Only when he was already walking closer to Dorothea did it occur to Rhys that he could pretend not to have noticed her and maybe even leave the building entirely to avoid interaction.

Too late—she turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Rhys,” she said, smiling. “It’s good to see you. Please, sit with me if you like.”

He didn’t have the will to get out of the situation. He asked as he lowered himself, “Why are you here alone? Aren’t you supposed to have bodyguards?”

“Well, Cerid went to wait for Iree like she asked him to, and Ariana…” She frowned.

“The two of you don’t get along at all, do you?”

“It’s a long story,” Dorothea laughed, keeping her voice soft even though there were only three other people in the chapel, and one of them was snoring away on a pew with their limbs sprawled akimbo.

“So?” he prompted when she didn’t explain.

“Is Ariana going to get into trouble? I don’t want that.”

“I don’t have the authority to influence that anymore.”

She frowned again before telling her story. The restaurant, the patrons she and Ariana had verbally sparred with, being left with a bill and no way to pay for it. “Luckily,” Dorothea concluded, “the manager let me trade in the apology coupon she gave me as payment for the bill. Really she just wanted to get rid of me, I think.”

“Why wouldn’t you want Ariana to be punished for that?” Even if all it would have amounted to was a stern lecture from Iree.

“That’s the last thing she needs or deserves on top of everything else, don’t you think?”

The expected response. Of course she’d take it laying down when it only concerned offense to her. It was admirable, but he couldn’t help but think of the meekness of it as dangerous.

“Agreed. So, with your freedom for the night, you chose to come here of all places?”

“I figured I won’t have many more chances to be alone, so yes, I seized the opportunity. Though I had to work hard to convince Shark.” She laughed. “And you?”

“I like to take breaks here. Praying never hurts either.”

“Who do you pray to?” She gestured to the front of the room, and they turned to look forward.

Before them loomed five deities, each with a far-reaching domain of their own: Extremis of life and death, reincarnation and rebirth; Anamnesis of memory and attachment; Zeal of love and unity; Pico of time and timelines, the possible directions of each act; and lastly, Concord of justice and peace.

Rhys somehow felt as if one of those Gods had taken earthly form and was now seated beside him. But to answer her question he said, “Anamnesis.”

Dorothea looked surprised. “Huh. I’d have thought a soldier would pray to Extremis.”

“A lot of us do. Yourself?”

“Zeal and Concord, mostly, though I make sure to give all the Gods their proper due.”

Zeal, hm? “Troubles in love?” He asked for the sake of making conversation.

Against expectation, Dorothea didn’t look embarrassed. “I pray to Zeal for my own sake. I want to…to keep my promise.” She looked away, anxiously twirling hair around her finger.

Rhys shifted, going closer in his piqued fascination. “Your promise?”

“But what about you?” Dorothea asked, avoiding his question with one of her own. “Why Anamnesis?”

“There are lots of things I would have liked to keep close,” Rhys said by way of explanation. He laughed so he wouldn’t unnerve her, but she didn’t laugh along. She simply looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. He felt unnerved, off balance, and it hit him suddenly how unpleasant he was finding the interaction to be. Why?

She smiled when she realized he wasn’t going to say more. “I hope you hold onto the things you want to, then.”

He knew in a flash, why he found her presence so difficult: they were killing her. Yes, Dorothea had offered her assistance of her own accord, but he almost couldn’t stand the sight of her knowing what would happen! His negligence that day had cost her precious time. Try as he might to get an apology out, he couldn’t.

Like a coward and a nosy, worthless boy, he asked, “Will you tell me about the promise you mentioned? I’m curious.”

Catching him off guard once again, she smiled and joked, “You’ll have to tell me one of your deepest, darkest secrets before I go telling you mine.”

He surprised himself by smiling genuinely, albeit a small one. “You drive a hard bargain.” Was she serious? What would he even say?

Since he couldn’t think of a worthy secret, he moved to address another pressing concern. “Are you worried? About what’s going to happen next.” Maybe it would help them both to talk it through.

“I am. I mean, of course I am. How couldn’t I be…” She folded her hands and stared down at them. “Everything that can go wrong always seems to…go that way.”

“We’ll protect you.” He’d say that as many times as she needed. “Maybe not me so much anymore, but even so. And I’ll still be here anytime you need me, for anything. Even if it’s just to talk like this.”

She smiled sweetly. “Thank you. That really does mean a lot. But…” Her expression turned contemplative. “I’m more scared of failing than dying. Of course, I’d definitely prefer not to die, but still.”

