‘Astrid’s dark eyes softened as she looked at Celene’s message.
‘“Of course. A letter unanswered is like a kiss ignored. And your mama misses you, no doubt.” She produced her sketchblock from within her dove-white habit, tore off a page, and handed me a stick of charcoal. “Hide your letter under your pillow before you leave. I shall see your mama gets it while you’re traipsing across the countryside butchering leeches and making all the peasant girls swoon.”
‘“Merci, Majesty,” I smiled. “I owe you. Truly.”
‘“And I’ll not forget it. Have a care, Initiate.” She looked to the dim daylight beyond the stained glass. “Soon you’ll be indebted enough that you’ll be forced to help me escape this ghastly place. And by a kinder road than poor Aoife travelled.”
‘“Is it so bad?” I asked gently. “To be here?”
‘“Bad?” she chuckled, suddenly cruel and cold. “I have nothing. I own nothing. The blood of emperors flows in these veins, and yet, I’m a boat in a storm with no rudder, blown wheresoever the winds choose. There is no hell so cruel as powerlessness.”
‘My heart sank a little at that. San Michon was my home now, but to Astrid, it was naught but a cage. I’d only known this strange, infuriating girl a few weeks, but still, I wondered what this place would be without her. I watched as she gathered the tray, stalking away across the cold stone. As she reached the door, she turned one final time.
‘“A weak and foolish girl would wish you fortune on your Hunt, Gabriel de León. A weak and foolish girl would pray God bring you blessings and guard you from all harm.”
‘“But you’re not a weak and foolish girl.”
‘“No. I’m a fucking queen.”
‘And with that, she was gone.’
XIII
EVERY SHADE OF BLOODY
‘I STARED AT the place where Astrid had stood for a long moment, noting how the room seemed smaller now she’d left it. And then, with a sigh, I took up the charcoal and began to write. A scrap of parchment was no place to say all I needed to, but I did the best I could. Enough time had passed since we said goodbye. Enough nights filled only with questions.
‘Dearest Mama,
‘Please forgive me for not writing sooner. I received all Celene’s letters, and pray God this one finds you in the best of health. We did not part on sweetest terms, but know that I am well, and thinking of you and the hellion. I miss you both very much.
‘The sin of my birth has been explained by the brothers of San Michon, and I do my best to struggle with it each day. I understand why you did not reveal the truth to me sooner, but now I need know all you may tell me. What was my father’s name? How did you meet? Does this monster still live, and if so, where may he be found?
‘My very life may depend upon this, Mama. If you have any regard for me, I pray you tell me all I need know. Please give all my love to Celene, save that which you would keep for yourself. You both have as much as I can give.
‘Your loving son
‘Gabriel
‘P.S. Tell the hellion I shall write to her soon. For now, I have bugaboos to chase.
‘I folded the letter tight and hid it beneath my pillow as Astrid bid. I’d no idea how long Mama might take to reply, but I wasn’t left to wonder.
‘By the morrow, I was given the nod from Sister Esmeé. And after a dawnmass shrouded in mourning song for poor Sister Aoife, I was down in the stables again, saddling up Justice. Kaspar and Kaveh were there to assist, both lads looking stricken at Aoife’s murder. I watched Kaveh in particular, pondering that strange meeting I’d interrupted between him and the dead sister. I wondered what it might have meant, but it wasn’t like I could ask him – even if the lad weren’t mute, he’d likely just lie.
‘The stink of char and burned hair still hung in the air from my battle against the coldbloods. Master Greyhand and Aaron were there with me, as was the dour bastard set to accompany us. The ashwood switch that had wrought such a bloody toll on my knuckles those many months was nowhere to be seen – Seraph Talon was kitted like a brother of the Hunt. He wore a long greatcoat and a bandolier loaded with silverbombs, his breast adorned with a silver sevenstar. The idea that Abbot Khalid was sending a seraph along with us brought home just how dangerous our quarry was going to be.
‘Talon’s face was grim, his cheeks pinched with sorrow. I could’ve been mistaken, but I fancied I even saw tears in his eyes. “Merci, boy. For avenging poor Aoife. Fine work.”
‘I bowed. “For a frailblood.”
‘“Three coldbloods, unarmed and single-handed?” Aaron looked at me sidelong. “You’ll have to tell me how you survived that one, Little Kitten.”
‘I smiled at de Coste, wondering. “Cats have nine lives, Aaron. Lions too.”
‘“And you shall have need of all of them,” Greyhand growled, hefting his saddle. “And the grace of Almighty God, to see us through this Hunt unscathed.”
‘I nodded as de Coste fixed me with his cool blue stare. His voice was soft, but he spoke clear in the quiet. “I thank Almighty God you fought them off, de León.”
‘“I thank him too,” I replied. “And you for your concern, Brother.”
‘Aaron went back to packing his gear. Greyhand grunted softly, content there seemed some measure of pax between us. But saddling up Justice, I knew there was nothing of the sort. I’d no real proof, yet I was damn-near sure de Coste had set the La Cour woman free from the Foundry. Why else would he have been fucking about in the Armoury?
‘This slick prick had set a highblood on me over the sake of stung pride, and his vengeance had cost poor Aoife her life. It wasn’t lost on me how easily it might’ve been Astrid or Chloe who got caught by that monster instead. And now, I was headed out on the most dangerous Hunt I’d ever faced, with de Coste watching my back.
‘Still, I had no choice. An ancien of the Blood Voss was stalking the Nordlund. It made little sense an Ironheart so powerful was east of Talhost, if the Forever King was amassing all his strength in Vellene. And so, with Seraph Talon leading us through the tumbling snows, we set out on the trail back towards the Godsend Mountains.
‘None of us understood the horror we’d find at the end of that road. Nor that this would be the last Hunt Greyhand, Aaron, and I would take together. But undaunted, eager even, I placed my fate once more in the hands of God, and set out after our prey.’
In a quiet prison cell high in the midst of a solemn keep, the Last Silversaint reached to refill his glass. Finding only a few drops of Monét left, he spat a soft curse. He was too much a drinker for a single bottle to dull him much, and the sanctus they’d given him was beginning to wear off. Gabriel could feel it now, tickling in the depths of his belly, scratching on the backs of his eyes. His dearest enemy. His hated friend.
‘Thirsty?’ Jean-Fran?ois asked, sketching in his damnable book.
‘You know I am.’
‘More wine?’ Chocolat eyes drifted up to meet Gabriel’s. ‘Or something stronger?’
‘Just get me a fucking drink, you unholy cunt.’