“Someone summoned a demon and unleashed it on the peaceful Penance-Night celebrations of the Church of Light.”

  I glanced up from my plate and looked at Ju.

  “Penance-Night celebration?” I repeated. “That’s what they call it?”

  She nodded without looking up from her paper.

  We were seated in the same spacious breakfast room at Fiona’s castle. Pleasant music played in the background, and Ju had tuned the privacy field to allow sounds to come in but not leave our enclosure.

  The decor and furniture reminded me of a Rococo salon at Versailles—delicate, ornate, and dripping with gold filigree.

  I was still working on my modest twelve-egg omelet—stuffed with cheese and sausages, with a side of something that looked suspiciously like orange tomatoes—while Ju sipped her tea and paged through the Dolomar Gazette, the region’s biggest newspaper.

  She had long since finished her fruit diet—elves really did seem to be the original vegans—and was now browsing through the castle’s newspaper collection, finding it both interesting and amusing.

  Mike and Elenia were still sleeping when we left, which wasn’t surprising considering they’d spent most of the night talking.

  All things considered, Elenia was behaving surprisingly normally after everything she had been through.

  Still, they’d probably opt to have breakfast in our room. Bringing them down to the nobles’ breakfast hall might have stirred up conflict—and on the other hand, the servants’ breakfast wasn’t exactly enticing either. Best to let her recover slowly.

  Meanwhile, Yolanda and Miranda were in town.

  Yolanda, this time, as herself—not playing Ju—and Miranda, out on her first “guard duty.”

  Most likely they were happily raiding the shopping district by now, since Ju had given them a small pouch of money and a list of instructions to buy themselves proper clothing.

  I chewed happily on my omelet, admiring its colorful presentation—and the fact that not a single part was burnt, a clear sign of the cook’s skill—while shrugging at Ju’s comment and idly wondering why the Church of Light had a moon goddess and celebrated its biggest holiday at night.

  Ju continued reading from the newspaper.

  “Imagine this!” she said, glancing up at me with a scandalized look. “They absurdly claim that the summoned demon completely desecrated their most sacred relic—that it crapped on their Moonlight Stones’ stage! I mean—really! I understand exaggeration, but who even invents something like that? Who thinks of such crap?”

  Meanwhile, I suddenly found it very difficult to swallow.

  She went on, her face a mask of outrage:

  “Then it says the demon viciously attacked priests, children, and peaceful procession participants. Thankfully, according to them, a concentrated effort by the high priests managed to banish the bestial demon and prevent further bloodshed. Priestess Angela—who, by the way, suffered a broken rib in that brutal fight—heroically participated in the banishment spell! I mean, honestly! Why would you break someone’s ribs or attack children? You were only there for Elenia! These are blatant lies!”

  I started coughing violently—something had definitely gotten stuck in my throat—as I tried to nod wisely.

  Maybe… maybe those kicks to the priests hadn’t been that gentle. But the circumstances had required it.

  “Mostly lies,” I managed to wheeze, my face red from congestion as I struggled to finally swallow that rebellious piece of meat.

  “Mostly? All lies!” she said, then blinked and tilted her head.

  “What wasn’t a lie?” she asked, raising an outraged brow.

  Finally able to breathe properly, I let out a long sigh.

  “Well… ahm… I did desecrate their stage, didn’t I? I mean, my mere presence would’ve been enough to desecrate it.”

  Then, desperate to deflect her from digging deeper, I quickly added,

  “But seriously—how can they call that a peaceful Penance-Night celebration? It looked like something straight out of a horror movie about crazy cultists! What about the people hanging upside down? The pillories? The burnings? The skinning alive!?”

  She shrugged, scratching her left temple. She always did that when she was shifting into ‘teaching mode’—about to explain something.

  "Skinning alive is the harshest penalty—reserved for vicious serial killers, or for crimes considered equally grave... like, well, desecrating and stealing important religious artifacts."

  She glanced at me for a short moment, then continued,

  "They hang people upside down if they’re found guilty of spreading lies or misinformation. It’s their way of showing that the guilty twisted the truth—and need to correct themselves. Bullies end up in the pillories, so they can be bullied in return. It's seen as balancing the scales. Repeated insults can land you there too. Also, crimes of lèse-majesté.”

