According to Ismae, he has been sitting in a prison for months. What possible threat could he pose now?”

“Someone is communicating our movements, positions, and strategies to the French. We know that Crunard has close ties with them and can only assume he is using some bribed guard in Guérande to get word to them of our activities.”

“Yes, but how is he getting word of the duchess’s plans? He is no longer in her confidence.”

“Perhaps there is yet another traitor. I do not know, I know only that we are to make every effort to halt the French. Are you willing to do this?”

“What if I do not see a marque? What then?”

“I told you. Sister Vereda has Seen it. Kill him anyway.”

Back in our chambers, Ismae looks at me with worried eyes. “I think it is a bad idea.”

I glance away and begin folding some of the clothes I will take. “Not if I am aware that the abbess is up to something,” I point out.

Sybella moves away from the window. “You do not fully understand her motives.”

“I understand enough to know she does not have my best interests at heart.”

“But why?” Ismae asks. As if she is unable to keep still, she reaches out and begins helping me fold. “Why would you go, knowing that?”

I look over at Sybella. “Why did you ride out to meet d’Albret?” I ask softly.

She stares at me a long moment, then gives a curt nod. “Well and so. It is something you have to do.”

“Precisely. I must do it for Matelaine’s sake.” And my own, although I do not tell them that. The abbess has all but taunted me with my own deficiencies, and I feel poised for a battle of wills. I am fully prepared for that. I am not prepared to stand down or walk away or turn my back on the only destiny I have ever wanted.