"What was all that about?"
"What was all what about!"
Tish realised she was being too defensive. She couldn't help it. "You're acting like I've sinned!"
Percy dug in his heels, and Tish was yanked to a stop with him. "You said you were sorry," he said, horrified. "For him, Tish, of all people!"
"Correction," Tish countered. "I said I was sorry for a six-year-old boy. Saroth shouldn't have done those things to him. As for the Rudra of today, Saroth can torture him all he wants. I won't even bat an eye." She doubled down. She knew she didn't mean it, but she said it anyway. Percy just looked more helpless. His eyes went wide like a frightened deer.
Tish had seen that look so many times before. It was the look he gave her whenever he got into trouble for doing something in the temple that she had forbidden, followed by the biggest, most pleading eyes.
It made Tish feel both frustrated and full of pity.
"Don't do that to me," he pleaded.
"Do what?"
He didn't answer. He just threw his arms around her. Tish's body reacted before her brain caught up. Her hands came to rest on Percy's back. She could feel the heat of his body even through all the layers he wore. Percy had held her like this so many times, and each time he had held her as if it were the last.
After Tish's parents, Percy had been the only one to hold her like this. She couldn't help but close her eyes to the familiar gesture.
Then she felt his breath on her neck. "Don't leave me alone in this rage."
Tish understood. She squeezed him gently, and then she spoke. "Your home. Rudra wasn't the one who burned it down."
Percy went stiff like a block of ice in her arms. He pulled back a little to look into her eyes. "How can you trust him?"
"His words and Saroth's matched," Tish said softly. "Rudra had barely learned to fly when he was six. I don't think he could have flown all the way to Zhurgen at that age."
Percy pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed. Tish understood his suspicion. "Remember Saroth said there were other Rudras?" she continued. "He said this Rudra isn't the first one and won't be the last. And we found out Saintess Anastasia also knew a Rudra. It's likely that it was some other Dragon Prince."
"What are you talking about?" Percy's voice rose. "Saintess Anastasia knew who?"
"The women in the cottage told me that she also had a dragon companion—"
"Tish!" Percy snapped, his embrace turning into a cage. He grabbed her forearms. "We cannot trust these people. They're strangers! You're trusting strangers and literal enemies! For all we know, they're trying to deceive us! All of them!"
Tish tried to push him back. "Percy, it can't be that the whole world is lying and only we know the truth!"
"It's exactly like that!" Percy didn't let her pull away. "It's us against the whole world!"
"Percival Leonhart."
They both turned to see Prince Mamon standing a few feet away, hands clasped behind him. "Let her go." His voice was like a calm island in a storm of emotions. "Please."
Percy looked at his own hands and gently, carefully, let Tish go. Tish felt a stinging pain on her forearms where Percy had held her, but she stopped herself from showing any discomfort so that Percy wouldn't feel more guilty than he probably already did.
"It's okay, Your Highness," Tish said, eyes lingering on Percy. "We were just... talking."
"I know," the Prince said, his voice soft. "It is alright to talk. But first, both of you need to calm down a little. Arguing like this when we are so far from home isn't good. We must stick together now."
He was right. Tish and Percy exchanged a look. They nodded.
"Percy, you should go and cool off a little," urged the Prince.
Percy shook his head. "I am alright, Your Highness."
"Just go," Mamon pressed. "I'll keep an eye on her." His gaze flickered to Tish. "You've been tense all day. Go walk around the town alone. Breathe a little."
It was unnecessary. Or perhaps it was necessary. Either way, refusing the Prince felt like proving his point. Percy looked at Tish. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes," he promised, and then he gave the Prince a curt bow. "Please take care of her."
"You know I will."
Percy started walking in a direction Tish didn't think he had chosen purposefully. He had just picked a random path because he'd been told to. His hand stayed on the hilt of his sword even though there was no danger around. He was always so on edge that it made Tish's heart ache.
"Come," said the Prince. "I need to show you something."
Tish followed him. "Your Highness, I too need to inform you about something... about what happened to Saintess Anastasia."
Mamon looked at her, eyebrows raised. "What happened to her?"
"I think..." Tish swallowed and then blurted out, "I think they ate her."
The Prince didn't react the way Tish had expected him, or, hell, anyone, to react to news that a person had been eaten. He didn't react at all.
"Did they tell you why she got eaten?" he asked instead.
"Well, they said there was a harsh winter and they didn't have enough food supply—" Tish began.
"Really? They could have taken her hostage!" Mamon actually laughed. "And why hasn't the temple tried to rescue her? She isn't just anybody! She is a Saintess! Blessed daughter of Rāva herself!"
"Are you implying they've lied, Your Highness?"
"I am implying that you are not asking the right questions, Tish," chuckled the Prince.
Tish froze. Those were almost the same words Rudra had spoken to her just minutes ago, but they felt different in Mamon's mouth. Something twisted.
Before she could second-guess herself, she asked, "Who are you?"
Mamon froze. His playful demeanour vanished. He turned, his full body facing Tish. Tish hoped, prayed that he would deny it. That he would ask back, "What do you mean?"
But Mamon just smiled. It was such a kind, pitying smile, like the kind you give to someone rather unfortunate. "What gave it away?"
His voice was the same as Mamon's. Everything about him was perfect, from the red strands of his hair to his polished boots.
"You called me Tish," Tish whispered. "The Prince calls me Saintess or Teresa."
His eyes widened. "Heavens, I've made a rookie mistake, haven't I?" He sounded a little embarrassed. "I figured since Percival and Rudra call you Tish, the Prince should call you the same."
"Who. Are. You."
His smile widened. "Impatient, are we?" He gave Tish a bow. "I am not your enemy, Saintess. If anything, I'm a friend. And you may call me the Oracle."