  “You mean, insulting the king?” I asked, smiling—partly because recognizing her little gestures always amused me, but mostly because I was relieved my small deflection had worked.

  “No. The duke—or his representatives. Basically any high official in the duke’s suite. Insulting them is treated like insulting the duke himself. It diminishes their authority and makes their work harder. There are a few examples in the article if you want to read them.”

  She offered me the pages.

  I shook my head. No thanks. I had an omelet to finish—and some cookies waiting that I wanted to try after.

  “Just tell me if there's something interesting,” I countered with a shrug.

  She shrugged back and went on.

  “Imagine this—a painter made an unflattering portrait of the top magistrate, and that’s why he was punished. Also the mayor of a village just for owning a copy of the picture.”

  She lifted her eyes to me again.

  “You know they’re required to have a picture of the duke and the magistrate displayed in every town hall, right?”

  “Was the picture really that bad?” I asked, then shrugged. “What was the punishment again?”

  “Pillory. During the Penance procession, anyone is allowed to beat, insult, even hurt the people bound there. Almost anything short of killing them.”

  "Crazy," I said, letting my attention drift back to the battlefield that was my plate. A neat line of cookies stood there like tiny chess pieces—each different, each daring me to make the first move. I'd asked one of the five harried waiters buzzing around to bring me a sample of everything they had. Now I sat, admiring their wild colors and ridiculous little decorations, wondering how I was supposed to pick a first victim.

  She shrugged while folding the newspaper, then raised her eyes to look at me.

  “You know, I’m actually offended,” she said suddenly.

  I paused mid-bite to glance at her. Had I offended her somehow?

  But no—realizing her anger wasn’t directed at me, I continued eating.

  After last night, I was utterly famished, and the waiters had worked hard to keep up. I even caught them exchanging glances, clearly flabbergasted by how much I could eat.

  “To send a level seventy assassin after me—that’s an insult,” she said, setting the newspaper aside and taking a sip from her tea.

  I raised a brow but didn’t ask anything—my mouth was full. Each cookie was a masterpiece in itself, with such a wild variety of flavors. And honestly, eating them whole, letting them slowly melt and spread across my mouth, was the best way to truly appreciate these little wonders.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Are you sure of his level?” she asked.

  I nodded, still chewing carefully.

  She answered the question I hadn't spoken aloud.

  “I don't think he was really sent to assassinate me,” she said thoughtfully. “More likely, it was just an overeager idiot.

  Sure, there are forces who would be happy to see us dead—not just me, but all of us—but I bet he was originally sent just to spy on us.

  He probably knew someone wanted me eliminated and thought—overconfident fool that he was—that he could take the opportunity and finish the job himself.

  Vampires tend to be like that—overconfident. They’re normally stronger than most other races.

  What do you think?”

  I swallowed and shrugged at the same time.

  “Could be something to your theory,” I said. “But what does it change?”

  “Not much,” she answered. “Just a slight pointer toward the person pulling the strings behind him.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked, frowning. “Oh—you mean Constancius?”

  She nodded.

  My eyes went wide in surprise.

  “What would he have against us?” I wondered. “Especially against you?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug, clearly unsure.

  “That’s a good question. Oh well—we’ll see. But you, my valiant guard, need to be more careful in the future!”

  She said it with a teasing smile, but there was a thread of seriousness beneath the joke.

  And she wasn’t wrong.

  The bigger question was: how—and why—had she become a person of interest for Emperor Constancius?

  Assuming her theory was correct, of course.

  Because Constancius was known to use vampire assassin squads.

  Lone vampires sometimes worked for the Black Church—the same organization Cala had once served—but full squads? That usually pointed toward imperial connections.

  And if that vampire had only been the spy, then the real squad might still be out there—angry, watching, waiting for another chance to strike.

  As I was still finishing off my battalion of cookies—while the fruits waited for their grand entrance—Ju picked up the newspaper again.

  “Hah! Some idiot thinks it was the Xsoha!” she said with a snort.

  I raised my brows, not following.

  “What? Who? Where?”

  “There are some interviews here with people from the Church of Light," she explained. "And apparently, they suspect the Xsoha.”

  I chuckled—nearly choking on the last cookie.

  “How could they even come up with that?” I asked, wiping my mouth.

  “There’s this popular rumor that the Xsoha are behind demon summoning and all sorts of dark magic,” she said, waving the paper like it was self-evident.

