Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,111

say softly.

She runs her fingers along the edge of the letter. “There is something else you should know about this half sister of his. Her name is Annith. From the convent.”

This revelation leaves me well and truly speechless. “Annith?”

“Remember I told you she was the abbess’s daughter and not one of Mortain’s? Well, Crunard was her father.”

My mind churns as all the implications of this spread out before me like a giant web.

“That is the hold that he had over her as abbess,” Sybella continues. “The chancellors of Brittany have often acted as liaisons with the convent on behalf of the sovereign, so this was no different. Except that when he wished her to look the other way or apply pressure here instead of there, as he wove the rope he was hoping to hang us with, she had no choice but to agree lest he expose her secret.”

“My heart holds no forgiveness for her. She had a choice.”

“I agree, and she chose poorly. But I am gathering that you and Anton were—are—close, and I want you to know how he came to have a sister.”

“Well,” I say, unwilling to address the question in her voice. “What am I to do regarding the regent’s demands?”

“You are to remain calm and stay in your chamber as much as possible.”

“What if the king summons me?”

“You will have to go. And say nothing of the ultimatum. Not yet anyway. We have a week. That is enough time to come up with a countermove.”

“While you’re thinking on it, may I please have the letter to throw in the fire and burn before somebody else sees it?”

As she hands me the letter, she tilts her head to stare at the fire in the hearth, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “Why did you not tell me about the regent’s ultimatum before deciding to leave?”

There were so many reasons. “I was afraid you would try to protect me rather than stay focused on the longer view of the king and his struggle against the regent. I was afraid you might confront the regent. Or go after Pierre. Or confess to Fremin’s murder. Every option I saw you choosing might ease the pressure on me, but would make things worse for yourself.”

“So you did not trust me.”

“I trusted you too much. I have seen how you thrust yourself between those you care about and the troubles that plague them.”

She arches one of her elegant brows. “You think I care about you?”

I shrug, embarrassed now. “You had seemed determined to act the older sister before we left Plessis. I didn’t know how long that impulse would last.”

“You will be happy to know that I still have that impulse. Which is why I will not let you leave like you want to. We are the daughters of a god, Genevieve. We were not meant to move in this world as pale reflections of ourselves. It is not how we serve the gods who made us.”

“But Mortain is no longer.”

“He is not the only god.” Her eyes gleam faintly. “It is time for you to meet the Dark Mother.”

I draw in a sharp breath. The Dark Matrona is rarely spoken of, a dark goddess of death and destruction. “But only the charbonnerie worship her.”

Her hand slips inside her pocket, and she smiles faintly. “They are not the only ones.” For some reason, a shiver goes down my spine.

When Sybella speaks again, her voice is firm. “You have wallowed in the ashes of your remorse long enough. It is time to rise.”

Even though her words make no sense, they spark a small ember of hope—of anticipation—inside my chest. “And how am I to do that?”

Her eyes never leave mine. “You simply choose. When it feels like there is no other alternative before you, you decide to rise.” She stands, then reaches for my hand.

“You don’t understand,” I whisper. “That is how I came to be in this mess in the first place. I allowed myself to believe I was an instrument of the gods.”

“That was your mistake.”

“But now you are telling me to do that very thing again!”

“This time I’m reminding you that you are already part god. The time for hiding from that is over. You have been stripped bare of your pretenses.” Her gaze dips down to my neck. “You gave up any thoughts of grandeur or glory long ago, else you would never have allowed that collar around your neck. You are no longer acting because you