Page 308 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Ead hoped she looked less surprised than she felt.

“I suspect you know by now that the Prioress is dead. As for the Priory, it appears that it has been occupied by a witch.”

“I prayed it was not true,” Ead said.

“Our prayers do not always bear fruit,” Kagudo said. “Your people and mine have long had an understanding. Cleolind of Lasia was of my house. Like my ancestors, I have honored our relationship with her handmaidens.”

“Your support has been instrumental to our success.”

Kagudo stopped and turned to face her. “I will speak plainly,” she said. “I asked you to walk with me because I wanted to make myself known to you. To meet you in person. After all, the time will soon come for the Red Damsels to choose another Prioress.”

A weight dropped into her belly. “I will have no say in that. The Priory considers me a traitor.”

“That may be, but it is possible that you are about to face its oldest enemy. And if you could slay the Nameless One . . . your crimes would surely be forgiven.” If only that were true. “Mita Yedanya, unlike her predecessor, looked inward. Now, a little inwardness is reasonable, even necessary—but if your climb to this position at the Inysh court is anything to go by, Eadaz, you also look outward. A ruler should know how to do both.”

Ead let these words take root inside her. They might never grow into anything, but there the seed lay.

“Did you never dream of being Prioress?” Kagudo asked. “You are a descendant of Siyati uq-Nara, after all. The woman Cleolind deemed worthy to succeed her.”

Of course she had dreamed of it. Every girl in the Priory wanted to be a Red Damsel, and every Red Damsel hoped that she would one day be the representative of the Mother.

“I do not know that looking outward has served me well,” Ead said quietly. “I have been banished, named a witch. One of my own sisters was sent to dispatch me. I gave eight years to protect Queen Sabran, believing she might be the blood of the Mother, only to find that she never was.” Kagudo smiled thinly at that. “You never believed it?”

“Oh, not for a moment. You and I both know that Cleolind Onjenyu, who was willing to die for her people, would never have abandoned them for Galian Berethnet. You knew it, too, even if you had no proof . . . but the truth has a way of always surfacing.”

The High Ruler raised her face. The moon was fading from the sky.

“Sabran has promised me that after our battles, she will ensure the world knows who really vanquished the Nameless One a thousand years ago. She will restore the Mother to prominence.”

The truth would shake Virtudom to its foundations. It would ring out like a bell across the continents.

“You look just as surprised as I was,” Kagudo said, with a not-quite-smile. “Centuries of lies will not be undone in a day, of course. The children of the past died believing that Galian Berethnet wielded the sword, and that Cleolind Onjenyu was no more than his adoring bride. That can never be undone, nor mended . . . but the children of tomorrow will know the truth.”

Ead knew what pain this would cause Sabran. To finally, publicly sever her ties to the woman she had known as the Damsel. The woman whose truth she had never known.

But she would do it. Because it was the right thing—the only thing—to do.

“I trust in the Priory. As I always have,” Kagudo said, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The gods walk with you, Eadaz uq-Nara. I hope very much that we meet again.”

“I hope the same.”

Ead bowed to the blood of the Onjenyu. She was surprised when Kagudo returned the gesture.

They parted at the gates to the Privy Garden. Ead pressed her back to its wall as dawn blanched the horizon. Her head was a spinning top of new and uncertain possibilities.

Prioress. If she could defeat the Nameless One, the High Ruler would support any claim she made to the position. That was no small thing. Few Prioresses of the past had been honored with the backing of the Onjenyu.

She returned with a start to the present when a voice called her name. Margret was running to her as fast as her skirts would allow.

“Ead,” she said, taking her by the hands, “King Jantar received my letter. He brought Valour.”

Ead winched up a smile. “I am glad of it.”

Margret frowned. “Are you well?”

“Perfectly.”

They both turned to face the palace gates, where courtiers were flocking to hear Sabran make her speech. Margret linked their arms.

---