Atop the broad granite stairs stood a delegation of priests and novices, helmed by a tall, willowy man. The impeccable white and abysmal black of his ceremonial garb, in combination with his rigid face and hooded eyes, made Bishop Petronius’ look almost like one of the marble statues decorating the facade of the Two Gods’ Church.
Lorelei’s gaze traveled from the old man up to the gleaming gilded roofs of the temple’s twin towers. Constructed of black and white marble, the steeples were a filigree wonder of decorative arches, twisting columns, and lace-like friezes. They looked so light and ephemeral, that one could imagine them being held together only by the power of the Two Gods and the priests’ constant prayers. As if this wasn’t enough, the masterful architects had created a hidden intricate system of pipes, so that every stronger gust of wind resulted in a quiet but beautiful melody that didn’t seem to be from this world.
With the two towers behind him reaching towards the sky like a pair of glorious wings and surrounded by ethereal music, Bishop Petronius looked nothing less than a messenger of the Two Gods gracing the earthly plane. A higher entity, sent by the divine to guide and punish the erring mortals. As she crawled up the broad staircase, Lorelei felt so miniscule - an ant, facing the impeccable glory of the heavens.
Fear gripped her heart. Her feelings about Noah, her misgivings, and her jealousy towards Pricilla, they all seemed to shrink in the span of a second, overwhelmed by a singular thought. Was there a chance for someone to recognize her as a saint’s vessel?
‘Idiot! You should have thought about this sooner!’
But no matter how hard she chastised herself, she couldn’t change the past. The constant pampering of Pricilla and the torture of having to listen to her sister’s ceaseless blabber had dumbed her mind, preventing her from even considering the implications of visiting a church. And one helmed by a bishop, at that.
‘All will be fine. If there was any danger, Noah wouldn’t have sanctioned the the trip. He never opposed to it. Everything will be fine. Besides, you have visited churches before. You have healed priests under Master Levi. No one will notice.’
But no matter how she tried to reassure herself, the shadow of the two towers seemed to grow deeper with every step she took, its inviting coolness turning into a bone-piercing chill. Even the music created by the wind had become loud and dissonant as strong gales assaulted the steeples.
The strong gust almost blew away her veil and she motioned to hold it in place. In passing, her fingers brushed against the swallow brooch, adorning her chest. Its cool, smooth surface brought her a small consolation. Kash-baba had gifted her not just a guardian amulet but a good-luck charm. Somehow, the old Binshi always knew what she needed and her gifts were miracles in disguise - the first one saving her from the Red hands, and the second deflecting Shana’s magic. Alas, her precious twin-drop was forever lost, but maybe her luck would carry on under the protection of the swallow’s wings. She had to stay strong and keep her mind sharp if she wanted to conceal her identity as nesvet and fulfill her role concerning Pricilla.
With newfound resolution, Lorelei finished the ascent and managed to exchange greetings with the Bishop and his entourage without anyone noticing her agitation. When the welcoming formalities were over, they all stepped under the ornate arches of the temple into the cool twilight of the nave.
“It is so nice to meet the young lady representing the Crown Prince’s court.” The quiet voice of Bishop Petronius reverberated under the arches. “I feel honored to welcome you all as our guests and have a chance to discuss the celebratory mass for His Imperial Highness. I hope you won't find the topic too tedious, my child.”
“Oh, definitely not, Your Holiness!” Pricilla somehow managed to put shyness and excitement in a single sentence. “I find the teachings of the Two Fathers uplifting and fascinating. And… I hope Your Holiness won’t find my words demeaning… sometimes, when I pray and share my worries with our Fathers, I have this wonderful feeling of warmth and calm, like a light is showing me the right way.”
“How could I find such pure devotion demeaning, my child! I'm sure the Two Fathers rejoice when you offer them your prayers. Do you give Them praise regularly?”
“I try, Your Holiness.” Pricilla looked sad. “But although I say prayers in my chambers, it still feels too little to repay Their benevolence. I’m ashamed, but ever since I arrived in Norden, I wasn’t able to properly visit a church to pay my respects. Although the chaplain in Ildemar has been very accommodating to my needs, only worshiping in a little chapel seems… disrespectful to Their glory.”
“I’m sure you do more than others usually deem necessary, Lady Orten.” Saying that, Bishop Petronius threw Lorelei and Noah a poisonous look.
“Say what is on your mind, Your Holiness.” Noah returned his glare with a smile.
“If you insist, I shall comply.” The old priest sighed and shook his head. “If it wasn’t for the Crown Prince’s visit, I doubt I’d have seen Your Highness at my threshold earlier than Mid-Summer. And even our esteemed Duchess had to wait until now to grace us with her presence.”
“You know there were reasons barring Lady Norden from joining you here, Your Holiness.” A cold note slipped into Noah’s polite tone. His eyes fixated the bishop, making him flinch.
“Of course, Your Highness. And we diligently prayed for her recovery.”
“And your prayers were heard, Your Holiness.” Lorelei forced herself to smile and put a heavy pouch in the priest’s hands. “And this little gift is in hope that the Two Gods would show leniency towards my past transgressions, as unintentional as they might be.”
Stolen novel; please report.
For a moment, Bishop Petronius stared at her, his nostrils flaring. Lorelei could see the inner conflict under his calm facade. He disdained her. But her money was still money. It didn’t take long for practicality to overcome emotion. A flick of the priest’s long sleeves and the pouch was gone in the depths of his garments.
