Father Benedict arrived not long after. He didn’t look the least bit surprised to see her. “Welcome,” he said, standing just inside the sitting room door. Violet Death had eaten away at him since she’d last seen him, his color now gone and his skin taken over by open sores.
“I need a place to stay,” Arden said awkwardly. “Not for long, just . . .” She fiddled with the hem of her cloak, figuring out what to say without lying. It didn’t feel right to lie to a priest, even if she didn’t belong to this religion.
“You are welcome here, my child. Be at peace. God’s house is open to anyone who seeks shelter.” Father Benedict gestured for her to follow him. “Come, let us find you a room, though the comfort here is not found in materialistic offerings.”
Arden exhaled a mirthless laugh. “It’s fine. I’m not used to comfort anyway.”
He took her to a windowless room that reminded her of a prison cell. The walls were made from stone, and there was very little furniture: a small cot and a table with a stool.
“As I said,” he turned to look at her, giving her a soft smile, “the comfort we offer within these walls is spiritual.”
She pulled off her coat because it felt awkward not to, and it gave her something to do besides fidget. But she regretted it almost immediately when his gaze strayed to her shoulder.
“When is the last time you had your bandage changed?”
Arden looked at it. “I don’t know. A few days?”
Father Benedict frowned. “I’ll be back shortly with a med kit and something to eat.”
She wanted to tell him to save his medicine, to use it on himself. Though she knew that at that point he was as much as dead from his infection.
Instead she said, “Thank you.”
When Father Benedict left the room, the silence became oppressive. A single bulb shone a glazed light, which made the room appear smaller than it probably was. She’d slept in worse. Closing her eyes, she lay back on the cot and tried to reach a calm place. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been wrong when she’d spoken with Dade. Anger she’d expected. However, she’d been surprised at the distance she’d felt from him and the sadness in his final kiss.
There was something she’d missed. It pricked at her consciousness like an irritating burr.
Arden felt stuck in her life. How was she supposed to do as Dade asked and not target his family when she knew that it would hurt her own? It wasn’t fair to ask that of her. She didn’t know how to proceed. She didn’t have a plan, a direction. It wasn’t like her. Dade had mixed her all up.
The realization that she felt defeated came as a surprise. Arden had never lost before. Never failed at anything she’d tried for. She had always been confident in her intuition. That ability had saved her life more than once. Second-guessing led to death in the most literal sense.
Now that confidence was shaken.
If she started to doubt herself, how could she trust that she’d be able to take on any challengers? If she went rogue, anyone could cut her down.
There was a knock at the door before Father Benedict pushed it open. He carried a tray of food and set it on the small table next to the bed. Then he sat on the stool and withdrew a med kit.
Arden sat up on the cot with her wounded shoulder facing him. As much as it hurt and as sore as she was, she perversely didn’t want to feel better. Being miserable kept her from breaking.
Father Benedict unwound the soiled wrap, then checked the wound with deft movements. He pulled out the cleaning alcohol, dabbing at her raw skin. “It’s not infected.”
Arden made a noise of assent. It was fortunate that her shoulder wouldn’t fester. But she couldn’t find the will to be thankful at the moment.
“I’m going to use some quick-seal on this. It will hold the skin together enough so that I can use a thinner bandage.”
Arden nodded. A smaller bandage would allow for better flexibility. It was as if he were aware that fighting was inevitable for her. If he knew that her actions might kill them all, maybe he wouldn’t be so helpful.
She kept her face turned away so he couldn’t read her guilt.
“Speak, my child,” he urged. “Let it out, or it will spread like poison.”
Arden hesitated, her mouth falling open in surprise. Then she figured, Why not? He held Dade’s confidence. Anything she shared, he couldn’t prove. By the time he could use the information, it would be too late.
“I’m in love with Dade.” Arden let the words settle in her gut as she said them aloud. She’d known she loved him, even though she had long denied it to herself. It was too soon to have those kinds of feelings. But apparently that didn’t matter.
Sad that she’d never admitted as much to Dade.
Father Benedict didn’t react. If anything, he seemed supportive. “You haven’t told him?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I’ve found that all choices can be simple.” He smoothed his hand down the rewrapped shoulder, making sure the bandage was tight. “It’s living with the consequences of those decisions that makes life difficult.”
“How do you know if you can live with the consequences?”
“Ah, a question for the ages,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Arden frowned, causing Father Benedict to chuckle.
“If you don’t speak with him, will you live with regret?” he asked.
Probably, yet she didn’t say that. The situation she found herself in wasn’t one she felt was fixable. They were from different worlds. She had known forever that divide couldn’t be crossed. Even if she had let herself begin to foolishly hope.
Father Benedict sat back now, finished with his doctoring. He began putting the med kit back together. “What is it you want, my child?”
She thought through all the possible scenarios. Discarding the unlikely ones. Knowing that any good outcome would cost too much. “I don’t know.”
Father Benedict patted her hand. “Then it seems to me you should spend your time here figuring that out.”
“It doesn’t matter. My life was set before it began.”
“Only those who are willing to fight to change their circumstances will be successful.” He turned away with a hacking cough. His slight frame bowed forward and shook. It wouldn’t be long now until he was bedridden.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just full.
Father Benedict rose and walked to the door. “I shall let you consider your path. If you leave before I speak with you again, blessings to you.”
“And to you, Father.”
When the door shut, Arden lay back on the scratchy pillow. She ignored the meal he’d brought her, thinking over what Father Benedict had said. She knew he was right. And yet, what could she do about it? Dade had sounded resolute when they’d spoken.