A Warm Welcome

The doors of the white tower swung open.

Dozens of people stood watching us from inside — as if they had been waiting all along.

"Please, come in," the priest said. "It will soon be dangerous outside."

Lydia said nothing. It was hard to believe this was the same person who had just been carrying me through the forest at a dead run. In front of the priest, she was a different person entirely.

Ipda stood beside me, barely holding herself upright. I looked at her, then back at the priest.

"You should rest first," the priest said. "A meal has been prepared as well."

A meal.

My stomach answered before I could.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Grrrrl.

The white tower fell silent. A child stared at me, then covered their mouth with both hands.

"A monster noise came out of the guest's belly!"

Laughter rippled through the room. I hung my head. The priest smiled gently.

"Wonderful. We have meat today."

I nearly dropped to my knees on the spot.

The interior of the tower was more ordinary than I had expected. Adults moved about with purpose. Children raced up and down the far end of the corridor. Someone was baking bread. Someone else was changing a wounded man's bandages. Small lanterns hung along the stone walls.

A cult, they had called it. I had pictured dark rooms lit by candles and people chanting strange hymns. This was just a place where people lived.

And it smelled like meat.

Clean bandages had somehow found their way around my palms. The soup was warm. Real meat — the kind people actually ate, not some magical beast's flesh. I couldn't put the spoon down. Hot. Salty. Greasy. Delicious.

A full stomach softens a person's guard. That held true even in another world.

Across from me, Ipda set down her spoon.

"Can't you eat any more?" I asked.

She smiled faintly. "I'm a little tired."

That was when I saw it — the inside of her chest, just beneath the collarbone. Faint purple characters writhed there.

I stopped mid-spoonful. It looked worse than before.

The priest spoke with a worried expression. "It would be best if Her Highness rested."

Stiff. Courteous. The gazes of the people around us were the same. Kind enough — but not warm, not toward Ipda.

Text floated up before my eyes.

Of course. These people did not like the princess.

"An inner ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠room has been prepared," the priest said.

Lydia bowed her head at once. "I will attend her."

Ipda tried to rise and swayed. I reached out on reflex.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes." She smiled, small and soft. "I'll just sleep a little."

"Shouldn't we stay together?"

The words were out before I caught myself. Stay together? I wasn't her bodyguard.

"No — I mean, given the situation—"

Ipda looked at me for a moment. Then, very quietly: "Thank you for worrying about me."

She disappeared down the inner corridor on Lydia's arm. The door closed. I was alone.

The children's laughter faded. The lanterns dimmed. Conversation thinned to a murmur. I sat on a long bench, full and exhausted, my head a mess of tangled thoughts.

The Academy had nearly killed me. The Royal Society — or Association, or whatever it was — had tried to drag me off somewhere. Ipda was a princess. The cult served excellent food. I had no idea who the villains were. Maybe all of them were.

Ding.

A small, pleasant bell chimed. The priest approached with a cup of warm tea in his hands. I took it. It smelled of herbs.

"Have the people from the Royal Society explained anything to you?" he asked.

"What kind of explanation?"

"Where they intended to take you."

"No."

"Why they intended to take you."

"I don't know."

"Whether you could refuse."

I had no answer. The priest nodded.

"They are always like that."

"The Royal Society?"

"The Royal Society. The Academy." He set his cup down. "Different names. Same roots."

"Roots?"

"The royal family and the nobility."

I glanced toward the corridor where Ipda had vanished. The priest smiled gently.

"I do not mean to speak ill of Her Highness."

Liar. That was my first thought. But his face was genuinely kind.

"Her Highness may well be a good person."

"Then what?"

"The problem is not a person's goodness," the priest said. "It is their blood."

I gripped the teacup hard. "That sounds a bit extreme."

"I imagine it does." He did not grow angry. If anything, he grew gentler. "But you have seen it yourself, have you not?"

"Seen what?"

"A noble is forgiven no matter what they do." His voice was calm, almost still. "But you?"

