Vespertine (Vespertine #1)(68)

I looked at her in disbelief. “It could be dangerous.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I should go.”

My first instinct was to say no. But she had traveled all the way from Naimes to Bonsaint on her own. Everything I had witnessed through the harrow’s screen, she had seen too, except closer up and without the protection of armed guards. She might not have known what true danger meant before, but she did now.

“All right,” I said, ignoring the revenant’s hiss of protest.

Her eyes shone as Jean helped me upright, setting me on my feet as though I weighed nothing. The moment he let go, I stumbled. Marguerite gave a little cry of surprise and tried to catch me. When we collided, something fell from her pocket to tumble glittering into the straw.

She gasped and snatched it back up. But not before I saw it, and recognized it. An ancient silver ring set with a tiny moonstone, like countless others in Loraille, except I knew this one—I could see it anywhere and not mistake it. The relic of Saint Beatrice, worn on Mother Katherine’s hand.

Before she could return it to her pocket, I caught her wrist. She tried to yank herself free, but I didn’t budge.

“It was just sitting on the altar,” she said hotly. “No one was using it. Let go of me.”

Instead, I gripped her tighter. “So you stole it?”

“I only thought of the idea because of you,” she countered. “Before, I couldn’t figure out how to protect myself from possession when I ran away. But then I realized a spirit can’t possess you if you already have another one taking up room inside your body, even if it’s just a shade.”

“That’s actually quite clever,” the revenant said in surprise.

“So I’ve kept it summoned ever since I left Naimes,” she continued. Her vehemence faltered. “And it’s—it’s been helping me.”

I was so startled I let go of her. “It speaks to you?”

“No. It doesn’t know words. It reminds me of… of a child. When it wants to warn me about something, it’s like a little tug on my cloak.” She looked down, frowning, rubbing her wrist defensively. I remembered the burns on her fingers—they must have been caused by her amulet. “I don’t think the nuns can sense it, or at least they aren’t looking for it, since there are so many shades in the convent already. And it isn’t like they can possess people or anything. Another one doesn’t make a difference.”

“She’s right.” The revenant briefly shifted my vision, showing me Marguerite’s soul. Caught up in the network of golden veins was the tiniest silver glint, far too subtle to notice if the revenant hadn’t drawn my attention to it. “Even I wasn’t watching for a shade.”

Swiftly, she went on, “I thought I would hate it, having it inside my head all the time, not knowing how to put it back into its relic. But I don’t. It’s so happy. It just likes having company. And while I was traveling… I nearly ran into a group of thralls. It saved my life by warning me off the road.”

“The human who wielded the relic before her must have been kind to it.” The revenant sounded distant, its emotions shuttered. “It’s rare for spirits to willingly help their vessels, even ones as simpleminded as shades.”

“Mother Katherine,” I told it reflexively, and then Marguerite’s earlier words sank in.

No one was using it.

Marguerite looked at me with something terrible in her eyes. Grief, pity. I didn’t know which was worse. “Artemisia, I’m sorry.”

I stumbled away as though she had struck me. Barely thinking, only wanting to get away, I grabbed for the ladder leading to the hayloft and started to climb.

“I loved her too,” she said, her voice thick.

I couldn’t turn around. I didn’t want her to see my face.

I didn’t know why I was so upset. I had known for a long time now that Mother Katherine had died in the attack. I just hadn’t been willing to admit it to myself. But my throat still ached as though I’d swallowed a stone. Heat prickled painfully behind my eyes.

I wondered if I was going to cry. I hadn’t cried since I was a child, before I had come to the convent, and I didn’t want the first time I did it again to be in front of the revenant. I felt its presence hovering: too close, seeing everything.

“Go away,” I said, even though there was nowhere else for it to go.

“Nun.”

Whatever it wanted to say, I didn’t want to hear it. It would have killed Mother Katherine itself that day if it had gotten the chance. I had no way to articulate the misery of the shed, the light that had come pouring in when she opened the door. I hadn’t been able to see her face, but I had known she was there to save me. Later I had found out how it had happened: that the story of a girl who had thrust her own hands into a fire had reached the convent, and Mother Katherine had left at once, in the middle of morning prayers, to travel to my nameless town and find me. Like I was worth something—like I was wanted.

Leave me alone, I thought to the revenant. To Marguerite, to the thousands of people who needed my help, to the Gray Lady Herself. Leave me alone.

The revenant seemed as though it wanted to say something else, but I turned my face into the hay, and it was silent.



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