Champion in Love (bxb)

CHAPTER 25. The Enemy

Peasants, their donkeys and oxen stared at me, as my litter passed them on the outskirts of Fidelium. I understood their apprehension. Someone heading out of town at this unfashionably late hour usually meant bad news. They feared an Imperial tax collector. They worried that a new draft might lure their sons into the legions. They bemoaned the change.

The countryside maidens, on the opposite, waved at me. If I waved back, they blushed as red as the strawberries they were picking in their straw baskets. Maybe they hoped that a tax collector or an officer would whisk them away to a life of glamor in the city. I disappointed their hopes by refusing to stop, even if it was just to buy the first strawberries. My riled emotions longed for the gone thunderstorms, not sweet treats.

I dismissed the litter by the gates of the temple, because otherwise the bearers wouldn't enter Fidelium before the curfew. For myself, I wasn't all that worried. If the temple didn't have a corner for me, I could sleep under the stars. But a bit of hay in a warm, dry corner would go a long way to heal my injuries.

With that in mind, I waved at my familiar priest. "Ave! Do you ever stop to rest?"

"The best rest is the change of activity," he replied and straightened from a patient. His gaze lingered on me with a professional interest. "What happened to you?"

I let go of the fake grin I had plastered on and winced. "You don't need to read the auguries to deduce that. I was in a fight."

"Let me take a look."

"Fulvia has just bandaged me up," I muttered, but stepped aside. If he wanted to enjoy the sight of my bruises, so be it.

The priest almost touched his nose to the bandages, sniffing Fulvia's pungent salve and bobbed his head in obvious approval. "Every time I hear Fulvia's name, I expect the news of her funeral, but no. May we all preserve as well as she did."

I thought that was the end of it and was about to ask him if I could go, when out of nowhere, the priest poked my battered rib cage. I yelped and hopped three feet away from him, almost twisting my good ankle in the landing. The hem of the tunic tickled my navel as it slipped back into place. I belted it up, swearing off undressing in front of any more healers today. It was too painful.

He ignored my pirouette. "When did you get hurt?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"What did you dream about?"

"A black void." I shrugged. "I drank so much poppy's milk, I was astonished when I woke up."

I didn't think the absence of dreams could help his diagnosis, but he grabbed my chin and stretched down my lower eyelid.

"Uh-huh. Huh. Oh. Wait by... ah... over there." The priest swept the entire yard with one gesture.

"Actually," I said, "I was going to ask if I could take you up on an offer of a shelter in the temple for the night. I haven't seen Victor yet, and it's getting late."

"I sense there's more to your request than simply being late at the gates of Fidelium."

I saw no reason to lie. "A ruthless killer murdered my friend today. Before thousands of upstanding citizens. And I couldn't do sh— I could do nothing."

"You can stay at the temple. And another thing..." He hesitated.

I bit a cuticle off my nail. "Is it Victor?"

"Yes. He's growing restless. I'm afraid this place of peace and healing disagrees with his soul."

Strange creatures, humans. "A few weeks ago, you didn't want to admit Victor to your Sanctuary, because you doubted if the heathens have souls. Now you're an expert on it."