Serpent & Dove (Serpent & Dove #1) - Shelby Mahurin Page 0,120
possess it—not as the witches did. Driven mad with desire, he eventually died by his own hand.”
Her gaze found Coco’s, and she smiled, small and grim. “Angelica wept her sea of tears and followed him into the afterlife. But his brethren lived on. They drove the witches into hiding and claimed the land—and its magic—for their own.
“You know the rest of the story. The blood feud rages to this day. Each side bitter—each side vindicated. Constantin’s descendants continue to control this land, despite renouncing magic for religion years ago. With each new Dame des Sorcières, the witches attempt to marshal their forces, and with each attempt, the witches fail. Aside from being woefully outnumbered, my sisters cannot hope to defeat both the monarchy and the Church in combat—not with your Balisardas. But Morgane is different than those before her. She is more clever. Cunning.”
“Sounds like Lou,” Coco mused.
“Lou is nothing like that woman,” I snarled.
Beau sat forward and glared around the table. “Forgive me, all, but I don’t give a shit about Lou—or Morgane or Angelica or Constantin. Tell me about my father.”
My knuckles turned white on my dagger.
Sighing, Madame Labelle patted my arm in silent warning. When I jerked away from her touch, she rolled her eyes. “I’m getting to him. Anyway—yes, Morgane is different. As a child, she recognized this kingdom’s twofold power.” She glanced to Beau. “When your father was crowned king, an idea took shape—a way to strike at both the crown and the Church. She watched as he married a foreign princess—your mother—and gave birth to you. She rejoiced as he left bastard after bastard in his wake.”
She paused, deflating slightly. Even I watched with rapt attention as her eyes turned inward. “She learned their names, their faces—even those of which Auguste himself had no knowledge.” Her faraway eyes met mine then, and my stomach contracted inexplicably. “With each child, her joyousness—her obsession—only grew, though she waited to reveal her purpose to us.”
“How many?” Beau interrupted, voice sharp. “How many children?”
She hesitated before answering. “No one quite knows. I believe the last count was around twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six?”
She hurried on before he could continue. “Shortly after your birth, Your Highness, Morgane announced to our sisters that she was with child. And not just any child—the Archbishop’s child.”
“Lou,” I said, feeling vaguely sick.
“Yes. Morgane spoke of a pattern to free the witches from persecution, of a baby to end the Lyons’ tyranny. Auguste Lyon would die . . . and so would all his descendants. The child in her womb was the price—a gift, she said—sent by the Goddess. The final strike against the kingdom and the Church.”
“Why did Morgane wait to kill Lou?” I asked bitterly. “Why didn’t she just kill her when she was born?”
“A witch receives her rites on her sixteenth birthday. It is the day she becomes a woman. Though the witches craved deliverance, most were uncomfortable with the thought of slaughtering a child. Morgane was content to wait.”
“So Morgane . . . she only conceived Lou for vengeance.” My heart twisted. I’d once felt sorry for my own miserable entrance into the world, but Lou—hers was a fate much worse. She’d literally been born to die.
“Nature demands balance,” Coco whispered, tracing the cut on her palm. Lost in thought. “In order to end the king’s line, Morgane must also end her own.”
Madame Labelle nodded wearily.
“Jesus,” Beau said. “Hell hath no fury.”
“But . . .” I frowned. “It doesn’t make sense. One life for twenty-six? That’s not balanced.”
Madame Labelle’s brows knitted together. “Perception is a powerful thing. By killing Louise, Morgane will end the line of le Blanc forever. The magic of La Dame des Sorcières will pass on to another line when Morgane dies. Surely ending her own legacy is a worthy sacrifice to end another’s?”
My frown only deepened. “But the numbers still don’t add up.”
“Your perception is too literal, Reid. Magic is nuanced. All of her children will die. All of his children will die.” She picked at a nonexistent speck on her skirt. “Of course, this speculation doesn’t matter. No one else can see the pattern, so we must use Morgane’s interpretation.”
Coco looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed. “What’s your role in all this, madame? You tried to buy Lou.”
“To protect her.” Madame Labelle waved an impatient hand. I frowned at the movement. Gold bands covered her every finger, but there—on her left ring finger—
A mother-of-pearl ring. Nearly identical to the one I’d given Lou.