Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1)(22)

Awed by the power of this gift, I slip it through the slit in my gown and attach it to my waist; the weight of it is reassuring against my leg. This talk of souls has also reminded me of Martel. “Reverend Mother, as Martel’s soul left his body, I felt it rush through me. Is that . . . normal?”

The abbess stares at me a long moment, then frowns slightly. “But of course. It was your first encounter with a soul, yes?” when I nod, she continues. “The encounter was no doubt powerful and unexpected, as it is no small thing to experience a soul in all its richness.” She reaches out and puts her hand to my cheek as a mother would her babe’s. “You came to us a lump of clay, and we molded you into an instrument of Death. Duval is the bow through which we will launch you at our common enemies. Go now, and make us proud. Do not shame us with doubt or hesitation.”

And indeed, I am filled with remorse at her words. I am naught but a tool of the convent, to be wielded at need. who am I to question those who have raised me up from the cellar floor?

I am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life, and I have let my annoyance drive that duty from my mind. It will not happen again.

Instead of heading directly to the courtyard, I take a quick detour to tell Annith goodbye. Sybella did not have time to say farewell, and I would not have Annith suffer that twice.

She is in the rookery, helping the elderly Sister Claude. She startles at my approach, her eyes widening as she takes in my traveling cloak and satchel. She presses her lips firmly together and she turns away.

I pick my way across the bird droppings to where she is resealing a small parchment with beeswax. Guilt at having been chosen before her — yet again — fills me. I try to lighten the mood. “Sister Claude will catch you,” I tease.

Annith keeps her attention firmly on hiding the signs of her snooping. “And I will argue that this is what they have trained me for.”

“True enough.”

Silence stretches out between us as she finishes her task. when she speaks, it is as if she is pushing bitter pips off her tongue. “You are going out again.”

There is no answer I can give her but the truth. “I am to become a member of Viscount Duval’s household.”

Her head snaps up, her interest caught in spite of her disappointment. “The one who burst in on the reverend mother this morning?”

I nod. There are still no voices in the courtyard, so I quickly tell Annith of the night’s events and what transpired in the abbess’s office. when I finish, she tosses the resealed message down on the table with disgust. “It should be me,” she says with quiet fierceness.

“I know. I can only think that the abbess must have something truly special she is saving you for.”

“It is because I failed at the lesson with the corpse.”

It is the only one of the convent’s lessons at which Annith failed to excel — the time we were made to practice our skills on corpses. Sybella and I had our pasts to give us strength for the task, but Annith did not. “Faltered, not failed,” I say. “And you did it in the end. Sister Arnette said you passed. That cannot be it. Mayhap it is simply because you are younger?”

“I am only a year younger than you and Sybella. And Sybella was my age when they first sent her out.” She glares at me, not wanting my words of comfort. “Do they know how many classes you’ve skipped?”

“Sister Serafina needed my help in the workshop!”

"Even so,” she sniffs. “I am better at dancing and coquetry, not to mention I can beat you seven out of ten times in our practices.”

Her words pluck at my own worries. This assignment will not be a case of quickly slipping in and then out again undetected. It will be a prolonged deception before those who can easily sniff out an impostor. “I am sure she knows that,” I say, and hope that it is true.

Her haughty expression crumples. “If it is not the corpse, then it makes no sense,” she whispers, and I feel her despair as if it were my own.

“Have you asked the abbess?” I would never take such a risk, but Annith is far more at ease with the reverend mother than I am.

“And have her question my faith and dedication to Mortain?” she scoffs. “I think not.”

I hear a male voice in the courtyard, reminding me where my current duties lie. “I must go. Please don’t let us part in anger.”

She steps closer and throws her arms around me. “I am not mad at you.”

I hug her back and wonder how long it will be until I see her again. “Perhaps you will join me at court soon?” I suggest.

“I will pray for it nightly.”

I glance at the resealed parchment on the table before her. “No word from Sybella?”

“None.” Then her face brightens. “Perhaps you will learn of her at court.”

“If so, I will send word.” we hug one last time before I hurry from the rookery.

I clutch my small bundle of possessions and make my way toward the beach where Duval waits for me, his brown cloak whipping about his boots in the stiff breeze. He does not look any happier about this arrangement than I am, but from where I stand it is all his fault.

When he puts his hand on my elbow to help me into the boat, all the holy resolve I have wrapped myself in disappears and I jerk away, nearly tipping us both into the water.