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Why were suits so uncomfortable? I wondered. As we walked through the trees, I couldn’t help rolling my shoulders, wishing I could loosen the tie around my neck. But I couldn’t after Dad had spent so much time tying the knot just right. (He’d even tried to work some gel through my hair, though my messy waves never behaved as well as his. Already curls were trying to sneak past my ears.) 

It wasn’t just the tie. Somehow the slacks were too loose and too baggy at once, and the dress shoes weren’t even tall enough for my boot knife.  A gentleman is never fully dressed without a weapon, Dad used to say. I felt naked without it, which didn’t help my mood any.

Formal wear always made me feel like I looked out of place. I didn’t, not really. Everyone was all dressed up today.

I imagine we looked a little silly, all the Saints in suits and dresses walking through the woods. Not that the way was rugged or anything. The trail was wide and level enough that anyone could follow it, even with a cane or wheelchair. Some of our finest had given of their very bodies in the field, and it would be unthinkable to exclude them from our observances.

The path turned a slight curve before straightening out into the clearing we called the chapel in the woods, the most sacred place in Empyrean. Not because the land was blessed, even the grove of the Secret City was as flawed as all the half-made world. This place was holy because we made it so. 

The Saints had been performing weddings, funerals, and ascensions in these trees since my Great-Something Grandfather had chosen this spot over four hundred years ago. I had attended all of those things here myself.

Now we were gathering for me. This was the reason Dad had driven for hours last night. It wasn’t every day the youngest of the Saints officially joined the Knights of Seth. I’d been preparing for this my whole life, but it was an important day for all of us. The entire younger generation were of age now. We would begin making families of our own.

But that wasn’t something I liked to think about much. Eventually, I’d have to marry and have kids, pass on the line as all Saints must. A bridge to be crossed another day.  

We’d reached the chapel while I’d been lost in thought. Rows of stone pews, worn smooth with years, arced around a flat space in the center. There was no pulpit. Everyone was at the same level here.

Dad and I sat in the front, waiting for everyone to find their seats. Uncle Rudy sat next to us. If you were to shove my dad in a magic aging machine, you’d probably end up with my uncle. He was huskier set, with deeper lines on his face, and a heavier weight in his shoulders. What little remained of his hair formed the same St. James curls.  Strangely, my dad was actually the older sibling.   

Unky held a long box between his hands. Soon it would be mine. I almost couldn’t stand it. I’d been a child the last time I’d gone anywhere without Ole Blue strapped to my back. 

My soon-to-be partner Evan and his father approached. Unlike myself, he seemed perfectly at ease in his dress clothes. Dad’s hand landed on my knee, and it wasn’t until then that I realized my foot had been tapping. 

Before I could marshall my emotions, my heart skipped a traitorous beat as Evan sat next to me. I know it’s pathetic to love someone who doesn’t (can’t) love you back, but I couldn’t help it. I’d honestly tried. 

Most good looking men are simply handsome, but Evan’s face would move even merciless Kushiel to weeping. His eyes were the precise shade of sunlight through jade, set deep beneath a brow just stern enough to lend his beauty some authority without looking prehistoric. Most people who say they have black hair actually have deep brown. Not him. A raven’s wing cried for the shade of Evan’s hair, whole ebony trees withered in shame. Even the most beguiling of the Damned could not hold a candle to Evander St. John, which was, frankly, impossible. Surely his build was some sort of optical illusion, for there was no other way such broad shoulders could narrow so appealingly at the waist. 

I would have to be made of stone not to respond to him, despite my training. Denying Evan’s charm would be like spitting on fine art. He was simply a cut above the rest of us. 

“Seth?” he said, and it was only then I realized I’d been staring at him.

“We need to talk,” I said. “Before we start.”

He opened his mouth to question, but I slipped off the bench. From the corner of my eye, I saw Evan’s dad watching, no doubt in disapproval, as we headed for the trees on the edge of the clearing. The woods were just dense enough to shield our mouths from lip readers.

Jadeite eyes swept me over. “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so,” I said, praying my voice didn’t betray the pounding of my heart. “I need to tell you something.”

He waited for me to go on, just looking at me calmly. No Saint would show visible impatience. 

“We’ve known each other our whole lives,” I said.

“We all have,” he said.

