APIBAGS Chapter 62

"What?"

"Lady Rohanson just saved me," Michel said. "That's why I revere her. That's the whole of it."

Gabriel had assumed Michel was under some kind of unconditional enchantment, spellbound into devotion. The reason Michel actually gave was entirely secular. Legible. Something you could write down without embarrassment.

And now that he thought about it—Kanna had been the same. She'd said Evangeline saved her when Donau Blue took her. Even Daisy, who had been openly hostile toward the Young Lady at first.

'Then what about me?'

The time for salvation had already passed him. Even in the dream—even if Evangeline had extended her hand—the dead child would not have come back, and nothing about the world would have changed.

Was that why he couldn't accept her?

The thought lasted only a moment. He shook it off deliberately. Even if a tidal wave eventually came and drowned him, right now was the time to stay wary of the beast in front of him.

The aides attending Bishop Marik's residence greeted Gabriel as he arrived.

"Sir Gabriel. The Bishop has been waiting. Please, come inside."

"Wasn't Sir Michel the one summoned?"

Gabriel's brow drew together slightly as he asked. The aide wilted at the edge in his expression and looked at the floor. While he fumbled without any excuse to offer, the man beside him stepped in with practiced ease.

"There seems to have been a misunderstanding. Sir Michel was summoned, yes—but that's for a routine post-incident review. That falls to us, not the Bishop herself."

Michel caught that something had gone wrong and read Gabriel's expression. Only managing to trip up the commander he respected most—Raphaela had him pegged exactly. Truly, what a remarkable subordinate.

"Ha. Surely the Commander knows that post-incident reviews are an obligatory formality."

"Quite so."

The priest who had been cowering a moment ago recovered his confidence and chimed in eagerly.

The painting had burned over a month ago, apparently. The aide was right that serious incidents typically triggered a review at the month mark. Gabriel's own sense of dates had gone soft, and he'd failed to read the purpose of Bishop Marik's summons until now.

That was his mistake.

Marik's summons for Michel had been bait.

When Gabriel had been called directly on multiple occasions, he'd stalled with one excuse after another, so Marik had changed tactics. The invitation for Michel had been issued without explanation—tell Gabriel it was a routine review and he wouldn't bother accompanying Michel. And by framing it this way, Marik avoided any accusation of summoning Gabriel without grounds.

"Since you're already here, Commander—why not have a conversation with the Bishop while Sir Michel's review concludes?"

"It's late. I shouldn't impose."

"Impose? This is my invitation." Another voice cut in before Gabriel could finish his refusal. Bishop Marik herself had heard the commotion from inside and come to the door. She wore the veil, as always. "Is there truly not enough time to share a cup of tea with me? I always take tea before bed. Something that eases the day's fatigue and helps me sleep. You look as though you could use sleep, Commander. It might do you some good."

It was the gentlest kind of coercion.

The priests nearby watched with barely concealed envy at what they apparently considered an honor. Gabriel held out as long as he could, then gave in.

"Thank you for the hospitality. As it happens, I've been running on poor sleep lately."

Gabriel and Michel exchanged a glance as they parted. He'd already explained the limits of what Michel should reveal to an outsider; he wouldn't have forgotten.

Raphaela had said Michel's mind had gone to pieces, but as far as Gabriel could tell, his devotion had simply transferred its object—from the Deity Rahel to Evangeline—and everything else remained intact. That exchange of words just now proved as much. Michel wouldn't let slip anything that could harm Evangeline. He was reliable in that direction, at least.

"Humble as it is—come in."

Gabriel stepped inside.

For someone who commanded the respect she did, Bishop Marik's quarters were spare to the point of barrenness. Even Bishop Jabaniya's office—famous for its supposed austerity—had its fair share of ornamentation. Marik's were a different matter entirely. It felt like walking into a convent. Which made sense, he supposed. She had started her life as a nun, and old habits endure.

She settled him into a seat and poured the tea herself.

"This is the first time we've spoken alone, you and I."

Once she had filled her own cup, Bishop Marik sat across from him.

She lifted the veil slightly to drink. The lower half of her face, briefly exposed, bore burn scars where the flesh had melted.

