141. Lust of Herptian Apostles

Few years ago, One of the courtyards, Imperial Palace of Ancorna

The courtyard lay bathed in golden afternoon light, its manicured hedges and marble fountains humming with the lazy drone of summer bees. Beneath the gnarled branches of the ancient oak—the same tree where imperial children had carved their initials for generations—Aurora Flask sat with her knees drawn to her chest, her fiery red hair a splash of color against the dappled shadows. A leather-bound book rested in her lap, its pages filled with the faded ink of World Creation-era fairy tales, their edges worn from too many secret readings.

A twig snapped.

"So," came a voice like polished steel, "what are you upset about?"

Aurora yelped, nearly tumbling from her perch as Ravenna materialized behind her, a smirk playing at her lips. "W-What? I’m not upset about anything! Why do you ask, Ravy?"

"Oh, please." Ravenna plucked the book from Aurora’s grasp, flipping it shut with a thump. "You only come to this garden for two reasons: to hang out with me… or when you’re upset." She arched a brow. "And since I wasn’t invited, I’m guessing it’s the latter."

Aurora’s pout deepened into a glare as fierce as the crimson locks framing her face. Ravenna met it with one of her own—a silent battle of wills that had been their language since childhood. Finally, Aurora exhaled, scooting over on the wide branch to make room. "It’s Father," she muttered.

Ravenna hoisted herself up beside her, the bark rough against her palms. "It’s always Count Flask, isn’t it?" She nudged Aurora’s shoulder. "What did you do this time?"

Aurora’s fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. "He confiscated all the Herptian religious texts High Priest Caldus smuggled to me from the Solious Church’s restricted archives." Her voice wavered, not with tears, but with the kind of anger that simmered beneath the skin. "He said he doesn’t wa—"

"—want you becoming a spoiled, unruly, impulsive woman," Ravenna finished dryly. "Yes, yes. The same lecture he gave you when you punched Lord Everan’s son for mocking your ‘heretical leanings.’"

Aurora nodded, her knuckles whitening. "He doesn’t want me embracing what’s in my nature. It’s exhausting, Ravy—pretending I don’t hear the Herptian scriptures whispering in my dreams, that I don’t feel the mark on my chest burn during Solious sermons." She seized Ravenna’s hand suddenly, her grip desperate. "He wants me to walk the ‘right’ path, even though he knows it’s not mine."

Ravenna said nothing for a long moment. The wind rustled the leaves above them, carrying the distant chime of palace bells. Then, with a sigh, she laced their fingers together, her smooth skin against Aurora’s calluses hand. "He doesn’t want to see you ridiculed," she said quietly. "Or worse—excommunicated by high nobility. The Solious zealots in court would skin you alive if they knew you were an Apostle of Herptian just like me."

Aurora’s laugh was bitter. "Since when do you care about court opinions?"

"I don’t." Ravenna flicked her forehead. "But you shouldn’t have to suffer for them either."

A beat of silence. Then Aurora leaned back, forcing lightness into her voice. "Enough about me. I heard you’re traveling soon?"

Ravenna's fingers twitched against the bark. "Ah..." A rare flush crept up her neck—embarrassment looked foreign on her sharp features. "High Priest Caldus's doing."

Aurora turned fully toward her, the dappled sunlight catching the gold flecks in her green eyes. "Oh?"

Ravenna exhaled through her nose. "It's been months since I came of age. With winter approaching..." She traced the spine of Aurora's discarded book. "He suggested to Father that, as Herptian's Apostle, I should attend the Festival of Lust in Jola."

Aurora's breath hitched. The book slipped from Ravenna's grip, thudding to the grass below.

"Emperor Andrew allowed it?" Aurora's voice was barely above a whisper. When Ravenna nodded, she pressed, "But your father—"

"—argued until his throat went raw," Ravenna finished. "But Caldus made him see reason." She tilted her head, studying Aurora's face. "Goddess Herptian resurrected me at birth by making me her Apostle. If Father denied me this, the most sacred tradition of her faith..."

Aurora's lips parted in understanding. "He'd risk divine retribution."

"Exactly." Ravenna plucked a leaf from Aurora's hair, twirling it between her fingers. "Caldus reminded him that not even the Solious bloodline—not the Church, not the Goddess Solious herself, couldn’t shield him from Herptian's wrath." The leaf crumpled in her palm. "One impulsive decree from the Lady of Lust and Indulgence, and he'd spend eternity in Kairos Colosseum, damned to fight spectral beasts until time itself unraveled in front of God, Glinto."

