Thisbe drew a pocketknife from inside her jacket and started picking at the dirt beneath her nails. “You were so upset two days ago at how Madame is pulling strings, when all this time you were helping Julia do exactly the same thing.”

“I know!” Carlyle cried. “I’m a hypocrite! Pimping for Julia just like that Chevalier for Madame. No, not like the Chevalier, like Heloïse, playing innocent, half believing it myself, while I let Julia twist my beliefs to make me into the puppet they wanted me to be. The puppet I wanted to be!” She hiccupped, too weak to speak and cry at once. “Julia, Danaë… I’ve been a pawn in their stupid power game because that’s what I wanted to be. To feel like a savior, and avoid having to think about my choices.”

Thisbe didn’t meet Carlyle’s eyes, didn’t try to, just watched Carlyle’s hands as they shook faster and faster. “All these years you’ve been pretending to help people find their religions, when really you’ve been helping to turn them into what Julia wanted.”

“It’s true!” Carlyle cried. “It’s all true! I shouldn’t be trusted with your bash’s religious guidance, or your secrets, or with Bridger. I shouldn’t be trusted with anything!”

“How many people?” Thisbe asked.

“What?”

“How many parishioners have you led to Julia? How many people have you tricked into becoming pawns? Dozens?” she prompted. “Hundreds?”

“Around… a hundred.” Carlyle was shaking too hard now to fumble with the grass.

Thisbe frowned sympathy. “And Julia’s been twisting your beliefs to fit their scheme for so long, are you sure you even had any beliefs of your own to begin with?”

“No.” Carlyle hugged herself. “No, I had nothing, and Julia made me into this! Oh, God! What am I? What have I been doing all these years, in Your Name?”

Reflections of the streetlights on the bridge above played across Thisbe’s knife blade. “You were going to bring Bridger to Julia, weren’t you?”

“Oh, God! You’re right! I would have! I hadn’t decided on it but it had already crossed my mind. It was instinct! I would have handed Bridger to Julia, handed God to Julia! And what have I done instead? Now I’ve agreed to hand Bridger to Dominic!”

Thisbe scowled. “To Dominic?”

“Julia’s given me to Dominic! I didn’t see it before. Julia’s done using me as a pawn so I got traded to Dominic. They know I have the perfect belief system to make me jump when anyone who knows how to push my buttons says jump. Julia must have briefed Dominic, told them what to say to make me do what they wanted. I was too blind to see it! Mycroft was right, I shouldn’t have access to Bridger. Bridger should be spirited as far as possible from me. I should never see them again!”

Thisbe fingered the knife’s black handle. “That’s not enough.”

The Cousin’s eyes grew wide. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter whether you separate yourself from Bridger or not. You’ll still be serving Julia’s plans elsewhere. You can’t just undo years of being trained to be a pawn. They’re going to keep using you, even if you try to break off on your own. So long as you continue being a sensayer you’re going be making people into what Julia’s taught you to make them, like you tried to do with us. And if you stop being a sensayer—”