I could do nothing except hope—and pray.
Locksley’s chapel was heavy with tension when I arrived for evening prayers, and I immediately spotted the reason: Archbishop Ludovico Piers, a doddering old man with dark brown skin and a crop of fluffy, white hair, sat in a chair to the side of the altar. Behind him loomed Will’s father, Sheriff Osric Scarlett, a massive, imposing man, broad-shouldered and round-bellied, with thick blond hair. While he appeared good-natured enough, his eyes had always given me pause. They were dark and rather beady, but iron-spike sharp and equally as cold.
His presence inside the sacred chapel filled me with dread. As far as I knew, he had never entered the Abbey before, preferring to meet Sissi at the gate to collect tax payments, so this visit could mean only one thing—the Iron Fisthad turned its eye toward Locksley. Johar’s private guard, which was normally tasked with protecting the Prince and his family, had recently been involving themselves in the Church’s affairs too. According to Will, and snippets of gossip I’d collected from boatmen, the Prince had concerns about heresy and magyk worming its way into Nottingham, and had given control of the Iron Fist to Archbishop Piers in order to root it out. But everyone knew that Osric Scarlett was the real force behind the investigations, and that his motivations were hardly spiritual. Individuals and businesses who refused to cooperate with the Iron Fist had seen their taxes increased, or their assets seized, and I’d heard tell that arrests had even been made in several cases.
But Locksley Abbey had always been untouchable, or so I’d imagined. Piers had blocked the Sheriff from investigating any entity or person associated with the Church, and Sissi was vehement in her refusal to let the Iron Fist interrogate individual Sisters. But her power extended only so far as the Abbey’s grounds. Beyond that was the domain of the crown, and Sheriff Scarlett was the Prince’s most loyal hound. Sissi was not one to suffer fools, however, nor power-hungry men who threatened the independence of her Abbey, and I knew Osric Scarlett would be no exception.
I took a seat toward the middle of the chapel, beside Jazmina, at the end of the pew for a quick escape. While I had never met Sheriff Scarlett face-to-face, my closeness with his son was a rather open secret, and I knew Will had mentioned my name to him on more than one occasion. While Sissi recited the usual prayers and we all joined in singing the usual hymns, I tried to stay focused, but Scarlett’s eyes swept over each pew in turn, lingering on me just a little too long. One corner of his mouth turned up in a subtle sneer that sank a stone into my stomach and made me wonder—what if he wasn’t here for Sissi, or the Abbey, but for me?
“If you would all keep your seats a moment longer,” Sissi called out when the service had ended, “His Eminence has a brief announcement to make.” She made the sign of the Holy Family, pressing her open, splayed hand to her chest, then stepped aside as Archbishop Piers shuffled to the altar, leaning on Scarlett’s arm for support.
“My dear Sisters,” the Archbishop said, spreading his stick-thin arms wide, “as ever, I praise your faithfulness to our Church, and to the Holy Family of Martyrs who guide and watch over us all. Blessings upon you!”
“May the Mother guide you,” came the formal response from the Sisters. I made sure to add my own voice to the chorus, exaggerating my speech in case Scarlett’s eyes fell back on me. Whatever other impression of me he might already have, I would not have him doubt my piety.
“I am accompanied today by Sheriff Osric Scarlett, who has been assisting me in investigating any and all cases of heresy within our beloved city,” Piers continued in a wavering voice. “Locksley has, of course, been exempt from these investigations. Your faith has never been in doubt, my dear ones, and please be assured that it is still not, however—”
“We merely require your generous assistance,” interjected Scarlett with a sickening smile. “As pillars of the community, in service to the citizenry, you are uniquely positioned to help us. All we ask is that the Sisters keep their ears and eyes open for any signs of…faithlessness. Strange behavior, odd injuries, children showing signs of…having been touched by magyk. Anything that could endanger Nottingham, should it remain unchecked.”