I thought of the duel ground. Rayan's runaway fire formula. The suppression spell dropping toward me.

My fingertips tingled.

"How difficult was that unjust duel for you?"

I said nothing.

"Rayan Erhardt is a noble among nobles — a marquis's son," the priest continued. The water in my cup trembled. "And you are an inexplicable outsider who appeared out of nowhere."

It stung. But it wasn't wrong. That made it sting worse.

"It's hard to take everything you say at face value, Father."

"Of course." He conceded easily. "Do not trust me."

Ding.

The bell chimed again.

"Simply remember what they have done. And remember this: the person at your side right now is a princess of the royal blood."

I looked at him. He remained gentle to the end.

Ding.

The bell rang once more. Strangely, my head settled a little. The urge to be angry drained away. Whether I was calming down or going numb, I couldn't tell.

"It's complicated," I said.

"Yes." The priest smiled. "Which is why you should rest tonight." He lifted a lantern. "The Royal Society's search formulas grow stronger after dark."

"So?"

"There is an old shelter below. A subterranean structure concealed by ancient-era formulas. It cannot be found from the outside."

A shelter. Right now, that was the word I needed most.

"And if I refuse?"

"We will prepare another room for you."

Unexpected. No pressure.

"Though I cannot guarantee your safety."

Hmm. I thought it over. Suspicious, yes. But better to see the inside of the cult for myself than get chased through the woods again.

"One day," I said. "I'll rest for one day."

The priest bowed deeply. "That is more than enough."

The stairs down were long. The air grew colder with every step. The carvings on the walls changed, and my eyes read them as text.

So it really was a hiding place. But lower down, another small phrase appeared.

I slowed. "You train down here too?"

"I don't know how you knew that, but of course," the priest said. "Even those who live in hiding need the strength to protect themselves."

Fair enough.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a black stone door. It opened onto something cozier than I expected — a small room with a single bed, a water jug, dry bread and cheese, one lantern. Not a cell. More like a cramped inn room.

"Please rest here tonight," the priest said. "The door does not lock."

I pulled the handle. It opened. It really opened.

"Will there be meals tomorrow as well?"

"Of course." He smiled. "If you wish."

Something about that phrasing snagged. But I was too tired to press it.

Ding.

The bell chimed one last time.

"Rest well."

The door closed with a heavy thud.

I sat on the bed. My body was lead. My stomach was full. My eyelids sagged. God, it really was cozy. The first proper rest I'd had in a long time.

But sleep wouldn't come.

And remember this: the person at your side right now is a princess of the royal blood.

The priest's words circled in my head.

"No."

Ipda didn't seem like that kind of person. Not to my eyes. She was weak. She was frightened. She hadn't even known about the curse inside her own body. Someone like that, using me? It didn't make sense.

And yet — why, only days after arriving in this world, was I carrying a princess through a forest and hiding in a cult's underground shelter?

"Ha."

A laugh escaped me. Back home, rent had given me headaches. Here, royalty and cults and the Royal Society did the same. The scale was bigger. Being exhausted by life was exactly the same.

I lay down. The lantern swayed. Somewhere far off, water dripped.

Plip. Plip. Plip.

Quiet. For today, at least. Just for one day. Nothing had to happen, right?

Then—

BOOM.

A low sound rolled through the stone from somewhere distant. My eyes opened.

What was that?

I was about to close them again when—

BOOM.

Closer this time. The lantern on the wall shuddered. Dust sifted down from the ceiling. I sat up.

"…An earthquake?"

Text bloomed across the wall.

I blinked. "Why would the partitions open?"

A sound came from the corridor.

Scritch. Scritch-scritch.

Wet claws dragging across stone.

BOOM.

A third impact. The water jug toppled. Splash. The lantern swung hard — then went out with a soft puff.

Darkness swallowed the room.

From the far end of the corridor, something growled low in the dark.

Grrrrrrr.

Text rose before my eyes.

Two eyes lit up in the corridor's darkness. Yellow. Long and slit. The eyes of something that looked at people and saw prey.