Estevan snickered, and her cheeks turned red.
“You promised!” she said, huffing. “You honorless man!”
“It is …” He chuckled, shoulders shaking rhythmically along. “This is quite—”
“Ridiculous, I am aware.”
He guffawed some more, and she hit him again on the shoulder. “Sorry, I am sorry! Stop hitting me.”
“Then stop laughing!”
Estevan tried to extinguish his laughter behind his hand. “Semras, daughter of the witch and the woodcutter. You are quite the fairy tale princess, aren’t you?” More chuckles fled from his lips.
“Let’s talk about you instead. Your father is a cardinal, a man of the cloth! And your mother—” She paused, blinking. “… Who’s your mother? Let’s see if you are any better than I.”
“That story is not as interesting as yours,” he replied, sobering up at once. “My father met her while at war. He thought he would die, had a single night of sin, and figured the Radiant Lord would forgive and forget. Seven years later, she dropped me at his house.”
Semras’ glee deflated. “Oh. I … I’m sorry.”
“It happened long ago,” he replied, looking away. “It is fine now.”
Another lie, she noticed, yet one she understood all too well. Her own mother hadn’t meant to abandon her, but the sting of her absence felt just as painful as if she had.
Semras hesitated a moment, then took his hand in hers and squeezed.
His head whipped back to her. Wide-eyed, Estevan gaped at her, then slowly, timidly, laced his fingers through hers. Ears flushed, he leaned closer, keeping his stride in tempo with hers. “It really is fine,” he muttered. “I spent many years resenting her for leaving me behind, but I do not anymore.”
“What changed?”
“Well … a boy needs to become a man one day, and that man understood she did what was best for her son. It was not right, but it was not wrong either—it was just … for the best.”
A dark thought passed through her mind. After being abandoned by his mother, the inquisitor now had to oppose his own brother. Estevan must have felt conflicted, but he had shown no sign of hesitancy past his initial disbelief. His duty, as he once called it, demanded cruel offerings from him.
Had their situation been reversed, she wasn’t sure if she could have shown half the grit he had.
Estevan let go of her hand. “We should proceed with the investigation. Any more delay, and Maldoza will become suspicious of our ‘scouting.’”
Semras paled as Blyana’s warning came surging back to the forefront of her mind. “It’s … it’s worse than that … The Elders know I was the one who sent the Coven a message. If they learn I’m here, they’ll want answers, and they won’t take kindly to my bringing you here.”
The inquisitor cursed quietly. “Then we best hurry before they hear of your return.”
“Yes, let’s.” Studying the rows of shops they arrived at, Semras noted each stall selling botanical ingredients. “If someonebought prickly comfrey recently, they’d have looked for it here. We’re searching for dried herbs, not flowers. Comfrey is past its blooming season, and the prickly variety isn’t a popular ingredient, so I doubt many keep it in stock right now.”
“Good. If someone bought any then, it will probably be our medicine maker. If you find out from where, ask the seller to write the specific amount and who bought it. This, along with the remedy’s original recipe, should be enough to establish reasonable doubt. And if it is not the medicine maker who bought comfrey, then we may have found who worked with Cael to mess with the remedy.” The inquisitor’s gaze jumped from stall to stall, mentally cataloguing the ones worth checking. “Take the left. I will search on the right. We meet back at the giant tree in the middle of the coven grounds once done.”
“You want to split up?” Semras asked, alarmed. “Estevan, it’s too—”
“We have little choice; we need to leave as soon as possible. You cannot be found here,” he said. “And neither can I.”
Semras sighed. “Fine … but if I’m caught, you must leave Yore at once. Find Blyana and ask her to lead you out.”
The inquisitor kept studying the right lane of the alley. “If you are caught, where will they take you?”
“Estevan …”
“Where?”
Semras sighed. “The Mother-Tree, in the middle of the coven grounds. That’s where the Elders are. But you must stay outside of it; this place is forbidden to outsiders. And stay discreet while looking for the comfrey. Do not take the risk of running into a warwitch.”
