The single mark of Ateus with raised hands sat upon her brow. She tapped Theo’s leg with her cane and pointed to the seat beside her. “Sit.”
Theo did as she commanded. She was the high priestess after all.
“You ask for forgiveness.”
Theo’s eyes trailed to where he’d once kneeled and wondered if he’d accidentally spoken aloud.
“You don’t need to say what’s in your heart for the gods to know.” She patted Theo’s hand as it rested against his thigh. “You are a soldier who has seen battle.”
Theo’s eyes now lingered on his clothes. In the dark, he’d thrown on a rumpled blue shirt and black trousers, nothing resembling his uniform.
“That dagger has seen many battles in the hand of a Fastrada, Captain.” Her smile was warm, and it allowed Theo to release the tension in his shoulders he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “I presume you are Theodoric. I doubt Luther has grown this strong.” She poked Theo’s bicep. “And you are no Adelaide or the young Jeremiah.”
“You know my siblings?”
“As high priestess of Ateus, it is my duty to bless our duke and his family, and I see my prayers have been answered.” She leaned back and rested her cane against the bench. “I hear Jeremiah is acting more like you every day. Adelaide is a miracle in herself. Your stepmother and father have miraculously arranged a betrothal for Luther, and you, my dear, have come home to us.”
Theo should’ve felt elated, but the idea of his older brother’s Conjugation to celebrate his betrothal in the Crimsonreign season threatened nausea, and any thoughts of Adelaide and Jeremiah were still heavy. The hardest part of coming home had been the anticipation of seeing his younger siblings and whether they’d accept who he’d become. Jeremiah had grown at least a foot. Adelaide had been standing in the foyer waiting for him when he’d arrived, but his sister had forgone her youth and become a woman. She walked with radiating confidence. For three years he’d left them.
There were many nights when he thought he’d never see Luana Bay again or hear his siblings’ laughter. Theo wished for a welling in his chest or emotion to flood him, but there was nothing where his heart should’ve been. It beat, but for what, he didn’t know anymore.
The priestess leaned closer and rested her hand against his forehead. Theo closed his eyes, receiving her blessing like he had from the high priestess who resided in Luana Bay before he left for the war. She murmured, and Theo dared open his eyes to see her wrinkly features pressed tightly together in a cringe.
“The suffering you carry upon your shoulders would kill a king.”
Theo jumped from the pew, knocking over an iron candle holder. It crashed to the ground and further raced his heart. “How would you know that?”
She merely sighed and stood, wobbling without her cane as she pointed it at him. “You will crumble under its pressure. One day, you will have to decide your fate, one not even the great Ovrus, God of Destiny, can predict.”
Theo’s breath quickened before the frail priestess. “My fate is already decided—”
“No one’s fate is certain. You may have lived through this war, but will you survive the next?” She turned, the echo of her cane bouncing off the stone walls.
Theo couldn’t speak.Another war?He couldn’t live through another one. The sheer agony of the loss alone would bring him to his knees.
Before she disappeared into the dark, she took one last look at him. “Pray for your miracle, Theodoric. It might be closer than you think.”
He didn’t wait for her to retreat before he took off through the temple and threw open the doors. Huffing, he leaned into one of the stone pillars to ground himself. What had she meant by another war? Were the sailors on the docks the beginning?
“That was longer than expected.”
Theo whirled. Esaias seated himself on the stone monument marking Ateus’s temple with his leather boots caked in mud dangling off the side. He raised his brows and smirked.
“That is sacred.” Theo pointed to the slab of stone Esaias was defiling with his close proximity.
Esaias gazed down at the stone and shrugged before he hopped off. He didn’t sway, nor did he have a permeating smell of alcohol.
“You weren’t at the tavern?”
“Taverns are for celebrating. We discovered members of the Accordson our waters, and three of our soldiers have been sent to Duncaster’s mystique for healing, who I hear is inexperienced and lacks the proper training.”
“At least they have a mystique,” Theo countered.
Luana’s old mystique had traveled with them across the waters to aid in treating the wounded, but he hadn’t been among the people who’d returned. He’d been killed two years in, when Mosfelkov forces hit an infirmary. It’d been disgraceful, but Theo had known they were merciless.
“Is that who you went to pray for? Old Cornelius Wellins?”
“You know that’s not who I prayed for.” Theo’s hand trembled at the thought of whose name he’d muttered at the god’s feet. He grasped his shaking hand and attempted to massage the muscles to keep Esaias from noticing. He failed.
