“Wait here for a moment,” His Highness tells me, guiding me inside the gilded carriage. He lightly pushed down my shoulders until I was stable on the cushioned seat. Both of his hands slowly backed away, pulling closer to his body before grasping the button that clipped together the sides of his cloak. There was a vague, dull sound, and the cloth slackened around his shoulders. I looked away for just a moment, before a warmth was wrapped around my body. “It’s a bit chilly after sunset, so…”

  I reached up to grip the dark cloak, eying it with tired eyes, before forcing a playful smile.

  “Traveling in the cold is something I’m used to, Your Highness. This is better suited for an extinguished lord like you, isn’t it?”

  My gaze flicked up to his—he, whose chapped lips were flattened into a frown, and lush green eyes, humorless. The corners of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly, eyebrows narrowed as his eyelids lowered halfway. He looked almost disheartened as his hands loosened against the fabric.

  “... I have some business in the temple, but we will head to the palace the moment I return.”

  His Highness Iliazo‘s warmth seemed to linger before he stepped backwards, down the step, and turned away.

  “Your Highness,” I called out.

  Before turning away completely, his eyes met mine.

  “That dress you lent me,” I suddenly found myself saying. “I’m sorry I Iost it.”

  The Prince’s emerald gaze paused, before he broke into his usual amused smiles, scoffing out a lighthearted chuckle.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Blinking the blurriness away, I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. Well—my assigned guest room, in any case. I shifted on the mysteriously too soft and pillowy mattress, hugging one of the many excess pillows. The carriage ride to the palace was quiet, not a single word being exchanged between us, just as before. With all the time it took, and the farther we got from the temple, the chaos welling up in my chest gradually subsided. We reached the palace’s gateway and, just like the first time, His Highness escorted me out and a maid guided me back to here.

  I just couldn’t shake that it felt different, somehow, as something weighed on my chest. What was it? Was it because it felt like I’d forced Iliazo’s hand? I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? You can’t exactly deny the Saintess when she’s practically thrown herself on you, begging you to take her away. A shameful heat prickled at my ears and face, nervousness burying into my chest. Even with my mind crystal clear, I was much too brash and impulsive.

  Yet, I don’t think I would’ve done any different had I gone back to do it again.

  The thought of being in that place any longer made my skin crawl, something cold agitating every hair on my skin. Vaguely, I think back to the female paladin who was tasked to follow me, and how easily I slipped away in my frenzy. She couldn’t have been far behind, coming after me, but I don’t recall seeing her. I don’t think I recall seeing anyone, not until I ran into His Highness. Pressing my cheek deeper into the pillow, I replayed it over again—the feeling of her divinity taking over mine, as if possessing it, in order to smother the fire out. Pressing my fingers into the plush of the pillow, a chill dances upon my skin. It felt unnatural—as if something so close to me had been violated. I don’t think I could face her, or anyone in the temple for that matter. Had I not run into His Highness, I may have snapped.

  Disgusting. It’s disgusting—I didn’t even know Father had taken notes on what he was doing to me. After I was sent away, did he read them over and over again? As those eyes whom mine resembled looked over every scratch and curve of his own writing, was he reliving the way my skin pulsed under his, littered with tremors and twitching like some animal on its last breath? Was he recalling each time my screams continued until my throat ran dry? It must have been disappointing, the moment when such pain became natural, and not even tears bled from my eyes. He was right—nothing is left behind. Unlike his electrocution, no scars or blemishes appeared on my skin. But he had to keep releasing his frustration on me somehow after I was revealed as the Saintess—even the most devout of followers would start questioning his discipline upon God’s daughter. It's not like Surya could stop him. There was no such thing as ‘proof’’ with this method.

  It’s funny. I think somewhere in my mind, I still wanted to believe he was hurting me purely out of emotion. That maybe in another life, if I had done something worth praising over in his eyes, he could’ve stopped. Reading the refined, calculated words upon vellum tore that all away—at some point, impulse and reason become one and the same. While I was out there fighting beasts, the cruelest monster was the one who laid his hands on me.

  A human.

  My nose scrunches up as my eyesight begins to blur again. The page’s heading stuck out to me. Divine Equalization… was that what he called it? This ‘discovery’ of his?

  “Divine, huh? Hah.”

  How sacrilegious.

  There’s a knock at the door, and I lift my clenched palms to my face, quickly scrubbing my expression away.

