“Yes, Father.”
He turned, walking down the aisle to the chapel door. Once there, he began speaking with Brother Gabriel, their voices low. I lingered where I was, pretending to straighten the folds of my robe while sneaking one last glance across the chapel.
Jace was listening politely to a group of the men who’d gathered to greet him—new faces always stirred curiosity here—but his expression was distant, like there was something else on his mind. The candlelight picked up the edge of his sharp jaw and the tiniest drop of sweat on his brow.
I ducked my head quickly when he turned, though I doubted he’d seen me. My heart was pounding so hard it almost made me dizzy.
Light, forgive me, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
He was really here! After days of wondering whether he’d ever come back, he had.
Father said attachment clouded the channel, that the Vessel must remain pure of personal desire and social distractions. I believed him—I always believed him—but that didn’t make the warmth in my chest any easier to smother.
He was mycrush.
Maybe I could ask permission to speak with Jace. Just a short conversation. To welcome him properly, as a Brother should. After all, Father had allowed me to speak to him during his visit, so maybe it’d be okay.
My stomach fluttered at the thought.
I wondered if he remembered me, too. He probably didn’t.
But still… I hoped I got to talk to him again, if only to welcome him to the Covenant.
While I’d been deep in my thoughts, the door to the chapel had closed, leaving me alone in the quiet. I worried for a second, as I thought Father had forgotten my step stool, but it was down there—I must’ve just not noticed Father pushing it around the Seat.
Even with the assistance of the stool, getting up and down was a bit of a challenge. I scooted forward, bringing my butt to the edge of the stone chair, then grasped the edge with both hands before dropping the few inches to the stool.
The stone was cool against my palms, and for a moment I stayed there, catching my breath.
The chapel always felt different when it was empty—like the Light lingered, watching, waiting. I whispered a small prayer under my breath, thanking it for allowing me to serve again tonight.
Then I gathered my robe and stepped off the stool, careful not to let it scrape the floor.
The side door to my rooms was hidden behind a wooden panel that creaked faintly when I pushed it open. The air on the other side was faintly scented with lavender, and the smell alone made my heart feel so full because it meant Dahlia had left me a sachet, as she sometimes did when she thought I needed my rest. I wasn’t supposed to say much of anything to her, or her to me—well, besides during confession—but I liked to think we communicated in little nonverbal ways.
I closed the door behind me and hummed as I walked through the small kitchen into my bedroom.
I lit the small lamp on my desk and hung my robe on its hook. My sleeping clothes were folded neatly on the chair—plain cotton, soft from many washings. I changed quickly, running a hand through my hair to shake loose the stiffness.
I pressed a hand to my chest as I sat on the edge of my bed and laughed under my breath. “You’re being ridiculous,” I whispered to myself.
But it didn’t make the butterflies go away.
He was really here. Jace was here, in one of the dormitories, probably settling into his bed right now, just like I was, only a few buildings away.
I wondered if he liked his room. If he’d gotten one of the newer mattresses from the last supply delivery. If he thought the robes were comfortable or too hot. If he was nervous or homesick.
I knew I shouldn’t think about those things. Father always said that my mind should be clear when I prayed, but every time I tried to imagine a blank space, Jace’s face appeared in it instead—his dark eyes, his small smile.
I stood for a moment to turn off the light, then climbed back into bed, the sheets cool against my skin. Moonlight slipped through the window, spilling onto the floorboards. I folded my hands over my chest and whispered another prayer—this one softer, more secret.
“Light, keep him safe here,” I murmured. “Help him find peace, and help me… be good.” My throat tightened around the last word.
Outside, the night insects began their quiet song, and I let my eyes close. I told myself I was only excited that a new face had joined us. That was all. That was what Father would want.
But as I drifted toward sleep, I couldn’t stop the tiny, traitorous thought that slipped in before dreams took me.
I hope I’ll see him in the morning.
