The faint light of early morning filtered through the window lattice into the dim cell, falling upon that lovely jade-like face.
Kneeling before the window in silent prayer, the Maid of Orléans gradually relaxed her furrowed brow as night gave way to dawn.
In the corner, the demon dozing against the wall sensed the movement. He cracked his eyelids open and asked in a lazy, interested tone.
"Figured it out?"
Bathed in sunlight, the Maid of Orléans slowly opened her eyes. Her loosely clasped hands lifted slightly, cupping a handful of pure white radiance. Amid that sacred, exquisite sight, she turned her head toward the darkness, clarity returning to her azure eyes.
"If I have not received it, may God grant it to me; if I have received it, may God still grant it to me."
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
Samael's smile bloomed as crisp applause echoed through the cell.
Did you believe you had received God's grace?
The question itself was a trap. According to scripture and Church doctrine, no one could be certain that they had received God's grace. If Joan gave an affirmative answer, she would prove herself a heretic, using God's name to deceive people.
If her answer was negative, it would amount to indirectly admitting that her claim of hearing divine voices was sinful.
Yet Joan's answer had kicked that troublesome judgment back to the person who asked the question. It was a perfect and clever response.
"Not bad progress, Saintess Your Highness."
Samael smiled, the upturned corners of his lips drawing a pleased curve as amusement filled his expression.
"You taught me well..."
Joan gave a slight bow. Her bland reply made it impossible to tell whether it contained more gratitude or more sarcasm.
After all, without this fellow's maliciously playful torment, she could