Chapter 5: Dinner with the Countess
Vespera Langford lifted one hand in a firm, decisive gesture, her papal robes shifting with the motion as she met Thalia Evergreen's mischievous gaze across the low table. "Thalia, I appreciate the invitation, but I must decline."
She had no choice. Leaving now would throw the rest of her carefully planned evening into chaos. There were still the rare desserts to purchase on the way back to the Grand Cathedral of Akadonia, and then the quiet dinner she had promised herself she would share with Lirian. The thought of even a single hour slipping away from him tightened something sharp and uncomfortable behind her ribs. The mere idea of reduced time with her little one felt unbearable.
"A shame," Thalia drawled, the small buds nestled in her green hair quivering with amusement. "It is nearly lunchtime, and you must be growing hungry by now."
"Not at all." Vespera kept her voice steady and cool.
Her stomach chose that exact moment to betray her with a loud, unmistakable growl that echoed in the elegant salon.
Thalia's expression turned playfully wicked, one eyebrow arching as if to say, Go on, explain yourself.
Vespera felt heat creep up her neck. "That… that is simply a natural bodily reaction. Nothing more."
Thalia's smile widened, innocent as fresh cream. "I did not say a word, Vespera."
"It is true. I am not hungry in the slightest, yet…"
"Yes, yes, I understand completely, Your Holiness."
Vespera let out a long breath, the faint embarrassment blooming hotter. No clever excuse came to mind, and the countess's knowing little grin only made the flush worse. She pushed back her chair slightly. "My schedule is quite full today, so I really should—"
Another loud rumble rolled from her stomach, louder than the first.
At this point she would have welcomed a hole opening in the floor to swallow her whole. A fragment of doctrine drifted through her thoughts unbidden—the Church taught that its servants must set an example, that scorning food insulted those who went without. She had skipped breakfast entirely that morning, too absorbed in watching Lirian move through the Healing Sanctum, too focused on memorizing the way his white hair caught the light and how his golden eyes softened when he worked. It had been a small, selfish indulgence, one that went against the teachings, but she could not bring herself to regret it. Between a proper meal and Lirian, the choice was obvious. The gods would surely understand.
Thalia leaned forward, voice soft and coaxing. "Come now, Vespera. At least take a little something with you when you go. I had the kitchens prepare everything with such care."
"I truly cannot. My duties—"
"How disappointing. You are already leaving so soon, and the food was made especially for you…"
The countess's face shifted in an instant from playful to wounded, her eyes large and sorrowful in a way that made refusal feel like a cruelty. Vespera's resolve cracked under the weight of that look.
She exhaled slowly. "I surrender, Thalia."
"Oh, wonderful!" Thalia clapped her hands together, the earlier melancholy vanishing as though it had never existed. "You will not regret it. Tonight's feast will be most satisfying."
With a crisp snap of her fingers, Thalia summoned the servants and twisted a shimmering barrier of magic into place around the salon, sealing the space so their conversation would remain private. She clearly had no intention of sharing even a minute of this time. Vespera answered in kind, layering a silence spell of her own over the barrier with a matching flick of her wrist. Their eyes met, and they shared a small, conspiratorial smile.
"Then shall we enjoy the meal at our leisure?" Thalia asked, voice bright.
"I find myself looking forward to it."
The next hour unfolded in a haze of sensory indulgence. A small ensemble of musicians settled in the corner, their strings producing rich, sweeping melodies that wrapped around the room like warm velvet. Dish after dish arrived in an endless procession—tender cuts of roasted meat glazed with dark sauces, delicate pastries layered with honeyed fruits, warm loaves of bread still steaming from the ovens, and bowls of fragrant stews thick with herbs from Thalia's own gardens. Vespera ate slowly, letting each bite linger on her tongue, the flavors complex and perfectly balanced in a way that spoke of true craftsmanship. The music rose and fell in gentle waves, easing the last traces of tension from her shoulders even as her mind drifted back to the cathedral and the boy waiting there.
Eventually she set her knife down with a soft clink and took control of the conversation. "Thalia, are you settling in without any difficulties?"
"Of course. All thanks to a certain benevolent someone." Thalia's tone was light, but her eyes sparkled with genuine gratitude.
Vespera allowed herself a small smile. "I am glad to hear it."
"Though now that I think about it, there is one inconvenience."
Vespera's attention sharpened at once. As Pope she bore the responsibility of listening to every voice in the realm, especially those of the nonhuman races who had once stood on the other side of the old wars. If anyone dared mistreat Thalia simply for what she was, the full weight of the Church would descend without mercy. "What is it?"
Thalia let the silence stretch just long enough to be dramatic, then swallowed theatrically. "The fact that I cannot freely indulge in male companionship… it pains me more than you can imagine."
