Heat. Pain. Fragments of the day scattered like broken glass. Evadne's concerned face. Hector's voice: "Again." The wall rushing toward me. Again. Again. Everything melting together until I couldn't tell training from nightmare.

  I took a breath as if I'd been holding it for too long. The familiar stone ceiling was above me. I immediately recognized my cell. With effort, I looked to the side of the bed I was lying in. Nobody there. Just the empty space where... Evadne used to be.

  "Althea?" I whispered.

  "Yes, Leonard." Her soothing voice came quickly.

  "What happened?"

  "You don't remember?" Surprise tinted her voice. "How fortunate I don't forget," she added smugly.

  "Answer me." My voice was raspy, but firm and demanding.

  She exclaimed with joy: "You successfully completed the next day of your training. It went very well!"

  Depends who you ask.

  As she continued her explanation of what happened, memories started to come back. Each less pleasant than the next. After I hit my head for the first time and fainted, Althea brought me back to reality, and I resumed training. But I was landing on the wall with one hand, my body sideways to it. Different hand positions were blurred with the dreaded "Again, again, again."

  "You passed out four times," Althea said matter-of-factly. "I woke you each time." She said with tone that awaited praise.

  Four times. The number sat heavy in my mind. I had fragments—forearms hitting the wall, elbows buckling, the world going dark again and again—but my brain had mercifully blocked the details.

  "I don't... remember most of it."

  "How fortunate," Althea said. For once, I thought she might actually mean it.

  The gaps in my memory were probably a blessing. Some horrors weren't meant to be recalled.

  "Thanks, Althea," I said sarcastically.

  But she innocently replied, "Always, Leonard."

  Unfortunately, I didn't pass out during "heavy breathing." Literally heavy. I was lying on the floor with heavy weights stacked on my sternum. Then on each side of my rib cage. It was excruciating, agonizing, and oppressive. Clear winner in the "best torture of the year" contest.

  I took a breath. Deep. Light. No weights on my chest.

  How nice.

  My arms felt distant, disconnected. Not painful exactly—more like they belonged to someone else. When I tried to lift my right hand, it responded sluggishly, protesting with dull aches that radiated from wrist to shoulder.

  The fever was back. Or maybe it had never left. It was hard to tell anymore.

  Knocking on the door interrupted my thoughts. Silas's voice followed. "Saint Leonard, are you awake? It's Silas. The Highest Priestess is here."

  "Please come in," I said. "What time is it?"

  "Mid-morning. Day three." Pythia's voice was gentle as she entered. "You've been unconscious for fourteen hours."

  Fourteen hours. Nearly an entire day lost.

  "Can you help me, Highest Priestess? I'm thirsty and starving."

  "Of course, Saint Leonard," she said after pulling the chair from the desk. "It's already arranged. Your breakfast will be here shortly."

  Before she sat, she adjusted my bed so I was half-sitting.

  "Oh. Did something happen? Evadne's not here." I tried for casual, but something in my tone betrayed me.

  Pythia's expression remained carefully neutral. "She's on her way."

  "Not that she needs to be every time I wake up," I added quickly. Too quickly. Heat crept up my neck. Why was I blushing? It was a reasonable question. "I was just curious about the change in schedule."

  The corners of Pythia's mouth curved upward. "Of course, Saint Leonard. Just... curious." The warmth in her eyes said something else entirely.

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  Crap. This was awkward.

  A servant arrived with a tray. Pot, bowl, and spoon landed on my desk. Pythia dismissed him with a nod and picked up the spoon herself.

  My arms felt weak. So I let her feed me, bite by bite, in silence.

  Was I growing attached to Evadne? The thought unsettled me. I needed to stay focused. Getting home to Victoria and Veronica—my wife, my daughter—that was what mattered. I could still see Veronica's face, five years old with Victoria's eyes, the last time I'd seen her.

  They are waiting for me. For sure.

  Question I was afraid to ask, crawled out of my mouth.

  "Highest Priestess," I mustered all the courage I had to face the answer, "how can I go home?"

  Pythia went stiff. Her eyes darted away.

  "I don't know, Saint Leonard."

  Bullshit.

  I exhaled slowly and asked, my eyes locked on hers. My voice turned cold. Chilling anger rose in my chest.

  "Highest Priestess," I loosened my clenched teeth. "You promised to answer all my questions."

  Her silver eyes met mine. There was no anger there. No cruelty. Just sadness.

  "I don't know." She repeated like mantra. Last sparkles in her eyes faded.

  "Pythia, you sa-" I tried to press on, but she interrupted me.

  "Only Pandora knows, Saint Leonard," she said, faithful.