“Failing?” Being afraid more of that than dying? The more he got to know her, the more strange and wondrous she seemed.

“I can’t save everyone. That was true ten years ago and it’s true now. I’ve never dealt with stakes this high or had so many people to let down. I want to be able to keep it together. With how badly I let everyone down today, I just don’t know. Still, I trust that Iree will be able to think of something.”

The guilt. It reared, sank its teeth in. None of them had a right to thoughtlessly profit from her parasitic magic. At the same time, however, for the potential of that magic to be wasted while so many lives were on the line… It wasn’t an easy quandary. “The worst thing you can do in the thick of battle is to be dishonest with your limitations. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Dorothea. Please look at me so I know you understand.” She did so, eyebrows lifted in question of his sudden insistence. “Run when you need to run and fight when you can. Don’t…” Don’t die. Whatever God you want to pray to, just don’t die. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Rhys wiped his hands on his trousers, part habit and part because he felt nervous and fidgety. “Do you feel obligated to the people of Sirpo?” The only reason she’d even come to Sacer was for the sake of that place.

“Obligated? Hm.” Sorrow and weariness weighed her tone. “The Atlins have always led Sirpo. We’ve been responsible for protecting the people, each and every generation. My magic was dedicated to them from birth.”

“So they had to have known about the cost of that.”

“Of course. They know very well what the end result will be.”

“And still, they…?” He shouldn't have spoken as if it were so unfathomable. Dorothea’s position hadn’t changed.

Her eyes got a clouded, faraway look. “No matter what, they didn’t deserve to suffer. To be murdered. I promised to protect them, and it all comes down to that. But I’ve never really known what to do or what’s right.”

“Your home will be restored, one way or another. That much, you don’t have to worry about. You can focus on the here and now.”

“You’re so sure, hm? Going to come and help us rebuild?” Dorothea joked, the gentle, innocent light returning to her eyes.

“If you want me to,” Rhys replied in all seriousness. If there was something, anything he could do, he’d do it.

She smiled that sweet smile again, clearly appreciative of his words. “Let’s just take things one day at a time, like you said.”

“Sounds good. But you promised me some of Shark’s famous jambalaya, if you remember. Let’s at least make right on that,” he added.

“Let’s,” she laughed, then paused. “Um, a question. I’m interested to know how all of this works when you’re all so…caught up in other things. Have you… Um.” Her cheeks flushed. “Ever honestly loved someone?”

Back to love, were they? Oh joy. “Family, yes, but that’s not what you mean. Romantically, also yes, I think.” Love was a strong word.

“What happened?” Her eyes were lit with vicarious interest.

He couldn’t rise to her enthusiasm. “War.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Oh, Rhys. I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

Well, he wouldn’t deny it. “It’s fine. There were other things too. He loved someone else, and…I did something he couldn’t forgive.” His hand drifted into his pocket by habit, touching something small and warm. Almost on impulse, he drew it out and laid it flat on his palm.

Dorothea leaned over to scrutinize it. “Is that…a rose? Even if it’s white… Do roses come in white?”

“I guess?” Right, she’d come from a climate where flowers didn’t usually grow. Not that Rhys knew much about them himself. “But it’s a gardenia, I was told.”

Dorothea reached out to touch it, then looked to him for permission. Rhys nodded, and she ran a finger along its surface. “It’s faded,” she observed, fingertip brushing some flaked and dulled parts where a bronze underlayer shone through.

“That’s my fault. It’s like a worry stone.”

“It adds a certain charm to it.”

“Glad you think so.” He studied her, the lengthy tresses of her hair falling over his arm, brushing his wrist in a soft tickle, as she studied every little detail of the pin. “Do you mean it? You’ll tell me one of your secrets if I tell you mine?”

She looked up to meet his eyes. “I will, if that’s what you want to do.”

Okay. He’d take her up on it, though he wasn’t even sure why. “I told you before that I bought pins for myself and two friends. For protection.” It sounded even more foolish to say it out loud. As if some worthless trinket would help anyone. “Three friends, three pins.” He closed his hand on the gardenia. “Yet I have two of them with me. I’m sure you know what that means.”

She regarded him with silent sympathy, nodding.

Rhys shifted to get comfortable, and she followed suit, angling her knees towards his as she slouched and he hunched over, hands dangling in the air between his spread legs.

“Care for a long, boring story, Dorothea?”

“I’d love one.”