Vespera stared at her, the earlier concern evaporating into flat disbelief. She had been ready to punish discrimination, and instead she received this. For a heartbeat she felt almost foolish for having worried so sincerely.
Thalia pressed on, undeterred. "You know how things were before the age of peace, Vespera. You remember."
"Yes, and that is precisely why the Church protects and nurtures the few males who remain. It is a necessary monopoly."
Thalia laughed softly. "I am well aware."
The old era had been one of brutal survival, where strength decided everything and the nonhuman races—driven by higher desires than humans—had fought endless wars simply to claim the scarce men who could ensure their bloodlines continued. Those conflicts had spiraled into ever-widening gulfs of power until humanity's victory finally brought the long bloodshed to an end. Vespera had lived through the worst of it; she had no intention of letting the old hungers return.
"Thalia, I have told you many times. This is a matter of rightful monopoly over the male sex."
"How can you say something so cold?" Thalia's voice dripped with mock hurt, but her smile remained sly. The young men who moved through her estate in quiet, attentive service were impossible to ignore. Their presence alone spoke volumes about the countess's appetites and her skill at navigating the law's gray edges to gather them.
"They are all willing participants," Thalia added smoothly. "My dear friends who chose to come here of their own accord."
Vespera rubbed her temple as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. Thalia had found the perfect loophole and exploited it with practiced elegance. The countess's kind were known for stronger natural urges than humans, and Vespera supposed she had to accept that truth as part of who Thalia was. Strangely, the open honesty of those desires did not repel her. If anything, it felt refreshingly true to the woman sitting across from her.
Thalia set her wineglass down with a decisive click. "Enough circling, Vespera. Today I will have an answer."
The magical barrier around them shimmered once as servants were dismissed with a single glance from the countess. In the space of a breath the room emptied completely, and the balance of power shifted squarely into Thalia's hands.
"Who exactly is this man of yours?"
The question landed like a blade pressed to the throat, leaving no room for evasion. Vespera had danced around the topic for weeks, but tonight the countess clearly intended to pin her down.
"I… I am not sure what you mean."
"Oh? Playing innocent now?" Thalia's eyes narrowed, bright with challenge.
Vespera swallowed hard. The wine in her throat suddenly felt thicker, heavier.
"Strange," Thalia continued, voice lilting. "My stock of cosmetics seems to have run completely dry. Whatever shall I do?"
The threat was blatant and shameless. Vespera's cheeks burned. "That is underhanded, even for you."
"Once my curiosity is satisfied, I suspect those missing supplies might mysteriously reappear somewhere convenient."
Cornered by her own indulgences, Vespera had no graceful exit left. She chose her words with care. "It is not… the sort of relationship you are imagining."
"Really? How surprising."
"It is true."
Thalia studied her with open skepticism, waiting for more.
Vespera's gaze dropped to the tablecloth. "I do love him, but… not in that way. It is more like… he is like a son to me."
Her voice grew smaller without her permission, and her shoulders curved inward of their own accord. The admission left her feeling strangely exposed, though she could not say why. It was simply the truth as she understood it.
Thalia's hum was thoughtful. "A son, you say. Yet you have no children of your own, Vespera."
"It is… complicated. Not by blood, but still."
"I see."
"I will say nothing further on the matter."
Vespera kept her eyes lowered, the weight of her own words pressing on her chest. She loved Lirian with the pure, fierce devotion of a mother. She had never once entertained an impure thought toward him, never allowed her affection to cross into anything that might stain the sacred bond they shared. The clarity of her own heart should have been easy to declare, yet the words stuck in her throat. Her mouth felt suddenly parched. She reached for her teacup and drank deeply, hoping the warm liquid would ease the dryness.
"Ah," Thalia said suddenly, clapping her hands together with bright realization. "Now I understand."
Vespera looked up just in time to see the countess's delighted expression.
"You feel a forbidden love for him."
The tea sprayed from Vespera's mouth in a sharp, undignified burst. She coughed hard, pounding her own chest to clear the shock while her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Th— Thalia? What on earth are you—"
"My eyes do not lie." Thalia's smile was triumphant, utterly certain.
"But I told you it is not like that."
The countess simply watched her, unconvinced. Vespera's face burned hotter than the hearth fire. She pressed both palms to her cheeks, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from her skin. The flush had crept all the way to her ears and down her throat. Even her breathing felt unsteady.
"Thalia… am I ill?" she asked, voice faint. "Why is my face so red?"
She touched her cheeks again, half expecting fever, but her forehead felt cool. The morning tonic she had taken could not possibly be the cause, yet nothing else explained the sudden, uncontrollable warmth flooding her features. She stared at the countess in genuine bewilderment, the echo of that single accusing word—forbidden—still ringing in the quiet between them.