I should have been afraid. I should have run again, should have prayed, should have done anything but curl tighter into the embrace of that unseen presence. But I was just a child, and my mother was gone, and I had just burned down the only home I’d ever known.
I had done that.
I did not know how. But I’d done it, and some part of me—some growing, angry part—hadwantedto.
Do not let hatred take root.
I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry.
But the roots were wrapped around my heart, and they had never let go.
My chest heaved as the memory faded, Heinrich’s hand still tight around my arm.
You knew. You have always known. This is all your fault.
“They took her. They took her and burned her because of me. I prayed for it, Heinrich. I prayed for it and God damned me!”
The words cut me on the way out. I’d never spoken them aloud. Not to Liebchen, not in confession, not even in the darkest hours of the night when guilt sat heavy on my chest and made it impossible to breathe. But now they were out, hanging in the air between us, and I could not take them back.
“I told Vicar Förner.” My voice cracked. “In confession. I told him I wished my mother would stay home, that I was lonely when she went out at night. And three days later, the Schergen broke down our door.” A sob caught in my throat. “I burned down our house, Heinrich. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know how, but the fire came fromme. And I’ve been so afraid—so afraid of what I might do if I ever let myself feel that rage again.”
Heinrich’s grip on my arm loosened. His thumb traced a slow circle against my sleeve, and when he spoke, his voice was the soft and patient one I knew.
“You were a child, Katharina. A child who trusted the wrong man with a secret that should have been sacred.” His other hand came up to cup my chin, tilting my face toward his. “Förner is the one who betrayed you. The Church is the one who murdered your mother. You carry guilt that was never yours to bear.”
“You don’t understand.” I pulled back, shaking my head. “The fire—I wanted it. If I let myself feel that again, if I stop being careful?—”
“Careful.” He said the word, and the harshness returned. “You have been careful for ten years, and what has it earned you? A life in the shadows where you punish yourself for wanting more. Your caution has not protected you, Katharina. It has only made you smaller.”
“At least I’m alive.”
His eyes searched mine. “I do not want you to survive, I want you to live. I want you to glow so bright that no darkness can remain. I want them all to see you the way I do, like the first dawn, so perfect and beautiful that even God could not look away.”
I had no answer. He knew I had no answer.
His expression softened further, and helooked exactly like the Heinrich I had first met—gentle and earnest, a priest who truly cared for the souls in his keeping.
“What if you didn’t have to be afraid anymore?” His voice was low. “What if I could promise you that no one would ever hurt you again?”
The words settled like stones dropped into still water. I wanted to believe them. God help me, I wanted it so badly my chest ached with the wanting. But I knew the pain such desires always wrought.
“You can’t promise that,” I whispered. “No one can promise that.”
“You do not believe me?” he asked, his voice filled with a fond annoyance that made something flutter beneath my ribs despite everything. “That is fine. Unlike the Almighty, I do not require faith without proof. I can show you.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. As his breath ghosted over my neck, I hated the shiver that ran down my spine. Hated how my body leaned toward him even as my mind screamed warnings. That even now, even knowing something was deeply wrong, I still wanted him closer. That I never wanted him to let go.
“Tomorrow, the Bishop has ordered everyone to attend Mass at the cathedral. There, I will earn your faith, my dove.”
His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he spoke, and the touch sent heat spilling through me, pooling low in my belly.
“And then you will see that there are other powers in this world. Powers that actually answer when you call.”
He released me and stepped back, and the absence of his warmth left me shivering in the dim light.
“Until tomorrow,” he murmured, and smiled.
It was Heinrich’s smile. But the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to lean toward him, and I swore I felt them wrap around my ankles.
