For a Precious Person (5)
“Your Highness! You cannot go in!”
A eunuch attending Leonhard tried to block Princess Benelia at the entrance to the imperial archery ground.
“Out of my way.”
She pushed past him without slowing.
Imperial knights stood all around the grounds, but none dared stop her. Her usual languid expression had become something fierce.
She had come without a single bodyguard, yet none of the armed men moved to seize her. She was a princess visiting her own brother, and they had no grounds to bar her passage. Keeping watch from a respectful distance was the most they could do.
Benelia strode between them without fear.
She climbed toward the shooting line, her coat stirring behind her, and stopped ten paces from Leonhard.
Leonhard did not turn.
Benelia placed a hand against her chest in greeting.
“Have you been well, Brother?”
The address irritated him. He chose not to answer.
He nocked an arrow to his longbow, drew the string and aimed into the distant sky.
Before he released it, Benelia spoke again.
“Have you heard the news? Some vermin sent assassins after Viscount Theorad.”
Vermin.
Leonhard's fingers trembled on the bowstring. After a tense moment he lowered the weapon and looked at her with an unconvincing laugh.
“I don't understand. Are you accusing me?”
“Accusing you? I only came to share the news.”
“Our Benelia has grown clever. You've learned how to pretend innocence.”
“Is that right? Or is that something you know better than I do?”
Leonhard was taken aback.
Does she have proof?
Surely not. Seamerd, leader of the Black Dogs, was careful. He would never leave evidence at the scene.
And even if she had evidence, a war was approaching. They would have to cooperate, at least in public. Revealing an open feud now would serve neither side.
Leonhard recovered his sneer.
“You always suspect your family whenever something goes wrong. I suppose I should expect it. You've been jealous of me since you were little.”
“Jealous…?”
Anger slipped into Benelia's voice. Her hand clenched.
“Have you forgotten who was so jealous of a six-year-old child that he tried to strangle her? Have you forgotten who gave me those years of hell?”
Leonhard scoffed.
“How should I remember every little quarrel from childhood? It's stranger that you still remember something from so long ago.”
“I see.”
A small smile touched Benelia's lips.
Leonhard frowned. Her relief seemed more unsettling than her rage.
“I wondered what I'd do if you apologized,” she said. “I'm glad to know you're still the same cowardly piece of trash.”
The archery ground fell silent.
Leonhard seized his bow again.
“You insolent bitch!”
He drew the string and aimed the arrow at Benelia's head.
At ten paces, a practiced archer could scarcely miss.
Benelia did not move. She simply looked at him, still smiling.
“Are you going to kill me? How bold.”
“Do you think I won't?”
“Of course you can. All you have to do is release the string. I'm only concerned about the miserable end you'll meet afterward.”
Leonhard narrowed his eyes.
“What end?”
“Have you forgotten? I'm not merely a princess. I command the Dawning Steps, a unit directly under the imperial family.”
Fifteen hundred elite soldiers were loyal to her.
“If you kill me, my soldiers will come for you. They'll strike at the palace itself.”
Leonhard kept his bow raised.
“You think the palace guard couldn't stop your hounds?”
“If the guards and garrison combined their forces, they could destroy mine. But could they gather before my soldiers reached you? By the time they did, you'd already be dead.”
Leonhard could find no easy answer.
His pride held the bowstring taut a moment longer. Then, furious, he lowered it.
“…Enough of these jokes. People are watching. We have a war to prepare for.”
“Since you mention it, I'll stop joking too. But remember one thing.”
The smile vanished from her face.
The force of her intent seemed to fill the air.
“Find a way to kill me before the war ends. If you fail, Brother, you will die.”
It was no vague warning. Benelia spoke as though his fate were already settled.
Then she turned and walked away.
The imperial knights, frozen until that moment, opened a path for her. Leonhard could not even bring himself to shout after her.
Only the sound of her footsteps rang across the grounds.
At noon, in the courtyard of Benelia's villa, Roylen straightened his clothes and cleared his throat.
A saintess was due to visit. He wanted everything about his welcome to be proper. Receiving one of the Church's two revered flowers was an honor, but it was also a burden.
“Your Highness, Princess… No. How should I greet her…?”
He sighed over his rehearsed words.
Then a pure-white carriage appeared, accompanied by paladins.
Roylen signaled the two knights and the servants behind him to stand ready.
The carriage approached at a measured pace, the mounted escort matching it. Several minutes later it stopped in the courtyard.
The coachman stepped down and opened the door.
The saintess emerged.
At once, brilliant light spilled across the courtyard.
Everyone lowered their heads, Roylen included.
“This humble believer greets the saintess in the name of the God of Light.”
He had hoped to speak with her face-to-face. That was impossible.
He had heard that the wicked could not even see her feet, while a virtuous person might glimpse only her chin. Now he understood why people said so.
The radiance known as the Light of Heaven was almost unbearable to look at, as though the sun itself stood before them. Some servants were forced to their knees.
“Thank you for welcoming me,” the saintess said.
Roylen squinted painfully as she drew nearer. He concealed his discomfort and gestured toward the villa.
“Please come inside. We have prepared a modest reception.”
“You are very kind. Thank you.”
Roylen led the way. The knights and servants turned their backs to the light and hurried ahead.
No one seemed to want to look at her.
The saintess, Rastain, followed with a faint, bitter smile. She knew the sight all too well.
Two blind girls walked behind her, helping carry the long hair that reached down to her feet.
“There are steps ahead,” Rastain told the girls.
She climbed slowly, matching their careful pace.
Inside the villa, the brilliance seemed even harsher. The confined rooms reflected it from polished ornaments and furnishings. Some of the staff groaned and looked away. Most stood with their backs to her.
Rastain understood. That did not mean it stopped hurting.
It was why she rarely went out.
Is this how I'll be treated for the rest of my life?
People called her radiance a blessing from the God of Light. To her, it felt more like a cruel curse laid upon her by the Pope.
Everyone praised her holiness; almost no one could bear to come close.
Only the blind girls who cared for her treated her without fear. They did not have to see the light.
“Viscount Theorad! I told you to rest!”
The sharp voice broke into her thoughts.
“How can I rest when the saintess is visiting? As a follower of the God of Light, I must pay my respects.”
“I understand, but recovery comes first—”
“Theorad?” Rastain interrupted. “Are you Theorad Deharem?”
Captain Landis had told her of a man by that name, supposedly favored by the God of Light. She had wanted to meet him.
Roylen and the servants moved aside.
Theorad stepped forward.
His tidy hair, dignified bearing and formal clothes marked him as the head of a noble family.
He bowed politely.
“Yes. I am Theorad Deharem, a humble believer in the God of Light. It is an honor to greet you, Saintess.”
Rastain's eyes widened.
How?
Theorad had lowered his head in greeting. But now he had raised it again, and his light-brown eyes were looking directly into hers.
He seemed entirely untroubled by the Light of Heaven.