Page 13 of The Warrior Priest (After the Rift #1)

S omehow, through the dense fog of my desire, I managed to think. I pulled away. “Rhys,” I gasped out between ragged breaths. “Are you sure? Will you regret this in the morning?”

“I don’t care,” he rasped.

It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but I didn’t press him further because he was kissing me again, and all common sense vanished.

Impulse took over. I flung my arms around his neck and buried my fingers in his hair.

This time there was no tenderness in the kiss.

It was a surging tide of desperate need, three years of pent-up desire finally breaking free.

His arms circled around me and held me against his body, leaving me in no doubt that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

When we finally stopped for air, I touched my forehead to his. “I didn’t know… You’re very good at hiding your feelings.”

He lightly touched his lips to mine, so I felt his smile.

“I’m very good at a lot of things, Jac. At least I was .

I’m probably rusty now.” He took my hand in his and pressed it against his chest. His heart beat madly beneath my palm.

“I want you, Jac, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.

Come with me.” He led me away, heading in Hailia knew which direction.

I became aware of the sting of cold air on my cheeks, the smell of smoke in the air from the many fires trying valiantly to keep the chilly autumn night at bay. And I became aware again of how drunk Rhys was when he stumbled as he turned to look at me over his shoulder.

I tugged on his hand, forcing him to stop. “Rhys…are you sure? You should think?—”

“I don’t want to think.” It came out as a growling groan, part frustration and part regret.

That regret would grow as he sobered. It would fester and infect, until it consumed everything that was good between us. It would destroy the most precious thing we had—our friendship.

I released his hand.

He didn’t reach for me. His response, or lack of it, confirmed that I’d made the right decision.

Last night, he’d been prepared to leave the order for me, but that was when he thought marriage would protect me from my uncle.

After pointing out that it wouldn’t, he’d changed his mind.

Before our kiss, he’d said he wasn’t talking about leaving the order for Giselle, that was for me.

Was . Past tense.

He cared about me and desired me, but when the factor of saving my life was removed from the equation, caring and desiring weren’t enough for him to leave the order.

Two men walking past stopped a few paces away. “Is that a priest of Merdu’s Guards?” one said to the other.

“Not every man wearing a brown tunic is a warrior priest,” his friend pointed out. They walked on.

Rhys tilted his head back and blinked up at the ink-black sky. “I’m sorry, Jac.” The heaviness in his voice almost undid me.

I managed to keep the tears welling in my eyes from spilling, but only just. “Don’t be. We can still be friends, can’t we?”

“Of course. Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

“You never have before and you don’t need to now. Besides, I probably should walk you home. You can’t go ten paces without tripping.”

My attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. He merely sighed. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.”

I walked away and did not look back. Whether he watched me leave or whether he immediately left, too, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know, nor did I want him to see me crying.

I tried walking off my listlessness the following morning.

With my hood up to obscure my face, I maintained a brisk pace through the market where hawkers sold fresh produce from their stalls and carts.

The permanent shops in the surrounding streets seemed to buzz as shopkeepers and their customers discussed the two important events affecting the city.

Few mourned the passing of the deputy governor, although not everyone voiced a negative opinion of him.

Some thought he was a good support for the governor.

Uncle Roderic wasn’t particularly liked, but many respected his aim to clean up the city’s crime.

Others were not so enthusiastic, having seen firsthand how brutal his methods could be.

I avoided the square housing the municipal buildings so as not to accidentally run into him again, and instead headed past the castle gate.

There was no word on when the newly found prince would arrive, or where he was now.

I stopped at the forecourt in front of the high temple.

Should I report to the high priest? If so, how much about Giselle’s activities should I tell him?

Would he even be prepared to receive me?

Some things are best to get over and done with. It might ease the knots in my insides.

The high temple’s guards didn’t look as intimidating as those manning the castle gates.

For one thing, they were dressed as priests, albeit in black like the high priest instead of brown.

For another, they didn’t simply stand there looking stern.

They welcomed me and asked me how they could assist me.

