Chapter 182 - 182 Ch. 181: Aria the Comedian

182 Ch. 181: Aria the Comedian

The crack of a wood and iron wheel against cobblestone sounds more normal to my ears than rubber car tires on asphalt concrete. Today I sit alone in the carriage; Nina has been relegated to clinging onto the narrow outdoor platform on the outside of the carriage, which I’ve heard is rather uncomfortable when you are in a skirt as opposed to the practical pants the footmen wear. I see very little point in paying attention to Nina’s comforts when she would so quickly entreat the very person she swore she never would.

Besides, she would just spend the entirety of the carriage ride staring at my face in an attempt to discern my thoughts somehow. Her curiosity today when I told her to dress me for a sudden outing to the Grand Temple was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. But it is quite warranted. For the first time, I have not been hailed by the Holy Church.

There were no priests garbed in their dark cloaks with a faint sycophantic aura surrounding them as if they would break out into loud worship at any moment. No special summons on pieces of paper that cost more than a home in the poorer areas of the capital.

Today I am attending of my own accord, without any of my usual kicking and screaming.

Unspoken curiosity finally gives way to words.

“Y-Your highness?” Nina whispers from above. There is a small window above the rear-facing seat of a carriage, where the footman or maidservant who is outside can speak to the occupant.

I look up to see Nina’s eyes peering down at mine through this little window and give her an unfriendly look. Pins and needles, that’s how uncomfortable I want this flip-flopping attendant to feel when she interacts with me.

“Why do you attend the Grand Temple today? I saw nothing about this in your schedule.”

“Nina.”





.....

“Your highness,” she answers.

“When did it become a servant’s place to question where her master goes? Must I answer to you now as I answer to my father?” My voice is brusque and harsh. I almost falter, unaccustomed as I am to speaking to my staff in such a manner. But I harden my heart and continue.

“N-No, your highness.” Nina’s voice quakes.

“Even Marie and Emma did not question my decision today. And yet you would be so presumptive as to think you can do so in their place?”

Nina sucks in a deep breath for courage. “As your head attendant, assisting you in keeping your schedule is part of my duties. Today is your free day from lessons and you chose to attend the Grand Temple of the Holy Church. I was unsure if I had missed something earlier and wished to rectify my error.”

“Yes, that should be the case,” I partially agree. Why didn’t I notice her silver tongue earlier?

Emboldened, Nina continues to speak.

“I am glad you understand, your highness. This is why-” Her budding wings of confidence are immediately clipped as I cut her off.

“Is this why you were unable to spot a traitor in your midst?” I break eye contact with her, referring back to how Julian was able to place a spy amongst my attendants. She doesn’t deserve anything more than my back and my icy voice.

“All those years ago, I only had but one request of you. Be loyal.” I smack the fine leather seat to emphasize the last two words.

I can hear Nina audibly swallow above my head as she rifles through her book of pretty-sounding excuses for what drivel to feed me next.

“I-I remember, your highness. And I have done so to the very best of my ability. To serve you is my purpose. But while I know what drives my heart,” Greed drives your heart, I think snidely to myself, or perhaps some misplaced pride. “I cannot begin to predict what lurks in the heart of the attendants under me.”

Not bad. But today I am impossible to please.

“You are the head attendant. Don’t you know how to take responsibility?” I hiss, faint anger creeping into my tone.



“I am sorry, your highness!” Nina cries out.

While overall contrite, the apology is so hollow it could ring like a bell if I were to knock on it. To her great fortune, I don’t press any further this time. I pretend to accept the real traitor’s apology, largely because I can see the Grand Temple is quite close by.

“It’s alright...” I sigh.

Sort of.

I’m not quite done punishing her yet. “It’s a heavy burden, being the head attendant. You shan’t carry it alone any longer.”

Nina is not a stupid girl and can hear what I’m insinuating.

“Your highness?” she panics.

The carriage rocks as we come to a standstill. Outside the window, I see the quiet back entrance of the Grand Temple that I’ve long become accustomed to. It’s the perfect analogy for my identity and life.

With my family, on Blessing days and holy festivals, we arrive at the dazzling front entrance and wave to parishioners and citizens alike. But on other occasions or formal religious ceremonies, I’m ushered in like a dirty secret through a discreet door the youngest and lowest acolytes use. Perfectly fit for a royal bastard.

“Help me out,” I order Nina. She stood frozen at my words, but comes back to life, jumping off the stand with a wobble and coming to help me down the step ladder. Her arm trembles as she assists me in exiting the carriage.

Once my silk-slippered feet kiss cobblestone, I look at Nina.

“I am elevating another attendant to take on a portion of your duties. There will now be 2 head attendants with both of you reporting to the head of staff, Marie, as usual. Understood?” This is not a proposal or an offer that Nina can reject.

She swallows hard, her face contorting like she had just swallowed a fly. But Nina nods quickly.

“As you wish, your highness.” Nina drops into a curtsey. When she rises, any hint of displeasure has been wiped from her face.

I can understand why the empress wanted Nina now. She truly is clever and quick on her feet.

But how valuable will Nina still be to Empress Katya if she is constantly battling another attendant for proximity to me and for insider knowledge of all my schedules or appointments? I can’t stop the faint grin that splits my otherwise solemn face.

