Pa was right. The first thing that Draka did when he woke was roll from the table and kneel facing the wall on the side of the rising sun. His hands were pressed together and he closed his eyes, his lips moved but he made no sounds.

  Maud watched him from her hay bed on the other side of the room. Aurie’s breath tickled the back of her head, a limp arm draped over her.

  Balor was on the other side of Aurie, pressed against the wall with one arm resting upright on it as if he were pointing to Draka’s God in his sleep. Alden had propped himself in the corner with his spear clasped tightly even as he slept.

  Draka kissed his cross necklace and stood, pulling it over his head. Maud could make out the ridges of his back with every shift in his movement. When she imagined seeing him without his shirt, it had been his chest she thought she'd be drawn to, but his back pulled a different feeling from her. A feeling that festered in her gut and not her heart. Perhaps it was because of Lillith, but she knew that was only strengthening her resolve.

  The blades of his shoulders, looking as thick as the armor he had worn, and possibly as heavy, rose and fell with his arms. The ridge of his spine curved and straightened with them.

  This was preferable to marriage, having her family all around her under the roof of their protector, their—not Pauper Knight anymore, he was better than that—her Holy Knight, but their enemies will never find her without him beside her again. She will never feel helpless and at their mercy in her bed again. At her mercy.

  The red pin pricks scattered across his back were only the scabbing of future scars that will fade to join the many others. Scars of slashes, scars that were similarly shaped to the pin pricks, were sprinkled across him in various sizes. His chest had few marks, but his back was a map of suffering Maud would never otherwise imagine.

  He gave a small, slight grin.

  She returned a warm one from where she lay. She didn’t run to him, didn’t feel the need to kiss him, didn’t feel that she must hold him tight against her to feel safe. She only needed to see his golden hazel eyes looking pleased at the sight of her and it was enough to steady her.

  He pulled on his shirt and grabbed his sword belt on his way out the door to the echoes of the greetings from the Monastic soldiers guarding outside.

  The explosions of light weren’t what she thought they were. The scars on her parents weren’t what she had thought they were. Her feelings for him were not as she thought. He was not what she thought he was. He was waging a war in her little village. The explosions of light were his weapons against her, against Lilith and those creatures and whatever else must be out there. The scars on her parents were the remnants of the miracles worked through his hands. And she didn’t want him as her husband. She wanted him to be where he was now. As a member of her family that she knew would forever be there.

  That was how she loved him. A deeper love, perhaps. No matter what a family member does, they will always be loved. She knew, deep in her heart and bones that if her Uncle Balian were to reconcile with her father in some way, albeit a distinctly impossible way as she saw it, then he would be welcomed back. Because that is how family works. No matter how far or how bad it gets, they are always part of the family.

  A love such as that between a husband and wife didn’t seem to be half as strong as that between family. It faded, like with the other marriages of the village, or had room to continue growing like her ma and pa. But, if compared to how she felt toward Alden, or Pa, or Ma, the love of marriage is nothing. She knew that Alden was always going to be her brother, Ma her mother, Pa her father, and there was nothing that could ever change that. That’s how she wanted Draka. Always hers and she his, but not in their beds, not with children. Because she loved him deeper than she ever could a husband, yet different than she ever would for one.

  Unfortunately, that was precisely the problem. There was only one way to make him a member of their family. At least, officially, anyway. Otherwise, he might move on without them one day. Set off for the next battleground once this one was finished.

  “Blasted Vigora! That’s his feed, you bitch!” She heard Gerard growl from outside. “Will you please get her away from Sampson while he’s eating? I don’t care, Draka, she’s leaving marks on him! Careful now, I just might leave that gate open when she goes into heat. Thank you.”

  She slowly moved Aurie’s arm from over her and set it lightly in her place as she rose from the bed. A slip of her shoes and she went outside to find Draka leading Vigora to the porch where he sat while holding the feedbag that she was shoving her nose into. Gerard was doing the same with his horse that was nearly twice Vigora’s size on the other side of the porch, harshly glaring at her.

  Would his horse do as Vigora did in battle? Leap into the air to knock his foes from the sky, charge through their swarm to save him, aid him in the fray? What she didn’t wonder about any longer was why Draka treated her less like Gerard treated his horse and more like a friend and companion. Vigora was his second half in a fight. With her, Maud realized even while she had watched the terrifying and spectacular battle, he must have escaped a thousand deaths.

  “Good morning, Maudeline,” Gerard’s expression softened as he bowed his head. Draka’s was similarly soft, but his grin was wider.

  “Glad to see you,” Maud went to sit beside Draka and bounced her cheek on his shoulder. “Glad to see you up and moving around. I was worried.”

  Vigora lifted her nose from the bag and licked Maud’s forehead to gather a wad of her hair for nibbling. Maud giggled and swatted her away.

  The other Monastics were moving about, some yawning while others rubbed their eyes sleepily, but all of them with their shields and spears ready for anything to leap at them. Other horses were tethered to posts of the shack and Gerard’s end of the porch, opposite the stable. Vigora must truly be a menace to them, with the way the horses never took their eyes from her.

