“Duly noted. I’m trying to stop them. Mother does not approve of their actions, at least not the mother I know.” I glanced down at my clenched left hand, then back at him. “You shouldn’t take my word for it. Go to the bridge. The church will be there.”
His voice was a ghostly whisper as his hand approached mine. “Why are you telling me all this?”
At first, I flinched a little, but his hand drifted away from me upon seeing my reaction. It was as if he wanted to confirm that I was real. That I could even exist.
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” I stared up at him, a faint smile emerging. I watched as his expression softened in turn, mirroring my own. Instead of reading what they felt, they felt what I felt. It was a tiny distinction, but a wonderful one. A connection without words.
I felt his hands pause midair, unsure if he should approach. He stood dazzled, unsure what to say. I frowned, unsure myself of what to expect.
“Do you hear her? Cestra?” he finally whispered, his entire body awaiting my response.
“She watches over us all. I merely happen to hear her voice.” I thought back to my own church in the south. To the other Pact Mages that grew jealous of me. The squabbles and ostracization.
“It is not the only reason, but I believe that us Pact Mages have a responsibility to the people. One many of us have forgotten.” I thought back to that night.
They forced my hand, that misty night. They forced me to turn into a dragon before I even knew what that meant. When I looked back, I could see my own distress mirrored across his face. I was quick to drop that anger for a sullen sideways glance. Sadness was always better to express than anger.
“Could I ask you for a favor then?” Buryan’s eyes were one of reverence. He saw something in me that he didn’t see in anyone else. I think he saw Mother in my eyes, speaking through my lips.
“Could you deliver a sermon?” I was taken aback at the suggestion, recoiling, but he continued. “Our weekly sermon is coming up, and I admit, I’ve not been doing so well at placating the town’s worries. All I can do is assure them that the inquisitors are nothing but a passing trial, and that things will return to normal. They’re scared.” His eyes had a hopeful flicker. Expectation. I felt my own heart sink a little, trying to wrap my mind around the responsibility.
“But in you I see Cestra. You can inspire them.” There was a pause as he picked up on my terrified expression. Disappointment. “Actually, don’t worry about it. Maybe that’s too much to ask for someone as young as you…” I gritted my teeth as I reined in my emotions. Even if I was terrified, I had to buckle down and do this. I had a responsibility to the people. I was a dragon, and no matter how scared I was, I could not and would not run from challenges. Not when people’s lives were on the line.
“It’s fine. My feelings on the matter cannot trump what the people require.” Perhaps it was a phrase I spoke to myself to make me feel better. Perhaps it was what I felt. Perhaps it was the duty I felt, bound by who I was.
Regardless, when I tried to get up, I felt a soft hand on my own, beckoning, but not forcing me to remain seated.
“You are still a child, Aria. You ought to take your feelings into consideration.”
That statement stung a little bit more than I knew what to do with. With a sharp twist of my hand, I reeled upright, imposing my glare over him. The anger passed quickly. There was no need to shoot the messenger. If it wasn’t him, it was going to be Charlotte.
“My point stands.” I realized that I was being too grim, which meant I must’ve looked absolutely depressing. With a sigh, I lightened my tone, my expression softening in kind. Maybe it would be better to admit defeat and say that I was tired. To fight someone I had already convinced was petty at best.
“Sorry.” I tried to chirp it out, but it still came out a bit glum. To my surprise I was met with chuckles.
“Oh I agree, but I believe there was a bit of a misunderstanding! I’m saying that there’s a free day tomorrow, and that despite the dire circumstances, you ought to unwind a bit.”
My eyes lit up at the prospect. He wasn’t wrong. It was my fault for getting all defensive while he was being considerate.
“I know our town isn’t much compared to the great cities in the south or the capital, but I promise we’ll try to accommodate you.” His smile was soft and disarming, a practiced look of reassurance, fit for one of his station.
“I know you have your duty first, but you’re still human.” I wanted to say that I wasn’t, to settle the score, but there was no need to be spiteful. “I have my own duties to perform, after all.” He crossed his arms, leaning back into the wooden bench.
“Chapter 22:27. Fools, Cestra spoke, are those too enraptured a personal truth,” he gleefully preached as I raised an eyebrow. He was preaching to the wrong audience.
“I told you to check it out yourself at the beginning…” I turned around as the nun returned, a soft robe in her hand.
At first, I was trying to parse the reason. It was too thick to be a coat, and too light to be of any practical use during our winter travels. Then as she approached, my eyes widened. I had worn one just like it before, in a past life that I was being constantly reminded of.
“I apologize in advance, Pact Mage, but we could not find one of your size.” She reached out, handing me the robes.
I could see the beautiful stitching in the fabric. Scenes of the three founding dragons were sown into valuable bolts of white cloth. Black trim and gold stitching were etched into the fabric. A walking memorial to the divine, a woven monument to Mother and her fellow dragons.
I wasn’t sure what to say, but I held out my hand to receive the beautiful robe. Back in my past life, just a few short months ago, I had my own. When I was younger, I loathed to wear the robe, feeling that it hid my hair and dragged me down. Funny how things change when you’re gifted one instead.
“Thank you.” My voice was soft as I held back the tears. I watched their faces turn to shock as I brushed my cheek. Tears, as I feared. I wiped them away as I thought back to that time, before I knew I was a dragon, but after my abilities as a Pact Mage emerged. Pampered. Endeared. Guilt-free.
“No, it’s okay. I’m…it’s been a while since I’ve held one. Hah. I’m not supposed to be crying.” I felt my voice dropping softer and softer, before returning to a murmur.
The two of them exchanged a smile and a nod as I retreated to my room, robes in hand. It was an overcoat, much like Buryan’s. Not thick enough to be worn by itself, but light enough to be worn inside without the weight of a winter jacket.
I locked the deadbolt on the door as I returned to a sleeping Charlotte. She always slept so silently, so serene.
I sighed as I threw off my old jacket, donning the robes instead. Soft silk that I had sworn never to touch ever again adorned me once more. Well, that was a lie too. If I returned to Mithil, I was going to wear courtly dress one way or another. I just wasn’t expecting to be gifted Pact Mage robes on some random destination to Mithil.
There were no mirrors nearby, but they looked good on the bishop. It would be a pretty good assumption that it looked good on me. The long sleeves were a shame and the robes dragged behind me, though. I did not like the thought of dragging these things through the snow either…
Maybe I should cut off the dragging part? I shook my head at the idea. I didn’t know the first thing about fine fabrics, nor did I sew much. The most I did was stitch close a tear with thread.
I could hear the two of them outside, walking about. They were discussing plans for tomorrow. Practical considerations. Who was best to ask.
I pulled up a chair to sit by Charlotte’s side, and placed my hand on hers. Symbolic again, but more for me than for her. I was going to be here until she woke up, to make sure nothing happened to her. It was unlikely, but the prospect still terrified me.
She was it. I had gone through and burned through so many people that I loved, and now it was the two of us. The thought of growing more attached to her both delighted and terrified me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know what love was, but it was always so one-sided. A clueless boy asking younger me for a hand. A few letters of love. I had no doubt many of my suitors would see me as the ultimate prize; blessed by Cestra herself.
Yet I never felt like I wanted to give more of myself to them. On the contrary. All the dozens of suitors and the hundreds of love letters did was convince me that none of them were right for me.
