“Where is everyone?” Indenuel asked in the carriage as he noticed the streets emptier than before.

Tolomon glanced out the window, frowning. “At the Cathedral, asking for news, most likely. The High Elders didn’t want to be certain about their story until you woke up.”

Tolomon got out of the carriage at Martin’s house, and Indenuel followed close behind. They were halfway up the walkway when Derio opened the door and bowed. “Martin is in his study waiting for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Derio. I like your jacket. It looks nice,” Indenuel said, touching his shoulder.

“Well thank you, sir.”

Indenuel walked the now familiar path to Martin’s study. Tolomon faithfully walked beside him.

“Come in,” Martin said to Indenuel’s knocks.

Tolomon walked in first, letting Indenuel in after. Martin was behind his desk, reading a book. Indenuel gave a small bow.

“I am here for… for, um, my lesson?” Indenuel asked.

Martin smiled an almost fatherly smile. “We’re all still learning, my boy.” Indenuel nodded, sitting down, preparing for whatever. “Tolomon, could you ask one of the servants to get us some red tea?” Tolomon nodded and opened the door to relay the information.

“Red tea?” Indenuel asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s Zimoran. If you think anything can be made into a tea, the Zimoran’s have already done it, and better,” Martin said with a smile. “It’s a spicy sweet tea that helps me in the mornings. I am glad you had a nice rest. You needed it.”

“Oh, yes. Forgive me again for my lateness,” Indenuel said.

Martin waved a hand in front of him. “You don’t even have to ask for it, my boy.” Tolomon closed the door again, waiting. “Now, we must have a good balance of meditation and acts of service. With these rumors circulating, we can’t go among the poor to help build up your power. We must do what we can here before we move on to physical subjects.”

Indenuel nodded, staring at his hands in his lap. There was a soft knock on the door before Derio walked in with a tea tray. “Let us know if you need anything more, Martin.”

“Mmm, yes. We need a third cup for Tolomon,” Martin said.

“Oh, forgive me. I did not know Tolomon would be a part of this,” Derio said.

“Really, sir, there’s no need-” Tolomon started to say.

“There is every need. Go get another cup, Derio,” Martin said softly.

Derio bowed before leaving the study. Martin motioned Tolomon forward, who did so hesitantly. “I’m just a bodyguard, sir. I should remain at my post to protect Indenuel.”

“Then this bodyguard is just going to drink some tea while he is at his post,” Martin said, pouring the two cups and handing one to Tolomon, one to Indenuel. Tolomon mumbled his thanks before returning to the door. Indenuel let it cool a little, watching Tolomon out of the corner of his eye. All the other High Elders always ignored Tolomon whenever he was at these lessons. Did it ever bother him?

Indenuel took a sip, feeling the spicey sweetness of the tea. “That is good.”

Martin smiled as Derio returned with the final cup. “It is, isn’t it.” He poured his own cup and settled into his seat.

“Martin, may I make a… a humble request?” Indenuel asked. Martin glanced up from his cup, waiting for him to continue. “Could you write Matteo. Let him know what has happened. Not – not everything that has happened, but at least tell him I confessed and am working through it? I don’t think he’d trust me if I told him.”

Martin stilled, then placed the teacup down on his desk. “Is everything alright between you and Matteo?”

“It’s, um…” Indenuel swallowed. “I’m not sure. I wish I did, but I don’t. Maybe now that the High Elders know it was me that… killed Andres and Lola, could the children come visit more often? And maybe I could talk with Matteo myself?”

It was a bold request. Both having Martin write the letter, and having the children come visit. Martin sighed, then took another sip of his tea before he placed it farther away. He stacked the books on his desk and moved them to the side before he intertwined his fingers and placed his hands on his desk.

“I trust High Elder Navir, but I need to hear it from your own mouth. Is it true you had no remorse for what you did to Lola and Andres?” Martin asked.

Indenuel couldn’t keep Martin’s gaze. He swirled the cup a bit before taking another small drink. “Yes, it’s true. And it’s still true, sir.”

“You must understand why this concerns the High Elders so much. Guilt, remorse, these emotions are given to us for a reason.

“The mark is gone. I am doing my best to heal what I can of the erosion to my soul,” Indenuel said.

