Frankincense and old, cold stone wafted from the High Temple of Oakhaven. It was a place constructed to make humans feel insignificant, and today Elara felt downright microscopic.
At the altar stood Mia. She wasn't dressed in those weird “cosplay” clothes anymore. The priests had wrapped her in white silk and gold thread— the vestments of the dawn. She appeared rattled, her eyes darting up at the vaulted ceiling as if searching for an exit sign that wasn’t there.
Under the light of the Everflame," intoned the High Priest, and his voice boomed back at him from the rafters, "we mark the coming of the Maiden in Silver. Her mana is pure, free of the politics of our world. New Age The second arc's dean, Cramerc, does not appear in person; however, an image of her is projected (albeit slightly distorted) by Sparrow herself, saying she will become the Saintess of New Era.
A polite ripple of applause sounded through the cathedral—a social faux pas that had Elara's skin crawling. In space, the holy one bent in silence. But Alaric was clapping too, his expression flushed with the boyish excitement Elara had never seen on him, not since they were children playing in the apple trees
A voice whispered next to her, "She’s amazing, isn’t she?"
Elara turned to face Countess Isolde, a woman whose rumors have the power to destroy a reputation more quickly than the epidemic .Elara answered in a flat, flawless line, "She is... unexpected, Countess."
"Isolde leaned in, her eyes shining with predatory delight, "The Prince hasn't left her side since hours." "They claim that he finds it "charming" that she can't even hold a soup spoon. How "charming" will it be when she begins to sit in your place at Council meetings, Lady Elara?
" Elara stand firm. "The Prince is being a civil host to a guest of the state. My 'place' is held by a legal contract signed by two Dukes and the King. It takes more than a soup spoon to break a treaty."
However, Elara realized the truth as the ceremony came to an end and the crowd surrounded Mia. Alaric was doing more than just hosting. He was staring at Mia with a hunger for unpredictableness, which Elara could never provide. Elara was well-known. She was the sunset, lovely but unavoidable. Mia was lightning.
The next Tuesday was the start of the "Lessons in Grace."
Elara had been asked to "tutor" the Saintess by the King himself. It was an extremely cruel political move. Elara would be hailed as a teacher but overshadowed as a woman if Mia was successful. Elara would be held accountable for sabotage if Mia failed.
They were seated in the Solar, a brightly lit space that smelled of lemon water. Mia was swinging her legs while seated in a chair.
"So, Lady —can I call you Elara?" Mia asked, reaching for a cake before the tea had even been poured
"You can use my name in private. With her hands folded in her lap, Elara declared, "I am Lady Vance in public." "And the posture comes first. The divine is symbolized by a saintess. The divine does not "slumber." Mia threw back her head and murmured. "This place is really stiff! We relax at home. If I'm supposed to have "holy powers" or something, why does it matter how I sit?
"Because power without discipline is merely a tantrum, Mia," Elara stated calmly. "The nobles must think you are better than them if you want them to follow you when the monsters emerge from the Dead Lands. The first level of authority is appearance.
"That’s so fake," Mia shouted.
She had a peculiar feeling of sympathy for Elara. Don't you want to scream all the time? Or put on sweatpants? You appear to be made of glass, and I'm afraid you'll break if I prod you." Halfway to her lips, Elara's tea cup paused. Did it break? Without crying in public, she had made it through two border skirmishes, three famines, and her mother's gradual death from starvation.
"Mia, I am made of diamond. I don't break. I cut. From there, the lesson took a turn for the worse. Elara attempted to clarify the complex Oakhaven Court hierarchy, including which families were currently at odds over mining rights, who should be bowed to, and whose hand should be grazed. After ten minutes, Mia fell asleep. This is dull. At last, Mia let out a cry.
At that same time, the door swung open. Alaric stood there, his brow furrowed.
He asked, "What is happening here?" as soon as he saw that Mia had managed to get a single, tearful tear into her eye.
"Alaric! Mia almost stumbled over her silk hem as she leaped to her feet. "Elara is acting really dramatic! She is forcing me to memorize lists of names from a century ago and telling me that I must pretend to be superior to everyone. I don't want to be a... mannequin; I just want to help people!" Alaric gave Elara a look. There was none of the warmth he usually saved for his fiancée. "She is a visitor from another planet, Elara. She is not a pawn in your political chess game. Could you please be a bit more... human for once?"
"Humanity needs a functioning society, Alaric," Elara said as she stood, moving slowly and methodically. Order is necessary for a society. We will lose the Northern Navy if she disparages the Duchess of Thorne for not "feeling like" learning a name. Do you think that's "human" enough?
"Alaric yelled, "Enough with the reasoning!" "You feel envious. Elara, it's beneath you. You've forgotten how to have a soul because you're so preoccupied with following the rules. This afternoon, Mia stays with me. Without guards or procedures, we're heading to the village.
Elara warned, "The village is dangerous for an unprotected Saintess."
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By taking Mia hand Alaric say only u see dangers in every thing. "Come, Mia. Let’s show you what Oakhaven is really like heaven. As they leave, Mia look back – she doesn’t feel victorious; but feel confused, like a lost puppy that accidently start fight.
Elara remained in the Sun. the juice had gone warm and bitter .She walked back to her chamber and look the large gilded mirror on the wall. She looked at her reflection—the perfect hair, the perfect skin, the perfect Lady. She picked up the heavy silver comb and threw.
The mirror didn't break into pieces. It cracked—one long, jagged line that ran from the top of her head down through her heart.
"Jealous?" she speak softly to the empty room with a sad smile . She wasn't jealous of Mia. She was jealous of the delusion. She was jealous that they could all pretend the world didn't require a monster to keep it running.
If they wanted a soul, she would keep hers concealed. If they wanted a villainess who cared only for "rules," she would start making some rules of her own.
Elara sat down, opened her ledger, and began to move funds. If Alaric wanted to roam in the village, he wouldn't mind if the Royal Guard’s budget was slightly... "reallocated" to her personal estates. The Flower was beginning to grow thorns.
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