  Pandora again.

  Anger fueled my resolve. The Crucible was ripping me apart and I needed answers. I couldn't ignore the reality anymore. I had to face it before I crumbled.

  "Pythia, don't play games with me," I growled. "Tell me the whole truth."

  Her expression remained the same when she spoke.

  "That is the truth. The whole truth and the only truth." Her hand reached out to mine. "I'm sorry, Saint Leonard."

  Silence stretched. My heart tried to jump out of my chest, but it faltered. Broke.

  "Fine," I said. My hand pressed against my chest, as if I could hold the pain in. "I'll ask Her, then. How can I contact Her? She didn't respond to my questions before."

  "You should pray, Leonard. She barely answers, but maybe..." Her voice trailed off. She looked away again. "Maybe she'll answer to you."

  Maybe.

  A knock on the door made both our heads turn. She stole a last glance at me. I smoothed my features with a motion of my hand.

  "Come in," Pythia said.

  Evadne opened the door and hesitated, seeing us.

  Did she feel the tension in the air?

  "Good morning, Highest Priestess, Saint Leonard," Evadne spoke, with seemingly casual voice.

  "Child, Saint Leonard is interested in prayer. Will you lead him?" Pythia asked.

  Evadne looked at me with eyebrows raised, her mouth half open. She quickly restored her composure though, asking gently, "We have some time before you have to take the potions. Would you like to go there after breakfast?"

  I weighed her words. My eyes jumped between Pythia and her.

  Did I want to face it now?

  Pythia's non-answer had hit me like a hammer. I had to conserve my strength for the next torture session. There's always tomorrow to slap myself with more disappointment.

  "No, tomorrow maybe. Althea will probably soon complain that I have to move, otherwise my joints will calcify or some other gruesome revelation."

  Evadne's eyes widened. "Wait, is that actually—"

  "What!?" Pythia cut in, staring at me.

  "Sorry, forgot to tell you. I guess Althea didn't either." I shrugged this off, raising the blanket higher, stopping mid-way to my jaw.

  "There was neither need nor opportunity, I had everything under control." Althea's soothing voice chimed in. I ignored her.

  "Explain, Althea," Pythia demanded. And Althea obeyed.

  Some medical jargon followed. Evadne and Pythia started to discuss the implications and plan counter measures. My thoughts were elsewhere.

  Does it matter? It is what it is. I have to deal with it. Unless my legs fall off today, I have to keep moving anyway.

  I took the bowl and spoon from Pythia with shaking hands. Mostly because they were barely functional. The spoon dropped once or twice, spilling the glue on the blanket, but I didn't care. I continued to eat my fuel. They continued their heated discussion. When I finished the third bowl, my belly was full, fever grew, and itching intensified. But I felt better. They soon reached a conclusion and Pythia returned to her duties, leaving me with Evadne.

  "Let's take a walk," I said. "Outside maybe? In the market?"

  "Maybe..." she replied, her hands moving nervously. Her eyes jumped to the letter on my desk. It was still there, covered with a thick blanket of dust. "Maybe you should read this?"

  I let out a tired sigh.

  "Fine, but then we go." She nodded energetically in response. "Pass me the letter please." She pinched the paper with her thumb and finger and gave it to me. I looked at the beautiful caligraphy one last time. "To Saint Leonard, Princess Ariadne Amelia Williams."

  I broke the splashed seal and torn the elegant yellow paper impatiently. The smooth, pink letter with delicate writing was damaged in the process. A tiny tear scarred the middle. Intense, rosy aroma reached my nose. Evadne's too, her eyes widened for a brief moment.

  "Since you insisted..." I glanced at Evadne and started reading aloud. She straightened at my voice. Her lips formed a tiny line.

  "My Dear Leonard," I began, the formal intimacy already making my throat tight. "I hope the resources arrived safely. If the need arises, remember me..." I cleared my throat, pushing away embarrassment, "...and don't hesitate to call upon me. I can't leave a man who pledged his weekly leisure to my sole company without help."

  I swallowed audibly. Weekly leisure. It sounded far more intimate than I'd intended when I'd made that promise. I continued, pretending this didn't affect me.

  "Stay strong. Now all is in your hands. Yours, Ariadne."

  I dropped the letter on the desk, trying for casual and probably failing.

  "Satisfied?" I asked.

  Evadne's eyes remained on the pink paper, the elegant script, the rose scent still hanging in the air. When she finally looked at me, her expression was carefully blank.

  "Of course, Saint Leonard." Her voice was perfectly professional. Perfectly cold. "Shall we go?"

  The distance in her tone was more unpleasant than I wanted to admit.