Page 2 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

The young scribe was a mousy thing, with nervous eyes that flicked around as if he were on the lookout for ghosts and devils. “Brother Godfrey. Thank God you’re alright. It makes me sick knowing you’ve been in here for three days. I tried to free you earlier, but I had to break into the abbot’s study for the spare keys. That proved an arduous task.”

A coalescence of rage and horror burned in the back of my throat like bile. “Th–three days?”

The young monk, who was on the cusp of manhood—sixteen, maybe seventeen, by my estimation—sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

I blinked rapidly, my eyelids burning like fire. I knew I’d been isolated for at least a day, but three? That was just cruel, even by the abbot’s standards. Much longer, and I’d have perished.

“And he intends to keep me in here longer?” I croaked.

Elijah’s brow etched with thought, the candlelight casting his boyish features in flickering strips of shadows. “I don’t think he intended to keep you in here this long. He left days ago on urgent business and didn’t tell anyone the reason for his sudden departure. He said he’d be gone only half the day, at the very latest back before yesterday’s morning mass.”

The news that the abbot had made yet another business trip didn’t come as a surprise. He was always gone, and rarely told anyone the reasons for his sudden trips. To visit neighboring monasteries, or perhaps the bishop, no doubt.

“You look relieved,” Brother Elijah said with a frown.

“Don’t mistake me. I worry for him,” I lied. “But I am relieved. I was thinking my punishment had less to do with my objections to Brother Peter’s romanticization of self-harm and more to do with the unauthorized alterations we’ve been making to the books we’re due to distribute in the spring.”

“No one’s said a word. They’ve kept their silence.”

I scoffed lightly. “They’re monks. They keep their silence about most things until they are made to speak.”

“You can trust us. We’re all loyal to you and the cause, Brother.”

Guilt wound through me like a serpent. If my sins were uncovered, I wasn’t the only one who’d be thrown into the flames.

My apprentice kicked at the floorboards as his cheeks stained red. “Sister Catherine has been worried about you. She’d been pushing me to free you. You should have seen her face when I told her I found the keys. She wanted to accompany me here, but I thought you may not want her to see you like this...” His voice trailed off, and the shade of his blush deepened.

My heart twisted in my chest. Catherine was a nun in the abbey, sweet and kind, and she seemed to follow me like a shadow on the rare occasions I strayed from the abbey’s scribe hall. I enjoyed her company, but I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. I was a sinner—there was no denying that. But there were specific vows I’d never break. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating. I have never said or done anything to suggest—”

“What I meant is that I’m sure you don’t want any womenfolk to see you as you are,” the scribe added hastily, cutting me off. “Because you look like a corpse.” He wrinkled his nose. “Smell like one too.”

“Oh. I see.” Rising slowly to my feet, I clutched the backrest of my chair while I tried to steady my wobbling legs. “I should bathe.”

Concern tugged at the corners of my apprentice’s mouth as he eyed the way my legs bowed, struggling to support me. At well over six feet, I was hardly a small man, especially for a monk who toiled at a desk all day.

I didn’t enjoy feeling this way. I prided myself on being a durable man, yet here I was, barely able to hold myself up.

“What you need is a healer,” Elijah said, starting for me but backing off when I waved him away. “Maybe you should let me call for Sister Catherine. She’s been training in the hospitium with the abbess.”

“No,” I said in a tone so sharp, the poor boy looked like he’d been struck. “Forgive me, Elijah. I’m weary. I want nothing more than to throw a bucket of water over my head, find a crust of bread, and crawl into my bed.”

I stumbled across the room, pausing in the doorway to pin my apprentice with a hard look. “Tell no one about this.”

“What about the rest of the nuns who’ve been asking about you? You’d think you’re the pope himself by the way they fawn at your mere mention.”

“Meet them with silence. You’re a monk, so no one will think it odd.”

“What about the other scribes? You’ve been pushing them away. I know it’s because you don’t trust them to keep your secrets from the abbot. Even if questioned, they wouldn’t give you away. And you know how we Catholics are about dishonesty. ‘Liars, their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.’ Revelations 21—” He didn’t finish. The words caught in his throat at the scathing look I leveled him with.

“Do not recite the fate of liars to me, boy. I am well aware.”

I steadied myself against the door handle, turning my gaze away from him.

“You don’t have to be frightened, Brother. I know you are. But you’re right. Much of our scriptures have been altered. Corrupt leaders of our church have rewritten much of our text to suit their selfish purposes—mostly to maintain their power through fear. I do not fear Hell, and neither should you. Not while our purpose remains pure.”

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood in my mouth. If only the young monk knew I was distancing myself from the rest of the scribes out of guilt, not distrust. I knew the God we worshiped would never punish my men. They were good. What worried me was that I was risking their comforts on earth. If we were found out, I doubt they’d die beside me. Instead, they would be tossed out of the abbey and left to starve right alongside most of the population beyond our walls.

“I don’t deserve your loyalty,” I said bitterly after a long pause. “I’m afraid I’m condemning you, and our fellow brothers, in my pursuits. Ultimately, it’s selfish. Unfortunately, there is no undoing it now. But at the very least, you shouldn’t celebrate me for my sins.”

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