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for him, but that guy must not know Maxence at all. He liked things a little rough, sure, but he wasn’t sadistic. He wasn’t evil.

And maybe it was her baloney barometer, but even the passion that ran through him so strongly that it might destroy one or both of them felt like desperation to Dree.

She said, “I need to get ready for work.”

And she bolted out of his bedroom.

Dree finger-combed her hair back and trotted through the palace corridors, just another admin wearing business-formal and hurrying somewhere important.

Living in the palace felt like having a room in a combination apartment building and office complex, where the business was so important that people needed to live beneath the same roof as their jobs. Crowds of people wearing suits strolled through every corridor on their way to do something important, while liveried servants took care of the housekeeping.

Back in her dorm-sized room, Dree showered and slapped make-up on as quickly as she could, donning a dress of a similar dark color in case somebody had seen her hurrying back from Maxence’s apartment and questioned why she had changed clothes mid-morning. She managed to get to Maxence’s office by nine forty-five, where the receptionist sitting outside whispered, “His first appointment is already in there. You need to take notes to deposit in the archives. His Highness would not allow anyone else in but you.”

Dree stood straighter and smoothed her skirt. Holding her computer tablet against her chest, she knocked and swept into Maxence’s office.

Inside, Maxence stood behind his desk, his arms braced on the desktop and leaning forward, his head down.

The man standing in front of Maxence turned, his long black cassock swishing as he moved. He tilted his head to the side, smiling a cherubic smile, but his cottony eyebrows rose at seeing Dree. “Miss Andrea Clark? What are you doing here?”

Father Moses held his two hands out in front of himself, palms up.

“Oh, my goodness! It’s so good to see you!” Dree crossed the room, slid her tablet onto Maxence’s desk, and took both of the old priest’s hands. “How are you? Is everything okay in Paris? Are you assigned here now?”

Father Moses glanced back at Maxence, who raised his head and looked at Dree. His dark eyes were weary, like a boxer who should have been pulled out of the ring two rounds ago.

Dree dropped her hands and looked between Father Moses and Maxence. “What’s going on?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Temptation

Maxence

The papal order was everything Maxence had been working toward for a decade, and yet he could not breathe.

His hands curled on his desk, blunt fingernails straining on the wood.

He had spent hours on his knees in front of that antique crucifix, begging for a sign that would direct him either to the priesthood or to the world and praying for a miracle. He’d interpreted the utter emptiness he’d felt as a signal he should embrace Dree and go out into the world to do his work, that the Church held no place for him.

And now?

And now.

Father Moses repeated to Dree what he had already informed Maxence of just moments before, the words Max once would have laid down his life to hear but now speared him to his soul.

The old Jesuit said in a voice that was gravelly with age but could sing in a clear baritone, “I come bearing good news. His Holiness, Pope Emeritus Celestine VI has relented and directed me to bring Maxence to Rome to receive Holy Orders as a presbyter immediately. He is to be ordained as a priest this afternoon by Pope Celestine, himself.”

A puff of air escaped Max’s lips, a wordless breath for what he could not express.

Father Moses said, “Isn’t this wonderful, Maxence? His Holiness has relented his orders that you are not to be ordained. He called me on the telephone last night himself and insisted I tell you in person and then immediately bring you to St. Peter’s Basilica for your ordination.”

Dree’s voice, tentative and rising at the end, asked, “Max?”

Father Moses continued, “You will be given the sacrament of Holy Orders and can immediately begin your tertianship in the Society of Jesus.” Father Moses turned to Dree. “Jesuits have the longest formation process of any of the orders. Since Maxence has served his novitiate and regency, and he’s already obtained a Doctorate in Theology, His Holiness felt it appropriate to commence upon his tertianship, the final stage of formation, immediately. In nine months, he can take his final vows as a Jesuit.” Father Moses turned back to Max, his dark eyes full of joy. “Welcome to the Society of Jesus, brother.”

Maxence sipped air, trying to pull oxygen into his lungs because his body was convulsing like he had been gut-punched.

Dree said, her soft voice beginning to strain with panic, “Max, shouldn’t you tell Father Moses what you decided?”

Father Moses said, “You might want to pack a few things, a toothbrush, perhaps. His Holiness assured me they would have vestments for the sacrament. After that, you can decide where to do your tertianship placement and retreat for the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises.” From the top of his vision, Max saw Father Moses’s black robe pivot toward Dree. “The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises are a month of silent, solitary contemplation.”

Dree’s voice was higher. “Max, they want to ordain you as a priest and then lock you up in solitary for a month. Say something.”

How could he speak when the world was crushing him?

She said, “Max, tell him what you said to me last night.”

Father Moses’s black robe rustled and moved. Max looked up slightly.

The old priest said, “My dear Brother Maxence, you have pursued your ordination and Jesuit vows for a decade.” He gestured with his hands at the business office, but his wide-open arms meant the entire palace. “I’ve never seen anyone give up so much in the service of Christ. We have worked side-by-side for years, Brother Maxence. You have poured your soul into ministry more

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