Chapter 270 - 269. The Predator’s Plan (1)
The next morning, the atmosphere outside the Temple was bustling with energy. Two entourages stood ready, their arrangements meticulously planned down to the last detail. One was reserved for the Pope and the child—a grim pairing under the pretense of sanctity. The other was for Benedict and me, a façade of divine authority.
As the gates of the Temple swung open, the crowd outside erupted into cheers, their voices merging into a cacophony of reverence and awe. Common folk pressed forward, eager to catch even the faintest glimpse of the new Saintess and the Saint. Their faces were alight with hope and curiosity, hands clasped in prayers or raised in enthusiastic waves.
Among the sea of faces, my eyes sought the child. He stood rigidly beside the Pope, his fragile form resembling a delicate porcelain doll. His small, pale face wore a faint, practiced smile—a mask to conceal the storm of fear swirling inside him. The sight of his trembling hands clenched at his sides sent a pang through my chest. He was terrified.
I wanted to go to him last night but I couldn’t I had to make the subtle changes in the plan and explain it to the relevant people.
Asher who was standing close to me looked at me. In the morning, before we had set out he had met me briefly to give a message.
"Please don’t worry about the Saint, Saintess." He had said, "I will protect him at all costs."
I found his dedication praiseworthy and thanked him genuinely but I also knew his vow would fail.
A soft smile curved my lips as I waved to the crowd, my expression a careful mix of grace and warmth. Each gesture was deliberate, calculated to maintain the illusion of divine confidence. The whispers and cheers grew louder, their faith in this grand display shining in their hopeful eyes.
Once the ceremonial pleasantries were concluded, we moved toward the carriages. Benedict joined me, his face drawn with an unease he barely tried to mask. Opposite him, I took my seat, my expression serene as I observed him. Outside, Asher and a band of knights mounted their horses, forming a protective barrier around our entourages. The rhythmic clinking of their armor blended with the steady creak of the carriages.
As we rolled through the town, the streets were lined with even more people. It hadn’t been planned as a formal procession, yet it had evolved into one. The townsfolk thronged the narrow streets, waving and calling out blessings as the carriages advanced at a painstakingly slow pace. The atmosphere was electric, thick with the fervent energy of devotion and admiration.
I stole another glance at the child as his entourage began to move. The sight of him standing beside the Pope, so small and vulnerable, ignited a quiet fury within me. He was too young to carry such a burden, too innocent for the dark shadows that loomed over him. But soon, everything would change. The plan was in motion, and I would see it through—no matter the cost.