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Chapter One
BRITTANY, DECEMBER 1488
FOR MOST, THE BLEAK DARKout of the north is a tirimness and sorrow as people await the arrival of winter, which brings death, hunger, and bitter cold in its wake But we at the convent of Saint Mortain welcome winter with open arms and hearts, for it is Mortain’s own season, when He is full upon us In such a way does the Wheel of Life turn, with every ending but a new beginning; that is the promise Mortain has made us
So while ht, we have cause for celebration and go traipsing through the wood, gathering the sacred yew branches and collecting holly with its bright red berries that remind us of the three drops of blood spilled when Mortain was pierced by love and Arduinna’s own arrow
And while Mortain is a far ive Him credit for, I do not think He would look kindly upon His youngest hand with the sacred branches that are intended for His holy fire
“Audri! Aveline! Stop that!”
“She started it,” Aveline says, peering out from under the pale red hair that has fallen across her eyes
“No, I didn?
?t! You did You always do Because you’re good with swords and knives and fighting, you alant to fight”
“Girls!” I clapat how very much I remind myself of Sister Beatriz when she loses control of the woo help Florette Aveline, you come over here with me”
Thinking the other girl in trouble, Audri sticks her tongue out at Aveline, then hurries over to help Florette Instead of scolding Aveline, I take her hand, lead her to a holly bush, and give her a knife “You will fill that basket, and I will fill this one”
Pleased at being given a blade, so yard, Aveline turns to the bush and begins cutting
I keep my eyes on the leaves in front of roup, Aveline There is no honor in besting those younger than you”
She stops her cutting and turns her strange, sole I should pretend to be weak so they can feel strong? Is that not telling a lie?” Before I can untangle her knotted logic, she shrugs “Besides, she is nearly as old as I a without her cloak and shoes”
I hide a smile, for it is true that Audri is quite proud of her ability to withstand cold Not only does she not feel the wintry chill, but she does not suffer chilblains or deadened li pulled from the womb of a woe storreat white bears of the far north, and proud of it “That lorious as hers and you constantly pick fights so that you may show them off”
For arears up and I catchthe handmaidens of Death our birth stories are ourus as they do as Death’s true daughters But on the day that I was born, no cuckolded husband paced nearby, no herbwitch pulled e priest ad mother while I rooted futilely at her breast
Or at least, I think not, for the truth is that I do not even know the day on which I was born I do not know the manner of my birth, the nah we think she must not, else I would not have ended up on the convent’s doorstep when I was less than a week old Of all the wo these stone floors, I a of the circumstances of my own birth
It is like an itching, festering wound I have trained myself not to scratch But so Especially when I am confronted with a cocksure nine-year-old who is blessed with reflexes so fast she has been known to snatch arrows froht
Aveline keeps her attention on the holly but watches me froht you sometime?”
I cannot help it—I laugh “You think you can best me?”
She lifts one shoulder “I think I would like to know if I could or could not”
At her words,er aout at the ocean, just beyond the trees It is too painful a reminder that both Isun to fulfill their destinies while I a assassins
I feel a tug at the corner ofthere ide eyes “We did not mean to make you sad, Annith”
“Oh, you didn’t, sweeting I a for er to finish up with these branches so we can begin decorating”
Her soes back to her ohile I move on to the next branch It is hard—so hard—not to feel wasted, like a neord that has been allowed to rust before it has ever been used I tightenmyself that the abbess has assured me it is just one of Mortain’s many mysteries, why He has called the others first If I ever coain, I shall ask why
Politely, of course
“Annith?” Aveline says