Chapter 39 #2
The cardinal cleared his throat. “There is no need to speak of dying, Estevan. I am sure the tribunals understand that people are now allowed to return to a secular life in this day and age.” He turned his kind eyes toward the elderly judges.
“Do you not agree? If you have a different opinion, it will be my pleasure to discuss the Inquisition’s future with the other cardinals …
or with the head of the Church of Elumenra directly, if you would prefer. ”
The veiled threat quelled any protest the tribunals could have had.
They gave a small bow to the cardinal, then silently left the Chamber of Judgment one after the other, shoulders hunched over with more weariness than Semras had seen them carry before.
Estevan’s glare followed them the entire time.
She smiled privately. He was free. From chains, from prosecution, from the Elumenra insignia that had stood between them so often—and now he was hers, entirely hers.
She wanted so badly to jump into his arms. Restraining herself felt torturous, but she had to. She had already made a terrible blunder of her first meeting with her mother-in-law; she’d do better with her father-in-law.
Her Wyrdtwined opened his arms for her, and her resolve crumbled at once.
Semras ran into them, and he crushed her into his embrace, dropping his face into her neck and deeply inhaling the scent of her hair.
Behind them, in a world that didn’t matter anymore, she heard a soft chuckle.
After a brief—too brief—minute, they reluctantly stepped away from each other.
Estevan beheld her. His face went through a gallery of emotions, then settled on a frown. “This was not the plan,” he said, glancing at his brother.
Semras grinned. “I changed it. Your plans are always too complicated.”
He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped to glare at something beyond her shoulder.
Cael walked to them with an air of utter indifference. A few steps behind him, the cardinal was waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Debauched heretic,” he greeted his brother.
“Sanctimonious prick,” Estevan replied.
Semras kept her chuckle to herself. The brothers had their own peculiar way of apologizing to each other.
Cael cocked his head. “It appears we both suspected the other of our mentor’s death and acted accordingly.”
Estevan’s smile looked closer to a snarl. “One of us took it a bit further than the other, wouldn’t you say? Putting me to the question, Cael? Really? After you called my methods barbaric?”
“I just meant to scare you a little. You would have done the same, admit it,” Cael replied. “I was simply faster than you. You have yet to best me in wits, Estevan. Although I will admit you possess one advantage over me. I might have to rectify that soon, seeing how helpful it proved to be.”
Estevan stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
A nod toward Semras answered him. The witch rolled her eyes, yet still smiled to herself. Oh, she could tell where this was going already.
Taking her back in his arms, Estevan dragged her closer to him. “Do not even think of seducing her away from—”
“Please, the womanizer between the two of us is you, brother. Do you not have another woman waiting at home with your child, or did our spat on the subject last year scare you into celibacy until now?”
“You call barging into my house to berate me on responsibilities with your fists a ‘spat’? If you want another fight, Cael, I—”
“Children,” Cardinal Velten called, raising an eyebrow. “Please.”
Chastised, the brothers turned aside from one another. For all the differences that made them drift apart, they were far more similar than they’d ever admit, Semras thought. She grinned at them both, and Cael returned her smile with a shy one of his own.
“I should leave now. I must go check on my knight before my surgeon tries to throttle him again,” he said. “Do call on me if you want to settle this later, Estevan. We have a lot of things to talk about, I believe.” He gave them a quick nod, then turned on his heel.
Semras watched him leave. Cael didn’t scare her anymore—he had proven to be so much more human than fey.
“Admiring my brother again?” Estevan playfully placed a hand over her eyes. “I will blindfold you if that is what it takes to keep your attention on me.”
Semras batted his hand away. “You jealous man …” Throwing her arms around his neck, she drew their faces closer. “If it’s my attention you want, I know what these hands can do to keep it on—”
A soft cough brought her attention back to Cardinal Velten.
The cardinal.
In the room. With them. The cardinal that she completely forgot about the second Estevan embraced her. Her new father-in-law.
That cardinal.
Semras blinked, then pushed Estevan away, holding him at arm’s length.
Maybe the Continent wouldn’t be far enough to flee to.
Maybe she’d have to go as far as Mundomera on the other side of the ocean.
Maybe she’d only ever live down her embarrassing first meetings of Estevan’s parents by escaping into the sweet embrace of death.
But then she’d run into her own parents, and she wasn’t ready to explain why exactly their daughter had joined them so young.
“May I offer you, miss,” the cardinal said, “a more official introduction? I am Cardinal Velten, Cael and Estevan’s father.”
“I … um, I am Semras of Yore,” she replied, face still flushed. How silly of her—of course he knew her name already. “And I am … I am …”
“She is my wife,” Estevan said proudly. Sliding behind her, he enlaced her, then rested his chin on her head. “Wyrdtwined, as the Covens call it.”
Cardinal Velten chuckled. “I suspected as much. Allow me to offer belated congratulations to you both. I look forward to knowing you, Semras of Yore, wife of my son. Now it makes more sense why Estevan threw away his hard-earned title so easily.” He turned to his son.
“Speaking of which, your retirement from the Inquisition unfortunately means the end of my support for you. My sphere of influence is boundless within and vastly more limited without.”
“I know,” Estevan said, hugging her closer. “It was not as spontaneous a decision as you might think. I have a reason to leave now, and the occasion was just both appropriate and conveniently timed.”
“I see. Does … does your mother know about this decision? Did you see her recently?”
“Yesterday, but you know her; I bet she knew it would happen the second she saw Semras and me together.”
A flash of longing passed through the cardinal’s eyes. “… Good. It might … soothe her worries now.”
“You should go visit her, Father. I am quite certain she will no longer be angry at you once she has confirmed that I left the Inquisition.”
