The faith of Renestrae had not been that central in her life. Of course, she had been thought the history and the holy law and what not, but her father never was that holy either. They did thank Renestrae when they finished a meal, at least when they were all in company, and they followed the rules. Well... Maybel had been tempted to break one of the holy laws. But people generally treated her like priceless porcelain, so she did not have to worry too much. For her the faith was more like a charade. Some other piece of etiquette she had to remember. And if she didn't she would be frowned upon. Maybel already wasn't the average girl in society, with her freedom and extravagant taste. If she also claimed to be heathen, people would spit on her. Her poor cousin Lottie would probably get a stroke.

So once every while she took a little visit to church. She didn't bother to often, just every now and then she took a little peak. Her heels echoed loudly thourgh the empty church. This time she brought some flowers from the Winter gardens. Now autumn was here, pretty flowers would soon cease to grow. She hesitated for a moment. Maybe she should place some flowers at her late stepmothers grave, but she carried no love for the woman. She didn't think the grave was ever visited after her death, at least not by their part of the family. Maybe Luca. Well, they had been young anyway. So she placed a basket with late bloomers on a chair while she looked around the grand hall of the church, combing a hand through her hair, when she noticed the high priest. ‘‘Oh, hello, father,’’ she chirped cheerfully. ‘‘I brought something to liven up the place a bit.’’

Maybe their dearest high priest was the most interesting man of Ashmoor after all. Because how could a man hiding behind a mask crawl his way up to the highest steps of society. He was worshiped, adored and praised, and nobody really seemed to know who the man was behind the mask. It was all so easy if you sold your soul, or whatever it was these days, to faith. Maybe that was why her father married that woman of all there were, because her father was a generous sponsor to the faith. Yes, she had done her research as well. Maybel may seem stupid, but she was raised by one of the smartest men of the city. Maybe that was her mask, because her face was too pretty to hide.

Maybel sat on the church bench next to where she placed the basket as the priest thanked her. She cocked her head to the side and looked at the masked individual. ‘‘Are we on first name basis?’’ she teased the priest. She leaned her elbow on the armrest and rested her chin on her hand. Her pale green eyes studied the man. It used to be so easy for Maybel to read the minds of men, but Alpha was so different. She couldn't even tell is he was looking at her, or if his eyes were trailing of elsewhere. ‘‘Don't thank me, thank my father,’’ she eventually said, her eyes not wavering from the priest. ‘‘It's our little secret, but I'm a terrible.. florist, or whatever they call it. I only know what looks pretty.’’

Maybel smiled widely as he apologized to her, now addressing her with her proper title. She was not a child anymore, she had grown a bit of guts to stand op to it. But she could not care less how he called her, she just like to see him squirm, if only it was for a little bit. Because she could not see his expressions. Because well, the priest did not seem to like her that much. He did not want to talk to her, that much she could see. And honestly, she probably should say "good day" and leave. Her being in a church was blasphemy in it's own. But no, the more Father Alphelion did not want to talk to her, the more she would talk back. Okay, maybe she was still a bit of a little kid after all.

His polite words were so empty, but she nodded after all. ‘‘Hm, sure,’’ she agreed a bit absently. ‘‘It's like that with most things in life, isn't it?’’ She leaned back in her seat again, studying his mask again. It was eerie looking and it probably scared of a lot of people. But for Maybel it was all about the mystery. Why he wore it and what he hid behind it. ‘‘Is that why you are hiding your face?’’ she then asked bluntly. She supposed it was not pretty to look at.