On a hill not far from the Nolan Public Cetery, everyone in the camp was still anxiously awaiting the return of the Believers of Lies. In the tent closest to the central bonfire, Dolores and Alexia were sitting at a table. The princess, looking troubled, leaned against her tutor's shoulder.
"Was I wrong to let Jenkins take such a risk?"
"That was his decision, not yours," Alexia soothed her student. "You just helped him do what he wanted. What's wrong with that?"
"Besides, do you really have so little faith in him? You, of all people, know the kind of power he wields, don't you?"
"But Jenkins is just a Saint, not a demigod. Even with all those Savior abilities, he isn't a demigod. Look, he can't even fly on his own yet. I'm so worried about my father, but if the two most important n in my life are both lost because of..."
Dolores's voice trailed off into a whisper. Alexia sympathetically stroked her student's hair.
"Stop for a mont, Dolores. There's sothing I think I can tell you. After all, Hathaway already knows, so it's probably ti you did too."
"What is it?"
The princess imdiately sat up straight and looked at her tutor.
The petite woman glanced around, ensuring they weren't being overheard.
"Before I tell you, you need to prepare yourself. And you have to promise sothing..."
"I won't tell anyone else."
"I'm not worried about you telling anyone. They wouldn't believe you and would probably just think you've gone mad. What I need you to promise is that you won't scream, no matter what you hear. And that you won't pester with a million questions afterward."
"Of course. I swear to the gods!"
Dolores declared, raising a hand.
The petite woman nodded, brushed the hair from Dolores's ear, then leaned in close and whispered sothing to her.
A mont later, they drew apart, and Alexia could clearly see the surprise, the shock, and the subtle flicker of panic on her student's face.
"That's the exact expression I was expecting,"
she remarked, casually picking up the teapot to pour herself so tea.
"I thought you might have a more entertaining reaction, like screaming or giggling foolishly."
"Are you telling the truth?"
the princess asked, taking a mont to recover. She grabbed Alexia's arm, nearly causing her tutor to spill tea all over the book on the table. She asked with a playful reproach:
"Do you think I'd get any joy from deceiving you?"
She set down her teacup and placed her hands on Dolores's shoulders, forcing the princess to look her directly in the eye.
"Now answer honestly, Dolores—have you ever really thought Jenkins was a normal person?"
"Of course he isn't normal... but sothing like this? Who could have possibly guessed? You're not lying, right?"
the princess asked again timidly.
"Of course not. You can verify it with him yourself later."
Dolores stared into her tutor's eyes but could find no trace of humor or deception.
"You're not lying?"
"That's the third ti you've asked, Dolores. And no, I'm not lying."
"Oh, gods..."
She finally groaned, slowly lowering her head to the table. She stared at the teacup before her, at the shadows cast by the papers under the lantern light.
"Sothing like this... should I be happy about it? Yes, I should!"
As she said this, her expression brightened considerably. She sat up straight again and looked at her tutor.
"So... are we all wives of a...? Tutor, you've slept with him. What was it like?"
Alexia gave her student a scrutinizing look. Dolores's gaze drifted unconsciously to her tutor's lovely brown hair, a thought flitting through her mind about how wonderful its texture was.
Realizing she had gotten carried away, she mumbled sothing about being an adult now, but still obediently lowered her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
"I want to try it too."
"What's the use in telling ? I'm certainly not opposed. It's Jenkins and his peculiar morals that are standing in the way. So, if you're bold enough, you're free to tell him your thoughts directly."
"But a lady would never do such a thing."
Dolores accepted the idea of Jenkins being a god far more quickly than Hathaway had. This was likely because, in Dolores's heart, Jenkins had always been soone extraordinary, a figure stepping out of a legend. To Hathaway, however, he was simply an immature boy.
"Then what about Chocolate?"
But both of them had seized upon the sa key question:
"If Jenkins is... *that*, then what does that make the cat he keeps?"
Dolores asked again.
"I can't tell you that. You're not ready for that knowledge yet. So things are better left unknown... also."
Alexia's expression suddenly turned serious—graver than it had been even when she revealed the monuntal secret monts before.
"What is it?"
"Until I say otherwise, you are to never, ever ntion in front of Jenkins that there's sothing not normal about his cat. Ever."
An icy gust of wind snaked through the tent's flaps. The hanging lamp sputtered for a few seconds, then swayed and went out. Alexia shot to her feet, moving to stand in front of Dolores. After a mont of confirming nothing had burst in, she spoke:
"He's back."
The two of them rushed out of the tent. A frigid wind was blowing from the direction of the fog bank, and it had already blanketed the forest grass in a layer of white frost. Snowflakes howled toward them, striking their faces like a thousand tiny needles.
A hazy, cold mist and a brilliant white light made it impossible to see what lay in the direction the storm was coming from. But soon, a dark shape ca flying through the air and landed on the still-warm embers of the bonfire. The impact sent a cloud of warm, reddish-gray ash and icy snowflakes swirling together.
Through the mist and the glaring light, a man erged, a cat perched on his shoulder and a sword held in his right hand. Behind him trailed a group of people, shivering uncontrollably from the cold as they followed him cautiously. They looked nearly frozen, but at least they were all alive.
"This is the Blizzard Fiend."
Mr. Candle announced, tossing four items—one each of gold, silver, copper, and iron—onto the ground. The featureless figure lying in the embers shot to its feet, but just as it lunged for the strange objects, Jenkins threw his sword and pinned it back down in the ashes.
He turned his head to look at Mr. Gilbert.
"I've brought everyone back. Destroy these four items, and you'll destroy that thing for good. Now, tell , did Mr. Oliver agree to hand over the key?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)