“And I appreciate that. But it will take longer to get you back to where you once were,” Martin said.

“I cannot pretend to have these feelings when they’re not there. I am sorry I used corruption, but I am glad those two are gone,” Indenuel said.

Martin took a sharp intake of breath. “These kind of thoughts are dangerous. The other High Elders already believe such thoughts will lead you to kill again.”

Indenuel drained the last of his tea before pouring more in his cup. “But I will kill again, won’t I?”

Martin looked alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

“The great battle. I’m supposed to kill five hundred Kiamese soldiers all by myself,” Indenuel said.

Martin’s gaze shot toward Tolomon, who stood quietly at his post. “That’s different.”

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“It’s different because Kiam is the enemy, and I shouldn’t feel any remorse killing them in order to protect our people,” Indenuel said, blowing on his tea. “I feel the exact same way about Andres and Lola. They were the enemy. I did what I did to protect Matteo, Isla, and Emilia. I won’t apologize for those deaths, just like you won’t expect me to apologize for the five hundred soldiers I’ll kill during the great battle.”

Martin stared at Indenuel, his mouth slightly open. Indenuel took another sip, looking back, knowing his argument was sound. Yes, he felt guilty for using corruption, but nothing Martin could do or say could make him feel guilty for killing Andres and Lola. Now that the confession was done, now that he was doing what he needed for his soul, he expected to never think of Andres and Lola again. They wouldn’t bother him anymore, and he wished he could have done it sooner.

“It will be a lot easier if you let go of this anger you still have toward them. As long as you hate them so, they will still hurt you, no matter where they are,” Martin said.

Indenuel lowered his cup, trying to keep a smile on his face. “Thanks for the advice, Martin.”

“It’s true,” Martin said. “This is going to hurt you in the end. You must forgive them and move on with your life.”

Indenuel said nothing, swirling the tea again to cool it down. He hated advice like this. Forgive and move on. Forgive and do better. He carved over a decade and a half of hate for Andres and Lola into his soul. How could he simply undo all that? To find all the little bits he carved out of himself to stick back inside? Or to even fill the hole with something and then be fine the next day. Forgiving seemed as impossible to him as Martin suddenly having the power of tree talking.

“I will try,” Indenuel said, because that’s what everyone expected him to say.

Martin looked worried but nodded. He walked around his desk, heading for Indenuel when a soft knock came to the door.

“Come in, Inessa,” Martin said.

Indenuel stood, finishing the last of his tea and placed the cup back on the tray when the door opened, and Inessa walked in. He expected to see her as he always had, but when she stepped through the door, he gasped and started to choke on the tea.

Inessa was wearing a purple dress of a material he had rarely seen. The dress was somehow both modest but as the light shimmered off it, he could see every bit of her curves in the light, and the deep purple made her emerald eyes more glorious. It was decorated with silver trim to look like butterflies. She looked far more confident in this dress than any other dress he had seen her in, and that alone put a sparkle in her eyes he never noticed before.

Indenuel covered his mouth to keep the tea inside, but too much of it had spilled between the spaces of his fingers. He realized too late the situation he was now in. He had made that kind of reaction about Inessa in front of Martin. Inessa stared at him at first surprised, but then he swore he saw her smile mischievously. Martin, on the other hand, was giving Indenuel a soft glare. Indenuel averted his gaze from both of them, tea dripping from his fingers, as he mentally berated himself for the situation he tripped into.

Inessa walked forward and gave Martin a curtsey. “Forgive me, Martin. I was not aware Indenuel would be here.”

“What is it?” Martin’s tone was quiet and rushed.

“I wanted to check if we would still…” Inessa trailed off, and the smile dropped. She looked at Martin, who stared at her confused. “Tonight?”

“Yes!” Martin said far too loudly as the realization dawned on him. “Yes, yes. I will see you tonight.”

Inessa nodded then turned toward Indenuel. His eyes widened, his hands still over his mouth like a fool. Inessa gave a curtsey. “It is of course a pleasure to see you on your feet, Indenuel. After all the rumors, I have been worried about your welfare.”

He said nothing. He kept his hands clasped over his mouth, tea still dripping from his fingers, staring at the ceiling so he would not see how the light shimmered off her bodice. Shimmered off the curves. Oh, those curves.

