Chapter 3: The Temple, The Truth, and The Trash-TalkTo get to the Great Temple without a parade of weeping Knights, I had to pull off the performance of a lifetime. I told Prince Cassian that I had a "vision of a holy petal" and needed to offer a silent prayer for the "burdened air."
He almost didn't let me go, fearing the temple steps would be too steep for my "will-o'-the-wisp" ankles, but Mina managed to smuggle me out in a carriage lined with so much padding I felt like a marshmallow in a jewel box.
"Remember, My Lady," Mina whispered as we approached the white marble spires. "Lady Vesperia is inside for a private audience. If you catch her in a moment of 'villainy,' you can use it to solidify your position with the Prince."
I didn't tell Mina that I wasn't there to take Vesperia down. I was there to see if I could join her club. I wanted to know how she kept her spine so straight in a world that wanted everyone to be a noodle.
The Secret AudienceI slipped through the side entrance of the sanctuary, moving with agonizing slowness. I reached the heavy velvet curtains of the High Priest's private chamber. Through a small gap, I saw the burgundy hem of Vesperia's dress. She was standing perfectly still, looking like a statue of a goddess who had just finished a very long day at the office.
But she wasn't alone.
Standing across from her was Saintess Seraphina de Luce. She was dressed in shimmering white, looking like she was made of moonlight and pure intentions. I waited for Vesperia to strike. Instead, it was the Saintess who opened her mouth.
"Oh, Lady Vesperia," Seraphina chirped, her voice sounding like a choir of angels. "You look so... sturdy today. It must be such a blessing to have the bone density of a mountain troll. I wish I had your primitive strength; alas, my soul is simply too refined for such a heavy, muscular frame."
I froze. Wait, what?
"Is that so?" Vesperia replied, her voice cool and bored.
"Indeed!" Seraphina smiled, and it was the kindest, most beautiful smile I'd ever seen—until you actually listened to the words. "I pray for you every day, Vesperia. I pray that one day your heart will be as soft as your waistline is... substantial. It must be so difficult for the Prince to look at you and not be reminded of a sturdy barn door."
She wasn't shouting. She wasn't sneering. She had fully perfected the "Innocent Persona" to the point where she could call you a peasant and make it sound like a blessing.
The Tactical Counter-AccusationSuddenly, my foot slipped. It wasn't a normal slip. The floor, which was perfectly dry marble, suddenly felt like it had been greased with butter.
I launched through the velvet curtains like a cannonball, sliding across the polished floor and coming to a stop exactly between the "Villainess" and the "Saintess."
"Lady Liliana!" Seraphina gasped, her face shifting instantly back to watery concern. She dropped to her knees beside me, her eyes wide. "Did you fall from Heaven, my poor little bird? Or did your fragile legs simply give up?"
This was it. The moment. She was trying to frame me as the "weak one" again.
I didn't scramble up. Instead, I stayed on the floor, letting my lip tremble just enough. I reached up, slowly wiping away a non-existent tear from the corner of my eye.
"Are you..." I whispered, my voice sounding like a dying flute. "Are you calling me a fallen angel, Saintess? A... a demon? Here? Inside the Holy Temple?"
The air in the room went dead cold. The High Priest, who had been hovering in the shadows, let out a sharp, audible gasp.
Seraphina's smile twitched. "What? No, I meant—"
"To fall from Heaven is to be cast out," I sobbed, burying my face in my hands so they couldn't see my smirk. "To be a demon in a place of prayer... oh, Saintess! Do you truly think so lowly of my soul? Am I so wretched in your eyes that you would name me a creature of the abyss while standing before the gods?"
I looked at Vesperia. For the first time, the "Iron Duchess" looked like she was struggling not to laugh. She took a slow sip of her wine—wait, where did she get wine in a temple?—and watched the chaos unfold.
"I... I only meant you were ethereal!" Seraphina stammered, her "innocent" mask cracking under the weight of her own metaphor. "Lady Liliana, please—"
"The air..." I wheezed, clutching my chest as I leaned away from her as if her touch burned. "The air is so heavy with your... your judgment! I feel my spirit withering!"
The High Priest rushed forward, his robes fluttering. "Saintess! To use such dark imagery against a fragile blossom like Lady Liliana! We must perform a cleansing at once!"
I caught Vesperia's eye again. She gave me a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of approval. I had done it. I had used the "Saintess's" own weaponized innocence against her.
Maybe being a "Lily" wasn't so bad if I could use it to start a religious scandal.
The High Priest was busy scolding the Saintess, who was currently trying to explain that "falling from heaven" was a compliment while looking like she wanted to evaporate. It was the perfect diversion.
I used the confusion to shimmy away from Seraphina's "holy" reach. I didn't stand up—god forbid I walk like a functional adult—but I managed to prop myself up against a marble pillar right next to Vesperia's burgundy skirts.
I looked up at her. She was still holding that glass, looking down at the chaos I'd caused with the detached interest of someone watching a particularly entertaining street performer.
"Lady Vesperia," I whispered, my voice no longer trembling with fake tears but sharp with a very modern desperation. "Forget the cleansing. Forget the fallen angels. Do you have any coffee? Or tea? Or... whatever it is nobles drink to stay sane when surrounded by this much nonsense?"
Vesperia paused, her glass halfway to her lips. She looked at me—truly looked at me—not as a "Little Lily" or a "Fragile Feather," but as a fellow soldier behind enemy lines.
"Coffee?" she repeated, her voice low. "That bitter bean brew from the Southern Isles? Most ladies find it too 'aggressive' for their refined palates. They prefer sugared water and rose-scented steam."
"I've spent eighteen years surviving on caffeine and the tears of my professors," I muttered, leaning closer. "If I have to drink one more cup of 'petal tea,' I'm going to actually become a demon. Please. I need a stimulant. Something that doesn't taste like a garden."
A slow, genuine smirk spread across Vesperia's face. It wasn't the smirk of a villainess; it was the smirk of a co-conspirator.
"Finally," she murmured, reaching into a hidden pocket of her dress and pulling out a small, ornate silver flask. "The High Priest thinks this is 'Holy Water for my temperament.' In reality, it's a triple-shot espresso blend I smuggled in from the port."
She handed it to me under the cover of her voluminous sleeves.
"Careful, Liliana," she warned. "If you drink that and suddenly start walking in a straight line, the Prince might think you've been possessed by a spirit of productivity. It's a dangerous look for a 'lily'."
I took a swig. The bitter, dark liquid hit my tongue like a long-lost friend. My brain, which had been foggy with romance novel tropes, suddenly hummed with the power of a thousand suns.
"Let them think I'm possessed," I whispered, handing the flask back. "At least possessed people are allowed to have a personality."
Vesperia chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made Seraphina stop her crying and look over in suspicion.
"I like you, Lily," Vesperia said, her eyes glinting. "You're the first 'ethereal' girl I've met who doesn't actually have sawdust for a brain. Shall we go? I believe the Prince is about three minutes away from storming the temple to save you from the 'demon-naming' Saintess."