“There's a price to pay for everything. Even these gods of yours cannot escape such a rule.

-???”

* * *

Rina

She was fiddling with her fingers, tapping repeatedly on the massive wooden table, and made sure to annoy everyone in the room.

“On the first day of the sixth moon, then?” Phiramel asked, glancing over the people seated at the table.

Elder Therenus nodded. “My men should have everything ready by then. I believe it is a proper date for the consecration.” He then questioned Viriane with his eyes.

“Yes,” the sibyl said, “the stars foretell no trouble.”

Rina kept tapping her fingers against the table, gazing around the room with bored eyes. Doing her best to appear inattentive and distracted, as if she hand't noticed what they had just done. They pushed the date, again...

“Young mistress?”

She acted all flustered. “Oh? Eh?” She scratched her cheek and gave an awkward nod. The more forced it seemed, the better. “Err... yes, yes! Carry on.”

Phiramel smiled, waved his hand to a servant who brought him quill and paper, and scribbled something down. Rina suppressed a sigh – Astrael had advised her not to oppose herself to these petty schemes, but it was starting to get on her nerves. Every day, playing dumb when it is so obvious they try really hard to delay my consecration...

Sometimes she liked to pretend she really was a princess, and that later on she'd be allowed to do as she pleased. Beheading that lot, or at least banishing them... Such thoughts crossed her mind every now and then, but it was nothing more than a stupid dream to help her go through these final months.

A few matters required her approval, and she gave them what they wished as usual. Eventually she grew tired of it and faking wasn't even necessary anymore.

“Are we done here?” she said as the meeting came to an end. The high-priest acquiesced and at last she was able to leave to room. These gatherings were even more bothersome than the morals lessons she had when she was younger, but at least it was appropriate for digestion.

Her guards followed her in the stairs as she went to her room on the last floor, and before entering she ordered one of her maidservants to prepare a bath so that she could relax before the afternoon mass. The head-churchmen and even her brother had mentioned that the plebs would see Rina as an even more divine figure if she maintained a clean appearance and smelled of roses and whatnot, so that was a boon. Taking baths before public events had become something of an habit.

She waited on her bed, listlessly reading a book on Daeli culture, while her maid heated the water. When the girl came to tell her it was ready, Rina dropped the book and undressed before going to the other room and walked down the stone steps of the square shaped bath in the floor. Flowers and all sorts of things she never really bothered to learn about floated on the burning water. It stung where she had bruises, but soon enough the heat dulled all her pain. Rina sat down, her back resting against the stone, and once the servant had left the room, she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander and eventually be filled with thoughts about Leon Feanir.

Time passed – she didn't know how long – and a maid interrupted her. “Young mistress, you need to get ready for the mass,” the woman told her. Rina stared at the ceiling for a moment, then got out of the water. Still dizzy from the heat, she let the servants towel her body dry, brush her hair and dress her in the ceremonial attire.

They decorated her red robes, her hair and her ears with jewellery made of gold, silver and rubies. An amulet crowned her head and held in place a crimson veil before her face. Her hands were painted red, and so were her lips. The maids knew exactly what to do and in what order, as always, and these were times when she felt like she really was the puppet that the church saw her as.

Once the servants were done, they bowed their heads. “You are magnificent, young mistress.”

“Divine and pure aren't words worthy of the young mistress.”

She ignored the flattery – or was it their genuine reaction? She never knew, and never asked. I would never be sure whether or not their answer is a lie, even if I did ask...

Rina exited her room and left her floor, four bloodsguards walking at her side, their armour clanging with each step, while she moved almost silently on the stone slabs of the temple. At the bottom of the stairs, the captain of the guard and his squire joined them. She exchanged glances with Astrael, but they did not speak a word. She quite liked this new attire of his, though – a dark red doublet with black leather for the belt and boots, that echoed his raven hair.

She faced the knight and greeted him. “Sir Leon.” He lowered his head. She said nothing about the fact that he hadn't been present at the meeting earlier.

There was a time when she would have been unable to utter a single word, fearing that her stuttering voice would betray her pounding heart and her flush under the veil... But nowadays, she didn't really feel that way. She only thought of the knight when she was bathing, or late at night when she couldn't sleep because she was feeling funny.

In the hall, a bunch of priests were collecting donations while Phiramel read out loud passages of Xito's scriptures. Everyone stopped once they noticed Rina, and the people bent. The high-priest took a solemn tone. “Behold the chosen one, citizens of Callir, servants of Xito. Let us offer our prayers together.”

Rina kneeled in front of the altar, facing the people, and muttered some prayers, as she always did. Everyone else followed, save for her bodyguards who simply stood on the sides of the hall with pious expressions. Incense filled her nose and the constant murmur of the praying believers was somewhat soothing, she had to admit.

