Chapter 9 Elior #2
“It’s a pecan, Elior, not a life,” he said, tossing it and catching it smoothly.
“But what if he needed it?!”
“I’m sure he can find more. He did glare at me, though,” Jace admitted.
That made another giggle escape, softer this time but just as impossible to stop. The air felt lighter. My steps felt lighter.
“See?” he said quietly. “Better.”
I ducked my head, still smiling despite myself. “Maybe a little.”
We reached the end of the path, where the walkway split—one direction toward the dining hall, the other toward the dormitories. Jace slowed, then stopped.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” I managed, still embarrassed that he’d made me laugh like that, like it was easy.
“Blessed be the Light,” he said, before turning and walking off.
I watched him go for a moment—then, unable to help it, pressed my fingertips to my lips, then my chin, then my jaw, then my cheek.
Each spot seemed to tingle.
* * *
Later that night, I tried to focus on the sermon.
I really did.
Father’s voice rolled through the chapel, smooth and commanding, the same cadence he always used when he preached.
“Distraction,” he said, pacing slowly before the pews, “is the first whisper of sin. The Light requires devotion. Complete devotion.”
I nodded along automatically.
Complete devotion.
Yes. I believed that. Truly.
But the more Father talked, the more my thoughts drifted—slipping between the words, floating somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere warm.
Somewhere with dark eyes and a mouth quirked in a smile.
I shifted in my seat, pulse quickening.
Jace shouldn’t have been in my head. Not during prayers. Not during Father’s teaching. Not ever, really. But every time I blinked, I saw the way he’d looked at me that morning and the way he’d knelt before me last week in this very spot.
I felt heat prickle along my neck. I dropped my gaze to my hands in my lap and forced myself to breathe evenly. I needed to focus. Father hated it when I looked unfocused.
“And when we are distracted…” Father’s voice sharpened suddenly, cleaving through my thoughts like a blade. “The entire flock suffers.”
My head snapped up.
His eyes were on me.
The intensity in them made my stomach drop.
I sat straighter, trying to look composed, attentive. But I’d been caught. I knew it. The congregation didn’t seem to notice—everyone was too busy staring forward, too afraid to even glance around during a sermon. But Father… Father always noticed.
He held my gaze for a beat too long.
Then he resumed preaching, but his tone stayed tight, colder than before.
The rest of the service felt endless.
When the dismissal prayer finally ended, and the congregation filed out quietly, I stayed frozen in my seat.
“Elior.”
My name, spoken like a warning.
“Yes, Father?” I asked nervously.
Father approached the Seat of Light, his frame casting a long shadow across the floor. He kicked my footstool out from behind the Seat, but kept it far enough away that my feet had no chance of reaching.
His expression was unreadable—calm in a way that made my heartbeat worse, not better.
“You were somewhere else tonight,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” he murmured, circling me slowly. “You are sorry. But sorry is not enough when your duty is to guide their souls. If your mind wanders, theirs will follow. And during my sermon on the sin of distraction, no less. I’m disappointed in you, son.”
Guilt flared hot in my chest.
“It won’t happen again,” I whispered, trying desperately to keep my voice from breaking and the tears building up in my eyes from falling.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked.
My breath caught.
I couldn’t tell him.
I couldn’t even imagine what he would do if he knew. If he knew Jace had touched me. If he knew I’d allowed it. If he knew Jace made me feel—
I clamped down on the thought, hard.
“I was…” My voice shook. “I was thinking about how I want to do better. For the congregation. For you.”
There was a long, horrible silence.
My throat was tight, and my lungs burned from holding my breath.
Finally, Father hummed—a soft, thoughtful sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Hm. Worry can be a distraction,” he said. “But worry born from devotion… that is forgivable.”
Relief rushed through me so quickly that it nearly made me faint.
“I see,” he murmured. “Very well. Go. Meditate before bed. And come to prayers tomorrow with a clear, focused mind.”
“Yes, Father,” I whispered.
He pushed the stool forward with his foot, then added, “You do not need to worry about such things, Elior. I will tell you if the Light wants something from you.”
He helped me down from the Seat, then dismissed me with a tilt of his chin.
“Goodnight, Father,” I murmured.
Father sighed but offered me a tired smile. “Goodnight, Elior.”
I kept my steps steady until I was out of the sanctuary and alone in my rooms.
Only then did I press my palm to my chest and breathe out.
I had lied.
To Father.
I had never lied to him about myself before—not like that.
But the thought of telling him the truth—telling him that Jace had touched me, that I’d let him, that I couldn’t stop thinking about him—
My whole body tightened.
No.
I couldn’t.
Father could never know.