Diffusing a bomb would be easier than this careful task I’ve undertaken of carving the traitorous Nina out of my life without arousing the empress’ suspicions. Otherwise, tomorrow, she may find herself a new spy even closer to me than the current ones are.

The halls are cool, if not slightly damp with a faint scent of mildew. I know the path by heart, but a mousy-looking lad still leads the way.

When we arrive at one of the many pantries the temple stores goods in, a smile bursts onto my face as I see Aria.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Aria asks. A laugh lingers in her voice as her unseeing blue eyes meet mine. I’ve managed to convince her not to address me by my title, a demand that isn’t farfetched considering that the rank and title of High Priestess is nearly equivalent to my own.

“Perhaps I just wanted to see you?” I shrug

We move from the immediate pantry to a smaller room where the alms given to practitioners were kept. There were stacks of bread, mana, like the kind that I had eaten meal after meal for months on end at the warfront. The sight of the familiar food holds my attention for a beat, causing Aria to chuckle.

“Perhaps you came to see the alms rather than me,” she dryly says.

“Ha! You have a future as a comedian if you ever decide to leave,” I say. I pull out a chair for Aria, a crude, wooden contraption that looks flimsy but is surprisingly sturdy, before pulling out one for myself.

“I can never leave.” Aria’s tone is serious. I look at her, waiting for a flicker of anger, despair, or resignation, but there is none.

“But you don’t want to,” I propose after careful observation, “do you?”

Aria just smiles in acquiescence.

“What do you like about this place? There’s always something dripping, you have to live humbly, and you are a living talisman for the bishops to manipulate.” I wave my arms up at the ceiling, which is short enough that my father would have to crouch to enter.

“I meet the most fascinating people every day. And I see things about them that they would never tell another soul, things they may never even know about themselves,” she exclaims, her face lighting up with wonder.

“You’re talking about the threads,” I state matter-of-factly.

I wonder if I have more of them tying me to this world than before. After all, a little extra protection from Peppermint’s meddling would be nice. If I can go the rest of my life without having them try to set me back on the course of death, that would be one less problem I have to deal with.

Surprisingly, Aria shakes her head. “Those are just part of what I see now. Part of the bigger picture.”

“Oh?” I find myself intrigued. There’s a certain slyness to Aria’s gaze that I’ve never seen before. She’s always possessed a distinct worldliness to her, detached yet omnipresent. But now, awareness lingers on her brow and tugs at her smile. She’s grown up quite a bit, just like me.

“How do I know there are no hidden ears?”

“Naturally, I would see them,” she says in a completely serious, deadpan tone with her blind eyes staring back at mine. I manage to hold in my laugh as Aria reclines partially in her chair, the crisp white priestess robes spilling onto the floor. In the past, the robes used to swallow her whole but now she wears them with style.

“It took you a while to respond to my message.” A hint of accusation is woven into Aria’s words.

“I had a lot of things to consider,” I parry. The mystery letter that arrived over a fortnight ago in my bed chambers has also been a source of my recent consternation. It had burned to a crisp shortly after I’d read the words on the pages as if it had never been there at all.

“And now?”

I lean forward. “What is it you want, Aria?”

“A world, in Helio’s image. No war. No hunger. No hatred,” she says. Aria speaks the way a lot of the priests involved with the Holy Church speak, a perplexing combination of deference, pride, and humility.

“Pffff!” The laugh sneaks out before I can help it. “S-Sorry. That was rude.”

“Worry not. I already know it will never happen,” Aria sighs in resignation. “But first, punishment. Come closer.”

If you are wondering how hard the High Priestess of the Holy Church can flick one’s forehead, I can assure you that her hands are still too weak to cause much pain.

As I rub the middle of my forehead, I cannot help but wonder what has forced Aria to this painful realization so soon.

On one hand, it’s good that she’s woken up to how the world works. But on the other, I cannot help but feel a burst of melancholy. We have a lot of similarities, Aria and I. We’re both extremely young, isolated from our families, and used as props by the Holy Church to line their pockets and increase their power.

Unlike me however, Aria is actually still a child, or a minor more technically. If she were in my past life, she’d be navigating the halls of high school for the first time and her biggest worry would be deciding what to wear for a homecoming. Instead, Aria has to learn how to leverage herself in an environment that could chew her up and spit her out with ease.

For me, my greatest fear is death. For her, it is to live as someone or something she is not. At least, that was what she had written in that note.

I can understand now, why parents are so keen on hiding from their children the ugliness of the world around them. For this is no sadder sight than the innocence of a child lost. When I had first met her, despite the gravitas of her heavy duty as a priestess, there had been a levity to Aria’s spirit. Now, whatever youthful vibrance that was left in Aria is long gone.

I think I surprise her when I take her hand in mine, holding it with the left and patting it with the right. Her brown hands are smooth, her nails cropped neatly. At least they aren’t treating her badly in the physical sense. As I perform an impromptu inspection, Aria looks pensive.

“Do you know what I see right now when you hold my hand?” she asks, pinning with her usual piercing stare.

“What? More threads?” I smirk. I let go of her hands and resist the temptation to tease one of the pretty, black cornrows that goes down her head and onto her shoulders before being tied off with shimmering gold beads.

“Darkness.”

“Is this revenge for laughing earlier?” I ask, half expecting Aria the Comedian to make another reappearance.

“No, really.” Aria’s eyes narrow and suspicion flashes through them. “Think carefully, Winter. Who have you become close to as of late?”