After the prayer, they came to her with offerings. The bloodsguard stood close to her, ever since that time when some knave tried to steal her necklace. She had always believed her jewellery was only gilded steel, but it turned out to be pure gold – the thief probably had keen eyes and wouldn't have risked loosing his hand for a mere gilded necklace.

He did lose it in the end, she thought, remembering Phiramel ordering that the man be punished. She felt no pity for the man. Only fools would have dared to offend the church and the hero... That was even truer now that the bloodsguard were wary of the people attending mass.

Rare were the gifts here that could really be considered a proof of wealth. The occasional noble or rich patron would bring her fine fabrics and silver, but most people were too poor for that. Instead, they came with food or flowers, and some were clearly desperate in their attempts to please her. She remembered that one boy who unknowingly brought night berries, thinking they were uncommon, valuable fruits because he had seen them being sold by a merchant to a rich man.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She had eaten some and only learned of the berries' poisonous properties afterward, but fortunately nothing bad happened to her. I never saw that boy again, though... I sure hope he didn't eat the berries.

In any case, people had stopped offering her poisonous things or trying to steal her jewellery and the mass became a calmer event. Today was no exception. An old man gave her bread and a jug of wine, and spent half a minute with his forehead against the ground, muttering both praises and prayers. “Xito bless you,” she said to him, smiling, and the man started to cry silently.

Next was a bony woman who probably didn't eat enough judging by her appearance, but still insisted to give a small bag of rice. “Xito bless you,” Rina repeated and accepted the gift reluctantly. She needs it more than I do...

Then came a man who offered her a bouquet of flowers. He muttered a prayer, and Rina could guess from his accent that he was a Vieran. Roses, she observed as she reached for the flowers. They always offer roses, with many thorns...

She saw something shining in the bouquet, and instead of flowers, it was now a blade she was reaching for. No, it was the blade that reached for her... Before she could even blink, something blocked her view. She was knocked against the altar and fell on the ground. Someone yelled, and people started to scream. Her back was hurting because of the fall, and her elbow too. Chairs clattered, pots broke, she smelled incense all over her clothes.

Rina raised her head, glanced around. Saw the people and the priests running in the hall, her knights circling her. Someone grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand. “Follow me, young mistress!” She didn't think twice and obeyed. She glanced back and saw some of her knights fighting off people with swords, while others hacked their weapons at the flower man. Red on his body, flashing steel flowing through the air in curves. Splattering sounds, metallic sounds. Another bloodied figure on the ground – Leon.

“What is happening?” she asked while her bodyguards hurried her away from the hall, in the temple's corridors.

“Assassins.” A familiar voice. Astrael, who was beside her, put a hand on her shoulder. “Everything's fine. They're taking care of it.”

“What...” She paused and took a second to catch her breath and absorb the information. “What about sir Leon?” She felt her heart beating really fast. Was it only just now, or from before? “Is he...”

“Wounded,” said one of her guards. “He took the knife in the leg.”

Relief filled her heart, though it was short-lived. “But why? Who would do such a thing?” She couldn't understand, or rather, she couldn't think. Wasn't she loved? Wasn't she a hero? No one would benefit from her death, right? Not even the scheming Phiramel and Therenus would come out on top if she were to die.

“Foreigners...” another knight spat. “The man who attacked you was a Vieran, I heard him.”

No... She tried to calm herself. It doesn't make sense... Aren't the city-states of Viera allied with Callir?

“Doesn't matter for now,” Astrael said. “We need to get you to safety. Who knows how many they are.”

We can't take the stairs and go to the upper floors, she finally realized. They had gone to the opposite side of the hall because the fight was blocking their path to the stairs.

They met some of Rina's panicking maids in the corridors, and were startled by an inhuman scream coming from the hall. More yelling, and one of her knights went to check on his comrades. Rina wanted to argue, but had mixed feelings. On one hand, she felt more vulnerable with only one bloodsguard at her side, yet at the same time, she felt guilty as she had to stay hidden and couldn't help anyone.

Then what in earth had she been training for? I can fight, can't I?

But she was dragged away, and this time it was Astrael. Yes, she had Astrael. If he thought she shouldn't go, then she wouldn't insist. Her brother was wise, and even now – especially now – it was obvious that he was much more collected than her. She couldn't think straight... Best to not think at all then.

They ignored the door leading to the kitchens, and arrived in some sort of storage room. A dead-end? “This way,” one of her maids said and motioned for a door to the side that Rina hadn't noticed.

...Huh? She frowned as she walked toward the door. She heard a thud behind her, and she shivered. Another thud. Did the maid really speak with a Vieran accent just then?

Rina turned to glance behind her. She saw the faintest glimmer of metal and as she instinctively raised her arms, she was suddenly pulled backward. She fell on her side and felt a pinch on her forearms. And then she saw her knight laying on the ground, blood gushing from his neck. And the legs of a servant in the corridor, the rest of her body hidden by the wall, but the blood around her hinted at her condition. The others were nowhere to be seen.