  “Pardon me, Your Holiness. I’m coming in.”

  It’s a voice I’m familiar with at this point, and the door creaks open. With great effort, I sit up as she enters, lightly setting something folded on the foot of the bed.

  “Oh? You’re awake already, Your Holiness?”

  “I have been for a bit, yes,” I reply, trailing her figure as she walks across the room towards the windows. The light of day pierces my eyes painfully, forcing me to wince as she rips the heavy satin curtains open. Sunlight passes through the crystal windows, shining upon the copper strands of hair neatly combed and tidied up on her head. They’re braided into a bun, a few loose strands framing her face along with feathery bangs cut blunt upon her forehead, under them eyes like fresh spring water. Her smile smoothes out into a frown, distancing from the windows as she approaches me.

  Her eyelashes flutter, thin eyebrows narrowing as she stares intently at my face.

  “Your Holiness, did you get any sleep last night?”

  “I did,” it comes out fast. “I’ve just been awake for a while.”

  A hand reaches out, soft, framing my jaw as she looms closer. I swallow, averting her gaze while fighting away the ticklish warmth I can already feel creeping up my neck.

  “Define, ‘a while’...”

  Her voice is soft and frank, like an older sister’s chastising. I haven’t heard of such in a long time, not since my days before the temple. The older children of the back alleys were solitary folk, but occasionally looked out for the younger kids. Her fingers against my cheek feel nice.

  “I wouldn’t know, I didn’t think to check.”

  Lariette stares for another moment, and then sighs, the softness of her fingertips pulling away from my face as she distances herself. She circles back around to the foot of the bed, straightening out what I now see is a dress.

  “His Highness has invited you to lunch, but if Your Holiness feels unwell, he says it is alright for you to decline.”

  Ah. He must think I’m crazy after my behavior yesterday evening. Shifting my weight to the edge of the bed, I respond with, “I feel fine.”

  Oh right, I’m wearing a nightgown. Fiddling with the lace ruffles sewn into the front, I glance over to the door. It’s quiet.

  “Just you today, Lariette?”

  She glances up at me.

  “His Highness has instructed for me to attend to you alone.” As I dip my feet into the thin, modernized version of slippers belonging to this era, Lariette has once again rounded the bed. Her hand is extended in an invite as the dress hangs from her other arm, a kind smile on her face. “This is more of an informal occasion after all, and I’m sure it’s something Your Holiness is most comfortable with, yes?”

  As I place my hand in hers, she pauses in remembrance with a small gasp.

  “Oh, but don’t think this will happen often.” There’s a bit of cheekiness in that smile of hers, now. “When it comes to anything else, the girls will be joining me, fully equipped.”

  My reply comes out in a nervous laugh as she pulls me to my feet.

  Two male servants wait at the door, opening it in fluid motion the moment I approach. With a glance towards Lariette, who remains slightly behind, I continue cautiously through the pine doorway. There’s the scent of something both sweet and salty. Not like the fragrance of flowers, but almost like the sweetness of honey where there’s a tinge of bitterness that mellows out the overall smell. The amount of saltiness is not quite like the lingering scent of the ocean’s breeze at all. It’s vague, something that’s barely detected at first, but intensifies the longer you take it in. As I take another step closer, a more diverse array of smells mix in—something fresh and almost grassy with a note of sourness, marbled in with the faint essence of bloomed yeast. If I squint, there’s a subtle fishiness, not the unpleasant kind, but the actual saltiness of the sea—distinctly separate from the other salty smell, stewed with something herbal.

  The overwhelming waft of smells make sense as I get a better look at the—very wide—table, already adorned and fully plated. In front of each seat is their own, individual, set of pre-arranged plates and silverware. As my eyes glaze over the complex and orderly arrangement, I finally catch sight of His Highness sitting at the head of the table, waving over with a bright expression on his face.

  “Am I…” I glance back to the empty chairs and his own full, but untouched, plate, “late?”

  “No, not at all. I’m simply early.” Quietly, the dining room door closes behind me when he calls out, “Come, sit wherever you’d like!”

