“To officially answer your question, Miss Courter,” Father Viktor says, “the wedding will occur by midnight after the final Blessing Ceremony. Now, with all those details out of the way, I do wish you the best of luck and a wonderful time. This is our church’s first bridal contest, and we hope it won’t be the last.”
Brother Billius’ smile grows wider at this last part.
Footsteps sound from behind me and I turn to see several boys like the one who took my bag—all young teens, if I were to make a guess about human aging. They file down the aisle, and one boy stops at each occupied pew.
“Be blessed by His Holy Fire,” Viktor says and makes the fist-to-heart gesture again. “If you will, please follow your assigned initiate to your sleeping quarters.” With that, he, Billius, and Dorian leave the dais and exit out a side door.
* * *
The initiates leadus out of the churchy part of the church, which I have now learned—thanks to the boy assigned to me—is called a nave. From there, we enter the front antechamber and take another door that leads to a dimly lit hall. After a few turns, we pass a courtyard garden, then take a flight of stairs. Finally, we come to a wing of the church lined with closed doors.
My guide stops outside one of them. “This is your room, Miss—I mean, Your Highness.”
“No need to call me that,” I say with a flippant wave of my hand. “Maisie is fine.”
The boy grimaces. “Oh, I don’t think that’s proper.”
“And I’m not a very proper princess. I’m not too fond of thisYour Highnessbusiness.”
The boy shifts from foot to foot and says, “If you insist I call you Maisie, I will call youMissMaisie.”
“I’ll accept that,” I say with a resigned sigh. “And you are?”
“Initiate Jeremy.”
“How old are you, Jeremy?”
“Thirteen. Dinner is at five this evening and I will be back to escort you. Do not leave the women’s wing without me. Chaperones won’t be required tonight as it will be a group occasion. Speaking of chaperones…” The boy clears his throat. “This wing of the church has been specially reserved for women for the duration of the pageant. So your…friend will find his room downstairs.”
My eyes widen and I press Podaxis closer to my chest. “What? Why?”
“Only female chaperones are allowed to reside in this wing. Please, Your Highness, I don’t want to tell you what to do, as you’re a royal, but my superiors were quite insistent that I ensure your male companion would not room with you. It would cause quite a scandal.” His cheeks turn beet red at that.
I suppress a groan. No one batted an eye when I roomed with Podaxis at the Lunar palace a year ago. Of course, that was a fae environment and an unseelie one at that.
“He’ll have his very own room in the initiates’ wing,” Jeremy says. “It’s just one floor down.”
Podaxis taps my shoulder in a soothing gesture. “It’s all right,” he says. Despite his consoling tone, my heart sinks. Fungus sprites do not like being alone, and Podaxis has rarely ever had to be. “I’ll be fine.”
“Very well,” I say.
Jeremy looks from me to Podaxis. “Do I…carry you, Mister Crab?”
My friend snaps a pincer his way. “The name is Podaxis, boy, and no, I can walk on my own.” He scurries out of my grip and I set him down. No sooner than he touches the ground does he scuttle down the hall.
The boy chases after him. “I am to escort you, Mister…Podaxis. Wait! Let me show you where our quarters are.”
My lips curl into a sad smile as I watch Podaxis round the corner. Once he disappears, I turn my attention to the other side of the wing, finding all the other girls have entered their rooms, some with the doors open to let out strains of excited conversation, others with their doors closed.
I enter my room, finding a sparsely furnished space. It may be modest, but it feels like a palace after my tiny accommodations at the theater. It’s about four times the size. While the bed is only slightly larger than I’m used to, it’s covered in clean linen sheets and a wool blanket, with a nice fat pillow propped in front of the headboard. Above that hangs a framed painting depicting the same scene behind the altar in the nave. The pale walls are otherwise unadorned, aside from a curtained window. The only other furnishings in the room are a bedside table, dressing table, and wardrobe. My bag rests on the floor in front of the latter, but I head straight for the window.
Sliding the curtains aside, I’m greeted by sunlight and a view of the garden one floor below. The garden is open to the sky and filled with an array of greenery surrounding a spiral walking path that leads to a circular courtyard in the middle. I spot a few of the brothers dressed in robes trimming hedges and pruning shrubs, but other than that, it’s empty. For several moments I do nothing but stare at the view, watching the brothers work, admiring the tallest branches of a slim white birch, its leaves caught by the breeze overhead. I allow my mind to empty, forget the dark deed I must do—
“Maisie.”
I leap back with a shout as a sharptapraps on my window. Then I spot one red claw waving over the sill outside. “What the shells…Podaxis?” I hurry back to the window and flip the latch. I find my friend clinging to the windowsill. He ducks as the window swivels outward, and I lean forward to drag him inside before I catch the attention of the gardeners. With the window closed and locked behind us, I turn to my friend with a surprised grin. Podaxis isn’t known for being spontaneous or daring. “What are you doing?”
He looks up at me from the floor. “My room is just downstairs. Didn’t you hear the boy?”
