Chapter 40: Bloodline

  "From another world? Like me?"

  The question didn't bother her, she took it like a stoic.

  I waited for a flinch. A gasp. Anything that would betray a lie. But her expression remained perfectly still, a porcelain mask under the relentless sun. Beautiful, but without answers I was looking for.

  At that moment, the garden vanished. The chirping birds, the cloying scent of flowers, the heat—it all narrowed down to her face. I studied every muscle, every twitch of her emerald eyes, looking for the truth.

  "So many questions, Leonard," she finally said, her voice light and playful. She held my gaze, calm and unbothered. "But today, mostly I answered."

  Dappled sunlight glided over the Princess’s light beige skin, but pressed against mine with oppressive warmth, stoking the fever. Making the itch in my exposed neck bones more annoying. Like her non-reply.

  She turned away before I could press further, forcing me to follow her on the gravel path. Hedgeline was limiting my options, I could only move forward.

  "And look," she gestured with a tilt of her chin. "You led us to the garden's exit."

  I ground my teeth. The garden's solid door at the end of the smooth gravel path stood like a warden of truths.

  *She's playing me. She always was, but before it was just fliriting.*

  *But this time she plays with one thing that matters to me. Unforgivable.*

  The thought sent a spike of anger through my chest, hotter than the fever burning under my skin.

  "Because I have to go back to the Temple, Princess," I blurted out, the words scratching my throat. "But you didn't answer."

  She didn't stop. Her dress swayed rhythmically as she approached the heavy wooden gates. The end of the line.

  She was going to shove me back into Evadne's hands without confirming the one thing that made sense of all this madness.

  *Althea, Pythia, Pandora. None of them willing to send me back. And Ariadne? No different.*

  "Silas, open the door," I ordered, my voice rasping with a confidence I didn't feel.

  Before he could react, the Princess grabbed the thick lever handle. The heavy timber groaned as the lock clicked, but Ariadne stopped just inches from the threshold. She turned to me, and for a heartbeat, the playful glint in her eyes died.

  "My bloodline is not a secret."

  Her voice softened, losing its theatrical edge. She looked at me intently—not as a Princess looking at a subject, but like a fellow convict in prison.

  The gate swung outward. The garden’s chaotic chirping and rustling suddenly felt deafening against the grim silence waiting inside. Evadne was waiting on the other side, her arms crossed, her golden eyes assessing us.

  The Princess didn't look back at me. She turned her head toward my caretaker, offering the answer to Evadne rather than to me.

  "You can ask anybody, Leonard."

  *...*

  The Princess's words threw up an invisible wall between the Saint and the High Priestess.

  *Princess, you damn fox.*

  My boots seemed to sink into the gravel, reluctant to cross the threshold. I looked at the High Priestess. She met my gaze, tense but composed, waiting for me to step back into her care. Into the hallway's shadow.

  The Princess took my arm, squeezing it gently.

  "Thank you, Leonard," she said, her eyes locked on the High Priestess. "I had a wonderful time."

  The High Priestess and I both remained stiff, though for different reasons.

  The Princess rose on her tiptoes to reach my ear, whispering loudly enough that High Priestess surely heard.

  "For the third, write to me, Leonard." Her breath brushed against my ear.

  The Princess stepped back, took the painting from the guard, and handed it to me like a reward.

  I took the unframed canvas, but my focus remained on the High Priestess.

  "For the fourth, take the painting with you."

  She finished her performance by placing her hand on my chest. Her voice was gentle. "Looking forward to our next meeting. Goodbye, Leonard."

  And she left, just like that. Leaving the guards as the only witnesses to the staring contest between me and the High Priestess.

  *All this time High Priestess. You knew.*

  "Leonard," Althea took the opportunity, "we need her."

  *She is right. I need her—for the Crucible.*

  "But Leonard, after the Crucible... we can discard her."

  Not looking at the High Priestess, but rather through her, I walked toward the corridor. The grim, cool air washed over my face as I entered the shadow. My teeth hurt - I clenched them tight.

  Brown hair cascaded over the High Priestess’s white robe; a faint scent of lavender drifted through the air when I walked past her. The corridor we came from unfolded ahead, beige tapestries warming the walls and frescoes decorating the ceiling.

  "High Priestess, please summon Pythia. It's time we go back." My voice matched the chill in the air.

  The only reply was my footsteps and the stifled growls of the royal guard's hounds. I ignored the ache in the neck and looked at the High Priestess over my shoulder, still walking. My shadows were right behind me, silent, aware, and protective. Silas and Severus.