  Despite not being late, he sits alone at the head of a fully decorated table along with a variety of foods to choose from. Time and effort must have been put into this presentation surely, but how should I put it? As I sit in the seat adjacent to him upon his right side, even the overjoyed smile on his face does nothing to erase that image. With only a single glance, a child would see it, too—a large platter of ham, an elongated tray presenting a bright and appetizing salad, still warm loaves of bread, some even cut into sandwiches of various fillings…

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  And that’s excluding the delicately braised fish and iced mussels spooned onto the Prince’s plate. I can’t imagine the effort, or even the expenses, used for such a wide selection of food. The Ouranos Kingdom is the most inland after all, and it took over two years on foot before we could reach the eastern shores of the continent. To transport the mussels alone would’ve cost a fortune, I’m sure. Even in this time of peace, such food wouldn’t come so easily.

  “Will anyone else be joining us, Your Highness?” I ask tentatively.

  As he chooses among his many forks, he glances over to me.

  “No, it will be just us.”

  “Then… Do you normally eat this much…?” I inquire. “Alone?”

  His green eyes flicker between me and his chosen fork for a moment, before his lips spread out into a thoughtful smile, lowering it onto his plate.

  “Of course not,” comes his response, his tone light and jovial as his eyes close. “No normal person can eat all of this. But you need not worry about food waste. Most can be stored quite easily, and what can’t be stored, servants and staff are free to have.”

  He seems to have misinterpreted my words for one of concern about the amount of food. Partially, that was it, but also…

  Prince Iliazo tilts his head, gesturing to the array of food.

  “Go on, choose whatever you’d like.”

  Looking back at the various platters, I begin to stand while reaching my hand out for the cured ham. Before I can take a step away from my seat, however, a male servant of dark hair takes it instead. In a swift motion, he carries the ceramic plate bearing the large cut of meat with ease, circling around my chair before slicing a piece and serving it onto my plate.

  “Oh—” I feel my face warm, ”Thank you!”

  He bows lightly before returning the main platter to its original place, walking empty handed toward the dining room door where he was stationed. I look back over to my plate, where a large cut of ham rests, then look over to the selection of silverware. Sneaking a peek at what fork His Highness had chosen, I choose similarly—coming up with the medium sized fork and the smallest knife. As I make my decision, a small sound akin to a stifled laugh comes from His Highness’ covered mouth. My fingers, armed with a knife and fork, waver over the plate and my ears feel hot.

  “I’m taking lessons for a reason, ok?” I blurt out, roughly slicing off the corner piece of the cut of meat. “Also, I took the same knife as you!”

  The golden haired prince reaches for one of the three cups—which I only now realized I also had duplicates of—and sips the decorated one on a tiny plate closest to me, beholding a dark but transparent liquid. Before he sips it, he clears his throat.

  “You’ll find that even the basics of table etiquette are quite complex,” is all he says before taking almost silent sips, so quiet it was almost fake. Grumbling to myself, I glanced over to the small ceramic cup that belonged to my own table arrangement. Placing the knife down against my plate after cutting my piece of ham, I too reached towards it. It’s cute, and prettily painted with intricate strokes of abstract design. Taking a hold of the thin handle, it’s warm. I hold it up to my lips, the steam thin against my face. It’s fragrant, reminiscent of flowers but also not. I almost want to say it's herbal, but not like spice.

  Blowing on it softly, I bring the warm ceramic edge to my lips cautiously. The hot liquid startles me, burning my lip and tongue for just a second on contact before settling.

  “Oh…!”

  An excited warmth blooms in my chest as I swallow, the strong taste lingering on my tongue. It’s bitter. It’s bitter! I don’t know why I expected it to be sweet—maybe because of the flowery design on the cup, or the almost flowery smell, but it’s bitter! Very bitter! The taste is strong, but also mellow and deep with the slightest hint of… citrus? Yet also almost a bit smokey? It’s indescribably unique. But it’s pleasant!

  “I thought it might have been steeped for too long, but you prefer it bitter,” comes His Highness’ words. I whip my head towards him.

  “What is this drink, Your Highness?”

  “It’s tea, black tea specifically—you’ve never had it before, Your Holiness?” An almost calm amusement spreads across his face. I shake my head, placing it back down where it was initially.

  “No, we never really…” I feel my smile falter. His Highness raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head faintly. “I… never really had the luxury to. It was just water, alcohol, or…”

  I can’t help but laugh, thinking back. Come to think of it, I did have something similar, didn’t I? Just once, I think. There was this drink Zen whipped up when I fell ill with a dizzying heat, an herbal taste similar to this made with boiled water, and some weeds he picked up. Though we had honey and some sugar on hand, for once, he remembered my penchant for bitter things.

