70. Saintess’s Power

"She is the Saintess."

Both Marie and Dame Aisha turned their heads sharply toward the source of the voice.

Standing a short distance away, her crimson cloak billowing slightly in the ocean breeze, was Ravenna. Her expression was unreadable—stern, yet not unkind, her violet eyes studying them both with quiet intensity.

Marie’s breath hitched in her throat.

“M-Master?” she stammered, her wide brown eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.

Beside her, Dame Aisha immediately straightened and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness."

Ravenna stepped forward with a deliberate grace, her heeled boots sinking slightly into the sand before she came to a stop in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Marie for a long moment before she finally spoke again.

"I had hoped to keep this truth hidden for a little while longer," Ravenna admitted, a hint of irritation lacing her tone. "But it seems fate has other plans."

She turned to Dame Aisha, her expression hardening.

"I trust you understand the weight of this revelation?"

Dame Aisha straightened, her posture rigid with the weight of responsibility.

"I swear upon my honor as a knight, Your Highness, I will not speak of this to another soul."

Ravenna studied her for a moment before giving a small nod of approval.

"Good."

Marie fidgeted, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She still hadn’t fully processed what was happening. How did Ravenna know? How long had she known? And if she did… why hadn’t she said anything before?

Before she could voice any of her questions, Ravenna turned her attention back to her.

"Now, Marie. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Marie blinked in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Your dress fitting. We need to have it tailored before our departure to the capital." Ravenna stated, already turning on her heel and starting toward the waiting carriage.

Marie, still dazed, cast one last glance at Dame Aisha. The knight gave her a reassuring nod, though there was an undeniable curiosity behind her gaze.

Snapping back to the present, Marie quickly dipped into a small bow.

"Thank you for today's lesson, Dame Aisha!" she called before scrambling to catch up with Ravenna.

The moment Marie climbed into the carriage, her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her hands felt clammy against the fabric of her dress. She barely had time to steady herself before Ravenna, seated across from her, let out an exasperated sigh.

"I thought you knew better than to use your powers in public."

Marie winced.

"I do!" she insisted. "My father always told me to hide them—to never heal in front of others. But… it was a reflex this time."

She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers as if expecting the wound to still be there. It wasn’t. She had healed herself without even thinking.

Ravenna clicked her tongue and leaned back against the cushioned seat, rubbing her temple with one hand.

"Honestly, I can't believe you managed to survive as a slave all this time without slipping up, given how little control you seem to have over yourself."

The words, though not meant to be cruel, struck Marie like a dagger to the chest. Her breath hitched, and before she could stop it, her eyes stung with unshed tears.

Ravenna, realizing her mistake, immediately sighed again—this time with a hint of regret.

"Alright, alright—stop with the waterworks. I get it, okay?"

Marie gulped, blinking rapidly, but the emotions refused to be suppressed. Her voice cracked as she whispered,

"I just… I got too comfortable. I let my guard down."

And just like that, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, silent at first, but then her shoulders trembled, and a quiet sob escaped her lips.

Ravenna's eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard.

"Oh, for the love of—" She groaned under her breath before shifting closer, her hand reaching out hesitantly before finally resting on Marie’s head.

The touch was warm. Firm.

Marie clenched her jaw, pressing her lips together as more tears fell.

The weight of her past bore down on her shoulders like an unshakable shadow—the years of loneliness, of hiding. The memories of her father resurfaced like ghosts, vivid and aching. She could still feel his calloused hands wrapping hers in rough linen when she’d scrape them on the village roads, hear the deep yet gentle cadence of his voice whispering reminders to always be careful.

She remembered the warmth of their tiny home, the flickering lantern casting soft golden light against the wooden walls, the distant laughter of the village children playing outside. But that warmth had been ripped away, replaced by the cold, unrelenting dark of the slave cells.

The stench of damp straw. The sharp clang of iron bars. The gnawing ache of hunger twisted her stomach until it became a dull, constant pain. The fear—the suffocating, ever-present fear that she wouldn’t survive another day. That someone would discover her secret. That she would be dragged away and never see the light again.

She had spent so many nights swallowing her tears, forcing herself to stay strong, to endure.

Because if she had broken down then, no one would have been there to pick up the pieces.

But now… now, for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t have to hold it all in.

The realization shattered something inside her. A quiet, stifled sob turned into an uncontrollable flood of tears, her body trembling with the force of emotions she had buried for too long.

Ravenna let out a small, almost resigned sigh, but this time, there was no impatience in it.

She shifted closer, her movements slow and deliberate, as if unsure of what to do. Then, after a brief pause, she reached out and placed a hand atop Marie’s head. It was an awkward gesture—hesitant, unpracticed—but it was warm.

Gentle.

Comforting in a way that caught Marie completely off guard.

Ravenna ruffled her hair lightly, exhaling another sigh—softer now, as if the weight of Marie’s sorrow had settled on her shoulders, too.

"What am I going to do with you?" she muttered, shaking her head.

Marie let out a shaky breath, her sobs quieting just a little. She buried her face in her hands, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves, as the last of her tears spilled freely.

But the unbearable heaviness in her chest felt just a little lighter.

And for that, she was grateful.

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