Page 24 of The Idol

It was dangerous, and I kept reminding myself that I was only using him. I would find enough evidence to bring this place to the ground, then leave him to either get arrested, or put in witness protection, or whatever ended up happening.

Even if I wanted under that dumb robe of his, it just wasn’t going to happen. He’d never let me fuck him, and I really didn’t need his dad kicking me out or killing me for defiling his little angel.

This couldn’t go any further than indulging his infatuation.

The next morning, when Elior slipped out of the chapel after prayers, heading toward the edge of the fields, I waited maybe ten seconds before following—long enough not to seem like I’d been hovering, but not so long that I’d lose him.

He was already halfway down the path when I caught up.

“Morning, Elior.”

He startled—he always did—but then relaxed when he realized it was me. His shoulders softened, the tension draining out of him like he’d been holding his breath.

“Oh. Brother Jace. Good morning,” he replied softly, looking up at me with warmth in his pretty eyes.

We fell into step, our sandals brushing dust off the packed earth. He kept glancing at me, tiny flickers of attention.

I pretended not to notice. (But I noticed. I definitely noticed.)

After a minute, I said casually, “So… the Light keeps you pretty busy around here.”

Elior brightened, nodding quickly. “Yes. There is always much to do. Father says that stillness invites doubt.”

I bit down on a smile. “Your father sounds like he runs a tight ship.”

“He does,” Elior said with a kind of earnest pride that was almost painful. “He ensures everything remains pure.”

Pure.Right. Sure.

I let a few steps pass before asking, “So what does that actually look like? Day-to-day, I mean.”

Elior didn’t hesitate, a small smile on his face as he hummed, then answered, “Well… Father organizes the work rotations. Most of us have assigned roles. Some work the fields, some in the kitchens, some clean the chapel. Others sew or help with the livestock.”

“And who decides all that?”

“Father does,” he said. “He knows everyone’s strengths. And the Inner Circle helps him when he makes decisions that affect all of us.”

I bit back the praise I wanted to give him for answering how I’d wanted him to. “Inner Circle?” I echoed lightly, as if I hadn’t memorized every word of their organization chart from NIAC briefings.

He nodded, brushing a strand of blond hair from his face. “Uh-huh. You met Brother Gabriel, and then there’s Sister Catherine, Sister Jane, Brother Paul, and Brother James.” He counted them on his fingers as he went through them.

“All pretty important people, huh?”

“Oh, yes.” His voice dipped reverently. “They’re the ones Father trusts most. They help with decisions when the Covenant is facing change or hardship. They make sure the congregation stays unified.”

“Sounds like a big responsibility.”

“It is,” he said, without a hint of sarcasm. “But they’re very devoted. I think they’re the wisest of us.”

We walked a few more steps. He swung his hands slightly at his sides.

I went in a little deeper. “And you? Do you sit in on any of that?”

He blinked at me. “Me?”

“Yeah. You’re his son. I figured you’d be in the room. Not to mention you’re the Vessel. I figure you’d be involved.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head quickly. “The Vessel doesn’t interfere with leadership matters. My purpose is different.”