  “Yeah… it was just that.” For the most part, anyway.

  “Why do you pay so much attention to me?”

  “Hm? Now, that’s quite presumptuous of you, Little Maya!” The feeling of his bandaged fingers, cold but gentle still, against my sweat covered forehead is hazy in my memories. What a weirdo, always crass and violent, but having his moments out of the blue. “I pay attention to all of you young ones. You, Shiva-Poo, and…”

  He made a face.

  “Kassy.”

  “No,” I insisted in my heated daze. “It’s obvious how… different I am.”

  He hummed thoughtfully, crimson irises avoidant, plopping a wet cloth onto my forehead. I thought he was ignoring me, me and my sickly rambles.

  “Zen—”

  “Maybe it’s because,” he suddenly spoke. It was only once, and only when I was delirious—probably thought I’d forget when I got better. His strange, unusual red eyes seemed to soften, some emotion in them that looked out of place. “You remind me of my sister.”

  “You have a family?” It was meant to be snarky. I expected him to reply in his usual lighthearted tone, perhaps pinching my cheek or rubbing my head roughly in retaliation as he usually did. But he didn’t.

  “Nope.” His words came out, plain and simple as he organized his items. “She’s dead. They all are.”

  A dim and distant look, painted dark by his shadow.

  “They’ve been dead for a long time…”

  “Your Holiness?”

  “Yes?” I blink, clinking the fragile cup against its tiny plate. Prince Iliazo studies my face carefully, slowly glancing up, and down.

  “I was asking how Your Holiness liked the dress that Your Holiness is currently wearing.”

  “Oh,” I exhale. Tilting my head, I think about it—the texture and its weight, and how flexible it was when I was walking in the castle halls earlier… “I like it. It’s comfortable.”

  “That’s good,” His Highness remarks, taking his fork and digging lightly into his fish. “I left the decision up to Lariette. We still don’t have a real wardrobe prepared for you just yet, so it’s a bit out of fashion as one of my late mother’s dresses. It’s only been a few days, but she’s already grasped what you like and dislike.”

  That’s true. It didn’t take very long to get ready with this outfit, and it’s pretty light. She even chose a dress that covered my arms so I don’t have to wear gloves. Oh, right. Chewing on ham, that fact comes back to me, pressing my lips firmly together as I stare deadpan in space. I have to wear long gloves from now on. That’s gonna be annoying.

  Or maybe that’s a good thing.

  Wow. It’s been a long time since I had just meat, huh? I forgot how long it’s been. The outside is saltier than the inside, but there’s that sweet depth to it that balances the flavors out. Hunting for our daily dose of protein was normal on our travels, but anything more than salt or dried herbs were difficult to procure, and required venturing into a well stocked town. The temple only seemed to serve vegetable stew and bread, and that changed little even after a thousand years.

  Right. The temple.

  I flicker my eyes over to the heir of the Ouranos royal family sitting beside me.

  “I hope I’m not being a burden,” I mumble in between chewing, swallowing it down. “I mean… my request was so sudden, after all.”

  Oh god, now that I think about it, isn’t this food only exquisite because I’m here? Did the kitchen staff have to crunch in more food because I begged His Highness to take me?

  A hearty, amused laugh from His Highness.

  “Nonsense!” He chuckles in between teary-eyed laughter. Iliazo gestures over to the uniformed staff. “Your Holiness doesn't seem to be aware of it, but the palace seems to be just a bit livelier when Your Holiness is here. I haven’t seen the maids and manservants so enthusiastic.”

  There’s a slight wave of his hand, and the few castle employees left in the room begin filtering out in an orderly manner.

  “They may not seem like it, but they’re all wide-eyed and curious, just waiting to catch even a glimpse of you.”

  “Is that so…” My voice mumbles incoherently while chewing. I’m glad that, according to His Highness’ words, I’m not inconveniencing anyone. At least, the staff, anyway. Peeking up from my food, Iliazo’s eyes seem to bore into me.

  “You look as if you have more to say.”

  “Oh.” I press my lips together. Poking holes into the half of ham left on my plate, I nervously flicker my eyes over between my food and the prince. “You’re, uh… not gonna ask me anything?”

  He takes a sip of his glass of water this time.

  “Of what?”