Sissi’s face was passive, but I swore I saw rage coming off her in plumes, like mist from the Channel on a cold day. Bile rose up in my throat and Jazmina reached over to lace her fingers through mine, inching closer to me along the pew. We dared not look at one another, but we both knew exactly what this meant. They were asking us to become their spies, to report on the very people we were sworn to care for—patients, pilgrims…schoolchildren. It was beyond imagination.
Sissi said a few brief words that I could hardly hear through my own anger, then excused the Sisters for supper. But decorum required that we all line up to greet Archbishop Piers individually before leaving the chapel. Jazmina and the other kitchen girls were excused from this tradition, however, so I found myself alone at the back of the line, practically shivering with apprehension. When I finally reached the altar, I dropped into a low curtsey, doggedly avoiding Osric Scarlett’s heavy gaze.
“Blessings upon you, Eminence,” I murmured.
“And upon you, Marina,” said Archbishop Piers, who was now seated in a chair on the altar, unable to stand for long periods of time. He pressed his open hand to my chest, just over my heart, then brushed a thumb over my forehead. “How is your garden coming along this season? If I were permitted to wager, you know I would bet everything on your pumpkins winning a prize again this year.” I smiled up at him, softening a little at his grandfatherly sweetness. He and I shared a love of gardening, and could discuss vegetables at length if given the opportunity.
“They are coming along very nicely, Eminence,” I told him. “I have one nearly the size of a cookpot already.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Piers chuckled.
“Healingandgardening,” said Sheriff Scarlett with mild interest. “Such gifts the Holy Daughter has bestowed on you, and yet you have not taken her vows?”
Sissi threw him a glare, but his eyes were pinned on me and he did not see it.
“Oh, Osric,” said the Archbishop with a dismissive wave, “give her leave to live her life, won’t you? Locksley is fortunate to have such a gifted healer. She has certainly brought me back from the brink several times.”
“And me as well,” said Sissi gently.
“Of course, I do not mean to meddle,” Scarlett insisted. “I’m sure Your Eminence is aware that my son, Will, is quite fond of Marina. They were schooled here at Locksley together, since they were children. My only concern, naturally, is for her…future.”
His eyes met mine and my stomach twisted at the look on his face—like a hungry wolf locking onto an injured rabbit.Merciful Mother, hewashere for me. Whether it was to force my entry into the Sisterhood, or to accuse me of heresy, I could not say, but the message was plain as day:Stay away from my son, or Locksley will suffer the consequences.
“Our sweet May has many gifts,” Sissi cut in, putting a hand on my shoulder, “but she has chosen to put off the vows because she still dreams of becoming a devoted wife and mother. She certainly catches the attention of every young boatman on the Channel, but we have taught her to be more…discerning, to wait for a man pious enough to deserve her. I would not let her go except to someone ofgreatvirtue.” She raised her eyebrows at me and I nearly laughed. Sissi had long ago deemed Will a lost cause, and hated that he still came around as often as he did. I could only imagine how she might react if she knew the truth about our relationship.
Scarlett’s mouth twisted into an insincere smile. “Well, I can hardly blame you for not wanting her wasted on an unworthy boatman. I shall keep my ear to the ground for a moresuitablematch. Perhaps a man of the cloth…” I could scarcely breathe as he took my hand and kissed the backs of my fingers.
“That would be most welcome,” Sissi said through gritted teeth. “May, you are excused for supper.”
“Thank you, Sister Superior. Blessings upon you, Sheriff, and you, your Eminence,” I said weakly, dipping into another curtsey before practically jogging down the center aisle of the chapel. As I reached the doors, however, I heard Scarlett speak two words that made my blood run cold:Iron Fist. Without thinking, I dodged the doors and stepped behind a column, pressing myself against the stone to listen.
Chapter three
Martyrs & Healers
“If you think Iwill cooperate with this derangement,” Sissi hissed, “you will need to think again. I refuse to spy on the people I am bound to serve, and especially not on children! Nor will I allow the Iron Fist to investigate any of my Sisters. This is lunacy, Your Eminence, please!”
Piers’ voice trembled as he said, “I understand your reticence, Sister, but…the Church is not entirely independent of the crown. We operate in tandem, and if these are the Prince’s wishes, then…”
