Saintess

[Trinity's POV]

"Alright . . . ," he said after he was done with his laughter, "but first . . . show me your mark."

I was not an idiot to trust his words but right now . . . I had no choice. I finally found a lead, and I was not going to lose it. If me barring a part of myself to develop trust between us . . . then so be it.

I turned and removed the zipper of my dress and pulled it down enough to expose half my back. It should be enough for him to see the engraved mark on my skin.

"Amazing . . . ," he whispered, "It's just like mine . . . like silver ink itched on the skin." Michael reached a hand, but I recoiled before he could touch me.

"Now," I fixed my dress and faced him, "show me yours."

". . ." Michael blinked. He scratched his head and looked the other side. The gesture might have been cute, but I wasn't in the mood to appreciate his good looks.

"I know that you're hesitant, but I assure you, I don't have any ill will against you . . . ," I paused and added, "except maybe for that Love Philtre."

". . ." Michael stared at me for a while before he took a deep breath. My pointed eyes did wonders, and he gave in.

He removed his vest and ushered the hem of his clothes upward. His muscles were lean and well defined down to the sexy line of his pelvis. He smirked when he caught me staring.

"Like what you see?"

I smirked back. "Very much." I'm not gonna lie. Now I know why the woman loves him. Besides his good looks, he had an excellent physique, and the bulge on his pants was no joke.

Fortunately, I was too used to seeing Rhazien naked to be affected by what I presume to be ordinary.

I was not interested in the sexy lines of his muscles nor how big his cock was even at rest.

My breath hitched when he showed me his back, and I had a clear view of his mark. Two wings engraved on his skin, feathers in white ink. It created a beautiful contrast against his sun-kissed skin.

It was authentic –– no doubt about it. The mark couldn't be replicated nor carved. It had its own charisma, and just by looking at it, you'd be drowned in its splendor. Like something was pulling your soul out of your body. It had that effect. Everyone would know whether it was authentic or not. It evoked a sense of emotion, a feeling of peace.

It was my first time seeing another mark besides mine, and there was a web of emotions boiling behind my wall of silence –– awe, relief, happiness, worry. I didn't know what to feel now that I had found one piece of the puzzle.

I reached a hand and felt his marking with my tips. "How did you possess this?"

Anatola Seraphim, Prince Zen's biological sister and the current Saintess, should possess this mark. But how did it appear on Michael's back? Was Anatola dead?

Impossible!

I saw her when I was still a vampire. She was alive and kicking in many years to come.

Michael chuckled. "It's a long story, but I'm sure that you're no stranger. And since we are establishing some level of trust between us, it wouldn't hurt to tell you that I should be the one sitting on that divine throne surrounded by gorgeous women."

". . . Impossible . . . You're a . . ."

"Male. I know." Michael shrugged. "But here were are. The moment the mark appeared on my back, my mother gave me away to her trusted aid and killed all her servants before killing herself. It happened in the time of the massacre for the mark, no one noticed a missing child and a dead mistress. And since I was a boy, no one bothered to look for me whether I was dead or alive."

Throughout the years, the Saintess was always a girl. There had no records of a boy bearing the Saintess Mark.

Realization dawned on me. No wonder he was always away. He was avoiding the soldiers and the emissaries of the Church whenever they were in town.

"Then you're . . ."

Michael smiled, and his blue eyes shone like the purest sapphire. An aura of nobility and holiness that wasn't present before enveloped him in a warm light. "The true Saintess."

My eyes shook, and my voice gave away my shock. "Then . . . the current Saintess Anatola . . ."

"Is nothing but a fake. A proxy that those in power made so they could control both the kingdom and the Church."

I bit my thumb and scrambled to my past memories. Michael was never in the scene. Not once. Prince Zen was put in the title of crown prince because the Church thought he'd be easy to control while his sister, born from the same mother, became the Saintess. But little did they know that the Prince was rallying the nobles to regain power and the people's trust while weakening the Church in return.

When Prince Zen ascended the throne, he allied with the nobles' faction and exposed the Church's wrongdoings. It was because of Prince Zen that the Church's corruption ceased, and he became the number one protector of the humans.

It was odd back then that the Church, the most powerful entity in Seraphim, was bested by a mere twenty-something boy.

The Church was heavily guarded, and no non-human dared to lay in its sacred grounds for fear of being burned alive. But mostly because the three crusaders guarded the Saintess day in and out.

So none of the vampires investigated further. They have their own problems to deal with as well.

Looking at Michael . . . now I know why. It was because Anatola wasn't the real Saintess, and Prince Zen must have found out and used it as leverage with the Church!

My head spun with the new information, and Michael caught me before I lost the feeling in my legs.

"Whoa there. Don't pass out on me. I still have to strike a deal with you."

I massaged my temple but stopped and asked, "Deal?"

"That's right." Michael's face turned serious. "In truth, I don't have any desire for the Saintess position. I prefer my simple life here.

"And you can continue it," I cut in, "You don't have to expose your identity. We can find the others and––"

Michael raised his hand, stopping me from going further. "No. The reason why I'm looking for a witch because I wanted to claim what's mine."

". . ."

". . ."

". . . Huh?"