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I’m washing down my third boiled egg with the tea that has finally made its way to the military camp when Nina enters the tent to inform me that there has been a change in my schedule.

“A change? From my father?” I inquire.

“No, um-” Nina hesitates more than usual and I plow forward.

“Then it must be my brothers. Which one?”

“Actually, neither your highness.”

Nina looks uncomfortable and I have a bad feeling that forces me to set down my cup and look at the attendant who has followed me around like a shadow since I’ve arrived.

.....

And Nina doesn’t disappoint. “Ahem,” she awkwardly clears her throat, her typical composure lost. “Bishop Duvernay wishes to speak with you.”

I raise an eyebrow but say nothing, my face doing all the talking. I don’t need to look to see that Emma is doing the same. Perhaps the pressure of two little kids staring intensely at her gets to Nina, because her overly obedient exterior cracks a second time.

“Your highness, I-” Nina stammers.

“Nina, who do you work for again? Because I’m quite certain, last time I checked anyways, that you are one of the people Emperor Helio sent me. Not someone House Duvernay sent,” There is a quiet steeliness within my soft voice, my obvious irritation peeking through.

After all, I’ve just gotten rid of one Duvernay on my ass and another one already wishes to take over. I can’t even look at roses the same any more thanks to this family.

Nina shivers as if its winter, but she didn’t try to refute anything I said.

“I wonder what they must be holding over your head, to obtain such a favor from one of the closest people to the princess who has been vetted by the emperor’s people,” I passively muse.

“Your highness! I have sinned, forgive me!” Nina falls to her knees, a few tears falling down her face. At some point I hadn’t noticed, Emma moved to stand by the tent entrance to prevent anyone from entering. It is just us three in the room.

“So you do you know did something wrong,” I stir the cup of tea and admire the silver spoon in the weak light, which is free from the dark tarnishing indicative of poisoning. “You could’ve killed me. And then, it wouldn’t just be you and me dying, but also your entire family, your friends, oh and whichever nobles my father wishes to get rid of.”

Loud sniffles filled the room. The dignity that seems etched into the bones of every royal attendant or maid is long gone. There is no Nina who walks in unison with the other attendants or has been trained to maintain a pleasing expression at all times. Just a sad girl who cries like she’s going through her first breakup.

“I-I shall leave your service, your highness. I do... I do not deserve to serve you as an attendant. But my task was only to inform you that B-Bishop Duvernay wishes to speak with you,” Nina says in between loud sniffles and wiping her leaky faucet of a nose on the sleeve of her uniform dress.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” I chuckle softly, recalling what happened the last time one of my maids was relieved of her services. “Whatever will the other attendants do without your guidance? You will not ‘take your leave’. I have yet to dismiss you from your services.”

Nina blinked up at me, her reddened eyes clashing with my gold ones. “Your highness,” her voice warring between hope and doubt, “You mean... I can stay? But I just-”

“Just betrayed me. Yes, you did. But I understand, after all, I wasn’t always royal. I know how taking care of others can put us in a compromising position,” I murmur, my mind cutting to Bianca, her sour disposition, and how weary she was from ‘working’ every single day.

“Thank you, your highness! I will never betray you again,” Nina stands and bows fully towards me, her sincerity making her do it with excess force.

“Enough, enough. I’m sure the other attendants need tending to. If someone from the medical area asks for my whereabouts, simply tell them that I am feeling a little ill this morning and will come in later.”

“Your highness, you will go?” Emma approaches me quietly after Nina hurries out of the tent.

I shrug, the casual motion disguising my inner determination. “I need to know if this man is as terrible of a foe as Katya, or worse.”

My mind flits back to the way the desperate soldiers had congregated around Bishop Duvernay as if his words alone could turn the battle around in the Empire’s favor. The sight had left a bad taste in my mouth, reminding too much of the religious cults who hold great sway and power over their followers. If Bishop Duvernay is of that ilk, considering how my powers are affiliated with the Holy Church, I may be in greater danger than ever.

The scenic outdoors beyond my shadowy tent contrast sharply with my mood. We approach the section of the military camp where the battle mages preside, their dark cloaks emblazoned with a golden sun covering their faces and adding an unnecessarily mysterious aura to them. They almost visually appear to be holy priests, but the tanned leather arm guards and staffs they carry allude to violence and impossible feats.

“Doesn’t this remind you of that time we went to see that crazy wizard dude?” I tell Emma as we approach the small clearing where Bishop Duvernay had practiced. I seem to have a knack for meeting characters out of storybooks. That time it was Gandalf. Today, it is Jack Skeleton.