  I raised a brow at that.

  Sure, there had been that demon incident back in my own domain—but...

  “There are a lot of others who could’ve done it too," I countered. "Even players have summoned demons, remember?”

  As I spoke, I eyed the fruit plate in front of me.

  I was almost full... almost.

  I decided to start with something that looked like melon slices—but then thought better of it and chose to flush the cookies down with a glass of fruit juice first.

  Ju shrugged.

  “It’s very difficult to prove anything. The Xsoha deny it vehemently. Interesting, though... here it is again—they're saying the demon crapped all over the place.”

  She raised her eyes to me, an inquiring look in them.

  “Did you really...?”

  I huffed, annoyed—and accidentally sprayed juice over the hand of a waiter who was just setting down another plate of fruits.

  He immediately began apologizing profusely—for what, I wasn't even sure.

  Meanwhile, I sighed in defeat.

  I’d thought I’d skillfully dodged that particular subject... but somehow, Ju had circled right back to it.

  “I refuse to answer that question,” I said, lifting my chin with what dignity I could muster.

  She burst out laughing, her gaze drilling into me with unnerving accuracy.

  “But why? How did you even manage that?” she wondered aloud, still snickering.

  I was just about ready to grab my things and leave when she hastily tried to placate me.

  “All right, all right! I won’t ask anymore—girl scout’s honor!” she said, trying to sound solemn.

  But she couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Now I understand why the Church of Light is so furious! Their most holy relic... desecrated in that way! Even if they cleanse it a hundred times, the memory of it will still stink!”

  I rolled my eyes and snorted.

  “I don’t want to talk about it," I grumbled. "Can you please change the subject?”

  She glanced at me and sighed—but her eyes were still laughing.

  “Damn, I’m so curious about what happened... but fine," she said, placing the newspaper neatly on the corner of the table again.

  "As planned, I'm going to help those elves escape to the elven lands now that I have that portal scroll. Then we should leave the estate—unless you want to enjoy a few more days of Fiona’s hospitality?”

  “No, I think we’re done here,” I said, nodding in agreement.

  “Good. Then we need to say our farewells to Fiona this evening. Send Mike to arrange it with her majordomo.”

  “Another meeting with Fiona?” I protested, pulling a face.

  She smiled and gave me a small shrug.

  “It’s customary," she said. "It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just a short good-bye meeting. We can’t leave like a couple of peasants."

  She rose from her chair, brushing imaginary dust from her skirts.

  "If I’m late, you’ll have to manage it with Yolanda. I’ll leave you my ring again.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be identified without it?” I asked, frowning.

  She gave a little laugh.

  “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Not as good as Cala’s skills, but close enough. I’m not that easily spotted if I don’t want to be.”

  She leaned over me, cupping my chin in her hand.

  “Now, let me give you a good-bye kiss—so you won’t stay mad at me all day.”

  Before I could react, she kissed me lightly on the brow—something halfway between a blessing and a tease.

  Then, smiling, she straightened and left, leaving only the faint scent of her perfume behind.

  I sighed as I watched her lithe silhouette vanish from view.

  Even if our relationship had started off on the wrong foot, somehow she had made her way into my heart.

  It was different—deeper—than what I'd shared with Lola. Different even from the bond I had with the boys from my old band.

  I leaned back in my chair, letting my thoughts wander.

  The boys had accepted me in my time of need. I would never forget that.

  Ju had done the same—and gone a step further.

  I knew I could rely on her as I relied on them... but I also knew she would risk anything for me. Even her life.

  There was a bond between us now—something like what Cala had shared with Alice or Lynx.

  The two were warming to me, but I could never replace Cala for them. I didn't want to. I understood that I was different.

  Was I being unfair to the boys? Maybe.

  But between Ju and me, there were no secrets. No taboos.

  I drew in a deep breath, feeling the weight of that realization.

  Count your blessings, I reminded myself.

  I smiled faintly, my gaze lingering on the corner where she’d disappeared, and let out a slow, heavy sigh.

  I was blessed—with friends beyond what I could have ever hoped for.

  Turning back to my plate, I smiled down at the colorful display.

  So, my beauties... your time has come.

  I picked up a slice of 'melon', but from the corner of my eye, I spotted two high priests approaching the table.

  And somehow, I just knew they were coming to talk to me.