Chapter 32 #2
I glare at her, but then catch myself. Her words are true and she has every right to be disappointed. I’d practically just declared myself a failure.
I drop my gaze. “I’ll do what I promised,” I say quietly, then add louder, “I’ll give the survivors the future I swore I would.”
Even if I have to build it with my bare hands.
I stand before Calista’s temple, untouched by human footsteps for centuries. The pale moonlight softens the neglect, giving the massive building a false air of grandeur.
Many of the goddesses’ sanctuaries were destroyed throughout the kingdom, but this one, like the other main temples of Viele, still stands in the heart of the city.
Tearing it down would’ve caused too much of a spectacle, an unpleasant scar in the center of Calcatra’s capital.
So they left it, and nature slowly took it back.
Now, overgrown with weeds and tangled greenery, surrounded by a rusting iron fence, the temple looks like a pocket of wilderness that the city has learned to ignore.
The gates are so stiff with time and rust that Kaelzar has to use his shadows to pry them open, not just for me, but for the crowd of women following at my heels.
Now that the Church of the Goddess of Blood and Decay has been restored, and I by default serve as its spiritual leader, I have the right to recruit acolytes. Once they swear themselves to Calista, they will belong to no one else.
Even if I lose the final challenge, the Church will remain. And once the rites are completed, another priestess can rise to lead in my place.
Even if Zyrel claims the title of Archpriest of Calcatra, my acolytes—though they will acknowledge his god’s rule over the kingdom—will still belong, in body and soul, to Calista.
Only acolytes of other Churches are free from praying to the Sovereign God, their prayers belong solely to their own deity.
So, just like Mael, I give these women a choice: abandon your worldly possessions and submit to the Church or stay behind and face an unknown, unprotected future.
Not a single one chooses to stay behind.
They follow me, these battered girls and women, into the forgotten temple. Into the future I promised them.
I survey the structure. “We’ll have to clean it up first,” I say.
It’s buried under spiderwebs, wildflowers, dust, and timeworn cracks.
Within the hour, nearly two hundred women, along with the few brave family members who stayed, are scattered across the grounds with buckets and brooms. Candles flicker across the shadowy walls, illuminating the eerie quiet of the temple.
Despite Kaelzar’s refusal to leave my side, I beg him to watch over the people. Make sure the structure hasn’t rotted through the centuries.
He only agrees after I swear not to leave the premises alone. I remind him, half-joking, tapping my inked arm, that if my life is in danger, it’s his life we’ll have to worry about.
As hours go by, the temple begins to change. Dust lifts. Cobwebs vanish.
The noise of Viele dies outside, and the sanctuary settles into hush. Women huddle together in makeshift beds, transforming the space into something that looks less like a temple and more like a refugee camp.
It’s not much, just stone and shadow and dirt still clinging to the corners, but it begins to feel like a real home.
Here, I’m not someone’s daughter or someone’s bride. I’m someone I chose to be. And when I look toward the staircase Kaelzar disappeared up earlier, I wonder if he feels it too.
I want so badly to go back to Peonica. But Micheline, who begged to help, and who I forced to stay behind to watch over her, swore to me she wouldn’t wake until at least tomorrow afternoon. And I know hovering over her sleeping body won’t help anyone right now.
So I stay.
But I can’t bring myself to take any of the more comfortable spots I find scattered throughout the temple. Every room, every quiet nook I come across, I guide someone else into. I help them set up a sleeping space, tucking blankets beneath their weary bodies.
Only once every single person is settled, fed, and warm do I make one last walk around the perimeter, just to be sure I haven’t missed anyone. Just to be sure no one else is left behind.
“Come,” Kaelzar says, never straying from my side. “I know a place.”
A slit of shadow opens in the air. Kaelzar lifts his arm in an invitation to step through. I bristle at the sight.
“Can we walk there?” I yawn.
He gestures toward the third level of the temple, where the stairs are so damaged we haven’t been able to reach it, leaving us to make do with the first two floors. “Not tonight,” he says, and offers me his arm.
Too tired to argue, I take it. Together, we step into the shadows.
