Selin Hizli

Were I in your shoes, I would want to kill me too.

What shoes?

I've been barefoot for months.

You betrayed me.

You delivered me into the hands of my enemies, letting me believe I was to be butchered and left to rot in a shallow grave.

Disturbing, I'm sure, but there was no option.

I haven't finished.

You compound the insult by having me confined in this godforsaken monastery, kept like an animal, dressed in a sack, and forced to witness the hideous spectacle of a supposedly holy man beating himself into a lustful frenzy whenever he manages to engineer the opportunity to be in my company.

Quite naturally.

You feel upset about that.

Upset?

Doesn't quite do it justice.

Please suppress the urge to kill long enough for me to tell you why I am here.

Where is Laurent?

Who?

Father de Broglie.

You sent him to pose as my executioner.

Ah, the fallen priest, yes.

I was meant to ask, what was it like living in sin with him whilst you masqueraded as brother and sister?

Did that add to the shame or the pleasure?