Vespertine (Vespertine #1)(56)

I thought back to the aftermath of the battle, when the revenant had been trying to possess me, and winced. I had been too distracted at the time to consider what that must have looked like to everyone watching. Marguerite, on the other hand… “You were unconscious.”

In the same tiny whisper, she said, “I heard the sisters talking about it.”

Of course they would have talked about it. Everyone had seen it, not just the sisters. Sophia had seen it—she’d seen me holding a dagger to my chest, threatening to plunge it between my ribs. The thought made me feel sick. I stared at Marguerite. I had no idea what to say.

“Fine. Don’t answer me. You don’t need to, anyway.” She backed up a step toward the granary, then seemed to realize she couldn’t escape in that direction. She flattened herself against the opposite wall and edged past me instead, which would have been comical if I weren’t so tired of her being scared of me. I watched her start to leave, then waver, taking in the way I was slumped against the stone, remembering I couldn’t get back to the infirmary on my own.

Her mouth twisted unhappily. She gripped the pocket tied to her belt as though for reassurance. I guessed that it had her amulet inside—it was too small to be the place she was hiding Saint Eugenia’s reliquary.

I noticed in the shade-light that there were a few minor burns on her fingers. They looked new. Which was odd; I didn’t think she had time to help in the kitchens.

She saw me looking. “I’ll send a healer to come get you,” she blurted out, and fled.

As soon as she left, the revenant roused itself. “We aren’t killing Marguerite,” I said. “She isn’t going to tell anyone.”

“Are you certain about that, nun?”

There was a silkiness to its tone that made the hair stand up on my arms. I realized I had no idea what it would do if it thought we were at imminent risk of being discovered. Anything, I suspected, to avoid going back to its reliquary, even if that meant breaking our agreement.

The group of children ran past, laughing and screaming. None of them noticed me lurking in the shadows. I remembered the way the revenant’s ghost-fire had poured across the convent’s grounds, eager to devour even the grass and the worms in the soil. If my control slipped, if it unleashed itself here, nothing would survive.

The tension strained to a breaking point, and then it eased. A sister had entered the courtyard, glancing around with a slight frown of impatience. By the looks of it, Marguerite had told her that I’d gotten lost on my way to the privy. Our secret was safe. I felt the revenant relax as it reached the same conclusion.

As I stepped into the light, using the wall for support, the stick the children were playing with went flying across the courtyard and clattered to the ground at my feet. Instantly I found myself enveloped in a waist-high squabble. “No, it’s my turn!” they shouted. “It’s mine!” Standing in the middle, I might as well have turned invisible.

Finally a girl snatched up the stick, brandishing it at her competitors. “Now I get to be Artemisia of Naimes!” she declared boldly, and ran.

I stared dumbfounded as the children raced away, fighting over their makeshift sword. Their running back and forth was a reenactment of the Battle of Bonsaint: one of them playing me, others the soldiers, the rest the army of the Dead.

The revenant was observing me, assessing my reaction. “Is that so difficult for you to believe?” it asked at last.

I didn’t know how to answer as I watched the children go.





FOURTEEN


The next day, I felt well enough to make a trip to the privy on my own, though I ended up regretting it. The privy took the form of a small stone garderobe that jutted from the convent’s exterior wall over the Sevre. Inside it smelled of damp and echoed with the river’s muted roaring. A wooden bench with a hole in it emptied into the water below. The revenant’s weakness overtook me the moment I entered, and by the time I staggered out, pale and sweating, everyone waiting in line for their turn looked like they were having second thoughts.

The revenant was in a foul mood, which turned fouler as we entered the infirmary. “Oh, just what we need,” it snapped.

Charles was standing over my pallet, glancing around. The healed flux patients had been discharged earlier that morning and their bedding removed, leaving my abandoned place on the floor one of only about a dozen left in the hall, and it seemed that his bafflement was starting to give way to alarm. I watched as he knelt and gingerly lifted one of my pallet’s corners as though I might be hiding underneath it. When he saw me, he sprang upright, looking embarrassed.

“Anne!” he exclaimed, relieved.

“Charles.” I wasn’t used to people looking glad to see me, and I had no idea what to say. I settled on, “Thank you for bringing me to the sisters.” I knew he had to be the soldier who’d found me in the barnyard; none of the others knew my name.

“I should have done it earlier. Your hands…” I felt an unpleasant squirm in my stomach before he went on, “Why didn’t you tell me about the blight?”

“It wasn’t important.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Looking concerned, Charles stepped toward me. Instinctively, I stepped back. I was grateful that the sisters had laundered my clothes and returned them to me, so I wasn’t standing in front of him wearing only my chemise.