I stated that I’d been tasked by the high priest himself to run an errand and needed to report back. One of the guards directed me to an antechamber to wait. I expected the high priest to send one of his staff, so was surprised to see the high priest himself enter the room. I remembered to bow.

Apparently, it was the right thing to do because he seemed pleased to see me. “I would have called on you, Jac, but it’s good of you to come here.”

“You don’t know where I live,” I pointed out.

He smiled and invited me to sit on one of the four chairs pushed against the wall.

The rest of the room was empty, and entirely devoid of comfort.

No rugs covered the cold stone floor, and the chairs were hard.

A single painting took up one entire wall.

It depicted the handsome, strong Merdu pointing sternly at a swirling black pit in the ground.

Ugly figures tried to escape from the pit, their claw-like hands scrabbling at the earth and each other.

Partly obscured by Merdu, the beautiful goddess Hailia gathered two children to her side.

It encapsulated the religion of the Fist Peninsula, with the divine fatherly figure banishing evildoers into Merdu’s Pit, while the matronly goddess comforted the innocent.

I used to think it unfair that the poorest part of Tilting was called Merdu’s Pit by the rest of the city, until I’d accidentally stumbled into it soon after I ran away from my uncle’s house.

As a stranger in their midst, some of the slum’s dwellers had chased me for sport until I’d managed to escape, a little bloody and bruised, but alive.

Yet unlike the figures in the painting, its evil went unpunished.

It seemed to thrive, much like mold under the right conditions.

If my uncle wanted to clean up the city, he should start there. Yet he was targeting the whores and petty thieves of other slums, good folk who were forced to be whores and thieves out of necessity rather than desire. No doubt it was easier to tackle crime where ruthless gangs weren’t in control.

“Have you discovered if Giselle has returned to Tilting?” the high priest asked.

“She has,” I said.

“And has Brother Rhys seen her?”

“Only from afar.”

“They haven’t had a liaison?”

“No.”

“Did she attempt to meet him?” he asked.

“No.”

He regarded me with a frown. “How can you be sure?”

I simply smiled as he had done when I pointed out that he didn’t know where I lived.

“She’s an interesting one,” he went on, his tone matter-of-fact. “She’s not typical for a woman. Some men find that tempting. I’m glad to see Rhys isn’t one of them. Thank you, Jac.” He rose. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“Before you ask, I won’t do any more spying on Giselle or Rhys.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that of you. My questions have been answered.” He walked with me out of the antechamber. “It’s good to see that Brother Rhys is taking his new position as second-in-command seriously.”

I wasn’t sure if he expected a response, so I remained silent.

“He’s maturing,” the high priest went on.

“Master Tomaj has noticed it, but others in their order were worried about Rhys’s future and therefore the future of Merdu’s Guards since he will lead the order one day.

They lay blame at Giselle’s feet for tempting him to break his vows, but you have reassured me, Jac.

Thank you. Now I will reassure them. Rhys will make a fine leader.

Perhaps the strongest the order has had in over a century. ”

“Your Eminence,” I said, bowing.

We were once again in the large entrance hall with its high vaulted ceiling.

Like the antechamber, it was sparsely furnished, in keeping with the vow of poverty taken by all priests, no matter which order they belonged to.

The only exception was the head of the religion in Glancia, standing before me, with his cloth of gold belt.

“Good lad,” he said. “May Merdu walk beside you.” He laid a hand on my shoulder.

A flurry of activity at the temple’s main entrance drew our attention. The high priest strode toward it. The priest who’d just arrived bowed and greeted him. I recognized him as one of the warriors in Merdu’s Guards.

The high priest invited the newcomer in. “What is it, Brother Milo?”

“Master Tomaj sent me,” the priest said. “He wants you to know that the governor’s men are tearing through the slums, demanding the surrender of the deputy’s murderer. They’re threatening violence if no one comes forward with information by this time tomorrow.”

The high priest rubbed his bearded chin. “That is worrying news.”

“Brother Rhys doubts anyone in the slums knows anything. He spoke to the sheriff whose investigation suggests the killer was quick, clever and experienced. He left no trace behind.”

“An assassin?”