“To an extent.” Fingers interlaced, she leans forward, commanding my attention with little effort. “Because many women join Thornbrook at such a young age, it is unfair to assume they seek the same life once they become adults. The task is a catalyst. It helps a novitiate determine what future they seek. A life in service to the Father? A life beyond that?”
The missiondidtest me. It snapped me into pieces and forced me to question if they fit together as seamlessly as they had a year before. Mother Mable cannot know the agony of the experience. How out of place I feel. How confused.
“I gave you space,” she continues, “because it was clear you needed to process what had occurred. However, there has been little change since you returned.” Set beneath pale eyebrows, her black eyes lock on to mine, apprehension swimming in their depths. “Will you tell me what plagues you?”
Facing Mother Mabel is never easy. In the morning bright, it seems impossible. She has given me council in my darkest hours. She made room for me at Thornbrook despite my questionable upbringing. I feel that I’ve failed her. “I’ve been struggling, Mother Mabel. It’s true.”
A brief nod. “There’s no shame in it. Have you spoken to the Father about this?”
“I have not.” My guilt is too great.
“Remember that the Father loves you. We only need to ask for His forgiveness.”
“What if—” Shame hurtles up my airway and sticks at the back of my tongue. How could she possibly have known of my needs? Even I did not know. “What if I do not deserve it?”
At once, she rises, skirting the desk in a cloud of sweet incense, hands gentle on my shoulders. “Brielle.”
My heart thunders from the abbess’ intense scrutiny.
“Have you broken your vows? You have not given your body to another, have you?”
I cannot bear the disappointment, nor the accusatory tone. She knows. I have never been able to hide what I feel.
“Are you still pure?”
I hesitate. Technically, I am still a virgin, so I nod. “I am.”
The deepest, most soulful sigh leaves the abbess. Surprisingly, she is smiling. “Please do not despair if you made a mistake. We all do. That you still wish to be a shepherd of the Father proves your loyalty despite your trials.” She strokes my cheek. The display of affection is more than I could have hoped for.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You have a good heart, Brielle. I hate to see you suffering.” She frowns, drops her hand. “Promise me you will speak to the Father tonight.”
“I will.”
Satisfied, Mother Mabel returns to her desk. “Speaking of the quest.”Tap, tap, tapgoes her fingertip atop the desk. “Can I ask what happened in the Grotto? I admit I was certain you would obtain Meirlach first.”
Revealing these underlying truths—that I do not believe I deserve the station, that I fear my altering mind—puts my past, present, and future into question. I must gift Mother Mabel the truth, but just enough to avoid further inquiry. “Harper entered the Grotto, as did I. She is equally worthy of the spot.”
“She slayed the Stallion?”
“The Stallion is not dead.”
Her eyebrows climb high onto her forehead in permanent fixation. “You’re telling me you and Harper managed to escape the Grotto without taking the Stallion’s life?” Before I can respond, she shakes her head, mouth slanting into her cheek with wry amusement. “You were undoubtedly lucky. Kelpies are a conniving lot, and the flesh of a virgin is an undeniable temptation.”
Wasit luck? I bested him fairly, blade to blade. He questioned my will, and I proved mine would not bend. Something nags at me though. “May I ask, Mother Mabel, how you know so much about the Stallion?”
“You are not the only one to have entered his Grotto and survived.”
I am frozen in sudden memory. What was it the Stallion had said?Only once before has a mortal entered my lair and escaped with their life.
How did Mother Mabel acquire the necessary information to best the Stallion? I would expect the fair folk to know such details, not a woman from Carterhaugh. Then again, she was held captive in Under, long ago. Was her visit to the Stallion connected with her escape?
“But,” the abbess continues, unaware of my mental backflips, “the question remains of how Harper claimed Meirlach first. You and I both know she hasn’t the means to defeat a creature as shrewd as the Stallion. She barely knows the difference between a knife and a fork.”
Mother Mabel’s opinion of Harper doesn’t sit well with me. It borders on disrespectful. “Harper may have her faults, but she has her strengths, too.” Despite her complaints, she faced Under tenaciously, plowing forward with fierce resolve. It’s hard not to respect someone who defies the rules so easily.
“I had complete faith that you would return to Thornbrook victorious,” Mother Mabel says. “The position was always supposed to be yours.”