“Your donation is appreciated, Duchess. Now follow me, I’ll show you and our guest around before we begin with the formalities.”
***
Under her carefully plastered facade of cute innocence and devotion, Pricilla was seething. While the old bishop was blabbering about the church’s stupid glass dome and boring dusty relics, her eyes were peeled at the Duke of Norden. That man was simply infuriating!
For the past couple of days, she had been given ample time and opportunities to get close to him. And in that time, it had seemed that he was beginning to mellow out and respond to her advances. She had seen him shyly averting his gaze when talking with her. He wore her handkerchief to cover his ugly scars. They even had breakfast or dinner together. True, her blabbering father was also present, but his drunken self was there more for propriety’s sake than as a deterrent to their interactions. And yet, nothing had happened!
Chewing on her lip, she followed the Bishop and her damn sister into a back room where the tedious discussion of the celebratory mass took place. Talks about money, candles, choral pieces, passages of the Holy Scriptures to be read - all passed in a blur. She smiled, gave some minuscule suggestions, and let her sister entertain the old zealot and be useful for once. In the meantime, she studied the Duke’s face and gestures and her anger grew.
She had had her suspicions, but today it all became even more evident. That stupid infatuation sigil didn’t seem to work as intended! That Beast did treat her with courtesy, and sometimes there was something akin to admiration. But it was nowhere near the looks he was giving her harlot-of-a-sister! Why did his eyes become sad and yearning when looking after that mist-born? Why did his fingers hold her hand longer than necessary? Why did he smile so warmly when talking to a lowly maid’s spawn?
What did he see in her? Was that damn good-for-nothing also using spells to hold that man captive? This seemed to be the only logical explanation. Bessie’s magic had worked excellently on Castor. And the Duke seemed to react as desired, as long as that damn bitch wasn’t around.
Pricilla’s fingers secretly caressed the small vial she carried in a hidden pocket of her skirt. Ever since her arrival in Norden, she had her prince’s potion ready. Ready for the time she was to complete her mission. Lionel had said that the potion was strong enough to invoke bestial lust even in a pious hermit, but she hadn’t had the chance to feed it to the damn Beast. He was always surrounded by servants or guards. Now that she thought of it, they had never been truly alone. He had always kept his guard up. If only the infatuation sigil did its work and managed to demolish the walls of reason that barred her way to him…
Fuming helplessly, Pricilla finished the agonizingly boring discussion with the Bishop and was almost happy to return to the castle. However, another unpleasant surprise awaited her. The Duke needed to finish some personal business with the old priest, so their departure was further postponed. Unwilling to spend time with that mist-born, she excused herself and found seclusion in a small side chapel. Kneeling on a velvet cushion before the little altar, she snorted and closed her eyes, pretending to pray, before a set of quiet steps startled her awake.
“Bessie, you idiot! You almost gave me a heart-burst!” she hissed, raising her head to look at her perpetual shadow.
“Forgive me, mistress.” The maid fidgeted a bit, throwing fast glances around as if expecting a monster to jump out of the shadows.
“Why are you being fussy all of a sudden?” Pricilla rolled her eyes. “You didn’t act like this in the castle’s chapel. Is your witch soul getting roasted by being near the great holy powers of a high-ranking priest?”
Bessie’s flinching at the words ‘high-ranking priest’ didn’t remain unnoticed. Looking at her servant’s hunched figure and face half-hidden by oily brownish hair, Pricilla’s anger flared up.
“You good-for-nothing wastrel! How useless can you even be!? A few steps into a church turn you into a complete mess.”
“I’m sorry, mistress,” whispered the maid, her head dipping further between her shoulders.
“Sorry! When we’re back, I’ll give you sorry! You aren’t getting any potion today.”
“No! Miss! Please!” Quietly sobbing, the girl fell on her knees. “Please, don’t do this!”
“And why not?” hissed Pricilla. “You have been of no use to me from the start. That infatuation sigil of yours has been a total scam! Did you tamper with it? Or maybe it was just a lie.”
“No, mistress! I swear, I did the hex right! I swear! Please, give me my potion!”
“Shut up, wastrel! You dare lie in my face? If that magic of yours is working, why isn’t the Duke reacting, huh? Answer me!”
“That…” Bessie chewed on her lip, her eyes darting madly around the room. “Infatuation hexes are unstable things. If… If the person already has someone they love, the effects are reduced. Or if they have a strong willpower…”
“And you are telling me this now!?” Pricilla spun around and slapped the maid. “You knew it wouldn’t work but still dared deceive me?”
“N-No, mistress! It… It works. It just needs more time-”
“I don't have time, you imbecile! You wasted it with your stupid sigil. So, tell me one reason why I should still keep you by my side and not let you rot in some dumpster?”
“I… I can make it work!” Bessie cried and desperately grabbed Pricilla’s sleeve. “There… There is a way to make it work better. If we manage to open the person’s mind to the magic, the hex will work!”
“And how are you planning to do that?”
“There is a herb. We call it datura. Shamans use it to ease their minds and more easily enter the Spirit Plane. As long as the duke breathes the fumes, he should become more susceptible to the infatuation sigil.”
Pricilla measured up the maid and tore her sleeve from the girl’s grip.
“I give you one chance. Go find that herb of yours and bring it here before we depart. And Bessie, if anything goes wrong and I fail to fulfill my mission, I’ll make sure you die an agonizing death.”