Chapter 132: The Eighth
And she was not ready, not for their questions or for the possibility that they might have discovered something about the attack at the fair. Not even for the scrutiny of those who had lived for centuries and had likely learned to recognise the smallest inconsistencies—and it terrified her.
"Is something the matter, my lady?" Nalia asked.
Lucrezia blinked, realising she had been staring into her untouched drink. "No," She said quickly. "Nothing."
Nalia did not look entirely convinced, but she bowed her head. "Then perhaps you should return before the healers arrive. I can see to it that everything is prepared before their visit."
Lucrezia nodded slowly.
Internally, she had wanted to leave there because she could no longer bear the smell of herbs and the constant attention of the servants. But now that she had finally been able to enjoy a little freedom, she was being reminded that her recovery came with its own consequences.
And soon, she would have to face the council.
That thought frightened her far more than any healer’s examination ever could.
"I should like to return to my own chamber first," She said.
Nalia nodded at once. "Of course, my lady."
Lucrezia remained seated for a while after their conversation ended, her thoughts wandering far beyond the quiet room.
The council.
She had nearly forgotten how much power those words held over her. Not that she had ever been free of their influence. Even before arriving in Blackvale, she had understood that her presence here was not entirely her own choice.
Her mother’s life depended upon her obedience, and the bargain she had made left little room for mistakes, yet she had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that her illness might grant her a little more time.
Now, with the healers expected to examine her, that hope was beginning to crumble.
She could no longer hide as much as she wanted to. Every day was another survival of its own. She could only hope whatever today brought would be at least merciful.
"... My lady?"
Nalia’s voice drew her attention back.
Lucrezia looked up. "Yes?"
"I was asking if you would care for another cup of tea before we leave?"
She glanced at the cup in her hands. It was still half-full. She shook her head. "No, thank you."
"Shall I have your cloak brought to you, then?"
Lucrezia hesitated. "Is it that cold outside?"
"Not particularly, my lady," She replied, and stated, "But the corridors can be rather chilly in the mornings."
"I shall manage," She said softly.
Nalia nodded and rose to collect the empty dishes, though Lucrezia had barely touched her breakfast. She watched the servant move about the room with practised efficiency, quietly gathering the plates and arranging them on a tray.
"Do you think the healers will be displeased with me?" Lucrezia asked suddenly.
Nalia paused at that. "For what, my lady?" She asked, confused.
For a moment, she became uncertain. "For leaving my—Lord Vaeron’s chambers," She immediately corrected herself. "I left without any notice,"
She wasn’t entirely used to how they operated here, or how they thought about her actions. Perhaps the littlest thing called for a summoning—if there was anything like that.
"Oh," Nalia seemed to consider the question seriously. "I do not believe so, my lady. You have been confined to your bed for quite some time. It is only natural that you would wish to leave it," She said, and then added, "No one would question your decisions, my lady. All except Lord Lust."
Of course, she thought. He was her Punisher.
That name brought a cold chill down her spine.
"Even if they believe I am not entirely recovered?" She asked. "Am I still expected to honor the council’s call?"
"No, my lady," Nalia replied. "They may advise you to rest further."
Lucrezia’s gaze drifted towards the window. Beyond the glass, the morning sky was pale and overcast, and the distant trees swayed gently beneath the breeze.
"And if they do?"
"Then I imagine you shall have to obey their instructions, my lady."
She looked back at Nalia. The servant’s expression remained composed, though there wasn’t a faint trace of amusement in her eyes.
"You seem very certain of that," She observed.
"I would not dare presume to question the healers’ judgement, my lady."
Lucrezia let out a quiet breath. "Neither would I."
But she knew that was not entirely true.
She had spent the past weeks following instructions, swallowing bitter medicines, allowing strangers to examine her and enduring the suffocating stillness of that chamber.
She had been patient because she had no other choice. Now that her strength was returning, she found herself increasingly reluctant to surrender what little freedom she had regained.
Noticing her fright, she said, "You need not be afraid, my lady. It’s a council summoning, not the Tithes," She said. "Besides, I believe you have nothing to hide,"
Lucrezia smiled, though the effort made her feel worse.
The reassurance should’ve made her feel relieved, but instead, it did quite the opposite. How could she inform her that her words were misdirected? That she was filled with secrets of her own. That her body was a temple of miseries. That she was—in fact, the cause of the attack at the fair.
However, a question crossed her mind before she could stop it. "Tithes?" She asked, curious. "What are they?"
Nalia seemed to hesitate.
Lucrezia couldn’t blame her. There was so much knowledge that wasn’t appropriate for a mortal like her. Knowledge that was restricted to Punishments as well. Putting Nalia in between was something she did not wish.
"Forgive me," She quickly added, hoping to eliminate the tension crawling into the room. "I shouldn’t have asked."
"Actually, you should," Nalia said.
Before Lucrezia could absorb the meaning of her words, the young woman took a seat near the window.
"The question should be ’who’," She started, making a correction to her inquiry earlier. "It’s general knowledge to everyone in Blackvale—though not entirely the Downworlders," She started, her voice carefully measured. "However, my lady, you’re no longer a Downworlder, but a Punishment, which gives you more advantage than other mortals," She said.
Lucrezia held her breath at the mention. More advantage?
Nalia continued, "Centuries ago, after Hell unleashed the Seven deadly Sins to the Seven Kingdoms, the gods were not entirely innocent as well. Power shaped every one of them, but their bond was strong, stronger than what any other creature could ever have. They were unstoppable, powerful, indestructible, and feared by all. But they lacked one thing—control," She said.
"Since the gods governed the Downworlders, no one governed the gods. So they did as they pleased. They took, they ruled, they punished—but no one could question the rot of the gods whether innocent or guilty, could they? Whether their judgment was fair or false, they lived with it. They adapted to it, until adaptation was no longer an option. The Seven Sins belonged to each of the Seven Kingdoms, all under the accord. No one could govern the gods and still govern mortality as well—and so, Hell unleashed the eighth Sin."
Lucrezia stilled as blood drained from her face. Eight? She thought, startled even by the thought of it. T-There were eight sins? How?
Her mind immediately returned to the book Greed had given her. She had read about the Seven Sins, the kingdoms they belonged to, and the devastation that had followed their arrival—but there had never been an eighth.
At least, not in the history she had been allowed to read.
"How could there be eight?" she asked, unable to hide the confusion in her voice.
Nalia remained quiet for a moment. Perhaps she was deciding how much she was permitted to say. "The eighth was different," she finally said.
"Different how?"
"It was not bound to one of the Seven Kingdoms," She answered carefully.
Lucrezia’s brows drew together. "Then where did it belong?"
Nalia shook her head slightly. "That is difficult to explain, my lady. The eighth was not like the others. The Seven were given dominion over their respective kingdoms under the accord. Their powers were divided, their territories established, and their roles understood. But the eighth," She paused. "The eighth had no kingdom."