But to her, this was a question of loyalty.
Who should she seek to rescue first: her oldest, dearest friend…or her husband?
Seraphina swayed where she knelt; her eyes fluttered closed.
Father Perero’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “The Lord on High does not choose the prepared, Seraphina,” he whispered, the quiet words barely audible through the pounding of her own pulse within her ears. “He prepares the chosen.”
Through numb lips, she muttered, “Then I must not be chosen, for I am woefully ill-prepared.”
Despite everything, the Shepherd chuckled.
When her eyes fluttered back open, she found him staring at her with a small smile on his lips—as if he understood her far better than she understood herself. “When Mysai fell, what did you do, Your Majesty?”
She answered without pause, “I abandoned my troops in Mysai to die.”
“You evacuated the defenseless civilians and saved hundreds of lives,” he corrected her, his tone gentle but firm. “And when you learned of Coreto’s betrayal, what did you do?”
The mere sound of the nameCoretowas enough to make her hands clench into fists. “I let the viper live. And he came back to bite me.”
“You showed mercy where others would not—”
“I showedweaknesswhere others would not!” she shouted, the words ringing off the cold stone walls. “If I had killed Coreto when I had the chance, perhaps I could have saved Goldreach.”
“And condemned your own soul in the process?” Father Perero asked, his voice dropping to a grave whisper that carried more weight than any shout.
She flinched away from the undeniable truth in his eyes.
But still he continued. “You say you showed weakness in sparing Coreto, but is it weakness to show mercy as the Lord bids us to do—to live by His laws instead of the world’s?”
He paused, as if waiting for her to answer his clearly rhetorical question.
When she did not, he rocked back on his heels, grasped the pew beside them, and shoved himself back to his feet with a quiet grunt and the crackle of popping joints.
Breathless, the Shepherd whispered, “You have been called, Your Majesty. You must now trust that the Lord will prepare you for that calling, no matter what trials may come.”
Out of all the things Father Perero had ever said to her, it was that word in particular—trust—that made her recoil as if he had just physically struck her. “But Idotrust Him—”
“Do you?” Father Perero asked, his gaze piercing through her defenses. “When you sit here, doubting every past decision you have ever made? Fearing every mistake you might yet make in the future?”
Seraphina opened her mouth to argue, wanting to hotly deny everything he had just accused her of, but the words died on her tongue. She could not deny them because he was right. She did doubt. She did fear. Even now, after everything she had been through.
Hold fast, Tsukiko had written.
But she had managed to hold fast for only a week before breaking once more.
The silence stretched between them, growing larger and heavier with each passing moment. The candlelight danced, casting shadows across the Shepherd’s face, masking his true expression from view. But she could imagine it well enough.
Surely, he was just as disappointed with her as she was with herself.
Her shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of her, leaving only exhaustion in its place. “I doubt because there are so many relying on me, Father,” she softly confessed. “I fear because there are even more looking to me for guidance when I have no answers. Goldreach or Arlund? Aldric or another option I have not yet considered?”
She looked down at her empty hands, as if the worn leather of her fur-lined gloves might hold the answers she sought. “I have nothing.”
Father Perero crouched down, his hands slipping into the clasp of hers. His grip was warm and strong. Giving her fingers a squeeze, he helped her back to her feet.
“You have everything that you need already, Seraphina de la Croix,” her Shepherd whispered, his tone back to the gentle thrum she knew so well. “Trust in that. Trust in Him. The way forward will become clear once you do.”
Everything that she needed already?
