The fake priest couldn’t protest as Lord Barnabash had shoved the severed reed arm into his mouth, but even so, he fixed a hateful glare on us.
That glare burned with seething malice, but honestly, what disturbed me more was the squelching sounds that Barnabash made as he rummaged around in the effigy’s ribs.
The effigy was too convincingly human for me to look at it directly. The scene was too gruesome.
But Lucas was right. Sending an effigy to a state funeral was a grave insult. It was unforgivable.
Even if we lodged a formal protest, the Empire would brush it off as the act of a lone fanatic. And because we also worshipped the goddess, we wouldn’t be able to remove our own high priest in retaliation. We’d have no choice but to accept some flimsy apology.
And I realized that the Egrich Empire and the Holy Emperor knew it would play out like this.
I looked on, trembling, as the priest slowly transformed from a human into a cluster of reeds. Then, I heard a low, chilling murmur from the man standing beside me.
“You think the goddess’s protection puts you out of reach? I’m not as soft as I was in my past life. Go confess your sins and wait for me.”
I didn’t know who he was talking to at first, tilting my head until the words past life, goddess, and dragon clicked together, and it hit me.
If the Holy Emperor was watching us through the effigy, then that knife, and the whole scene with the priest slashing his own hand, was to make me heal him?
He wanted me to use healing magic and watch it, so he could declare me a Saint?
A shiver shot through my body, rattling up my spine. For the first time in my life, I found myself genuinely terrified of another human. There was nothing scarier than someone who knew exactly where you were most vulnerable and aimed straight for it.
And those of us who could only fight to protect the ones we loved were always on the back foot. We ended up playing right into the enemy’s hands, hoping for a miracle.
I grabbed Lucas’s arm tight, trying to stop him before the bloodlust in his voice found its way into his actions. But just as I opened my mouth…
Lord Barnabash gleefully yanked his hand from the priest’s chest, clutching a slender magic stone, reddish-black in color, with a strand of human hair tied around it. And then he crushed it.
“Oh! It’s vánagandr blood! Seriously, humans will use anything. I gotta admire their creativity.” He licked the droplet of blood that landed on his tongue. I bit my lip, recalling what he’d told me about magical catalysts.
If I back down in fear, people are going to die again. Someone else will be left crying. So we’re the ones who have to end this. No matter how painful it gets, we can’t walk away. This is a fight we have to face, just like Marshal Webber did.
Rain fell in soft curtains around us as Lucas stood transfixed, watching as the marshal’s arm was gently laid into the casket. Raindrops traced glistening lines down his cheeks.
I pressed a handkerchief to his face, and he turned to look at me, shocked, almost scared. That’s when I realized what was bothering him.
He was thinking it was wrong, that maybe it had been too much to show the arm, and for the first time, it was hitting him…that I could one day find myself in the same position as the marshal’s wife. I could be the one left behind someday.
We both knew the fear of being left alone.
But while Lucas might’ve imagined what would happen to him if I died, he never really thought about what the reverse would do to me. He might’ve guessed, but now he’d seen it. I mean, really seen it.
Honestly, I didn’t know which would be worse: having your beloved vanish completely or finding just the slightest trace of them. I didn’t know which would be easier. Everyone loved differently, so everyone grieved differently, too.
But I knew I would rather know the truth than spend my life trapped in uncertainty.
If there was even a single piece of him left, I would want to hold onto it. I want to keep loving him without regrets.
And that was why the marshal’s wife, who had long ago made peace with her fate as the Hero’s companion, would surely find strength in the fact that a Hero never let go of his blade. That truth alone would give her a way forward.
“I’m so glad you found it.” I wiped the tears from my face with my handkerchief and gave him a small smile, to tell him it was okay.
His lips parted just barely, as if he were hesitating. Then they closed, as if to hold the thoughts he was turning over in his head…and then slowly curved into a faint smile.
“I am, too.” There was relief in his soft murmur, but I could see the regret plain as day in his narrowed golden eyes. I couldn’t help but squeeze his hand even tighter.
“It’s okay, Lukie. Really.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you.”
What came back to me was his guilt for making me a knight’s wife, and his gratitude for my standing by him anyway. And in that firm grasp, he firmly told me: I will keep my promise. I will not die.
The wind whispered through the surrounding petals, and I tipped my face up into the breeze.
From atop this hill blooming with wildflowers, you could get a clear view of Bern’s royal castle and the capital sprawling around it, no matter what the season.
The city had been cloaked in black until just recently. Now, little by little, life was returning to it.
I glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Lucas seated beside me, quietly working his hands.
Could my flawless prince also make flower crowns? That stung a little, as his wife.