Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Chapter 44 ❆ You are Destiny

The Abbot led me away into the praying grounds where the statues of the dragons and the serpent were. As usual, the energies were very thick. The air was thick with the presence of the gods, and I felt that my access to my abilities was especially potent at the moment. If I tried calling upon the Veils now, they were sure to come flocking.

"I wanted to talk to you, to straighten out some details..." he said. "You see, the other masters have noticed," the Abbot told me.

My heart jumped as I looked over to him.

"When you nearly lost control over yourself in the arena, your fluctuations were especially different."

"Do they know?" I inquired.

"I assured them, but I did not say," he said. "The less who know about it, the better. And they know your circumstances are not common, otherwise your Mistress Veronika would not come all this way in the state you're in right now."

I pursed my lips.

"The monks aren't foolish," he continued. "Do you know what happened to Venerya after you left the country?"

I gazed into his calm and kind eyes, then shook my head. "My mistresses never talk about anything...they wouldn't even tell me where the other mistresses have gone."

He sighed. Although he was not an open book, I could more or less infer from his tone and words that something had gone wrong—and they most likely concerned my abilities too...or, more precisely, what I've done out of loss of control and grief over my mother's death. I was sure it was not a secret. My mistresses must have told them already.

"I'm sure you already know that the prince that your mistresses were trying to put to the throne had fled the kingdom and took refuge in the nearby forests...I forgot the name. But that's that," he said. "But Venerya is not in that nice of a situation either. Many inexplicable deaths occurred in one night, and though people are blaming it on a civil war, there are some who say there is more to it. In particular, there have been comparisons made of a sickness that started in the West twelve years ago."

My throat rolled and I clung to and tugged on my clothes. It felt like there was acid in my throat as I took in deep breaths.

"And...you see, considering the complicated affairs in politics, in order to further discredit you and your mistresses to stabilize and regain control of the government, they will push the blame of the deaths onto you."

Well, weren't they right? It was my fault, right?

"Who were the people who died? Were they normal people?" I asked.

"Many of them were soldiers, paladins in particular. Your Mistress Veronika told me you single-handedly ate off a chunk of the empresses's men, which gave you all a chance to leave the country...what more for the prince of your bet to escape to safety as well."

It felt like a huge load was lifted off my chest just then.

"I think that you have been subconsciously directing them," the Abbot said.

"Actually, no. She passed out for the most part of it and left me to deal with all her mess," Amber's irked voice rang in my ear.

Really now. Claiming credit, eh?

"But there were some civilians caught in the crossfire."

"Couldn't do much about that," Amber's voice came again.

Hearing the sudden shift in the tone, I closed my eyes just before I rolled it. I was afraid the Abbot would think I was mocking him when I was actually mocking someone else. Then again, despite his arrogance, Amber did deserve that credit. I messed up big time.