Mortal Heart by Robin Lafevers Read Free Book Online

the duchess’s life. The masked hellequin in the play leaped up onto the great table and pulled a knife. Luckily, Mortain guided my hand with His own, and my aim was quick and certain—I was able to bring the assassin down before he could strike.
Reverend Mother, I fear he may have been a true hellequin, for there was something unnatural about him—some absence of soul that leads me to believe he was not human. Or at least, not fully so.
     
    Ismae’s words send a deep chill through me, for while most think hellequin no more than tales told to keep children from straying too far from home, we at the convent know that they are real, and that they too belong to Mortain, although they serve a different purpose than His handmaidens do. They are the tortured souls of the damned who have pledged themselves to serve Mortain in order to earn their redemption.
     
In the Privy Council meeting immediately after the attempt, Chancellor Crunard revealed my true identity to the others. There is much anger and confusion among the members of the court right now, along with much finger-pointing. Accusations are flying. I pray daily for Sister Vereda to See a way out of this mess. Or, at the very least, to See who is behind it so I may take action upon him.
Yours in Mortain,
Ismae Rienne
     
    When I have finished reading, I hug the parchment to my chest and breathe deeply. Ismae is fine. She is better than fine—she has proven her worth and made the convent proud by saving our young duchess’s life. And she has been in contact with Sybella.
    Close on the heels of that sweet relief comes a spurt of bitter heartbreak. I should be there with Ismae, protecting our duchess, doing our god’s work, not trapped on this island. I close my eyes and let the feeling pass through me. I have proof of the seeress’s returning skills; surely that will put a stop to this idea of the abbess’s.
    I return to the table and remove the black sealing wax from the small cubbyhole where I keep it hidden. Holding it near the candle, I wait for it to melt, place two thin drops on the exact spot where Ismae’s seal was, then press the original seal into that. When it cools, it looks whole and unbroken, with no hint of anyone having tampered with it.
    I slip the resealed message into my pocket, then cross over to Sister Claude. I gently remove the empty tankard from her hand and tuck the blankets closely around her old, thin body. It is time to give the abbess the good news about Sister Vereda.
     
    As I make my way to the abbess’s chambers, a flutter of excitement rises in my chest and it is all I can do not to give a little twirl in the corridor, but I contain myself. Surely a handmaiden of Death should not feel so giddy with delight.
    When I reach the abbess’s office, the door is closed. At my knock, she calls out, “Who is it?” and some part of my mind cannot help but notice this is not her customary response.
    “It is Annith, Reverend Mother. Another crow arrived just after you left and I have come to bring you the message.”
    “Very well, come in.”
    When I open the door and enter the chamber, the abbess is just taking a seat. I dip a small curtsy, then approach her desk, the sound of my footsteps nearly silent against the crackle and snap of the fire in the hearth, a fire that does little to warm the chill in the room.
    When I reach the desk, I smile—a smile I fill with every ounce of affection I have ever felt for her over the years, no matter that her recent decision threatens to undermine that. “Sister Serafina said I should let you know that Sister Vereda had two small visions this morning. They were true ones, not simply ramblings. And I bring proof.”
    Her eyebrows shoot up in what she no doubt intends as surprise, but it seems to me that there is also a faint gleam of alarm in her eyes. “Indeed? And what were these visions?”
    I hold out the note. “That we would receive two messages from the mainland today, and that it would be