So Rissa dared to lift her eyes a little more, landing on the man's hands—and the ornate signet ring he wore.
"Praetor," she breathed.
Her inspection had taken less than a second, and yet she had a feeling this man had noticed it all. His soft chuckle, however, made it clear he didn't mind.
"Do you know why you're here today, Ingénue?" the Praetor asked.
"No, Your Grace," she replied.
He chuckled again. "Can you guess?"
And that was when her eyes jumped up to find his waiting. The man's smile was the kindest thing she'd ever seen. His eyes were a shade of blue she hadn't expected. Pale and ghostly, agehad faded them to hint at the memories held in this man's mind. She could also see wisdom, and maybe a hint of something mischievous from the tension at the corner of his mouth, but all of that made her feel more comfortable. It was as if Praetor Benedict had been designed to make people trust him.
"Legate Sinclair," she said, answering his question, "has requested me as a witness in his formal hearing."
"Mm-hmm," he agreed. "And can you help him, child?"
"Yes, Praetor."
"Benedict," he corrected. "And you, I was told, are Rissa."
Her entire body stilled. "Not officially, Benedict."
"Ah, but we all know that official things are merely the gaps between the reality we live in. It's what we put on the papers to make ourselves look good. What I want to know, Rissa, is what you think of Brother Sin."
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, the movement hidden by her veil. "I think Legate Sinclair Cassis is the finest in the Legion. He is an honorable man who has an intense temper and an impeccable sense of justice. He helps those who cannot help themselves, and actually follows through with it—even if he is brash and coarse." She dropped her eyes to his hands again. "I think Brother Sin is a good priest, and he makes me able to understand the beauty of religion, even if I cannot believe in what you call God."
"And how do you feel about him?" Benedict pressed.
Her eyes traced the cuticles on the man's nails, jumping from finger to finger. "Brother Sin is my handler, protector, and I hope his friendship is true, because I have never had one before." And then, before he could ask yet another question, she dared to add, "And I'm concerned about your health, Praetor."
"Still Benedict," he reminded her.
"Yes, Benedict," she agreed. "Your name, however, does not change the color of your nails. There is a hint of blue near the quick. That is often an early sign of heavy metal poisoning."
"Mm..." the man murmured again, nodding his head slowly. "So you are as brilliant as he claimed." Then he reached over and patted her clasped hands. "I suspected as much. My health has recently taken a turn, but that's in God's hands. My bigger concern is whether or not you can prove Sin's innocence."
Once again, her eyes jumped up to his face. "Yes, Benedict. I have made sure the visual and audio memories have all been recorded and time stamped. If you have a port and a monitor, I will be able to show you exactly what happened that night."
"That's my girl," he praised.
"But you need to seek treatment for your condition," Rissa went on. "Praetor Benedict, the Legion needs you at this time, and?—"
"No," he cut in. "Rissa, in a conflict like this, someone must be sacrificed. I am that person."
"But—"
Again, he cut her off. "I am old, Ingénue. I'm sacrificing a year of my life—maybe five—for many decades of Sin's. You know as well as I do that if I am cured, he will be the next target. That is why I need you to promise me you will not tell him about this. Sinclair needs to watch over the flock. You, Rissa, need to lead him the right way. To do that, you must first fight for him."
"I cannot fight," she pointed out.
Benedict just tapped his head. "With your mind. Make sure he is innocent. Make sure he is taken care of. Make sure the greatest Legate I have ever known is willing to step up and be the true hand of God—forallthose who need him—even when it's hard. Can you do that for me?" He lifted a finger. "It will be just as hard for you as it will for him."
"I cannot do much from the Enclave," she said softly.
"And the enhanced are not slaves," Benedict told her. "Fight back, Rissa, even in small ways. In order to fix the problem within the Legion, we must also address the problems with our city. People make the faith just as much as our God does."
"I don't know how," she admitted.