Dammit, Inessa. Why did you have to surprise me like this!

The awkwardness of the situation was too much for him to try and speak. It would undoubtably make things worse. Instead, he gave a slight bow of his head, still keeping his gaze right at the ceiling. Martin was staring at Indenuel far too closely with narrow eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mischievous smile returned to her lips and his heart quickened. She knew exactly what this did to him, and she was enjoying it far too much. Why did that make her that much more alluring?

The smirk disappeared as she headed toward the door. Tolomon opened it for her, giving Indenuel the usual look reserved for whenever he and Inessa were together. As soon as the door clicked shut, Indenuel tore his eyes from the ceiling and finally met Martin’s gaze.

Martin was not amused, though always the gentleman, pulled out a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to him. Indenuel grabbed it with his pinky finger, as his other fingers were still covering his mouth, the embarrassment burning in his cheeks. Martin turned his back, maybe to organize the tea tray, more to give him some privacy. Indenuel released his death grip and hastily wiped his hands and mouth.

“Sir, I would never, ever do anything, not even dream of anything, I’m not… I would never…” Indenuel was in danger of making himself out to be an even bigger ass, but someone had to broach the subject, and it was better him than Martin.

“I am far too aware of the beauty of her dresses,” Martin said, his voice low, his back still toward Indenuel.

“Yes. Yes, her dresses. Yes,” Indenuel said far too quickly. Martin gave him another look. “I know she’s yours. I would never take Inessa from you.”

“Some might think sleeping with another man’s concubine is a lesser crime compared to murder, and yet you managed to convince yourself of doing the latter quite easily,” Martin said. Indenuel winced. He deserved that verbal jab, but it still stung. Martin sighed, straightening his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what we say here today, the devil will still try and convince you to do his will with his temptations, and I need to know you will stay strong against them.”

Indenuel still held the handkerchief tightly in his fist as he studied Martin. “My soul is important to you, yes?”

“Very,” Martin said.

Indenuel nodded. “Then let the children come visit. They… they help me. They are a reminder for me to stay levelheaded. They keep me on track, even if they don’t know it.”

Martin studied him closely, then nodded. “I will check with the school and see if the children will be allowed to visit you at the end of the school week.”

The children were coming. Indenuel relaxed, feeling himself smile. He’d be able to see Matteo again. He could do something to patch their relationship.

“It’ll be easiest if we start with the basics of healing, just so I know where you are, and build from there,” Martin said before he pulled out his dagger.

Indenuel jumped, taking a step back. He knew he shouldn’t but seeing Martin with a dagger so soon after staring at Inessa far too long reminded him again of Cristoval’s prophecy. Martin frowned. “Are you alright, my boy?”

“Fine, fine,” Indenuel said, rubbing his arms.

Martin seemed to realize what he was thinking, shaking his head. “That was weeks ago. Put it behind you. I will never k-”

“I know. I know. Just… what with everything that’s happened, I’m a little jumpy. That’s all. It’s nothing.”

Martin looked as though he wanted to remain on this topic but thought better of it.

“Tolomon, I hate to ask this every time,” Martin said.

“Please don’t worry about it, sir,” Tolomon said as he walked forward, rolling up his sleeve. “Believe me, I’ve gone through worse.”

***

Martin waved to them from the doorway as they got into the carriage. Indenuel snuck out before lunchtime, as he didn’t feel well enough to eat with a crowd. Sara would be disappointed, but it would have to do.

He watched the carriage head for the gate and disappear before he dropped his hands, placing them lightly on his throat. He was a High Elder of God’s Holy Church. He knew better than anyone how powerful the devil was. He knew the tricks and the manipulation the devil uses to keep people afraid in order to stay above it. He stayed calm and in control during the possession but seeing Indenuel react as he did brought up memories he wanted to stay buried. The devil said Martin was not only going to kill Indenuel but watch him die.

Martin took a steadying breath, massaging his neck. The devil was the father of lies. It’s what he told Nathaniel. He took the truth and spun it just enough to make it a lie. So what part of murdering Indenuel was the spin on the truth? Or was that a lie all together? He simply couldn’t trust the devil. He wouldn’t. Martin was not a murderer, let alone someone who would kill the Warrior.