Page 32 of The Half King
“Are you implying he would hurt me?”
“People have done worse things to bury their secrets.”
“He’s no ordinary person,” she pointed out.
“No,” Daerick agreed. “And that’s what makes him dangerous.”
She wanted to argue that Father Padron would never harm her. But what reason did she have to believe that? He had broken her trust. Logic would say that she didn’t truly know him at all. The Reverend Mother had warned her of overzealous priests—maybe he was one of them. He had certainly atoned like one of them. So then why did she still want to defend him? Why did she crave his approval and his company even though he had deceived her? Why was she still drawn to him?
“You’re only human,” Daerick said. “It’s natural for you to see the best in Father Padron. There’s a reason for that.” He sipped his tea and went thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t suppose the Silent Soul ever visited you at the temple.”
Cerise shook her head. She had never heard of the Silent Soul.
“She’s a legendary figure,” Daerick explained. “Like the Harvest Fairy or the Winter Mouse, but she brings sweets instead of presents or coins. Parents use the Silent Soul to manipulate their children into obedience. If you do what you’re told and you don’t complain, she will leave a bundle of goodies on your doorstep when her soul’s day arrives. But you have tobelieve. Otherwise, she won’t come.”
“Did you believe in her?” Cerise asked, her lips twitching in a grin. “I can’t imagine that you did.”
Daerick frowned as he set down his teacup. “I wasn’t always a genius, Cerise. My parents fooled me a time or two.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “At least you’re human like me.”
“Yes, well,” he went on. “My mother was strict with sweets, and the Silent Soul always brought my favorite toffee. So I followed my parents’ orders without questioning them—which, believe me, was a struggle. Then one year I overheard a serving boy telling his friends that the Silent Soul wasn’t real, that it was parents who left sweets at the door. What he said made sense to me. My intellect told me he was right.” Daerick lifted an index finger. “But I was afraid to admit to myself that the Silent Soul was a myth. Because what if I was wrong?”
“Then you would get no toffee.”
“Exactly. I wasn’t prepared to take that gamble, so against my better judgment, I forced myself to believe in the Silent Soul until enough time passed that I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. And by then I had lost my taste for toffee. I used to feel foolish for how easily I let myself be manipulated by sweets and lies, but the experience taught me about the power of persuasion, and that was a lesson worth learning.”
Even though she saw his point, it felt like he was patronizing her again. “You equate my respect for Father Padron to your belief in the Silent Soul.”
“And who could blame you?” Daerick asked. “You lived at the temple since birth. Nineteen years is a long time for the Order to teach you their version of the truth. Their doctrine is a part of you. It’s in your bones, and it’s going to take longer than a few days to admit to yourself that some of what they told you is a lie.” He stood from his chair and took Cerise by the hand. “Don’t be ashamed for feeling confused about Father Padron. He’s powerful and charming, and he represents everything that’s sacred to you. But don’t let your confusion make you reckless. Not all priests are safe. There’s a lot you don’t know about them.”
“Fine,” she said.Enough with the lectures. “Then teach me.”
Daerick gave her a resolute nod. “With pleasure.”
While Daerick escorted Cerise to the east wing on the first floor of the palace, where the former emissary’s office was located, he quietly discussed what he had learned from his research. He still hadn’t translated the termumbra sangi, but he had sent an encrypted letter to a colleague in Calatris who specialized in linguistics. Daerick had spent most of his time poring over ancient writings related to the Great Betrayal.
“I realized something that should’ve occurred to me before,” he whispered as they descended the main staircase. “I haven’t spent as much time immersed in religion as you have. I think that’s why it took me so long to notice there are no records of the Mortara dynasty’s role in the Great Betrayal.”
Cerise had always known that the Mortara dynasty’s role was absent from the scrolls; she had read them so many times she could recite whole passages from memory. She did so now. “‘To house Calatris, which devised the method to slay the goddess, she unleashed more knowledge than the mortal mind could bear. To house Petros, which forged the weapon against her, she gave the curse of bloodlust. To house Solon, which seduced her from the heavens, she bestowed self-destructive beauty. And to house Mortara, she gave the curse of darkness, to disappear into the shadows for eternity.’”
“But why?” Daerick asked.
“It’s not recorded in the scrolls, but I assumed the Mortara dynasty was the house that brought together the other nobles—that the betrayal was their idea,” Cerise said. “And that’s why the Mortara curse is the worst of them all.”
“It’s not just absent from the scrolls; it’s absent fromall records.That’s what I spent this morning confirming,” Daerick replied. “But if that’s the reason for their curse, why would the goddess reward house Mortara with dominion over the priests?” Daerick quieted his voice as he led her down the first-floor eastern corridor, where silken carpets gave way to tile that caused their sounds to echo. “No priest, not even Father Padron, can refuse a direct order from a firstborn Mortara. Most people would kill for power like that.”
“Do you think the reason matters?” she asked. “Can the curse be broken without us understanding why the priests are bound to Kian?”
“Perhaps,” Daerick said in a tone that hinted otherwise.
They reached an office suite situated about halfway down the corridor. The office must have been built along an exterior palace wall, because beams of sunlight streamed through the open door and into the hallway, bathing the floor tiles in brilliance. Cerise entered the suite and found a small sitting room furnished with a tastefully simple red velvet sofa and two end tables. Spanning the rear wall was a window that offered a view of the east lawn and the rows of citrus trees in the distance. While Daerick closed the door behind them, Cerise inspected the sitting room. The greeting area was pristine, without a trace of dust on the furniture or on the glossy floor. She continued beyond the sitting room to a side-facing doorway that led to an office carpeted with colorful, plush rugs and featuring an etched mahogany desk with a matching chair settled behind it. In the corner stood a cushioned divan and a side table bearing a silver tea set.
She wondered if this was the office the Reverend Mother had Seen in her vision. Cerise could picture herself behind the desk, reading and learning and sipping tea like a proper lady. The mental image made her smile. She felt older and wiser simply by standing here.
“Here it is,” Daerick said with a flourish. “The old woman’s office, and now yours, unless you’d prefer a different one. The king created a lot of vacancies when he dismissed his court, so you can have your pick of any of the office suites along this corridor.”
“No, I like this one.” She slipped behind the desk and found that she could still see the window through the doorway. “The view is perfect, and besides, the late emissary’s notes are in here.”
