Simone skittered to Nicholas’s side as quickly as she could. She saw that he was awake, and when she reached him, Nicholas rose up on one elbow.
“My hands, love,” he whispered.
Simone quickly undid the ropes, ignoring her throbbing fingertips and keeping a wary eye on Eldon.
When his hands were free, Nick untied Simone’s wrists and then rolled silently away from her. She watched him gain his feet, steady himself, and move stealthily along the wall.
When she looked back to her father and Armand, she saw that Didier now stood just behind Jehan.
The time had come for Didier to know the truth.
“Tell him, then, Armand,” Simone taunted. “Tell my father how you set the fire that killed Portia and Didier. Tell him!”
“Oui,Armand,” Jehan encouraged. “Confess your sins before I send you to Hell.”
“I did it! I did!” Armand screeched, ripping at his hair until wispy clumps floated to the floor and twisting his back as if he fought off a lash. “It was what she deserved! She would take my son! My coin! My very treasure! All that I had!”
The temperature in the decrepit hall fell like a stone through fog. Simone could hear the tinkling crackle of rainwater freezing in place on the old timbers, could see the frost creep round her legs and across the floor, an icy wind swirling over its blue-slick surface.
And then Didier stood between his two fathers, facing Armand. The boy’s eyes glowed an awful red.
“You set that fire? You set it? You?You?” With every word, Didier’s voice became clearer, his form more vivid to Simone.
And when he said, “You killed my mother?” Jehan gave a choked sob.
From across the room, Simone heard Genevieve whisper, “Oh my dear God.”
“Didier?” Armand asked hoarsely, his twitches suddenly stilling. He squeezed his eye shut and then opened it, looking closely. “Am I dead? Where am I?”
And then Simone realized that all in the hall could see her brother, hear him as clearly as Simone did.
“You killed my mother?” Didier asked again, advancing on Armand.
Eldon stood rooted to the floor facing away from Nicholas, as if he looked upon the very devil, his face devoid of any color.
Armand backed up, bumping into his chair, and he fell against it as if he could no longer stand. His words were nearly unintelligible through his gray and twisted mouth. “She was going to take you from me, boy. I—I had plans to bringyouwith me to England—not Simone! We were to complete my quest together! My son at my side!”
Armand’s chair flew through the gaping void in the rear wall, and Armand squealed and staggered upright.
Didier took another step forward. “You killed my mother.” It was no longer a question.
Armand backed up another step, skidding on the ice-crusted dagger Genevieve had dropped. “Didier, I did not know you were there! Not until after…”
The dagger spun away from Armand, coming to rest directly next to Nick’s foot.
Eldon was slowly unsheathing his sword, aware of himself enough to eye Jehan with murderous intent.
Nicholas bent and seized the blade, then his eyes found Simone’s and seemed to say, “Do not look.” But she did look, could not help but look as Nick crept up behind Eldon, covered his mouth with one hand, and slid the dagger into his ribs all in a mere blink of time. Then Nicholas turned the man neatly aside, letting Eldon slide into the pit.
The smell of smoke suddenly burned Simone’s nostrils, and she looked back to Didier. The boy had opened his mouth impossibly wide, and in an instant the sounds of the storm beyond were gone, replaced by the hellish din of a fiery inferno.
“Non. Non, non, non,” Armand moaned, sidling backward once more. He was through the rear wall now, and the silent, silvered rain beat down upon him.
Within the icy abbey, invisible flames crackled, walls that were not there collapsed, ghostly horses screamed and kicked at their stalls. There was a sizzling, like pork on hot iron, and then the sound of a boy’s voice—Didier’s voice—crying, “Maman! Maman!Wake up! We must get out! The door is too heavy for me to open!Maman!”
Armand screeched and then slipped backward, his arms windmilling wildly. The sandy loam beneath his feet gave way and he dropped, catching himself on a jagged rock with his good hand. In a blur, Didier had passed through the hall and now stood over him, looking down.
Simone scrambled to her feet and ran, slipping and skidding over the ice-slick floor, to the edge of the cliff, sleet and wind stinging her face. Didier stood at her side, his mouth still singing the awful dirge of the stable fire that had taken his and Portia’s lives.