The only people left with her were Astrael, and the maid with the accent. A dagger in her hand, something dripping from it. She wasn't one of her servants, and Rina understood what was happening. The hall had merely been a diversion. Her brother slowly stepped away from the maid, standing between them.

“Wasn't much of a bodyguard, this one,” the woman said.

“You shouldn't expect too much from the blue-blooded lads,” Astrael replied without any emotion in his voice, his back still in front of Rina. He seemed to be looking around, searching for something. Then a wave of pain came from her arms. Blood. She had a deep gash in each of her forearms. Blood everywhere, her blood, flowing quickly, far too quickly, from the cuts. It hurt, it felt like her limbs were burning. Like the blade had touched the bones. She couldn't formulate a thought anymore. She was dazed, shaking, her sight became blurry and all the could comprehend were the two figures talking before her. That, and the fear of death.

“Step aside, boy,” the maid said as she slowly approached. “I only need the girl.”

Astrael did not answer. Rina saw him bend slightly, carefully turning his body sideways. Then the woman moved her arm and steel flashed in the dimly lit room. Astrael stopped the swing by catching her arm, twisted his body in a strange motion and before Rina knew it, her brother and the attacker were on the ground. There was a loud crack, and the woman groaned in pain. Astrael released her floppy arm and, a second after, was trying to choke the maid from behind.

“Shh... Here, here, sleep...” he whispered. “Don't fight back... We don't want you to die, I'm sure you have a captivating story to tell us...”

For a moment here, Rina couldn't move. The burning sensation in her arms, the cold sweat on her body, she ignored it as she simply stared at the scene, stunned. Astrael was winning.

Yet the assassin managed to turn her body a bit, and grabbed the dagger with her valid arm. Blindly stabbed at Astrael who had to free one of his hands to block the blow – but the blade came down too hard, and he reacted too late. He grunted, and it was enough for the woman to get away from him and catch her breath.

She got up and looked at Rina. The assassin was panting loudly, but her cold eyes shined in the dark, hinting at her determination to finish the job despite her injury. Am I going to die? I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

Something moved behind the maid. Something hit her on the head, and she collapsed, revealing Astrael who was holding onto a clay jar of some sort, his usual calm and radiant face now twisted in an expression of anger. He raised the thing and smashed it against the woman's face.

“You...” He exhaled deeply, sat over her and raised the jar once more. The maid muttered some incoherent sentence between two gurgles, and tried to reach for her dagger once more. “...stupid...” Astrael slammed his pot against her head, and Rina heard something breaking. Astrael raised the jar once more, sticky blood dripping from its bottom. It wasn't broken. It wasn't a clay jar, in fact, but one made of stone. He smashed it once more. Squashing noises. “...little...” Again, and again, and again. “...piece of shit...” He kept hammering her face with the jar, and it scrunched, and squished, and squeezed, and crushed, until there was nothing left to scrunch, squish, squeeze, or crush.

“Look... what you've made me do...” he mumbled between rough breaths. “Hah... Injured by... a bloody amateur...” He dropped the jar at last, and some warm liquid was splashed against Rina's cheek as the thing fell into the reddish-pink pulp that used to be a human head. “What a mess.” Astrael let out a sigh and turned to face her. “Are you okay, sweet sister?”

“...What?” Her eyes had gotten used to the obscurity now. He, too, was red – more red than she had ever been despite her crimson robes, and it wasn't just the fabric of his own clothes. Soaked in blood, from head to toe.

“You did not scream,” said Astrael who pointed to her arms, and she remembered the pain. It wasn't as bad as earlier, but it was still here. Everything came to her at once. The throbbing, the never-ending shaking, her clothes wet from blood and sweat, her tears and her gritted teeth. She hadn't even realized she had been clenching her teeth so hard it felt like they were about to shatter. “I'm proud of you.”

“It hurts,” she muttered. “I...” She recoiled when Astrael stepped forward.

“It's okay, Rina,” he said with a pained smile. “Don't worry. Look.”

She looked, but knew not what to look for. Then, she saw it. The blood wasn't flowing out of her wounds, it was going in, floating. The cuts were slowly but unmistakeably healing, and the pain was gradually lessening. She was at loss for words and could only gaze blankly at the blood and follow where it came from. The puddle of her own blood she was bathing in, and... She froze. From Astrael's side.

“You're...” She couldn't finish her sentence, the words were stuck in her throat. He glanced at his wound but said nothing, and simply frowned. From earlier... The most horrible scenarios flashed in her mind, and she wanted to get up, to scream for help, to hold him, to stop the bleeding, to do something, but she couldn't.

“...A scratch.” he said softly, passing his hand through the trail of blood floating from his injury to Rina's cuts. A scratch, she repeated in her head, but no scratch should ever bleed so profusely. As she panicked more and more, the blood came rushing toward her even faster, while Astrael turned pale. Then he fell on the ground.