Cardinal Velten hummed. “Maybe. Your mother knows how to hold a grudge, but if I put my affairs in order before …” His eyes turned pensive.
“Speaking of affairs in order, what about your retinue? Do I give them leave to retire and take their pensions? They will have to vacate the house, as it is Inquisition property, but the provisions prepared for them should cover the expenses of a new home.”
“Let the ones who wish to retire do it,” Estevan said.
“However, I would like to petition your support for a replacement. I leave the Inquisition behind with no regret, but I still believe it needs more men with the same mindset I had. Cael is too rigidly following the rules; he cannot be the advocate I wish for witches.”
The cardinal nodded. “I shall do what I can. Who do you have in mind?”
“Master Sin’Sagar. He is more than qualified.”
“The Andakkadian?” Cardinal Velten cocked his eyebrow.
“A layman, then, or does he still worship the diabalhs of his home country? I do not know if I can convince the Church to …” He paused.
Then his face brightened, and he continued, “… Or maybe I can. Inquisitors are in short supply these days, and Andakkadians believe that the Radiant Lord Elumenra is the same as Diabalh Emvisha. It should not be too big a leap to convince these stubborn old judges that this is enough faith to initiate him into their ranks. I shall discuss it with the parties involved. Expect news soon, my son.”
Estevan gave him a broad smile. “Thank you, Father. Now I can forgive you for the sword-bearers and the Venator knight you stuck me with on my recent travels.”
The Cardinal chuckled. “I had good reasons to, Estevan. You were so pained by Sir Jaqh’s loss, I feared it would make you careless. However,” he added, crossing his arms, “which Venator knight do you speak of? I did not request one to join you.”
Semras pursed her lips. That wasn’t how she had planned to tell him about Alaran.
“… What?” Estevan breathed.
She tugged at his sleeve. “You might want to talk to Cael about this …”
Her Wyrdtwined stared blankly at her, mind busy processing her words.
Holding back a fond smile, the Cardinal exhaled deeply.
“Please do not fight with your brother again so soon. I have only this one tired, old heart,” he said.
“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. And if you ever do not find me, son, please dig up my bones from your mother’s garden and put them to rest on hallowed ground.
I would appreciate it if you could cover up her crime as well.
You prevented one witch purge. I trust you to stop another one if she does end up killing me. ”
Then, with a spring in his steps, he walked out of the chamber. The door closed behind him with a loud thud.
Estevan blinked. “… I knew that knightly act was all pretend …” he muttered. Grabbing Semras’ hand, he strode outside the hall. “Cael, you gangly prick, get back here! I will eviscerate your spy!”
Laughing, Semras trailed behind him.
Estevan groaned in frustration at the empty street.
Cael had escaped long before his brother caught on to his deception. He had been right—Estevan had yet to best him in wits.
Sliding her arms around her irritated Wyrdtwined, Semras pulled him to her. “Come on, you can eviscerate him later. I’ll help you get rid of the evidence,” she teased.
Venator sword-bearers guarded the entrance to the House of Tribunal; from the corner of her eye, she saw one flinch.
Staring at the nervous man, she added, “I’m joking. I’ve had enough murder for the rest of my life.”
Estevan kissed her on the nose. “Agreed. And where should we spend the rest of that life, witch?”
The word he had used so often in the past to taunt her now rolled off his tongue with an endearing tenderness.
“Your home, for a start,” she said, “then mine?”
“And then … our home?” Estevan kissed her—on the lips this time.
Paying no mind to the shocked murmur of the crowd passing by them on the street, Semras grabbed his nape and returned his affection with enthusiasm.
A soft wind blew through her hair, and she felt Estevan’s hand smooth her strands along her back. Melting into his embrace, Semras smiled contentedly. She had missed him like she had missed a part of her heart. Now, with his lips on hers, she finally felt whole again.
“Should I tell Ensi to take a detour with the carriage?” spoke a voice into her ear. “You two look busy.”
Semras startled out of Estevan’s arms. “M-Maz?”
Chuckling, the air spirit blew around them. “I saw everything that happened inside. When Pagan came back alone, I knew you must have been up to something exciting again!”
A pleased smile stretched across Semras’ lips. The half-kelpie had done as she asked.
Then she groaned, remembering she hadn’t set a price for that help. She’d have to pay the debt before it decided on one for her.
“Maraz’Miri, who else is coming in that carriage? I have”—Estevan grabbed her chin and gave her a quick kiss—“plans”—he kissed her again—“if the car is empty.”
Semras blushed furiously. “Estevan!”
“We are openly kissing in public, but you become shy at the thought of being left alone with me?” he asked, laughing. “Oh, you really are too precious for this world, love.”
Maraz’Miri giggled. “Oh, sorry, no! You won’t be alone, Ensi-il-ensi. Sir Ulrech is coming too. He bellowed that this was the last time he’d leave you without supervision. Take advantage of your time here while you still can!”
Maraz’Miri’s laughter rose into the greying skies as she left, startling the nearby sword-bearers and crowd into a nervous panic. Looking around with growing confusion, the Deprived searched for the source of the disincarnate voice.
Semras let out a long, content sigh. “I am more than ready to go home. Oh, and would you look at that,” she said, elbowing Estevan gently, “before winter too! Who would have thought?”
The day they met, he had affirmed so confidently that she wouldn’t be back before snowfall. After all the time he had teased her, she couldn’t resist doing the same—
A single, mocking snowflake fell on her nose. Raising her eyes to the sky, Semras discovered a thousand more drifting downward toward them.
She groaned. “Not a word.”
“I would never dare,” Estevan replied, smirking slowly.
His damn smirk. How dare he.