Mortal Heart by Robin Lafevers Read Free Book Online Page A

raining before noon. The first drops began to fall just as I came inside.”
    The abbess’s face relaxes and she quirks her mouth. “The cook can predict the rain simply from the way her knees creak.”
    “But she cannot predict the number of messages we receive,” I point out gently.
    She nods her head in a reluctant gesture of agreement. Unnerved by the less-than-joyous reception of this news, I fold my hands before me. “Is that not a good thing, Reverend Mother? That in these most troubled times, our wise and experienced seeress is finally regaining her Sight? I would think that would be something worth rejoicing over tonight as we begin to celebrate midwinter’s arrival.”
    “But of course, Annith. I am most delighted to hear this. I only wish that we had more than a report on the weather and a courier’s tally as proof of her returning abilities, but it is a good sign, nevertheless.” She takes up her quill from its stand and nods at me. “I imagine if you hurry, you will be able to help the others decorate the refectory. And Annith?”
    “Yes, Reverend Mother?”
    Her voice softens, filling with warmth. “That was well done of you, helping Sister Serafina nurse Vereda. It made both of their lives much easier, and I know it brought the old seeress much comfort.”
    “It did?” I thought she hardly noticed whose hand was tending her.
    “It did. And it proves once again how invaluable you are to the convent—how perfect your obedience and dedication.”
    Words crowd up my throat—I did not do it out of dedication, I want to tell her, but because I wanted the seeress to get better so I would not have to take her place.
    But I cannot say it. I cannot confess to the abbess that I overheard that conversation. My need to keep such transgressions secret drowns out the need to deny her words. “I am glad I was able to be of service,” I say, “for now that she is well again, perhaps she will See an assignment for me.”
    The abbess smiles fondly. “Perhaps she will.”
    I hold her gaze, trying to discern if she truly means that or if she simply thinks it is what I wish to hear.
    In the end, I leave her chamber none the wiser.

Chapter Five
    W RAPPED IN OUR CEREMONIAL CLOAKS made of thick white wool, we file out of the courtyard just past midnight. Nearly all of us are in attendance, from the youngest to old Sister Claude, who shuffles along beside Sister Serafina, holding on to her arm so that she will not trip and break her aging, brittle bones. In our right hands we carry a lit torch so that we may see the path that lies ahead, and in our left, we hold our offerings to Mortain.
    Many of the younger girls carry small cakes from the convent kitchen, ones they piously chose to offer to Mortain rather than eat. Little Audri plans to offer her shoes, which would be more impressive if we did not all know how much she hates to wear them. I suspect the abbess will have one of us collect the shoes after the ceremony. Melusine brings a pearly pink shell from the sea. Matelaine carries the letters her parents have sent her—letters she has read aloud to us a hundred times, as we are all jealous of her two living parents. She is an oddity among us, for her parents—even her false father—see her as a joy rather than a burden and have sent her here to the convent for the opportunities it affords her, not because she is feared or hated. In truth, I am impressed by the depth of her offering.
    I have brought an arrow. One that I made with my own hands and the one that flies truest. I intend to aim tonight’s offering directly at Mortain Himself so that my prayers will be certain to reach Him.
    Midwinter is my favorite time of year, a time when Mortain feels closes to us. Once, when I was a child, He was this close to me always. Whether because of my youth, my dire need of Him, or because the terror of those years was simply so strong that it parted the veil between our worlds, I do not know. But I miss it. It is like