- - -

Mikhail splashed water on his face, trying to clear his head. 

It had been a few weeks since his lady’s ball. When he’d returned with a glass of water to see his lady kissing her fiance, he’d stepped unobtrusively to the side so he wasn’t visible from the balcony, but could observe the hall and guard it, as was his duty. He’d faintly heard their conversation, but he did his best to forget it, as he thought his lady would want him to. 

She hadn’t noticed him when he’d rejoined her, as she and the prince returned to the ballroom together, but she’d been smiling more happily than he’d seen her for a long time. It was the rare kind of smile only her fiance could put on her face. 

“Why aren’t you up yet, boy? Isn’t Her Ladyship getting up soon? I don’t want her blaming me again!”

Mikhail forced down the persistent mild twinge in his chest. Metaphorical, since he always kept himself in perfect health to serve his lady. He knew how miserable his lady’s fiance could make her, and he wished he could protect her from any such pain, like he’d sworn he would in his oath. His lady deserved only the best. 

Yet in the end, as long as his lady was happy, he would be content. He was her knight, and he would always be there for whatever she wanted, come hell or high water. No more, no less, and no use worrying too much. 

He opened his door with a wistful smile to see his frowning instructor. 

“Sorry, Sir Harrod. I’ll be on my way now. I was just thinking about what an honour it is to serve Her Ladyship.”

- - -

I’d stayed in the capital longer and longer each year for socializing, but the heat of July and August were truly intolerable in a stuffy city, and affairs at home needed tending. We returned to the Avington estate in our territory shortly after my ball for a pleasant vacation and to focus on the internal matters of the grand duchy, which I gladly assisted Father with. 

Late July was the perfect weather for a picnic. In the novel, Catherine invited Nathaniel to go on one, and they shared quality bonding time. I made that impossible by removing Nathaniel from the capital and taking him home with me. I had a demon subjugation scheduled for August, and for the holy extermination of evil, I ought to spend more time with my priest. Thus, an invitation was sent down to the chapel, and I met Nathaniel there one fine noon. 

“Good day, Your Ladyship.”

“Hello, Nathaniel. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I think we shall head down to the tree on the hill. The flowers must be in full bloom now.”

“That sounds nice.”

His replies were more attentive and polite than Oscar’s, since I was his sponsor and he was indebted to me. On the other hand, I could clearly read the mild disapproval and disappointment on his face, the default expression he wore around me. He hadn’t had training in masking his emotions, so his true feelings were easily betrayed. However, I didn’t have to care, because I had complete power over him. Oh, what a wonderful feeling it was!

The tree on the hill was a specific old tree on our estate, close to our castle and rumoured to be as old as Orilon. It provided very pleasant shade, and the hill it stood on allowed a lovely view upon a field of flowers, carefully tended to by our gardeners. Zoe and Tia spreaded out the picnic blanket, laid out the food from the baskets they’d carried, and Nathaniel and I sat. 

We’d gotten the pleasantries and small talk over with on the way here, so I went right down to business. 

“Give me an update on your research about the holy dagger and mana, Nathaniel.”

I’d taken it briefly for the hunting competition, but as soon as that had ended I’d made sure he continued studying it with all the resources and holy devices he needed. Given that my brother’s life hung on this, I had fairly high expectations, and I was not pleased when he hesitated. 

“The records state that the saint infused a specific kind of divinity into the holy dagger and just enough for the sole purpose of defeating demons and resealing the demon king. Since she didn’t know how long it would have to be passed down for, she made sure the divine energy wouldn’t activate accidentally and leak out.”

“Wait., why? What do you mean, ‘passed down’? Didn’t God give it to me? ‘He shall bless and grant the dagger to the new saint when it is her time to slay evil once more.’”

I’d assumed the dagger had been stored in heaven or wherever God lived from when the last saint used it to when he sent a child to give it to Catherine. In fact, I was certain Priest Fernandez told me that was how it was, because if I’d had any suspicions otherwise, I would’ve searched the kingdom for it. For some reason, Nathaniel looked at me curiously. 

“That’s the modern interpretation, yes, but the ancient records that actually date back to the saint’s time say differently. In fact, they say it was given to the royal family for protection when the saint left our world.”

