At noon
The rain began to pour in torrents.
The soldiers, who had been busily packing their gear, scrambled to cover the wagons with pitch-coated cloth and hurried the horses back into the stables.
Watching the rush from inside her carriage, Ayla looked up at the blackened sky.
Flashes of light broke between the ink-dark clouds as they shed heavy sheets of water, followed by the low, growling rumble of thunder. At a glance, it did not seem the rain would let up anytime soon.
“It appears we will have to stay at the monastery for another day.”
The guard, who had been sequestered in the knights’ quarters for some time, finally approached the carriage after they had decided to postpone departure. He slipped a waterproof cloak through the cracked door.
Ayla took it and let out a small sigh. She was displeased by the endless delays. Was this journey not fraught with enough uncertainty already?
She pulled on the cloak, glancing repeatedly out the window.
“Where is His Highness the Crown Prince?”
“His Highness has retired to the Abbot’s residence.”
Pulling the hood over her head, Ayla frowned and looked back at him.
“Does he plan to stay there today as well?”
“It would seem so.”
The knight lowered his gaze, his voice trailing off into a noncommittal murmur.
Ayla looked at the gathered monks with cold dissatisfaction.
Under the cloister roof, the Abbot was issuing instructions, and the monks dispersed in an orderly fashion. She watched him closely.
Unlike his servile attitude toward Gareth, the Abbot appeared distant and severe. That, she presumed, was the priest’s true face.
Ayla narrowed her eyes. By design, the imperial pilgrimage was a ritual meant to win over local populaces and influential lords. Given the purpose of the journey, it was not bad for Gareth to build rapport with local powers. Even so, the Abbot’s lineage weighed on her mind.
‘To rise to the seat of Abbot despite the taint of mixed blood… he must possess formidable cunning, or else a very powerful backer.’
Though their conversation had been brief, Ayla had known at once that the Abbot was no ordinary man. Beneath his polite deference, she had caught the cold, calculating look in his eyes as he took Gareth in. It occurred to her that he might be a pawn planted by the Empress.
Had the Taren family not aligned themselves with demi-humans ever since the Era of Warring States? It could hardly be a coincidence that a quarter-elf had risen to govern an abbey as vast as Mordawin.
Perhaps they had already begun building a faction within the Church to back the Second Prince….
“Your Highness?”
Pulled from her thoughts, Ayla lifted her head. Her personal guard stood in the driving rain, looking at her with concern.
Ayla offered a practiced smile and straightened her posture.
“I have kept you standing in the rain too long. Come, let us go to the quarters.”
The knight took her hand and helped her down from the carriage.
Ayla stepped carefully onto the muddy ground.
Heavy drops pelted her hood and shoulders. In that brief span, the downpour had grown even fiercer.
Gathering her hood tightly, Ayla hurried across the wide courtyard veiled in white mist and stepped under the cloister surrounding the courtyard garden. Then, as if purely by chance, she drifted toward the priests.
“Princess.”
The half-blood priest, who had been conferring with the prior, spotted her and quickly bowed.
Ayla settled into the gentle smile she wore out of habit, her voice soft.
“It seems we will be imposing upon you for another day.”
“It is nothing short of an honor to shelter such exalted guests.”
The priest replied with deep courtesy, keeping his back bowed low.
“Pray tell us if you require anything. So long as it lies within the monastery’s means, we shall see to it at once.”
“I thank you for your care.”
Ayla paused for a moment before continuing with calculated ease.
“May I ask one favor, then?”
“You need only speak, Your Highness.”
“Tomorrow, I would like to hold a separate ceremony for Talia. Would you bestow a blessing upon that child as well before we depart?”
The Abbot’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected request.
Ayla did not miss the reaction. It was gone in an instant, but she saw a flicker of wary calculation pass through his pale violet eyes before it vanished.
The priest answered in a measured voice.
“Are you asking to hold a rite of blessing for Her Highness the Second Princess?”
“Who else would it be?”
Ayla gave a faint, elegant smile.
“We are stranded another day regardless. Wouldn’t it be proper for her to receive the rite while we are here?”
“I had no idea Your Highness cared so deeply for the Second Princess.”
Ayla turned her head at the sudden voice.
Varkas, who had walked silently through the rain-soaked garden, pushed back his dripping hood and looked at her with flat, unfeeling eyes.
Ayla, who had been about to greet him warmly, felt the smile falter on her face. Wet with rain, his features seemed even more distant than usual. That cold, rigid expression made her stomach clench.
She knew well enough that his sharp reactions regarding Talia were rooted in years of accumulated resentment. Her half-sister’s behavior had been atrocious enough to revolt even this stoic man.
Having been forced to endure her presence for seven long years, it was only natural that he would feel such loathing.
She understood it all with her head. Yet she could not stomach how this man, indifferent to everything else in the world, reacted so sharply only whenever that girl was involved.
Forgetting her plan to test the Abbot, Ayla answered with a prick of temper.
“I am worried about you, not her. His Majesty personally entrusted her to your care. If he learns the rite was held without Talia, the blame will fall on you.”
“That does not mean I can drag an unwilling person before the altar.”
Ayla’s face hardened at his cold tone.
She was used to his icy demeanor chilling the room. But she would not tolerate him showing disrespect to her because of Talia Roem Guirta.
Ayla lifted her chin stiffly.
“We should ask Talia first. She is a fickle child; who is to say she won’t change her mind by tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, we depart at first light. I have no intention of altering our march for the Second Princess’s whims.”
Varkas cut her off flatly.
Ayla, unused to having her will dismissed so openly, flushed red with fury. She wanted to reprimand his insolence on the spot, but she could not bring herself to undermine his authority in front of the others.
Swallowing her anger, she forced her composure back into place.
“If that is your decision, Sir Knight, then there is nothing more to be said.”
As she conceded, Varkas turned his gaze toward the Abbot.
The priest, who had been watching their confrontation with quiet curiosity, lowered his eyes at once. Varkas looked down at him with a frigid stare and gave a quiet warning.
“I would have this night remain as quiet as possible. If we are to depart at dawn, the Crown Prince will need his rest.”
It was an explicit command not to host any banquets or evening gatherings. The Abbot nodded, his expression tight.
As though he had nothing left to say, Varkas turned and offered his hand to Ayla.
“Come. I will see you to your quarters.”
Ayla swallowed her sigh and placed her hand in his.
END