  The thin line formed by the High Priestess’s lips moved quietly. "She's still in the meeting, Leonard."

  She stood like a sculpture, hands clasped in front of her—a gesture I knew calmed her. The High Priestess hid behind her religious station. Hid behind Pandora. Chose Temple over me in the one thing that mattered the most to me.

  I turned away from her.

  After a moment, she fell into step behind us. Our footsteps filled the growing silence. My slow and calculated stomps, her tense and hesitant steps, my shadows's light and barely heard.

  "Althea, relay to Pythia that I'm going back to the Magichariot Port immediately," I said in my mother tongue. "With or without them."

  ~ ? ? ~

  The awkward silence between the High Priestess and me held firm against the loud noises of the port. Behind me the ramp grew toward the Magichariot with metallic clatter. Vibrant bass of the Magichariot resonated in my ears.

  The Priestess tried to break the wall between us.

  "About the Princess, Leonard... what did she mean?"

  My efforts kept the wall intact.

  "Nothing in particular, High Priestess."

  She gave up eventually, and we had to wait a few minutes in the Magichariot Port before Pythia and Legatus joined us.

  I spotted them a hundred steps to the left—Pythia and the Legatus exiting the palace stairs. The duo surrounded with heavy escort walked through checkpoints and barriers toward us. They were exchanging conspiratorial whispers and hiding their amusement. Two Holy Knights opening and closing the formation were at least two heads taller than the rest.

  The moment the heavy thuds of the Sacred Armor came closer, Pythia's focus finally shifted to me and the High Priestess. The smile withered on her face. She spoke after measuring both of us and the painting for a long, irritating moment.

  "Saint Leonard, do you have a moment?"

  "I'd like to return to the Temple immediately, Highest Priestess." I gave her a shallow bow and turned toward the marvel behind me. "The Magichariot is ready from what I see."

  "Let's go." Without waiting for their reply, I climbed the ramp, straining to hear if they would follow. It wasn't easy; the humming noise of the Magichariot grew louder—just like the noisy thoughts in my head, which I shoved aside for the time being.

  *Training. Victory. Home.*

  *All that matters.*

  *Ariadne maybe opened a new path back home, or some clues, that's all.*

  I told myself.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  They followed. Before the High Priestess caught up, I was already buckled in. I held the cold clasp as proof and dismissed her with a polite, "Thank you, I already got this." There were many places to pick - the Magichariot's interior was spacious and filled with armchairs - but she sat beside me.

  Her face was unreadable in the dark when she nodded and sat in her place. The door closed, trapping us in the darkness. A rosy scent mixed with lavender. A glaring net of eyes, two of them cat-like, watched over me during the short journey.

  ~ ? ? ~

  I unclasped the straps holding me in the comfy chair of the Magichariot when we were still decelerating. The opening doors let the vibrating hum and the port's murmur in. Despite the light bleeding through, the darkness inside was vast. The rows of chairs faded into the shadows. I didn't see the end of it.

  I stood up quickly, ignoring the crunch in the knees and marched past surprised Evadne in silence, without as much as a look at her.

  The warmth of the port's air was nothing in comparison to the cold rage growing inside me. During the descent from the ramp, I moved past the Inquisitor. He was rushing up to meet Pythia - "Highest Priestess, I need to speak to you!"

  "Evadne, child, wait a moment," reached me when I was already moving away from the Magichariot. The High Priestess quick steps trying to catch up to me stopped abruptly.

  *No matter.*

  My guards and I went straight to the Holy Knights Armory, leaving the fading conversation between the High Priestess and Pythia behind us. I didn't listen.

  *Training. That first.*

  ~ ? ? ~

  A mix of freshness and chilly air greeted me when we entered the grand chamber of the Armory. The hall to the right were Sacred Armor and weapons were stored was sealed shut. Thin line was the only suggestion there were door there, otherwise the sterile white wall looked flat.

  Priest Marcus was beaming with fanatical curiosity near the tall lectern on the left from the main Armory's entrance. He was holding my favorite conditioning helmet, cushioned at his elbow like a baby.

  "Level six today, Saint Leonard!" he exclaimed without even trying to hide his joy. "And look!" He pointed at something that resembled an exoskeleton with a few plates here and there, as if that justified calling it armor, not scaffolding. "We got the complete setup today!"

  Severus and Silas only shrugged when I exchanged looks with them. Their faces were unreadable, hidden behind their Shadow Knight's armor.