“Right.” Why was this so awkward? So hard? “But what I mean is we’ve been friends for a while, ever since you were partners with Harley.” 

He nodded. “Sure.”

I took a breath, released it. “Is that why you chose me?”

Evan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“As a companion,” I said. 

“You’re asking if I picked you because we’re friends?”

I nodded.

“No,” he said. “I picked you because you’re the best swordsman your age.”

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Blushing is just a biological response to an emotional state. By keeping my breathing slow and even my heart rate would stay steady and no blood would stain my cheeks.

“Something else?” he asked when I didn’t move.

“I appreciate it,” I mumbled. 

He looked uncomfortable. “Seth, that’s not--”

“I mean it.” My voice was clear now. “No one else asked, not even Harley. My own cousin didn’t want me.”

“I-I’m sure that’s not true.” He stumbled over the lie.

“It is,” I said. “And I think you know why.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“I’m gay,” I said quietly, clenching my fists at my side so he couldn’t see my hands trembling. “And I can’t be your companion unless you know that. I mean, everyone already knows, or thinks they do, but I needed to tell you. I’ll understand if you want to call this off.”

He took his time answering, deep enough in thought that a pensive expression actually bloomed on his face. “Look, I don’t get it, but I don’t need to. Worrying about someone’s, uh, preferences is what the Paulines do. We just focus on Spirit, but everyone has their own struggles getting there.”

I nodded, studying the ground. Labeling my sexuality a ‘struggle’ wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was probably the best I could hope for. 

“So you still want to be my partner?”

His knuckles tipped my chin up so we were locked at the eye. “Do you still want me to be?”

Throat too dry to speak, I could only nod. 

“Let’s get out there, then.” He dropped his hand, and I had to convince myself my face wasn’t tingling where he’d touched me.

As we returned, I felt my nerves lifting. I took my place with no more fidgeting. 

A hushed whisper rippled through our ranks as the Magda came down the middle aisle, leaning on her cane. Esperanza St. Thomas was a legend, the foremost of the female Saints at only 28. She lost her leg in the same mission that had taken her sister, but somehow had managed to redeem the Damned responsible and save her sister’s children. One of whom, her niece (and companion) Bendis, was accompanying her today. 

Beni, I noticed with surprise, had eschewed a dress in favor of black slacks. Probably to support Espy, who always wore long pants herself. She noticed me watching them and winked before turning to help her aunt into the pews. 

The moment came with casual suddenness, the Saints’ way. Dad simply stood, walked a few steps forward, and turned around. 

“Today,” Dad began, his voice booming through the woods, “we recognize my son Seth, who’s finally a man.”

Despite the lack of ceremony, he cut an impressive figure. He stood in a shaft of sunlight, the beam spiraling through his golden hair. 

“We aren’t a sentimental people,” Dad said. “But I hope you all, and my son, will permit me one quick story.”

“Oh, my Josh,” I muttered, to chuckles from the Brethren in earshot. Evan nudged me with his elbow.

“When Seth was five or six he realized his name was the same as the knighthood.” Dad went on like he hadn’t heard me. “That’s my name! he said, all excited. I still remember the wonder in his eyes. Do they all have my name, Daddy? And so I told him our story. I told him how Adamas chose knowledge over the Half-Maker’s paradise and entered Hyle. Once here in the world, he was blessed with a son who became the first Patriarch, the first Seth. The appointed one.

“So it has been since ancient times. A father to lead his son, a son to lead his people.” The grove was totally silent. This was our oldest history lesson, and still the Brethren hung on his every word. As I watched him take command so naturally, standing in the light like some lion of a man crowned in seraphic flame, I realized I would never look like that. I wasn’t even sure why I was so certain. I just knew.

“For the last eight years, I’ve trained my son according to our tradition. I’ve watched him grow into his name, give everything he has to be the best he can be.” Our eyes met, and for a moment he was speaking only to me. “One day, my son, you will stand before our people as the Sword of the Saints, just as I do now. I know you will lead us in ways greater than we can imagine. It’s why your mother gave you that name.”

Damn it, Dad. I felt my eyes prickle, and had to look away to control myself. It wouldn’t do to lose my saintly composure after all that glowing praise.

Dad also seemed to gather himself for a moment before he went on. “But there comes a time in every young man’s life when he must step away from his father’s side and take his place among men.”

