But if she requested herself the single questions that really mattered—if he might dare to come back after her and if his have to silence her was once so nice as that—she knew the one solutions may be “yes,” and “yes” back. as soon as she admitted that, she discovered she dared no longer brush off this sighting as fanciful, now not while the stakes actually have been existence or loss of life. idiot that she used to be, she’d been convinced she will be secure right here, a long way more secure than at her cousin’s court docket. She paced the confines of the chamber as though it have been a cage, her options darting from side to side as swiftly because the gulls swooping outdoor the window. may well she feign ailment, preserve to this chamber till Durand and Justin came across her? but when he’d dared to stick to her onto the blessed soil of St Michael, into God’s residence itself, how lengthy might an insignificant wood door retain him out? No, she needs to discover a hiding position. the place, notwithstanding? She strode to a window and thrust open the shutters. less than, a black-clad monk used to be staring up on the guesthouse, his face hidden by way of his cowled hood. Her first intuition was once to draw back, yet as a substitute she stood her floor, staring down defiantly on the spectral determine who may perhaps or may not be her executioner. Her worry was once giving technique to a surging anger. just like the tides of the bay, it was once all-engulfing, sparing nobody, now not even herself. She’d dealt with this poorly, making misjudgments and errors, yet not more. Loyalty to a lover will be admirable; stupidity was once now not. She knew her enemy now, knew how ruthless and crafty he should be. yet he didn't be aware of his enemy. He didn't actually comprehend her. She stayed on the window lengthy after the monk had long gone, staring at around the bay. Pilgrims nonetheless straggled towards shore, their russet cloaks splotches of muted colour opposed to the never-ending gray of the sand and sky. A cormorant flew by way of, heading for the far-off sea. The stark islet of Tombelaine rose out of the muddy residences that stretched among the Mont and Genêts, a bleak slab of rock that housed a small, forlorn-looking priory. It used to be a desolate scene, yet to Arzhela it used to be attractive, for it gave her the reply she sought. What larger strategy to cover than in undeniable sight? Brother Andrev was once gazing Arzhela in horror. “My woman, you can't do that. it really is sheer insanity! ” “I understand. this is the reason it can't fail! ” while Brother Andrev didn't go back her smile, Arzhela sighed, wishing he may possibly proportion her pleasure, her feel of triumph. She was once deeply keen on this guy, yet why needs to clergymen be so besotted with propriety, with doing what used to be “right”? She needed to stifle a chuckle, then, at her personal foolishness. That used to be why priests turned clergymen, in spite of everything, to serve God and to do solid. good, now not all priests. That little weasel, Bernard, cared in simple terms approximately making mischief. She’d forgotten her plan to invite Abbot Jourdain to banish him to 1 in their Yorkshire priories until eventually she’d noticeable him skulking round the church, like a cutpurse at the prowl for unwary sufferers. “Lady Arzhela, are you even hearing me? ” stuck out, she flashed a short smile. “I am sorry; I did allow my recommendations wander for a second.