Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,72

she had never, ever answered. It remained fresh in her gut, more recent than the wound left by Lisette's blade, more recent than yesterday; the hot stench of blood, the mutilated bodies of friends and brethren.

The world-ending realization, horror, despair, that everyone thought her responsible.

No amount of travel, no god-granted speed or agility, had ever allowed her to outrun that.

And yet…it never even occurred to her to refuse to answer. Not with so much at stake.

Not with so much at stake, and…maybe it was just time. For good or ill, right or wrong, life or death, maybe it was just time to lay that burden down.

“You won't remember.”

Her voice, hoarse, feather-soft, still sliced through the rising tide of conflict throughout the chamber. Her friends had been arguing with the duchess; not a one of them knew the truth, and yet each of them had struggled to protect her, to allow her to keep her secrets. She wouldn't forget it, no matter what.

But yes. It was time.

“You won't remember,” she said again, more firmly, “but I've actually met most of you before. When I was younger.”

“Where, child?” Luchene asked, not unkindly.

One last deep breath, one intense image of kissing Olgun affectionately on a cheek he didn't actually have. “Mostly, Your Grace, at the fetes and affairs of House Delacroix.”

“Oh, my gods…” The duchess got it, then and there. The others? They others didn't yet understand.

“My name,” Widdershins acknowledged for the first time in what felt like a dozen distinct lives, “was Adrienne Satti.”

I should tell her.

Ignoring the conversational cacophony rumbling about him, Renard Lambert leaned back to peer over one nobleman's shoulder and gaze intently at the thief he'd always known—and still thought of, no matter what other names he'd now heard—as Widdershins. She lounged in the farthest pew, ankles propped on the next bench over, idly staring at the ceiling. Either she truly wasn't bothered by the fact that one of the topics under consideration was her potential trial and execution, or she was putting on a damn good show of pretending. Either way, the attitude was just one of the many things he loved about her. And had, for quite some time, now.

I should tell her. With the kind of power Lisette has, plus the Guild…. Even if the plan goes off without a hitch, there's no guarantee she and I will both still be here when this is all over. I should tell her…

Except…to what end? What good would it do? She didn't think of him in that manner, never had; this he knew, without doubt. Was that suddenly going to change? Did he expect her to just throw herself into his arms?

Right. And then we'll appoint Bishop Sicard as the new Shrouded Lord.

It would just be one more thing for her to carry, one more complication to deal with. And for what? So he'd feel better? Because he couldn't live with it if she died without knowing?

She'd be dead. How much worse than that could it be?

No, it was selfish. Better to leave it. He'd decided long ago not to tell her, and nothing had changed. Maybe, if they both made it….

Renard halted, glanced around, and wondered when he'd risen from his seat, walked halfway toward the rear of the chamber. Gods dammit, no! I'm not going to—

But what if I'm wrong? What if there's even a chance?

He'd already come so very close to losing his last opportunity. He still felt hollow, heart in his throat and stomach sinking, any time he thought back to how she'd looked days earlier. How the sight of her, bloodied and broken, had nearly sent him screaming. How, once she'd begun to recover, he would have suggested the group split up for a time, if she hadn't done so for him—for fear of what he might say to her, otherwise…

Even now, just at the memory, Renard had to blink hard, set his jaw, to keep from weeping.

Shouldn't I find out? For both our sakes? Shouldn't—

“Your pardon, Monsieur Lambert.”

“Oh.” Renard stepped aside and bowed extravagantly, clearing the aisle between the pews and allowing the bishop to pass him by. “Of course, Your Eminence.”

Sicard smiled his thanks and continued on his way—straight toward the spot where Widdershins sat.

Well, that was a sign, wasn't it? With a soft sigh, Renard returned to the front and reclaimed his seat.

Later. If we both make it through all of this, maybe I'll tell her later….

Gods only knew how long it had been—no, really, they probably did, but