Page 50 of The Idol

I lifted my eyes slowly, letting the moment stretch.

He swallowed, visibly. “Brother Jace,” he whispered, voice thin with exhaustion. “Are you the last one?”

“Of course I am.”

He blinked. “Oh. I… I didn’t mean—”

“Elior,” I interrupted gently, letting my voice soften the way he responded best to, “I waited because I wanted to speak with you without distractions.”

He flushed again, color blooming high on his cheeks. He didn’t understand what I meant—not fully—but his body reacted before his mind could catch up.

I let my gaze travel up his form slowly.

His fingers trembled against the carved armrests.

His chest rose with a shaky breath.

“Are—are you here to confess?” he asked.

His eyes darted to the chapel entrance—habit, fear of being overheard—but it was empty. Silent. The only sound was his breathing and the faint crackle of the candles.

I leaned in slightly, just enough that he felt it even if I didn’t touch him. His breath stilled.

“I could… but you look so tired.”

He stared at me in surprise, as if no one had ever bothered to notice his discomfort before. As if it hadn’t occurred to him that he was allowed to be anything other than perfect.

“I-I’m fine,” he murmured.

“You’re exhausted,” I said. “I can see it. You’ve been carrying everyone else’s guilt all night.”

His lips parted. His eyes shone with something startled—like I’d accidentally brushed against a bruise he’d forgotten he had.

Good.

I shifted my knees closer to the foot of the carved seat. His breath caught sharply, almost inaudible.

“You hold all their worries, their shame, their sins.” My voice dropped lower. “Let me take some of the weight.”

His lashes fluttered, confused and flustered, and he tried to remain devout.

“Jace,” he whispered, barely audible, “you said before… that—that the Light tells you… to touch me.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “And it’s telling me now.”

His fingers tightened on the armrests, and his throat bobbed. “I don’t… I don’t know if you should.”

“That’s alright,” I whispered, leaning in just a breath more. “I’ll take care of you. You can blame everything on me.”

He shivered.

I lifted one hand and hovered it just below his knee, close enough for him to feel my warmth but not enough for contact.

“Tell me no,” I said softly. “If you want me to stop.”

He said nothing.

His breath trembled.