Vespertine (Vespertine #1)(110)

It understood what we were doing at once. Fury and terror twisted Leander’s face into a horrible mask. It moved to withdraw, but at the same time one of Leander’s hands seized the doorframe. For an instant, he had regained control, and that was all it took for him to wrench himself inside.

He dropped to his knees as though in supplication. “Artemisia,” he whispered, his green eyes burning into mine. “Do it.”

The rune was finished. I slammed my hand down, or the revenant did, or we both did it together.

The world exploded into pain.

At first, the pain came as a shock. Then it made terrible sense. Stupid. I had been so stupid. I remembered the revenant’s earlier hesitation in the stall—the moment it had realized that the ritual designed to destroy Sarathiel would also destroy itself, that there was no way to avoid this fate, that it had made the decision to sacrifice itself then and there. Not for humanity’s sake, but for mine. Sarathiel wouldn’t have let me live. This was the only way to save me.

Leander lay collapsed in the aisle, his features beautiful and still. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Fragments of silver were tearing upward from his body like shards of broken glass, a shattered cathedral window caught in a whirlwind, the fractured panes reflecting a skeletal ribcage, a serene half-closed eye, a graceful row of pinions. Sarathiel was breaking apart—and I could feel my revenant following.

Frantically, I imagined gathering up its pieces and gripping them in my hands, clutching them against my chest, refusing to let them escape.

“Let go,” said the revenant. Its voice was a horrible shriek, almost unrecognizable, like a gale tearing through my mind.

Instead, I gripped it tighter.

“You’ll die!” it howled.

Desperately, I held on.

And then the revenant was railing against me, too. The pain was so great that I could barely think. I briefly forgot my mission, only to remember again with an agony like being torn asunder. Furiously, I began to pray.

Lady, if I have served You, spare the revenant. If You are merciful, let it live. I have done what You have asked. I have suffered for You. This is the only thing I want in return.

Spare the revenant.

Please, spare the revenant…

My vision filled with silver light. No answer came. But She couldn’t ignore me forever. If She wouldn’t listen to me, I would make Her regret it.

I would die, and I would see Her soon.





EPILOGUE


I had strange dreams.

I was a child again, shoving my hands into the hearth. But this time the fire was silver and didn’t burn me. The flames were standing still.

A muttered croak drew my attention. A white raven was watching me from the window, its feathers ruffled in annoyance. Its eyes were black, but as I looked closer, I realized that they weren’t lightless—they glittered with thousands upon thousands of stars.

“Artemisia,” it cawed, scolding me. “Artemisia!”

I startled awake in a small, whitewashed chamber, the raven’s voice still ringing in my ears. At first I thought I was back in the tower where Sarathiel had imprisoned me, and had confused my dreams with waking reality. But I didn’t recognize the view out the window, its shutters thrown wide: a green mountain landscape, the shadows of clouds racing over fir-covered slopes. A bell rang out the first hour of the afternoon, and when it stopped, I heard prayers being sung in deep voices. Slowly, my memories began to reorient themselves. My breathing stilled.

“Revenant?” I asked, not daring to hope.

“I’m here, nun,” it said.

I shot up, the coverlet knotted in my hands, joy flooding my heart like a sunrise. I had never imagined its hideous voice would sound so welcome.

“Before you say something embarrassing, you should know that we aren’t alone.”

I turned to find Mother Dolours sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. My joy instantly gave way to cold, drenching terror. Marguerite had explained things to her. How much, exactly, had she explained?

By now, the abbess had to suspect my relationship with the revenant. She might even know I had used Old Magic.

Incongruously, she was darning a hole in a stocking. I got the impression that, like me, she was the kind of person who wasn’t used to sitting idle. She would start going mad without a task to keep herself occupied. As though sensing my thoughts, she looked up.

“We are in the monastery of Saint Barnabas, in the far east of Roischal,” she said calmly. “You could have recovered in Bonsaint, but I thought it wiser to bring you to a place where fewer casualties would result if Rathanael suddenly began to feel less cooperative. The sisters will survive without me in the meantime, I trust.”

I couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “What are you going to do about the revenant?” I blurted.

The chair creaked as she leaned back. She eyed me keenly. “Do I need to do something about it?” she inquired.

A shiver gripped me. I couldn’t help wondering whether she had known the truth since the moment I had arrived in her convent and had been watching me the entire time. I found that I couldn’t meet her eyes. I felt as though I might see something in them if I did: a fathomless night sky, glittering with stars.

“Oh, don’t look so alarmed, child,” she said brusquely. “We had a nice long talk while you were sleeping, Rathanael and I. The Lady spared Rathanael for a reason, and I’m not going to argue with Her about it. She and I already butt heads enough as it is. These days I find I have to pick my battles, or I would never have time for anything else.”