Chapter 53: In Service of the Goddess

“Miss Casewell. We seem to have a habit of meeting unexpectedly.”

There was a loud ringing in her ears as every muscle in her body locked into place, and for a moment she couldn’t even speak. Yet Leofric’s gray eyes only held the same mild kindness they always did.

“Father Leofric.” She did her best to keep a steady tone. “I thought you were busy in a seminar.”

He adjusted the collar of his cassock. There was a large ruby set in a ring on his finger. “I was. It concluded this afternoon. It wouldn’t do to leave my parish for too long, after all.”

“I see.”

The driver called something from outside, and the coach lurched forward. Clara glanced at the door handle. She desperately wanted to open it and get out, but what would that accomplish, other than leaving her stranded in Elysia and alerting Leofric that something was wrong? If he was as dangerous as she thought he was, the only way she’d get through this was by convincing him she didn’t suspect a thing.

She would have to play the part. She sighed and looked out the window.

“Is something amiss, Miss Casewell?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Father.”

“Are you sure? Despite your absence from our regular prayers, you are still part of my flock. It’s my duty to hear what ails you.”

Clara allowed herself a rueful laugh. It wasn’t entirely forced—there was something almost comically absurd about receiving pastoral care from someone she suspected of murder.

“Well, I wager you’ve already heard about my situation with House von Rhenia.”

He nodded. “Word does travel, even to humble parish priests. Defending Dame Rowena must have been a difficult decision.”

“It was.” Clara leaned back against the bench and let her shoulders sag, playing up her very real exhaustion. “I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do. I don’t want to anger Lady Iris, or the Goddess.”

“The young lady’s capacity for forgiveness does not seem quite as vast as the Goddess’s. Then again, even the Goddess draws boundaries which one can never uncross.” Leofric had always spoken in sentences that could be interpreted in many ways, but the knowledge she had now made it so much more eerie.

“Yes, Father. And that is why I came to Elysia. I had a job interview, to work as a maid for a merchant family.”

“A merchant family?” Leofric raised his eyebrows. “That is quite a step down from a lady’s maid.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say. Without a letter of reference from House von Rhenia, my options are rather limited.” She let a note of bitterness creep into her voice; using real emotions to misdirect always made a performance more convincing.

“And how did the interview go?”

“Poorly.”

He sighed sympathetically. “The Goddess tests us most when we feel most alone. But do not despair. I am sure She has plans for you, Little Clara.”

Leofric’s smile grew wider, and much less kind.

Clara’s heart drummed in her chest, much louder than the rumble of the coach’s wheels on the cobblestone streets of the capital. She glanced at the door beside her. Was there still time to get out? It would be better to try her luck in Elysia City than out on the road to Westwick. Maybe she could run to the Royal Army’s barracks and tell them she worked for Prince Lochlann.

She reached for the handle.

He raised his hand. “Claudatur ostium. Firmetur.”

The ruby on his ring flared as she tried to yank the door open. It didn’t budge even an inch. Fuck.

He waved his hand lazily as she struggled with the handle. “Sileantur parietes. Nulla vox exeat.”

A pressure settled all around her. It was akin to the weight of the Pope’s mass-silencing spell, but not quite as suffocating, aimed not at her but at the coach itself.

“This will ensure we aren’t disturbed.” His words echoed within the cabin, the sound bouncing back off the frame. It was clear that, whatever happened here, the noise wouldn’t reach the driver outside.

He lowered his hand, sitting exactly as he had before: hands folded, posture relaxed, legs crossed. Neither of them said anything for a very long time, but the smile didn’t leave his face for even a second.

Leofric was the one to break the silence. “And how is Mother Mirabelle?” he asked softly.

“Did she tell you I visited? Is that why you’re here?”

“Oh, Goddess, no. I haven’t seen the good matron in a long time. Seven years, or thereabouts.” He laughed sharply. “You see, that has always been my problem. I am far more merciful than my station demands.”

If not the matron, then someone else must have told him. The head maid could have sent a notice from the von Rhenia estate. Or Leofric could have someone watching the orphanage.

“You consider yourself merciful?”

The man across from her, with a predator’s grin, looked anything but.

“Why, of course. I should have dealt with Mother Mirabelle a long time ago, to make sure she didn’t say something she shouldn’t. Just as I should have dealt with you, after your little rebellion at the High Court.”

“What you call rebellion, I call fighting for my life.”

