Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,152

part that someone would have to man such a boat. There would be no hope of escape, would there?”

Lazare shrugs and looks away. “Wouldn’t need more than five or six volunteers.”

“Volunteers to be burned alive?”

He shrugs again. “We already know some of us are going to die. Maybe some can wrap their minds around it early and be of use.”

“There will be few volunteers willing to burn to death,” Maraud mutters.

“Maybe,” I say slowly, “they won’t have to.”

“Please saints.” Beast scrubs his face. “Tell me you have a solution.”

“Not me, but the abbess of Saint Mer. What if we use her initiates? They are as comfortable in the ocean as otters. Is it possible that enough of them could steer the ship from the water?”

“Like human rudders,” Maraud says thoughtfully.

“Not so sure about the human part,” one of the queen’s guard mumbles. He was with us the last time we came to Morlaix and has seen the Mer maids for himself.

“That would work,” Lazare says, and Beast looks as if he might weep with relief.

“Now all we must do is see if the abbess of Saint Mer is willing to help.”

“And find Rohan’s men. If we eliminate them before they get a message to Rohan’s larger forces, we can be in and out of here without Rohan even knowing it.”

Or Pierre, I think. I glance at Maraud. Pierre will not forgive Maraud’s betrayal.

 Chapter 85

Gen casts her gaze to the rocky shore and the sparkling blue sea just beyond. “I have never seen anyone who serves Saint Mer.”

I smile, remembering how I worshiped Saint Mer as a girl, reveling in her wildish nature, her command of storms, her disregard of men. “You will not forget once you have.”

As we draw closer to the ancient stone abbey, the tang of the sea and smell of fish and rotting seaweed grow stronger. Before we can dismount, the door opens and two of Saint Mer’s initiates come out to greet us. I glance at Gen, who is working hard to keep her mouth from hanging open. Even I, who have seen them before, must make an effort not to stare. The most noticeable thing about them is their skin, its almost translucent quality. The second is their webbed hands and feet. Gen is so busy staring at those that it takes her a full moment to finally look up into the face of the girl greeting her and see her slightly pointed teeth.

The abbess’s office is spare and barren, with clean, whitewashed stone walls. She sits behind a desk in the room’s single chair. She is as old as I remember, small and wizened. Around her neck are strands of cockleshells, and she holds her sacred trident in her left hand. She does not rise, but coolly looks us up and down, her eyes as shifting as the sea.

As is her due, we all bow and wait for her to speak first.

“What brings you here?” She addresses her question to Beast.

Beast bows again. “I regret if we have displeased you by coming.”

“Displeased me,” she snorts. “As if you have chosen not to invite me to some ball, when what you have actually done is place us in the hands of a foreign power.”

Merde. She is unhappy with the queen’s marriage. She rises to her feet and thumps the butt of her trident on the stone floor. “No one asked me what I thought of such a union. No one asked Saint Mer if she wished to be part of France.”

“Forgive us, Reverend Mother. There was little time to consult with anyone, with war at the gates.”

“You consulted with her.” She points her trident at Aeva.

Aeva inclines her head in polite greeting. “They consulted us on the one weapon—one that belonged to Saint Arduinna, herself—they had that could prevent the needless loss of life. And we agreed. What choice did the duchess have?”

The abbess sniffs and looks out the window toward the sea. “War does not distress us as it does the landlocked.” She shifts her sharp gaze to me. “And you? Of a surety, death is partial to war, they often go hand in hand. Was it a difficult choice for you?” Her smile borders on cruel. She knows Mortain fell that day.

“Indeed not, Reverend Mother. As you have no doubt heard, my god set aside his godhood rather than see death take so many for so little reason.”

Her smile grows mocking. “That is not why he set aside his godhood. It was the