What the hell? Father had reassured me of the authenticity of these records as being passed down and collected for generations by a deeply religious branch of our family, so I would work from the assumption that this was true. God, that explained a few things, but was also a bit terrifying. It practically confirmed my suspicion that the royal family was allied with Baron Bryant and wanted to make Catherine saint, but then why didn’t they stop me from becoming saint?

The puzzle didn’t fit exactly. Why hadn’t they destroyed me yet? Why had they allowed me to get this strong? From the perspective of the royal family, who the novel had said wanted to eliminate us because of our corruption, waiting for a decade made no sense. 

Catherine… it was all tied to her, but it frustrated me that I couldn’t figure out how. Well, it didn’t matter. My social, political, religious, and economic positions were so secure that even the royal family couldn’t shake me easily, especially with the recent developments on the Oscar front, the thought of which made me slightly less grim. Nathaniel continued slowly. 

“Adding on to the targeted divinity, mana is a part of human mages. It is unique to the mage and the two are inseparable. In modern mana theory, for example, a spell can be designed to activate only when it detects the mana of a specific mage and would not trigger at the mana of another. Thus, though it isn’t explicitly stated in the records, I’m almost positive that the holy dagger would not work on mages.”

“You know how demons are normal animals infected by the demon king’s mana? What if the mage is like that?”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened, but he answered tentatively. 

“There was… a very brief record on such a case. A mere sentence, and no other corresponding account anywhere, or even hinting that such a thing happened. I found it very recently, but I can recite it for you. I’ve thought of it too much and memorized it.”

“Go on. It’s better than nothing.”

“‘He tried to turn a human into one of his tainted slaves, but he couldn’t control her, and as he had no use for such a being, he destroyed her.’”

We were both silent for a moment. Sinking dread crawled over me. 

“What do you think it means?”

“Your Ladyship, I have to tell you that this is wholly unventured territory, and for all we know this event may very well not have happened. I am by no means confident, but I was intrigued enough to form a theory. A major difference between a human and an animal is that a human has willpower. I think that willpower allowed the person to accept the demon king’s mana without falling under his control, making it part of her own individuality. The loss of control indicates that the mana now belonged to her, not him, and she became a distinct mage.”

“Implying that the holy dagger wouldn’t have worked on her.”

“Yes.”

God damn it. My heart pounded. What the hell was I supposed to do now? The holy dagger had been my last hope, except-

“What about the saint’s powers? Would they have worked?”

“I think so. In all records, the saint was able to counter all mana. The possibility is interesting, and I think it would have worked, theoretically.”

Ah. My heart sank. A dilemma, then. Not much better than absolute despair. Perhaps worse, since now I had to deal with the guilt. I could let Catherine awaken her powers as in the novel and risk losing everything I had, but save my brother, or I could prevent her from doing so, fulfill the dreams I’d always had, and watch my brother gradually go mad and die. 

The moment I fully realized the situation, a deep, secret part of me knew what I would choose. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Damian was one of my favourite things about this life, but my life was also one of my favourite things. The temple’s support was huge for me, securing both my betrothal and my position with the public. I couldn’t risk it, no matter how horrible I felt. 

I gazed blankly over the flower field where Damian and I used to play. Still, I lied to and convinced myself that I hadn’t really decided yet. I knew I couldn’t give up hope. 

“Nathaniel, I want you to turn your research to the Ifyeffier flower.”

“The folktale plant supposedly capable of curing anything?”

“So you heard me.”

Nathaniel tilted his head quizzically but nodded. 

As per the healthy routine I’d developed, I allowed a few minutes to feel sorry for myself. I ate macarons, sulked, pondered about this predicament, and silently cursed God. I was lost in thought when Nathaniel spoke again, very quietly. 

“Is this perhaps about Lord Damian?”

“No, but remember the little conversation we had about not asking questions, and how it makes everyone happier?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.”

“And would you like a reminder of the confidentiality clause you signed?”

“No, Your Ladyship. The contents of the records nor this conversation will be shared with anyone.”

“Good. Here, have a sandwich.”

Nathaniel had been around me long enough to understand the invitation to shut up. My grip on my own plate tightened as my thoughts raged. 

I was Lady Valentina Avington. I’d managed to change my fate from the doomed villainess of a novel to the saint worshipped by all. Even in the face of God, I would not give in.