“Your life?” He shrugged theatrically. “What is the life of a street rat next to the glory of the Goddess? You were raised for so many years for such a simple task, and yet at the last moment, when you were to fulfill your duty and meet the Goddess’s warm embrace, you betrayed us all. Why didn’t you do it?”

Her fingers pressed tightly against the seat. It was true, then. Stella had been in league with the Church—or at least with a faction within the Church that wanted to harm House von Rhenia. And the reason she’d tried to end her life, or ‘meet the Goddess’s embrace’, was that they’d convinced her it was her duty by exploiting her religious devotion. A devotion Leofric had probably fostered during Stella’s entire childhood by exploiting his role at the orphanage, guaranteeing her loyalty above all else.

“Needless to say, my question is merely rhetorical, as I gather you are experiencing memory issues. But I do intend to find out exactly what happened, including all about how you came to be in possession of your newfound… talents.”

How did he know about her memory? Had someone betrayed her? She’d only told Iris, Ricardo, Professor Morris, and Duke von Rhenia. It was hard to believe any of them would have gone to the Church behind her back.

“Don’t look so surprised. It’s been obvious since I saw you at the chapel and you clearly had no idea who I was. Your lack of response to our letters all but confirmed it. I assume you don’t remember anything from before the trial at the High Court, yes?”

“Why didn’t you just get rid of me?” She had no reason to answer his questions, but she could at least try to get some more information out of him. And maybe if she could keep him talking, he’d be so distracted he’d drop his visualizations and his spells would fail. She kept her left hand fixed on the door handle, ready to push it open if it ever budged.

“I always foolishly cling to the hope that even the most irredeemable among us can return to the Goddess’s grace. And, as you’ve no doubt understood by now, there is always the risk of consequences when someone under House von Rhenia’s direct protection is harmed. Yet now, you find yourself dismissed…”

In other words, he probably thought he could still make use of me, if he brought me back to the Church. But now that I’ve lost my job, I’m no longer worth saving.

Clara scoffed.

“As much as it pains me to admit, I see now that you are a lost cause,” said Leofric. “Especially after your blasphemous suggestion at the trial. I’ve heard all about that, Little Clara.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled whenever he used the nickname Mother Mirabelle had called her.

“Speaking of the trial, it was you, wasn’t it?” Clara asked.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“You learned from the gossip-prone apothecary that Ricardo was investigating the pills, and you wanted to get rid of him. So, after you took Dame Rowena to her room, you hid inside the closet and used illusion magic to make her believe she’d killed Ricardo. Then, two hours later, you snuck into Ricardo’s room, killed him in his sleep, stole the pills, and dragged him to Rowena’s room. You used sound magic to stage a conflict and create witnesses, then you jumped out the window, using magic to cushion your fall.”

When she finished speaking, he remained silent for a moment, then he slowly clapped his hands. “I applaud your intuition. I had intended to recover the remaining pills immediately after the trial at the High Court, but that head maid was more trouble than expected. I was quite pleased to learn they were at Westwick. A sound conclusion, Little Clara, despite the missing details.”

“And what details are those?”

“Don’t you think slitting Ricardo’s throat, then dragging the bloody corpse would have caused quite a mess? It sounds quite gruesome, even for me.”

Right. There was no way Leofric would have had time to clean such a blood trail. Which meant he’d have had to kill Ricardo after moving him to Rowena’s room. But that would have woken Ricardo up, and then he’d have easily overpowered Leofric, right? Or at least put up some sort of fight that would have called attention.

Unless…

“The herbs. You spiked their drinks! That is why Rowena got so drunk, even though she said she’d drunk the same as always. You knocked Ricardo unconscious with your herbs, allowing you to carry him to Rowena’s room. There, you killed him with her weapon, while both of them were passed out,” said Clara.

Leofric chuckled.

“What I don’t understand is: why go through all that trouble? If all you wanted was to get rid of Ricardo, surely there were simpler ways than involving Rowena and the royal family.”

“Yes, why? You are so close, Little Clara. I’m sure you can rack that troublesome mind of yours and come up with the answer.”

She narrowed her eyes and thought through all of Leofric’s actions so far. Then it hit her.

“I get it now. You wanted to kill two birds with one stone. Your goal wasn’t only getting rid of Ricardo—you also wanted to irreparably damage the relationship between the royal family and House von Rhenia, which is what you’d originally wanted to achieve by convicting Iris months ago.”

“If only you hadn’t messed up your part of the plan back then, our present mess could have been avoided,” Leofric said. “In a way, Ricardo’s blood is more on your hands than mine.”

