The Secrets of Lore Seymour

86. Someone in the Church

Seren POV

Cyan glares so intensely that I almost expect to be the first explosion of this week. Looking up at him, he doesn't even pretend that he isn't attempting to fire lasers from his eyes. If anything, the attention grows in strength.

"If you wish to melt my brains, there is a spell for that," I mention around a grin. Cyan roll his eyes.

"Why have you been in my lab for the last two weeks that we've been home?" he asks, potentially threatening me with some questionable liquid in a container that he swishes menacingly.

"Because I need a place to think and I would rather not let the children see what I'm working on." I glance at the papers scattered across my makeshift desk. There were some beakers here that I pushed aside, which likely added to Cyan's annoyance, although I'm truly not taking up too much space.

For the last two weeks, I've shifted through my memories for the names of those I've known to leave the church. I've written down what I remember concerning their appearance, where they are from, and if we were informed how, why, and where they left. Unfortunately, there isn't much information on that, but I started another pile concerning odd happenings at the church. Priests who paid too much attention to the kids, holy knights being sent on secretive missions, even my own assignments. Being sent to investigate Lore, that was the church's attempt to frame anything they could on him. The Prophet even said it herself, so who else are they looking into and why?

The secrets that Lore still has must concern the church. He knows far more than he's letting on. Even Roemithia brought up the church. I'm the one left unknowing, clueless to the darkness behind the curtain.

"Can't you do this research elsewhere, like in your own room? There is a lock on the door," Cyan grumbles, dripping some of that potentially acidic liquid into another beaker. A puff of smoke lifts into the air that I hope isn't poisonous.

"There is, but I don't want Lore butting into my research either and he doesn't come out here much. Probably because it smells like smoke and is always a second away from exploding."

"Please, nothing has blown up for a week. I'm--" the jar in his hand shakes. He throws the beaker away in time for it to explode on the other side of the cathedral. He sighs. "Okay, there has been one minor explosion. I'm not that bad."

"Uh huh."

"Why don't you want His Grace to see what you're doing?" Cyan glances at the papers. "Are you already searching for a new partner?"

"No, I'm quite happy with the one I have."

Cyan grimaces.

"I'm trying to remember those who, supposedly, chose to leave the church," I mumble. This piques Cyan's interest enough to sit across from me. "I'm trying to recall any questionable instances that may lead to discovering what the church is hiding. I think Lore knows about it too, or at least has an inkling to what is transpiring, but he won't tell me."

"And you're saying that to me because you're hoping I know something and will tell you."

"Do you want a pat on the back for guessing the obvious?"

"With that attitude, if I did know something, I wouldn't tell you just to be an ass." He pushes through a few of my papers, staring at the one with a list of names. "I'm not as involved with His Grace's endeavors as Draven. If anyone knows anything, it would be him."

Setting my elbows on the table, I lean forward to ask, "Why did you start blushing when you mentioned Draven?"

Cyan freezes.

I grin. "Did something happ--gah!" I jolt when Cyan whacks me in the face with a stack of papers.

"We aren't talking about him," he says. "And if you try to, I will throw you out of my lab."