I always forgot how weirdly macho these ceremonies were. For a people who supposedly shunned the material world, we sure cared an awful lot about traditional manhood. 

“We know among our people that a father will never see his son with unbiased eyes,” Dad continued, “so I ask if there is one who will welcome Seth into the brotherhood.”

Evan stood up. “I will.”

“Will you swear to me to be his faithful brother-in-arms?”

“I will.” His voice was strangely solemn.

Dad nodded. “And is there one willing to provide an instrument?”

“I will,” said Uncle Rudy, holding up the box.

“So be it,” Dad said. Was his voice a bit huskier than it had been a moment ago? Impossible.

Rudy and Dad switched places, and Evan and I stood before him.

“Sethary St. James,” Evan began, “Will you be a redeemer of the Damned?”

Voice strong, I replied, “I will.”

“Will you be an avenger of the innocent?”

“I will.”

“Will you be a light in the dark?”

“I will.”

Evan reached for the box, and Uncle Rudy handed it to him. Evan clicked the top open, turned it so I could see inside. When I saw the sword, my eyebrows shot up before I could school my expression. 

Inside was a falcata, the traditional weapon of the St. James line. My eye followed the gentle slope of the vanadic steel, the way the blade caved in near the hilt only to become convex again near the tip. Such a shape lent her the length of a sword with the heft of an ax, perfect for taking heads. There was no questioning why the empires of old would fear such a sword. Truly my uncle was a genius, and this lady had to be his finest work.

“Will you take up the sickle-sword of the saints?” Evan sounded like he was speaking just to me.

“I will,” I said, and I had no idea if anyone else could hear.

He held the box closer and I reached for the hilt. “As you claim this blade, know that your oath is sealed.”

And it would be, sealed in blood. With no hesitation, not even an experimental swing to taste the impeccable weight of her, I ran the blade down the mound beneath my thumb. It was a tradition among our kind. As a baby knows the blood of its mother, so too must my baby know mine. It would be the only human blood she ever tasted.

I held my bloody blade aloft. “For the Wisdom.”

“For the Knowledge,” came the traditional answer uttered in a myriad of voices. 

I fell into my inner spark with ease, the way we all could. The Spirit rose up from my center, filling my soul, flowing up my arm into the blade. She lit up a ghostly blue, just barely visible in the daylight, and I knew the other Saints were seeing it too. She really was my Baby now.

I blinked away my inner sight, and dropped my arm once the glow was no longer visible.

And that was that, the ritual over with as little fanfare as it had begun. Some families began to trickle out, others would wait to congratulate me. 

“We should get that bound,” Evan said, referring to my palm. 

“Right,” I said, looking down at the thin red line. It hardly hurt.

“Happy Birthday, nephew,” said Uncle, clapping my shoulder. “What do you think? A worthy successor to Blue?”

“She’s amazing,” I said honestly, finally allowing myself to take a few swings. The edge hummed like a bell, chiming through the air. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Been working on her for years,” he said, gruff with embarrassment. “Only the best for my boy.”

“Thanks, Unky,” I said, smiling warmly.

“I don’t see your grandfather,” Dad said, looking through the crowd.

“You’re not surprised, are you?” I asked.

“He should be here today.” Something in Dad’s voice made me think he wasn’t actually listening to me. He pulled out his phone, and started away. “I’m going to check in on him.”

I rolled my eyes. I’m sure everything was fine. Dad probably just needed an excuse to leave before he got sentimental. 

“Congrats,” Beni called to me as she approached with Espy. “Little Sethary’s all grown up.”

“Bite me,” I said, but I was fighting a grin.

Beni clacked her teeth. 

“Congratulations, indeed,” Esperanza said. “To you both.”

They looked remarkable standing next to each other. Their old Spanish coloring gave them each strikingly pale skin and fiery hair. 

“Thanks, Espy,” I said.

Evan’s hand fell on the back of my neck. “He means to say, thank you, Sister Magda.”

“Right, that,” I said. 

Espy shook her head, obviously not bothered. “Do you have any plans for your first mission, Evan?”

“Not precisely,” Evan replied. “Of course, I’m open to suggestions.”

“I may have something for you,” she said. “But let’s get out of this sun first.”

“My house is closest.” I elbowed Evan. “Sister Magda.”

“What a shame you two don’t get along,” drawled Beni.