Clara had to hold herself back from lunging at the man. He kept smiling, as if they were having the most pleasant conversation, which only incensed her further. She took a deep breath. Rattling her was exactly what Leofric wanted.

She had to think this through carefully. If he was willing to admit all that, then that meant he probably didn’t intend to let her leave. Or live.

Leofric’s hold on the door had shown no signs of loosening. She could try sucker-punching him and hope that the distraction would be enough to break his spell and let her make a run for it. But all she could see as she glanced out the window were trees and darkness. They were already outside the city, miles away from any help. Plus, Clara had never actually punched anyone, and it was probably safe to assume his frailty was just an act.

Did she have anything that could help? There wasn’t much in her satchel besides spare clothes; she wished she’d brought a knife. There was her wand, but she was far too inexperienced to challenge Leofric magically. Though, come to think of it, maybe there is something. It was a far-fetched plan, but there was no harm in trying.

First, get him talking again.

“What about Helena? Was she the one who made the illusions for you?”

For the first time, he frowned. “I am more than capable of making such illusions on my own. No, Lady Helena has a much grander purpose.”

As he spoke, Clara discreetly reached into the satchel on her lap with her right hand, feeling through its contents until her fingers brushed the cold metal. The soulmate rings.

“A grander purpose?” she asked. Repeating the last thing someone said back to them as a question was a surefire way to get them to elaborate.

“Even under the present circumstances, my willingness to indulge your curiosity has its limits. All you ought to know is that the Goddess has roles for all of us, and Lady Helena will shine brighter than any of us could. It is something we are all greatly anticipating.”

By the time he’d finished speaking, Clara had slipped one of the rings into her pocket.

“Alas,” he said, his smile creeping back onto his face, “we must end this conversation here, for now. We have arrived.”

Arrived where? She looked outside again. The coach had stopped, but there was no sign of anything around them.

“Desine,” Leofric chanted. “Ladies first.”

She opened the door cautiously. There was no point in staying inside if the coach wasn’t moving. She stepped down, keeping her right hand inside her pocket as her boots hit the packed earth. The night air was cold against her face, and the road stretched empty in both directions, illuminated only by the moonlight.

The driver was slumped forward on the bench, and his flat cap had fallen onto the dirt below. Clara gasped when she saw the arrow lodged in the side of his neck. He was just a man doing his job. He had nothing to do with any of this. The situation was so absurd she half-expected to wake up in a modern hospital and be told she’d been in a coma since the plane crash.

“Ah, there she is.” The familiar voice came from the treeline.

Inquisitor Aldric stepped onto the road, his crimson robe looking almost black in the darkness. Behind him, four armed soldiers emerged from the shadows. Three of them had their hands resting on the pommels of their swords, and the last held a bow. Their outfits were a shade of red even darker than Aldric’s.

“Inquisitor Aldric,” said Clara. “I’m surprised to see you standing here. After what Her Holiness said at the end of the trial, I thought you’d at least be stripped of your post.”

His lips twisted. “Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this moment. You humiliated me.”

“Now, now, Aldric.” Leofric descended from the coach behind her. “We discussed this. Personal grudges are beneath us. We do what we do in the service of the Goddess.”

Aldric bowed. “My apologies, High Inquisitor.”

High inquisitor? It had already been apparent that Leofric wasn’t a simple priest, but to think he’d been a powerful inquisitor all along… Clara felt like an idiot for not seeing it coming. But if he had held such a position the entire time, why had nobody in Westwick recognized him? ‘High inquisitor’ sounded like quite a high-profile job.

Well, that can wait. Clara’s eyes darted around the scene as she tried desperately to think of a way out of this. Four soldiers, armed and ready. Two powerful spellcasters. The trees were perhaps fifteen paces away on either side—too far to reach before an arrow or a spell caught her.

Leofric gestured to the soldiers. “Take her. We have a long walk ahead of us. And unhitch the horses and take some of the packages. That ought to be enough to make this look like highway robbery.”

If they want to frame this as a robbery, that means they intend for the coach to be found. And judging by how long it’s been since we left, we might’ve already crossed into Westwick’s jurisdiction.

The two men closest to her approached, and she faked a backward stumble onto the ground. Before they reached her, she dropped the ring under the carriage.

Warren, I’m serving you your culprit on a platter, so you better come and take him if you want to keep calling yourself a prosecutor. And Goddess, don’t think I don’t see you pulling out the classic female lead kidnapping. Maybe be a bit more creative next time?

Clara smiled grimly.