The woman, who had been glaring at the altar with sheer spite, shot him a provocative smile.
“Maybe I should wear a Brishin next time.”
His face hardened into a mask.
The Brishin was a traditional Eastern garment notorious for how brazenly it exposed the upper body. The mere thought of her walking through the Great Cathedral in thin silk that barely held to her skin, leaving her shoulders and back bare, sent a dark heat churning in his gut.
“Do not even dream of it.”
At his low, muttered growl, her smile curdled.
“It was just a joke. There’s no need to look so severe.”
He said nothing. He knew full well she had not been joking.
Before her leg was crippled, she had routinely thrown the court into uproar by appearing in scandalous attire. The woman before him was slipping right back into the troublemaker she had been.
He did not know whether to welcome the shift or keep his guard up. He had no wish for her to languish in the castle, hiding from every gaze, but nor did he want her parading her beauty before the world and stirring up trouble.
Above all, she had to stop clashing with the spiritual leader of the East.
“Once the service concludes, I intend to speak with the Grand Priest privately regarding that beast… Khan.”
He leaned down, murmuring close to her ear so the choir's chant would drown out his words.
“I will see to it that he holds his tongue about the wolf. In return, refrain from anything that might cause pointless friction with the Church.”
“…It’s not as if I came here looking for a fight.”
Her eyes wavered with sudden embarrassment, and she cast her gaze down.
“So long as they leave Khan alone, I have no interest in getting under that old fossil’s skin.”
Relieved by her sudden concession, he drew back and stood tall.
At that moment, the choir’s final notes faded, and the Grand Priest mounted the pulpit.
After reciting a blessing in Ancient Osirian, the priest surveyed the nave before launching into his sermon with a resonant, booming cadence.
“Today, I wish to speak on temptation. Countless snares lure mankind into wickedness in this world, and against them we must remain ever watchful.”
He went on to deliver a fervent condemnation of the carnal appetites that plunge souls into ruin, and of the perilous allure that blinds human reason. Watching the gaunt face in the pulpit with cold detachment, Varkas glanced down at Talia.
Her relief that the sermon was not about monstrous beasts vanished, her expression stiffening by degrees. As heads began turning and furtive glances gathered around her, she seemed to grasp that the priest’s barbs were aimed squarely at her.
He laid a steady hand over hers where it rested on the armrest.
“Do not pay it any mind. I will see to it he never speaks like this again.”
Her mouth parted as though to object, but she ended with a quiet nod.
He looked back toward the altar. The old man continued his veiled diatribe with venomous fervor, and the congregation hung on every word, entirely enthralled.
A private talk could not wait.
After seeing his wife into the carriage and sending her back to the castle—despite her insistence on waiting for him—Varkas headed straight for the Grand Priest’s quarters. As if his arrival had been foreseen, a young cleric acting as an attendant promptly showed him to the reception room.
“It has been some time, Grand Duke.”
Inside the austere yet impeccably kept chamber, the Grand Priest stood waiting, clad in a plain gray cassock instead of his ceremonial vestments.
Varkas gave a curt nod and took the chair opposite him. The priest set down a steaming cup of tea before him with a practiced, courteous smile.
“Word of your great deeds in the North has traveled far. Allow me to offer my gratitude for your service to the Empire. The Lord must surely look upon your devotion with favor.”
“I did not come to trade empty pleasantries.”
The blunt dismissal soured the old man’s face as he brought the cup to his lips. Varkas went straight to the point.
“Let us dispense with the pretense. Cease this slander against my wife.”
“On what grounds do you call it slander?”
The Grand Priest countered, his tone hardening.
“You do not understand the gravity of the matter, Grand Duke. The Eastern Church has shown immense restraint. Had I not held them back, an inquiry into heresy would have commenced long ago.”
Varkas leaned forward, away from the back of his chair. That was nothing short of an open threat against her life.
Burying the impulse to crush the obstinate face before him, he gave a faint, mocking scoff.
“You blow things absurdly out of proportion. My wife merely keeps a single wolf. If that warranted a trial, every mage across Robiden would have burned at the stake by now.”
“Mages regard their beasts as material for study. The Grand Duchess dotes upon that Dire Wolf as if it were her own child.”
The priest snapped back, letting out a heavy sigh.
“The sole reason I overlooked her conduct was out of pity for her grief. I bore witness to the misery she suffered after the loss of her child. That was why I turned a blind eye while she lavished her devotion on a vile creature.”
“Then continue to look the other way,” Varkas said, his voice dropping into a razor-thin growl. “I will take every precaution necessary to ensure the beast causes no harm. Cease your harassment of my wife.”
“This is no longer about the beast alone.”
Setting his teacup onto the saucer, the priest exhaled wearily.
“Surely you have received reports that she has been leaving the castle grounds frequently since the spring. Walking that wolf was the excuse, yet she has spent most of her time wandering the outskirts far beyond the walls.”
“What offense is there in taking fresh air beyond the gates?”
“There are witnesses who claim the Grand Duchess took part in pagan assemblies held in those very outskirts.”
A suffocating silence descended on the room. Varkas stared fixedly at the old man, then let out a sharp, cold sneer.
“You have a foul sense of humor.”
“I have neither the leisure nor the inclination to jest with you, Grand Duke.”
The priest remained entirely solemn.
“These are not idle tavern rumors. This information came directly from a report delivered into my hands by an inquisitor of the Holy Office.”
Varkas cut in without missing a beat.
“My wife is guarded at all times by warriors of Shearkan. Whenever she steps outside, a dozen men follow in her shadow. Are you suggesting she slipped past my guards to mingle with pagans?”
“The inquisitors report that these rites occurred in the dead of night. Could she not have slipped from the castle while the household slept?”
“A pathetic fabrication.”
Varkas spoke in a low, dangerous rumble.
“You know full well she is lame, Grand Priest. She has barely regained her health. You expect me to believe a crippled woman evaded sentries and climbed down from the keep?”
He let the disdain show plainly on his face.
“A third-rate bard could devise a more plausible tale.”
“I have no desire to sit here and prove her guilt or innocence. My hope is simply that the Grand Duchess ceases these reckless actions before the matter slips entirely from our hands.”
The priest leaned back into his seat, looking worn.
“Furthermore, I request your cooperation in rooting out the heresy that has taken root across the region over these past few years.”
Varkas let out a hollow laugh.
“You brand my wife a heretic, and in the same breath ask for my family's aid?”
“If the Grand Duke personally purges the Eastern pagans, the suspicions clinging to the Grand Duchess will disperse of their own accord,” the priest pressed smoothly. “Moreover, recent reports indicate these cultists are colluding with the wildmen. For the preservation of peace, the House of Shearkan must take the field.”
At the endless barrage of troublesome news, Varkas pressed his fingers against his brow.
He had no reason to trust the cunning old priest, but leaving the matter to the inquisitors sent from Osir would only bring ruin.
After a long silence, he looked up.
“Very well. On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Burn the inquisitor's report. If a single word of what you told me today reaches another ear…”
Varkas’s eyes went dead and cold.
“Our next meeting will not be half so civil.”
The Grand Priest’s mouth hardened into a tight line, but after a moment, he nodded.
“…I shall see to it.”
END