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  “Why were you so weak with no real wounds?” Maud looked at Draka, who lifted his chin to look at Gerard. The explanation must be a long one that signals can’t do.

  “His faith in our God is what empowers him,” Gerard didn’t meet her gaze. He set his feedbag to the side and rubbed his horse’s nose and scratched his chest at the nape of its neck. “No matter how much faith you have, fighting wears you down, faith and will. Draka’s faith is strong. He lasts longer than most and tends to strengthen his faith, or what we call ‘reaffirm’ his faith as he goes along, but it is still taxing.”

  “Faith in his God?” She felt Draka’s eyes on her but didn’t turn. “Is that the only cost of having such power? I mean, are there other costs, like sacrifices or something like that?”

  Both Draka and Gerard laughed. Vigora clopped her way across the road to the water barrel. Draka set the bag of grain to the side and winked at Gerard, who shook his head as if they had wagered something and he had happily lost.

  “What?” Maud looked from one to the other. “I’m serious. What did it cost you last night apart from the need to finally sleep until sunrise like a normal person? Or when you took my shakes? Or healed my parents?”

  Draka’s brow rose in surprise. She was certain there was a hint of pride and astonishment. Again, he looked to Gerard. Well, shit, she thought as she followed his gaze, I’m going to have to bring Gerard with me to speak with him.

  Alden slid out the door, confused. “Draka, you healed them?”

  “They should have died,” Maud answered with a knowing look over her shoulder.

  Draka shook his head and pointed to the sky.

  “God worked through Draka to do it, but it was not Draka himself. And there isn’t sacrifice the way you think for such things,” Gerard answered.

  “What is it, then?” Alden sat halfway between Maud and Gerard on the edge of the porch, letting his feet dangle barely above the overgrown grass that lined all around Draka’s house.

  “Faith?”

  “Essentially,” Gerard leaned back on his hands. “You must accept Him, as the one and only true God, that his Son was begotten on Earth to be sacrificed for us to be forgiven of our sins—the bad things we do like lie, steal, and hurt others—and rose from the dead to ascend to His right hand, and have faith in all that He does. Living by His Word is sacrifice enough, believe you me.”

  “That’s it?” Alden frowned in disbelief.

  “There are sacrifices, Alden, but of ourselves,” Gerard shrugged.

  Aurie and Balor had come to the doorway, wrapped in the pelt they had used as a blanket through the night.

  Gerard gave them a nod, then shook with a smile at Draka, “You must admit when you do wrong and ask for forgiveness and Jehovah grants it. Follow His commandments, resist your temptations—like when you want something you can’t have.”

  Maud and Balor both narrowed their eyes when his shifted to Aurie for a single second, then back to Alden.

  “That’s the real sacrifice. And, you can’t pray or sacrifice to your gods. You must see them as what they are.”

  Lilith had said that name. That Jehovah was still…how did she say it…within her. She asked about it.

  Gerard was quick, “That’s how He heals you. He fills you with his Holy Spirit. It isn’t there forever, specifically. He remains in your heart, but the—shall we say—happiness and energy fades after a few days.” That’s what that was, why she had wanted to run and play and dance so much. His Holy Spirit. “For those healed or touched by the Holy Spirit, that’s what happens. For those like Draka, it is their weapon and armor in battle against the Enemy.”

  “The Enemy?” Maud narrowed her eyes. “Lilith.”

  “That’s the Enemy’s Wife. The Mother of Demons and the First Man’s—Adam’s—first wife,” Gerard looked to his horse, who was trying to get to the water barrel while being out of reach of Vigora. “But I will not utter the Enemy’s name. It gives him power each time it is said.” Maud felt the glare coming from Draka as Gerard said, “Which I spent the better part of the morning begging for forgiveness from saying last night.”

  Aurie and Maud met glances as if she knew what Maud was leading them towards. “I don’t believe in our gods. But I’ve seen your God’s, Jehovah’s, power. Will you tell me what to do, how to have faith in Him?”

  “Us,” Balor said over Aurie’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her beneath the pelt. Aurie looked up to him with pressed brows and narrow eyes. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Gerard smiled. “I may not be the best, but I can help you start. The priests will be better for it once they get here. And, of course, Draka, once his silence ends.”

  Draka stood and pointed two thumbs over his shoulder toward the river beyond the woods behind his house.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Maud leapt in front of him.

  “He must wash himself and Vigora from the battle. We call it the Cleansing.”

  “So, you bathe regularly when you’re fighting demons but not when you’re enjoying well cooked meals and,” she swished her dress at him a little, “pleasant company.”

  Draka chuckled with a shrug.

  “It’s a different kind of bath,” Gerard answered for him. “Though soap would be a welcomed addition, you barbarian.”

  Draka rolled his eyes and went in to fetch the bar from inside, making Aurie and Balor step aside from the doorway.

  “Well, we have some ‘cleansing’ of our own to do,” Aurie slid from Balor’s arms. “My love, you and Alden learn how to help with cleaning his weapons and armor. Maud and I will wash his clothes of all that blood and filth.”