32.
By noon, the rain was pouring in torrents.
Soldiers scrambled to secure their gear, covering wagons with tarpaulin and herding horses back into the safety of the stables. Watching the scene from the carriage, Aila tilted her head, gazing up at the bruised, darkened sky.
Between black clouds that unleashed heavy, relentless sheets of water, flashes of lightning flickered, accompanied by the low, guttural growl of thunder. It was clear the storm would not break anytime soon.
“It seems we will have to stay at the monastery for another day.”
Having evidently decided to postpone their departure, the Imperial Guard, who had been absent from the knights’ quarters, approached the carriage and pushed a waterproof robe through the gap in the door. Aila took it, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She was deeply displeased by the constant delays; the journey was already fraught with enough anxiety without these interruptions. She pulled on the raincoat, glancing repeatedly out the window.
“Where is His Highness the Crown Prince?”
“His Highness has gone to the Abbot’s private residence.”
Aila, who was pulling the hood over her head, frowned and turned toward the guard.
“Is he staying there again today?”
“It appears so.”
The knight lowered his gaze, his tone evasive. Aila cast a sharp look toward the group of monks gathered in the distance. As the Abbot stood under the cloister roof issuing instructions, the monks scattered in perfect, rhythmic order. She watched them intently.
Unlike the deference he showed toward Gareth, the Abbot appeared cold and grave. This, perhaps, was the man’s true nature. Aila narrowed her eyes. By design, an Imperial pilgrimage was a ritual intended to secure the support of citizens and influential figures in each region. It was not a bad thing for Gareth to build rapport with local notables, but the man’s background gnawed at her.
*‘If he managed to overcome the prejudice against his demi-human blood to rise to the position of Abbot, he must possess formidable political acumen… or a powerful backer.’*
Though she had spoken with him only briefly, she could tell he was no ordinary priest. While he maintained a polished, polite demeanor, she had glimpsed cold, calculating motives when he scrutinized Gareth. Was it possible he was an agent planted by the Empress? Had the Taren Family not worked closely with demi-humans for generations, ever since the Era of Ten Kingdoms? It could not be a mere coincidence that a quarter-elf had risen to such a high-ranking position within a massive establishment like Morda Monastery.
Perhaps he had already begun building a faction within the church to support the Second Imperial Prince…
“Your Highness?”
Lost in thought, Aila jerked her head up. Her Imperial Guard stood in the pouring rain, looking at her with genuine concern. Aila offered an awkward smile and rose to her feet.
“I’ve kept you standing in the rain for too long. Come, let’s go to our quarters.”
The knight took her hand to help her step down. Aila carefully placed a foot onto the muddy, squelching path. Heavy raindrops stung her scalp and shoulders; the downpour had only intensified. Pulling her hood tight, she hurried across the wide courtyard, veiled in a curtain of white rain, and entered the cloister surrounding the garden. She approached the priests, feigning an accidental encounter.
“Imperial Princess.”
The demi-human priest, who had been conversing with the Vice-Abbot, spotted her and quickly bowed. Aila donned a practiced, polite smile.
“It seems we are forced to impose upon you for one more day.”
“It is an honor to serve such noble guests.”
The priest replied, his head still bowed.
“Please, tell me if there is anything you require. If the monastery can prepare it, I shall have it ready at once.”
“I am grateful for your concern.”
Aila hesitated for a moment before carefully continuing.
“Then, may I ask one favor?”
“Please, tell me anything.”
“Tomorrow, I would like to hold a separate ritual for Talia. Could you bestow a blessing upon that child before we depart?”
The request clearly caught him off guard; the Abbot’s eyes widened slightly. Aila scrutinized his reaction. It lasted only a fleeting moment, but she saw a flicker of wariness appear and vanish within his light purple eyes.
“Are you saying you wish to hold a benediction ritual for the Second Imperial Princess?” he asked cautiously.
“Is there anyone else, pray tell?”
With a faint, icy smile, Aila added,
“We are staying another day anyway. Wouldn’t it be better if she underwent the ritual while we are here?”
“I had no idea Your Highness cared for the Second Imperial Princess to such an extent.”
At the sudden voice, Aila turned her head. Varkas had walked silently through the rain-drenched garden; he tossed back his dripping hood and cast a dry, unimpressed gaze her way.
Aila’s smile faltered. His face, soaked with rainwater, carried an air colder than usual. Seeing that hardened expression caused her nerves to sharpen. She knew his sensitivity regarding Talia stemmed from years of accumulated resentment; her step-sister’s tyranny had been so extreme that even this indifferent man could not help but be repulsed by her. Having endured her atrocities by his side for a grueling seven years, it was no wonder he felt such loathing.
Mentally, she understood, yet it was often unbearable to see this detached man react so sharply only when it concerned that child. Forgetting her intention to probe the Abbot, Aila reacted with rising emotion.
“I am worrying about you, not her. His Majesty entrusted her to you personally. If he finds out we held the ritual while leaving Talia out, you might face unnecessary reproach.”
“It is not as if I can drag someone who refuses to the altar.”
Aila stiffened at his mocking tone. She was accustomed to his coldness, but she could not tolerate his rudeness toward her on behalf of Talia Roem Gwirta. She lifted her chin defiantly.
“First, we must confirm Talia’s intentions. She is a fickle child; who knows? She might change her mind by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, we depart at the break of dawn,” Varkas said, cutting her off sharply. “I have no intention of changing our schedule based on the whims of the Second Imperial Princess.”
Having never had her opinions dismissed in such a manner, Aila flushed with indignation. She wanted to reprimand his arrogance, but she refused to undermine his authority in front of the others. She worked to hide her displeasure.
“If that is your will, Lord Siorcan, then so be it.”
As she conceded, Varkas turned his gaze toward the Abbot. The priest, who had been watching their confrontation with keen interest, quickly lowered his eyes. Varkas leveled a chilling stare at him and delivered a final, low warning.
“I would like for tonight to be as quiet as possible. If we are to depart at the break of dawn, His Highness the Crown Prince should get plenty of rest, should he not?”
It was a command to cancel any banquets or dinners. The Abbot nodded, his face stiff. As if to say there was nothing left to discuss, Varkas turned and held out a hand toward Aila.
“Let us go. I shall escort you to your quarters.”
Aila swallowed her sigh and took his hand.