  “Just…” I set the fork down. “Anything. My erratic behavior last night, my forcefulness, why I even wanted to leave the temple…”

  “Your Holiness.” The glass clinks as he sets it down. I trail up his arm to his face, where he averts his eyes for a moment—just a second, his eyes wander, as if in thought, before they meet mine. He breaks into a smile. Not one of his usual, cheery ones with the slightest bit of mischief and playfulness. It was similar to the one from last night, a bit mellow with a slight twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth.

  As he begins, he seems to hesitate, opening his mouth, but not quite grasping what he’s supposed to say. Iliazo blinks, staring absentmindedly at the table, before lifting his gaze.

  “This is a bit embarrassing, but,” he turns his head, nervousness pulling at his smile now, before blinking back in my direction. “The night I encountered you in the merchant’s plaza, you had… this look. I can’t really describe it, but I remember it…”

  A peridot green, its gleam fluctuating as they soften. “... very well.”

  He leans back against the dining chair, “Last night, you had that same look. And it reminded me of someone—someone I hadn’t seen in a long time.”

  With a tap of his fingers against the table, he gives me his signature, cheeky grin.

  “So don’t worry about things like being a ‘burden’ or ‘owing’ me. Just think of it as me using you to fulfill my own selfish desire, so no matter what, you can use me back.”

  “You say that sort of thing so easily, but…” It’s not as easy as he makes it sound. Even if it’s true what he says, it still feels like I’ve been using him much more than he could ever be using me. He’s already helping me out in finding Shivani, with all the noble stuff concerning my clothes and etiquette, and then last night with the temple…

  Huh.

  “Can I ask you something, Your Highness?”

  His hand hovers over the porcelain cup of tea. “Of course, go ahead.”

  “Uh…” I flicker my gaze over to him. “Why were you at the temple last night, anyway?”

  “Oh, that,” Iliazo brings the cup to his lips again for a sip. Just as he places it down on its respective plate, he starts talking. “I was going to meet with His Holiness to work out a schedule regarding your etiquette lessons. You can’t exactly take them at the temple, but it’s not as if you can always stay here either, so…”

  He glances off to the side before continuing.

  “Of course, I did get sidetracked, so the conversation ended up being about something else entirely.”

  My ears feels hot as shame crawls up my neck, clasping my hands against my face embarrassingly. Oh, my god. How could he have just asked me to not think of being a burden, and then admit he was there last night for me?! And then I interrupted him, by being an even bigger burden!

  “I am so, so sorry Your Highness…”

  He waves his hand floppily, like some dead fish, as hearty laughter bubbles from his throat.

  “Don’t worry about it! Actually, I’m glad you brought that up.” Letting his hand fall to his side, he continues, “I would’ve completely forgotten, otherwise.”

  My ears perk up a bit at this, peeking in-between my fingers.

  “Forgotten, what?”

  There’s the ghost of a smile upon his lips, a bit odd, as he forks a torn piece of flesh from his braised fish. “After you left, Rishita requested a preemptive meeting with you, sometime this week.”

  Hair like the dusken sky haunts my mind, with honey-amber eyes clear and true.

  Iliazo forks it into his mouth, chewing and swallowing completely before continuing on. “She sent an official letter yesterday morning to remind me. I was going to decline initially, only because I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk things over with the Pope in regards to Your Holiness’ schedule, but now that Your Holiness is actually here—”

  The legs of the wooden chair rattle loudly against the dining room floor as I stand up abruptly, practically slamming my hands on the table. His Highness jolts a little in his seat with shrinking pupils, clinking his silverware against the rim of his plate in surprise.

  “I’ll do it! Just tell me when, and I’ll prepare myself instantly! Even if it were today, I—”

  “Your Holiness, I was simply giving Your Holiness an option,” he interrupts calmly with a slanted smile, still shaken from my outburst. “You have no obligation to accept.”

  I shake my head, firm.

  “No. I want to meet with Lady Rishita.” This will give me something to do while I’m here. But more than anything, it’ll be a good opportunity to do something for His Highness. No matter what Iliazo says, I’ve been forcing his hand way too much already. Getting used to his fiance—er, my future teacher, will make things a lot easier for everyone involved.

  The Prince’s emerald gaze lingers for a moment, scanning my face, trailing down my arms and on to the dining table before sighing dejectedly with a smile.

  “I’ll send her your response, today.”