Aurora hummed, but the sound was thick—wrong. Ravenna frowned as she continued, "So Father arranged for me to travel to Jola disguised as a minor noble's daughter this winter."

The moment the words left her mouth, Aurora's face twisted. A single tear tracked down her cheek, glistening like liquid silver in the fading light.

"Hey." Ravenna caught her chin. "Why are you—"

"I came of age three days after you." Aurora wrenched away, her voice cracking. "But I'll be locked in some stuffy marriage like a good Solious bride while you—" She choked on the words. "Goddess Herptian's holy book decrees losing virginity after marriage are sacrilege against indulgence. Yet that's exactly what awaits me." A bitter laugh escaped her. "My family will be damned in the Colosseum."

Her hands fisted in her skirts. "Do you know how many nights I've spent reading Herptian's texts in secret? How many prayers have I whispered to a goddess who demands celebration of flesh, only to have every part of that faith forbidden?" Another tear fell. "The only thing I have as her Apostle is this beautiful face, this body and even that will be given to some stranger like a.. a transaction—"

Ravenna kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't planned. One moment Aurora was trembling with rage, the next, Ravenna's mouth was on hers—a collision of heat and desperation, the taste of salt between them. Aurora gasped, her fingers scrabbling at Ravenna's shoulders before curling into the fabric of her dress, pulling her closer.

When they broke apart, Ravenna's breath came fast. "There," she murmured, thumb swiping the dampness from Aurora's cheek. "Now you've indulged."

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with something neither could name. Then Ravenna's smirk returned, sharp as a dagger's edge. Her hands slid to Aurora's waist, pulling her closer until their foreheads nearly touched.

"The holy book doesn't specify that the Festival of Lust must take place in a temple," she said, her breath warm against Aurora's lips. "Only that one must surrender their virginity in winter's winds, before a statue of Herptian and with either a priest, high priest... or a lover."

Aurora's breath hitched. "B-But you're none of those—"

Ravenna's fingers traced the delicate curve of Aurora's spine through the thin fabric of her dress, drawing a shiver from her oldest friend. "I'm an Apostle, just like you," she purred. "Which means, by divine right, I hold the same authority as a High Priestess."

When Aurora only stared, wide-eyed, Ravenna leaned in, her next words a whisper against the shell of her ear.

"And as for the other qualification..." She pulled back just enough to meet Aurora's gaze, her own dark with something unfamiliar. "As a friend, I love you. Doesn't that make me your lover in every way that matters?"

Aurora's blush deepened to a furious crimson, spreading down her neck to the exposed collarbones above her gown's neckline. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak—then her hands fisted in Ravenna's sleeves, pulling her closer with surprising strength.

"You—" Her voice wavered between outrage and awe. "You can't just say things like that after kissing me!"

Ravenna laughed—a rare, unrestrained sound that startled even herself. "Why not? Herptian demands honesty in indulgence." She pressed a teasing kiss to the corner of Aurora's mouth. "Unless you'd rather wait for some stuffy lord to claim you like a—what was it?—a transaction?"

Aurora's answering growl was muffled as she dragged Ravenna into another kiss, this one fiercer than the first.

Present, Ravenna’s Bedroom, Lord Castle, Kim City, Kim Island

Standing in the hushed solitude of her bedchamber, Ravenna worked loose the intricate fastenings of her dress. It slithered from her shoulders like a slain beast, pooling at her feet in a whisper of silk and thread. In its place, she donned a nightgown so sheer it might have been woven from moonlight itself—the delicate fabric clinging to every curve.

She had just run her fingers through the unraveling braid of her hair when the knock came.

Three precise raps. A pause. Then two more—their old signal from her days in the palace, when secrets were traded under cover of darkness.

"It's Aurora."

The voice beyond the door was softer than Ravenna remembered, worn thin at the edges. She crossed the room in five silent strides, the plush carpet swallowing her footsteps. When she opened the door, the sight gave her pause:

Aurora stood haloed in the dim corridor light, her flame-bright hair tamed into a single thick plait over one shoulder. She wore no jewels, no cosmetics—just a simple nightgown of imperial violet linen, high-necked and long-sleeved, as befitted a noblewoman. Yet for all its modesty, the way the fabric skimmed her waist, the way her collarbones caught the candlelight, made it somehow more intimate than Ravenna's own transparent attire.

Without a word, Ravenna stepped aside. Aurora entered like a ghost crossing a threshold.

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