Beneath the confession
I knelt there, not in prayer, but in something closer to desperation.
I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, expecting Caterina.
It was Sister Agnes.
She stood in the doorway, lantern raised. “You and the novice,” she said quietly. “I know. I’ve known for days.”
I rose slowly. “What do you want, Sister?”
“Truth,” she replied. “Or survival. Sometimes they are the same. The bishop is dying, Father Brick. And when he does, the secrets he guards will try to take all of us with him. Including you.”