Cyan P.O.V.

“Why is that rotting sack of belligerent assetry here?”

“We’ve told you why at least three times,” Draven growls. He grasps my wrist to prevent my further pacing. With a single tug, I fall onto the couch beside him. The pads of his fingers manage to break through many layers of clothes to touch my skin. His touch is searing hot. I shiver and rip my hand away.

He frowns while mumbling, “Sorry.”

Turning away from Draven and his frustratingly handsome mug that I kinda want to punch all the time, I look at Lore for answers. He sits at his desk, elbows resting on the surface while his chin’s perched atop his hands. He watches me with a sharp gaze. One that frightened me at first when I saw him at Trinia Cathedral, walking through the temple of an enemy without an ounce of fear. He stared down the Prophet as if she were nothing more than an unpleasant bug in his path. He terrified me, while also giving me a strange form of hope.

"I know the bullshit lie the church gave us for why he's here. I'm asking why you're letting him stay," I say, trying to keep my voice calm but stern. Unfortunately, that's not a skill I've been graced with. If the church really wanted to, they could tell Seren to kill us, send more paladins or champions of he fails and rid the world of this whole family and no one would do anything about it. They can make up any excuse they want and look like the heroes.

"We all know what he is, what he's capable of," I add. "None of us are safe--"

“And neither is he,” Lore interjects, silencing me immediately.

I’d never speak over him. I owe him my life and, frankly, he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. The sperm donor wasn’t exactly top tier Dad material, or even bottom tier Dad material. He was, however, top tier shit material.

“Seren knows not to trust us and that we will not trust him. He won’t step out of line when he’s in enemy territory unless we make him,” Lore adds.

Arline grumbles under her breath. Lore takes notice. We all do. Rising from his desk, he sits beside her to place a gentle hand atop hers, squeezing slightly before resting his hand in his lap.

“We aren’t to cause harm to Seren. The last thing any of us want is the Holy Church having an excuse to send their militia here, even if the thought of butchering those fools does bring me immense joy,” he whispers the last bit like a spell of his own, eyes blazing bright.

“Aren’t they trying to find an excuse to do that already?” I ask, gesturing at the door as if that piece of grimy bird shite is out there. “He isn’t here to look for a terrorist group. He wants to find something on you because Nosa, hell, all of Silra proves that we can live together harmoniously. You give people hope and the church crushes that every chance they get.”

“Harmoniously is a bit of an exaggeration. Crime and discrimination continues to be rampant. It merely pales a bit in comparison to elsewhere,” Draven speaks up, earning a narrowed glare from me.

How come he only speaks to annoy me? I’d say it’s because of The Unspeakable Incident, but he has done it ever since I arrived at Seymour Manor eight years ago. Always picking a fight. Always nitpicking. He's such a nag. It's a shock he isn't the House Mother running after the children, although that may be exactly why Lore chose Arline. She actually lets them breathe!

I’m about to pick a physical fight with this jackass when Lore says, “That very well may be why Seren’s here, but we can’t be certain. Your jobs are to protect the children, our home, and keep your eyes on him. He’ll be keeping his eyes on us, of course, and snooping about the estate.”

“There are ways to prevent that,” Arline suggests while glancing at me. The wild glint in her eye makes my legs shake. I’m always up for some heinous fun! “We have our mad scientist here. I’m sure he could conjure up a few spells that even that paladin won’t be able to fight against. Keep him locked up in his room like a princess in a tower.”

“I would love to do that!” I exclaim and Draven shushes me. He gets a third glare of the evening that has him rolling his eyes.

“Try to contain yourself,” he lectures. “Otherwise that very paladin will be down here wanting to talk to you, most of all.”

“Why me?” I whine, then hold up my hand when Draven honestly looks ready to answer. “That is a rhetorical question. I get why. I’m not as stupid as you think.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. I know you’re an idiot.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Boys,” Lore says a single word that has us both sitting up straight and facing him. His soft smile is telling enough; we’re getting on his nerves. Arline snickers, which earns her a slight pinch from Lore that reminds her he will go Dad Mode on all of us if we push him, regardless of our ages. Hell, I’m fairly certain Draven’s almost a 100 and he still goes rigid as the dead at the thought of Dad Mode.

“Returning to the topic at hand,” Lore says. “Do not underestimate the paladin. As much as we all hate the church, there’s no denying that their training--”

I flinch at that poor word choice, which may have been why Lore said it. He rather say training in front of me than what it really was; torture. I recall the days spent under the scorching sun, getting beaten by our instructors for not being fast enough, strong enough, or determined enough. They preached we were striving for the greater good. We were warriors of the Mothers sent to rid the world of evil, all the while they beat children half to death, and I believed every word they said for a long time. I may have believed them forever had things gone differently.

“--does produce some more than troubling soldiers. If Seren has risen to the rank of paladin, it is for a reason. We must take this threat seriously, especially the two of you.” Lore looks between Arline and Draven. “He was specifically trained to hunt and kill us. Don’t make him use that training.”

Sighing, Arline nods, but still speaks fiercely, “So long as he knows to stay in line himself, but if he even looks at the children funny, I won’t hesitate.”

“I know and I don’t expect you to.”

“So what is our plan concerning Seren, exactly?” Draven asks. “Are we going to let him snoop or are we meant to get in his way?”

“Since it is I he’s more interested in, I’ll keep him as preoccupied and irritated as I can.” Lore’s wicked grin promises Seren a world of trouble and I love it. “He’ll tag along on my journeys into town, but concerning the manor, let him snoop around to his heart’s content. There’s nothing to find here. Once he realizes that, he’ll be on his way because the church will have no further excuse to be here.”

“That still means he could be here for months,” I groan.

“Don’t fret too much, Cyan. He’ll be as miserable here during those months as we are.”

I sure hope so, even if a very small, practically nonexistent and, like, very deep part of me does pity him. The Holy Church knows what they’re doing. They’ve perfected their technique to lure people in. Like me, Seren was probably brought to the church after losing his family and made to believe the church was his family. That’s what they do so you become loyal and fearful of losing the last bit of love you have left. As much as I hate them, it’s genius, and I almost fell for it too…