I stumble as I emerge, more falling than walking out. The sensation of being pulled apart and stitched back together hasn’t gotten any easier, though maybe I’m just getting used to the discomfort. I mutter a curse under my breath, but when I see where he’s brought us, the air catches in my lungs.
It’s a massive chamber, its walls gleaming faintly with gold. In the center rests a marble bed. Huge and solid. Fresh sheets, thick pillows, and a mattress that looks recently placed wait for me. For us, I correct myself, then immediately correct again: for me.
Kaelzar must’ve slipped away at some point to gather these things while I thought he was patrolling. “The priestess’s room,” he says, gesturing around us. “Your room.”
Candles flicker everywhere, not the little wax stubs we scraped together from donations, but tall, thick ones in gilded holders.
They cast a warm glow over the room, making it feel impossibly sacred.
I only get a minute to take it all in before collapsing face-first into the bed, the softest thing I’ve ever touched.
Kaelzar grumbles behind me, and I can hear the disapproval in his voice.
“Yes, with my shoes on,” I mumble into the pillow, grinning.
“As you wish,” he replies, and I swear I can hear him rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
I hear his steps as he begins to turn. And I should let him. I should let him walk away. But I don’t want to be alone tonight. Not in this space I’m still learning to believe is mine.
“We both need sleep,” he continues, “and—”
“Stay!” The word bursts out of me. It startles both of us. I’m half-sitting up, my arm reaching out toward him like I might grab him and yank him back.
Kaelzar pauses, half-swallowed by shadow. “There’s only… one bed.”
“And look how big it is,” I say, throwing myself dramatically into the pillows again so I don’t have to look at him.
Did I really just beg him to stay? For what? I know he wouldn’t go far. I have his shadow inked into my skin. I wear his ring. He’d know the moment anything went wrong.
But that’s not what’s making me want him close. The thought of not being beside him now… or ever… It unsettles me.
Everything else fades. All I can feel is the rise and fall of his chest as he weighs his next move, each breath syncing with the rhythm of my own heartbeat.
When the moment stretches for too long, I let out an annoyed breath and tell myself I don’t care whether he stays or leaves. He’s walked away before. He always comes back. I’ve been fine every time.
So why does the idea of him leaving tonight feel like it will pull the air out of the room with him?
He doesn’t move for a long while. Is he thinking? Listening? Deciding?
Then I hear a footstep. Forward or back?
Another step. Louder now.
Closer.
My heart stutters in my chest. A few more steps and the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits on the far side of the bed. I bite back a smile, warmth already tugging at my limbs.
“I won’t tolerate snoring,” he mutters as the bed creaks beneath his body.
I’m about to say something sarcastic, something about being a lady and how ladies don’t snore, but then his hand lands gently on my head.
I freeze, utterly forgetting to breathe. He runs his fingers through my hair, moving gently, arranging it like he’s memorizing every strand. I’m turned away from him, but it feels like my soul is facing his.
“No matter how much I despise the Crimson Tether,” he says, “I’m grateful it brought me to you, Trouble.” I realize he’s playing with the red strands. “No matter what happens next, I am sorry. For all the pain I’ve caused you.”
I turn, slowly, to face him. He’s lying on his side, fully dressed, but—thank the gods—without his cloak. One arm tucked beneath his head, the other still resting on my pillow, inches from my face.
He doesn’t pull back fast enough. I reach out and grab his hand before he can retreat, guiding it between us, pressing it into mine until our fingers tangle in the small space separating us.
“I’ve said hurtful things too,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry for every word. But,” I swallow, my cheeks warming. “Even your cruelest words… I’m grateful for them. Because without them, I don’t think I would’ve fought so hard. I wanted to prove you wrong.”
He smiles, but the expression falters, something like guilt shadowing his face. A flicker of pain crosses his features before he closes his eyes. The muscles in his jaw tense, and I know what that means. The chains.
I don’t ask. I don’t press. I just close my eyes too, offering him the silence he needs.
And as sleep slowly pulls me under, I’m almost sure I feel the calloused warmth of his hand cupping my cheek and hear the softest breath of a whisper like a prayer, or a plea.
A final apology that brushes against my skin like the hush of a feather.