As opposed to being filled with soldiers seeking out a battle mage to aid them with prayer, today it is entirely empty, presumably for our meeting.

Emma’s forehead is lined with confusion. “Dude, your highness?”

“Ahem. Ugh, guy. No, actually dude means ‘man’,” I quickly clarify.

“A man,” Emma seems skeptical, my strange vocabulary stumping her once more.

“Hehe, yes. Really!” I insist as she throws me a side-eye.

An oak tree marks the end of the prayer’s clearing, its wide branches offering much-needed shade in the sticky heat of the late summer. But a man stands beneath it, only visible once Emma and I fully enter the clearing. I’d scarcely paid him any mind when I first saw him weeks and weeks ago as a runaway kid finally catching a break. However, the vacation ended when my abilities showed themselves.

In between sessions of healing grateful soldiers and stuffing my face, I’ve had Emma sneak around camp and gather information on those who are in camp. And Emma, as I’ve come to fully realize, was very good at her job, leaving me with several, secret and not so secret people for me to pay attention to. She had done so well in fact, that if I were still my green, overly optimistic self from two and a half years ago, I perhaps might have foolishly been frightened instead of pleased.

Trepidation slows my steps as the man comes into view, but underneath it lies the same, foolhardy pleasure of tricking Augustus into granting me a place to stay at camp. Because you see, among the many people Emma brought to my attention, Nina and her strange midnight visits to the battle mage’s section of the camp was the first.

“Bishop Duvernay,” I utter in greeting, dropping into a slightly, sloppy curtsey as if I’m just a clueless child. Emma follows suit, dropping into an incorrect curtsey as well.

“Your highness...” Bishop Duvernay is tall and thin, like a pale piece of taffy that has been stretched to its limits. Even so, his face is hauntingly beautiful, a gothic caricature, the thin smile and knowing glint in his eyes sending chills down my spine.

“...I would presume that my sister has taught you better etiquette than that,” the bishop speaks slowly in a low tone, one that people could easily mistake as soothing.

Quite honestly, I don’t understand how people can find comfort in this man. Despite his pleasant white and blue robes and ever-present gloom, he sends out major creep vibes.

I pout slightly, the mildly daft expression on my face one I have practiced hundreds, if not thousands of times in front of a mirror. “I have been out of the palace for so long that I am a little out of practice. You’ll forgive me won’t you, Your Excellency?”

“Forgiveness is what the Holy Church teaches as one of its main tenets,” Bishop Duvernay replies, dropping a few religious pearls of wisdom like a true priest. “Forgiving others allows us to embrace Helio’s light more fully.”

I inwardly roll my eyes at his words, but earnestly look up at the bishop. “Did you call me here to talk about forgiveness?”

“Of course not. I called you here to speak of a death. Your death.”

I suck in air as if I was punched in the gut, my only reaction to the bishop’s jarring words. Emma stands out of earshot, but from my reaction, she casts a suspicious glance at Bishop Duvernay.

“Are you referring to how my mother sent asssassins after me when I ran away?” I help the bishop fully tear away the veil of politeness between us. “I can’t lie, I was a touch hurt by that. I’ve always learned that the Holy Church advocates for parents to cherish their children the way Helio cherishes his people.”

“Yes, that was indeed a shame. Especially since you truly are the promised child of the Empire.”

“Indeed.”

Bishop Duvernay speaks clearly and succinctly. “House Duvernay wishes you dead. But the Holy Church does not. As a member of both, this puts me in quite the conundrum.”

“I would imagine,” I nod understandingly as if we are talking about something other than my life. However, his words give me a lot to ponder about. Despite being from the Duvernay family, his words communicate that he too has interests outside of his family’s goals. Interests that I can perhaps align myself with.

He peers at me, piercing blue eyes that are so different yet so similar to his sister’s hazel ones.

“You are not afraid, little princess?”

“No, I’m terrified,” I answer honestly. “I’ve simply learned how to carry on with my life in spite of the fear. Hiding away in the Rose Palace, after all, only made my life harder.”

“Perhaps we can come to an understanding today, then,” Bishop Duvernay says after contemplating what I’ve said.

I purse my lips, not ready to answer him fully. He interlocks his fingers in front of his person as he says those words and it reminds me of a spider’s web wrapping around its prey. Even if I can align with his interests today, there is no guarantee on how long the intersection could last.

“What do you want?” I bite and take the bait. The bishop’s thin lips peel back into a pleasant smile and I can hear the warning bells ringing inside my head.

“I want you to become a member of the Holy Church.”