"Unsightly, isn't it."

"Not at all."

"You needn't say things you don't mean. I cover my own face because I cannot bring myself to look at it." The veil settled back into place. "So. Word has reached me that you have something to celebrate, Commander."

"Me?"

"Ha. You look like you genuinely don't know. There's been quite a lot of talk about you acting as escort for Young Lady Rohanson's debut."

"Yes. That's correct."

He'd been wondering what angle she was working. Apparently she wanted information about Evangeline. Gabriel inclined his head. When he'd been securing invitations to the Crown Prince's birthday banquet, the news had spread.

"A debut at twenty…."

"The Young Lady was in poor health for a long time. Now that she's recovered, I thought it better late than never."

"How thoughtful of you to arrange things for someone you hold dear. And she does seem to have no one else to lean on but you, Commander."

Marik's tone was warm with apparent admiration—but she was turning the knife. Evangeline's circumstances were well known: no mother, no social connections, estranged from the Hosaquin ducal house.

"I didn't know the Bishop listened to circulating rumors."

"When the eyes dim, the ears grow sharp."

Gabriel maintained his composure and watched her. The veil made it impossible to read her expression.

"So it was Marchioness Toten who agreed to serve as chaperone?"

That was known only to those involved. Where had it leaked? The Dolly Fonor situation was contained, and the Rohanson staff wouldn't have been a source. He'd added another watch over Jabaniya's network precisely because he didn't trust it fully. Someone might have been monitoring the Rohanson carriage. Or the leak had come from the comparatively looser end—the Toten estate.

"Though things appear to have taken a turn. After the Young Lady's visit to the marquessate, Marchioness Toten has shut herself in entirely. She hasn't come to the temple even once. I imagine she isn't returning your letters either, Commander."

How much did she know? Did she know about the arrangement itself—the terms of it? And why was she making a point of letting him see that she knew?

"Shall I take on the role of chaperone?"

Gabriel went still, caught off guard.

Bishop Marik sat in perfect posture, perfectly still. No nervous habit, no obvious tell, nothing he could use to guess what she was thinking. He couldn't tell.

"Lady Rohanson's situation seems difficult, that's all."

The Bishop's voice was very kind.

"You rarely venture into society, Bishop. I couldn't impose on you."

"I'm hardly doing it for nothing. The Crown Prince's birthday banquet—future glory of the Empire that he is—is an occasion the temple ought to attend and pay its respects. I have an invitation as well, and I've already confirmed my attendance."

Future glory. As if anyone in the empire didn't know the Emperor was still on the throne only because she couldn't stomach handing it to her son. And yet Bishop Marik laid this out as plain fact, her voice never wavering.

"If not Marchioness Toten, then I'll serve as chaperone."

Gabriel imagined her eyes flashing behind the veil.

Gabriel's dispatch had arrived. Using a knight as a mail carrier—even for the Commander, that's something.

Raphaela looked absolutely exhausted when he got here. Then again, it was the horse that had done the running. Melek apparently sweet-talked the horse into the stable no problem. Why is the cow kid better with horses than the wolf, seriously.

"Hh—hah—"

"Raphaela, have some water."

"Thank you. Thank you."

Henna passed him the water and Raphaela drank it in long pulls. Wow—who drinks water like that? Someone give him a mukbang deal.

While Raphaela recovered, I finished reading Gabriel's letter. I'd been worried after the way we left things, but if he's going to this much trouble for me—Gabriel does like me well enough after all. Haah. I can finally breathe.

I handed the letter back to Raphaela to deal with. I didn't want to be the one holding it.

"Is Bishop Marik someone dangerous?"

"To the congregation, she's an incredibly gentle presence. To the Young Lady, however—she is absolutely a threat."

Exorcist. That was my first thought. If Marik found out about the possession—what she'd call a sacred rite, I'd be reading as torture. I really need to be careful. If she finds out about the possession, I'm done. So Gabriel hadn't been overreacting after all.

And based on the contents of that letter—am I actually in serious trouble?

"Someone like her is going to be my chaperone?"