28. Liam

Chapter 28

Liam

D ays turned into weeks, each mirroring the last, with me going about my routine, and Seth finding excuses to accompany me. Ma had taken to saving the Priest a table each dinner and beamed every time he darkened our doorway, racing forward to grip him by the arm and usher him to his seat. She chittered about how happy I seemed these days, and how she credited the Priest for my buoyant mood.

For my sake, I thought my mood was always cheerful and harrumphed at the thought some man made me more so—until Seth appeared in the doorway and my smile widened ever so slightly. The flutter of my heart and flush of warmth throughout my limbs stirred with his gaze, more so now than before.

After our third week of market strolling, I allowed him to take my hand.

I’d never understood the magic in that simple touch. Sparks prickled my arms, and my chest swelled. Seth squeezed my hand, and the world stilled.

In our fifth week, Seth invited me to hear him address the people in the town square. Neatly printed flyers had been strewn about town, calling all to hear the man of the Order speak.

By then, everyone knew him.

He would have no trouble drawing a crowd.

I dreaded facing the tittering biddies and smirking boys who already spoke of me with jealous or derisive barbs, but I wouldn’t dare miss supporting Seth as he spread his warmth and works among my neighbors. No one spoke of whatever grew between us, but looks told stories of their own. I struggled within but held my chin high and tried to ignore any who might frown on seeing us together.

Seth never faltered.

If he noticed the glances or heard the rumors, he strode above them like the stars soaring in the heavens. His eyes only ever found mine. His hand gripped my own. His fingers laced and squeezed, leaving no doubt about his heart’s true intent.

“. . . the weak, those who cannot do so well for themselves.”

I stifled a yawn. I’d heard this speech from Seth so many times I could recite it from memory.

The whole town was gathered.

Spring was poking its shy head above the surface, and heavy cloaks were no longer needed. Farmers in coveralls and fishermen in rough leggings stood beside women and girls in their finest gowns and dresses. I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling at the obvious contrast and the townswomen’s desire to impress at the largest public gathering of the year.

Seth’s voice drew my attention once more.

“. . . the Queen.” Murmurs trickled through the crowd at whatever he’d just said. I couldn’t tell if the crowd agreed with him, but Seth’s words had drawn a reaction.

He held his arms out, asking the crowd to calm. “We respect the Crown and its role in keeping order among our people. They maintain laws and keep us safe, preserve our roads, and encourage trade with our neighbors.”

The murmurs turned to nods and grunts of assent.

“And yet, who declared war on our neighbor?” Seth paused and looked from face to face. “Who spread the false tale of then-Princess Jessia’s kidnapping at the hands of our Melucian brothers? They were innocent of this charge, yet this vile accusation was the bedrock on which our righteous anger was built. Who laid that foundation?”

He paused again, and I felt the mood of the crowd shift.

The bitterness was palpable.

He’d struck a nerve.

A man’s voice several rows back from Seth called out, “The one who wore the crown, that’s who!”

Seth held up a hand again to quell the rising tide.

“That’s right. It was the Crown itself who led our husbands and brothers to defeat and death. The Crown discarded a thousand years of peace in exchange for personal power. The King himself, Spirits rest his soul, was fooled into ordering our boys east. Is there a family present who hasn’t lost a son or brother or husband? How many widows and orphans must the Crown create before we challenge their right to absolute power?”

I glanced around.

Even society’s finest had forgotten their silk and lace in favor of brewing anger and resentment.

Every family knew loss from the war.

Every mother knew the ultimate grief and pain, the agony no parent should ever know.

He was striking the flint, lighting the flame, and drawing it skillfully into his palm.

Seth, what are you doing?

The Priest allowed the flame to catch before begging for calm once more.

“Good people of Oliver, you know me now. Your children know me most of all.” This brought a few nervous nods and tentative smiles from knowing parents. “I came here to serve, to minister to each of you in your own time and need. I did not come to fan the flames of rebellion.”

Brows knit in confusion.

“Of course the one who wears the crown is human, like each of us. They are bound to err, some more disastrously than others, as we’ve learned recently. Yet our faith does not teach revolution. Our mortal masters fulfill an ancient and worthy purpose when they serve and lead, rather than conquer. We praise the efforts of our new Queen. Tragedy tested her will and strength beyond what most could fathom, yet she endured to rise and don the vestments of power.”

More nods spread among the crowd.

Queen Jessia had indeed become a popular figure, a beacon of hope following the disastrous war of her mother and father.

“What we believe is that faith and order must coexist, must rule the mind and body and spirit together . The Crown and the Order should stand side by side in service to the people of this land. The will of mortal men must always be balanced by the temperance of spiritual guidance. Only through faith and good works can we hope to reclaim the mantle of righteousness our Kingdom once possessed.”

An impatient woman in the front row raised her hand and shouted, “I don’t get it. You hate the Crown, then you respect it. You don’t want rebellion, now you preach the faith should rule with the Queen. What are you saying?”

Seth smiled and nodded toward the woman.

“Thank you, madam. We Priests do love the sound of our own voices.”

This drew chuckles and more than a few nods.

“We all know the ancient prophecy that foretells the return of the One. There is no child among us who cannot recite tales of Irina and her return by heart. Yet we now know Irina was a false prophet, a false goddess. She was never the One spoken of with reverence in the ancient texts. She was a usurper who used magic and power to further her own evil designs and drive our nation into the ground.”

The ever-shifting mood flared toward anger once more at the mention of Irina.

“I come before you today, not with a message of anger and despair, but of hope. I come to proclaim the return of the true heir of prophecy, the true bearer of faith. The One returns—”

Gasps spread through the crowd.

The woman who’d spoken earlier crossed her arms and shouted, “What does the new One want now? We’ve got nothing left to give. The old Queen took my sons and husband!”

“My friends, the One comes to us with arms spread wide, inviting us into a warm embrace of love, kindness, and beauty. He comes to heal and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for our people. He seeks neither land nor riches, nor does he care for conquest.” Seth paused, tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully, then corrected himself, drawing the crowd further to his words. “No, that is not right. He does seek conquest. He would conquer every heart and bring every loyal subject the joy and peace only found in righteous works and passionate, sincere faith.

“Tonight is a beginning. I am but a humble servant sent ahead of his master to prepare for his return. You are my family now. I ask only for your open minds and hearts. Go in peace, and think on my words.”

No one moved for a long moment.

They looked unsure if they should.

Then Seth stepped down from the makeshift stage and made his way through the parting crowd to where I stood.

I gaped as he stood before me.

My mind raced. Barely a family in town remained untouched by the Taker during the war. Brothers, sons, and fathers left with pride in their hearts and songs on their lips. What they left behind were empty, quiet homes with husbandless wives and fatherless children.

Father tried to go, to join the King’s army, but he’d been too old. They’d turned him back. Short of that mercy, Ma and I would be among those still mourning a loss.

Seth struck far more than a raw nerve. He pierced people directly in the heart.

“Was I that bad?”

I looked at my hands as my fingers fidgeted. “You spoke well, but . . . it’s just so much, Seth.”

My face held a stricken look, and I struggled to raise my eyes.

“It is a great deal to take in. I understand,” he said. “May a humble Priest walk a handsome lord home?”

I looked around at the dispersing crowd, some casting glances our way, their expressions unreadable.

I nodded and let him hook my arm in his as we began our stroll toward the inn.