  The thick wires, like steel line, connected what looked like heavy shackles. From the look of it, they would go around wrists, arms, torso, waist, thighs, shins and ankles.

  The 'complete setup' looked creepy and gave me shivers. Phantom coldness swept over my skin where the shackles would lock. I could almost feel it—cold metal around my neck, straps crushing the air from my lungs. Steel bracelets pinning me down. I shook my head to kill the vision.

  "What's this?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Conditioning armor, naturally!" he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That feeling—when something was obvious to others but completely alien to me—pissed me off.

  *The Priest of Steel is just that kind of freak. Someone who can't read the room. He's not a bad person, just unaware.*

  "Who's with me today?" I asked, scanning the gym. Nobody was there. Just the usual row of dummies in varying states of disrepair, weight-lifting equipment, and mattresses.

  The muffled sound of the door moving was followed by a booming voice. "Your favorite!"

  *Leonidas. This will be 'fun'.*

  He grabbed my shoulders from behind, shaking me.

  "What's on the menu today, some new toys?" Leonidas continued.

  *Calm down, Leonard.*

  I took a deep breath before I replied, the air leaving me in a deep huff, like a steam engine.

  "Leonidas, please let me go."

  Leonidas dropped his hands instantly, as if they’d been burned.

  He bounced in front of me. Like only a mountain could bounce. I swear I could feel the vibration his metal-reinforced boots sent through the floor. My heels, already itching deep inside, didn't appreciate it.

  "Leonard, what's wrong?" His face filled my vision. "Keeping it together? Just ten more weeks and you're rock solid!"

  As a reply, I just repeated the calming breath therapy.

  *Should I punch him in the face? Tempting, but he might fight back, heh. What else could I do, what else?*

  His head shifted and his long, curly beard followed.

  "Guys, what happened?" His energy drilled into my skull.

  I closed my eyes. Sadly, closing my ears wasn't so easy.

  "We don't know," Severus said. Silas added, "He came back like this from the meeting with the Princess." Severus jumped in again, "She told him something that pissed him off."

  *Damn. I aimed for casual with the guards and knights. Clearly, I succeeded. Be careful what you wish for.*

  "I need to hit something," I hissed, opening my eyes. "Or someone. Do you offer?"

  Leonidas's feet clicked on the floor when he stepped back and studied me, tilting his head.

  "After the Crucible, yes," he said, then his voice shifted to seriousness. "But not today. I have a different offer—this beauty here," he jerked his thumb at the conditioning armor, "was supposed to make your little aerobics more interesting."

  He crossed his arms on his chest. "But fret not, Uncle Leonidas hears you. Change of plans. You're going to have plenty of hitting today. Nothing helps a man relieve stress more than some hammering."

  He sniffed like a bull, and still looking down at me, said, "Marcus, be so kind as to find us an appropriate hammer."

  The Armory door opened with a muffled sound again, letting in the ambient murmur of the Temple for a few seconds.

  "High Priestess," everybody welcomed her. I echoed the formal greeting without looking. Leonidas raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. The High Priestess remained quiet too.

  An abrupt thud, then another, broke the silence, and I almost jumped. Vibration attacked my heels again.

  Two sledgehammers leaned against the floor, waiting without judgment. The first had a silver metal head about the size of a small bottle, the other even smaller. Both had long, dark-brown handles that reached up to my waist.

  "Centurion Leonidas," the High Priestess said hesitantly, "what is the meaning of this?" She stood beside me, her arm brushing against mine. I resisted stepping aside. "We haven't reached the second month yet," she finished with a condemning tone.

  "The lightest I found, Centurion," the Priest of Steel, Marcus, said, sounding like he was defending his naughty children from punishment after breaking a window. He looked like he was about to hide the hammers behind his gray-silver robe any moment.

  "He's progressing smoothly," Leonidas explained, "with gains already ahead of schedule." He paused. I didn't see the High Priestess's face, but she inhaled deeply.

  Yet, she waited, and Leonidas continued.

  "Small warmup, then a few swings at dummies. See how he fares. Approved?"

  She took her time to reply. The question stretched across the closed space of the Armory. Was she waiting for my input? I couldn't resist anymore; I glanced at her.

  She stood there, almost a symbol of composure. But that small muscle just in the left corner of her lip was tensed. She did that under stress.

  Her face turned to me and I immediately looked away from her lips, into her golden, warm eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, that they tell the truth.

  Conflict.

  Hesitation.

  Care.

  That's what I saw, but it didn't make sense to me.