As soon as Rika finished speaking, she snapped the window shut and drifted back to me, though her eyes kept flicking over her shoulder. It was as if she were fighting the urge to throw it open again and call the whole thing off.
“Sigh, you better be there too, you hear me? After all, this was your idea.”
I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. It felt good, even if Rika gave me a slightly hurt look.
“Hehe, of course, after all, the queen is hosting it.”
We lingered in conversation a little longer before I finally took my leave. Rika’s parents gave me grateful looks as they waved, but I could tell they didn’t dare say anything in front of her—she was still caught between hope and doubt, and I didn’t blame her. Outside, Collin was already deep in conversation with the tribe members, laughing like they’d known each other for years. The Ivory King Halva had vanished, probably off to make preparations for the date. The tribe members seemed to know I’d helped tip the scales, and when Halva told them to pack up for now, they sent us off with quiet waves as our carriage rolled away toward the noble district.
When I got home, Janus was already gone—he must have slipped out not long after I arrived. The house felt quieter without him, so I let the little ones’ chaos sweep me up. Teresa was already trying to stand, as if crawling had become too dull for her restless spirit. Sera had learned to roll onto her belly and back again, and I quietly celebrated her small victory. Alex, sweet as ever, was still struggling to keep up with his sister.
In my old life, I woke to the sound of the neighbor’s children crying, their voices echoing through the thin walls of our cramped apartment building. I always worried my own children would be just as loud, that I’d spend my nights pacing the floor, desperate for a moment of quiet. But these little ones were softer somehow. They still cried, but only in short bursts. Only once did Alex scream so hard he frightened himself into screaming even more; this went on until his face turned a frightening shade of blue, until I stepped in and made him gently fall unconscious. Emma panicked—Teresa had never done anything like that—so she ran to me. After that bit of drama, things felt easier, or maybe I was just getting used to the rhythm of their needs. It wasn’t as hard as I’d feared, though the worry never really left me.
Janus didn’t come home until it was really late, the kind of late that leaves shadows under your eyes and heaviness in your step. He’d been trapped in yet another meeting with the other nobles, and whatever energy he had left seemed to melt away the moment he saw me. He barely managed a sleepy hello before collapsing into my arms, his head pressed against my chest, a lopsided grin on his lips.
The rest of the week was fairly calm, with many of the nobles in mourning. Many canceled the parties they had planned, and I was left with nothing to do until, two days after I went to Rika, another church carriage arrived at our door.
This time, they didn’t take me down to the cellar or the pope’s office. Instead, they led me into a grand conference room, where all the cardinals in the capital and the pope herself were already waiting. I slipped into the only empty seat, feeling their eyes on me as they exchanged greetings around the table. Lucrezia launched into the story we’d rehearsed: I was a healing mage, trained from childhood on a distant island, kidnapped by the Ibasans, and only escaped after years spent secretly honing my craft.
Most believed her verbatim, but a few still looked at me with doubt.
“Do I understand correctly?” one of them asked, his face wrinkled like a Shar-Pei. “Are you telling us she can heal… what, everything?”
Hearing it laid out like that, I had to admit it sounded absurd. Most people in that room were older, wiser, and far more experienced than me, yet I was somehow supposed to be the miracle worker. If I were in their place, I’d be skeptical too. Still, it wasn’t my place to defend, so I let Lucrezia handle the questions, trusting her to smooth over the rough edges.
“I knew it would be hard to believe. I didn’t believe it either until I saw it with my own eyes, and even then I wouldn’t have trusted her if the gods hadn’t advocated for her.”
She stood up, walked to the other side of the room, and said:
“So, to eliminate any doubt, I think a demonstration is in order. Everyone, if you would be so kind, please follow me to the sick bay.”
Soon we all reached the sickbay, leaving behind one of the cardinals, so big he struggled to get out of his massive chair.
The sickbay sat just beneath the main hall, overflowing with patients and the constant movement of nuns and monks. Some rushed from bed to bed, while others slumped in chairs, faces drawn and pale as they tried to summon the last scraps of mana before exhaustion pulled them under. From the outside, it had seemed heartless for the church to turn away the sick, but now I understood—they were already stretched to the breaking point, barely able to care for those inside.
The nuns and monks were visibly surprised by our arrival, apparently not informed that most of the church’s upper echelons were coming for a visit. Lucrezia was just about to lead me to the first patient when I moved to what appeared to be a hospice area; there lay a young but frail woman who was about to breathe her last, as the healing mages had long given up on her.
Cancer had taken root in nearly every part of her body, a silent invader that most healers here could do nothing against. It was a common curse in this world, and yet, with just a touch, I felt the sickness unravel beneath my hands. Her breathing steadied as I coaxed the healthy cells to grow where the cancer had been. She didn’t wake—her strength was gone, stolen by the disease—but she would live. For now, that was enough.
After her, I moved from bed to bed, letting my mana flow until I was nearly spent. By the time I’d finished, half the sickbay had been treated, and even the most skeptical cardinals were left speechless, their disbelief replaced by something like awe.
Running low after dealing with only half the sickbay, I went back to the cardinals, who, after a bit of explaining, readily gave me their mana, and I got back to work.
When the last patient was finally cared for, I looked up to find the eyes of every nun, monk, and patient fixed on me. There was something like reverence in their gaze, as if I’d become a saint in their eyes. It was only then that I realized I might have gone too far, and a strange, uneasy weight settled in my chest.