Saints Day (An Ascendance Short Story)

Until now, I had never liked Saints’ Day. My family used to celebrate each year, of course, as part of a large banquet involving every noble in the land. After a while, I stopped participating, mostly because I received too many gifts.

On any other day, gifts would’ve been a good thing, but not on Saints’ Day. On that day, the person receiving the gift must be someone who did not deserve it, someone who had caused great offense to the gift-giver.

So when the gifts used to pile up in front of me, the message was clear.

“At least you get presents,” Darius had told me once. He rarely received anything on Saints’ Day.

I’d rolled my eyes back at him. “I received thirty-two Books of Faith tonight. Half of them have notes inside recommending specific pages for me to study. The other half say there’s no point in their gift, because the devils already have me.”

“It won’t always be that way,” Darius had said.

I hoped he was right. Because this past year, I’d fought a war in Carthya and saved a captive kingdom abroad. Maybe for once, I had earned the right to celebrate with the Saints. Only tonight’s banquet wouldn’t be with the nobles. That was pointless since I deliberately offended them whenever possible, and didn’t want forgiveness for something that entertained me that well. Instead, I only wanted a small gathering with those I cared about most.

Across from me, Roden was dishing up fourths onto his plate. To my left, Tobias and Amarinda were staring at each other. On my right, Fink had been talking endlessly to Imogen. So far, it had been a perfect evening, though of course, the part I dreaded most was about to begin.

Finally, Fink set down his fork. “Can we start now?”

“Fine,” I said, preparing myself for the usual round of gifts. “I already know that over the past year, I have offended, irritated, or caused misery to everyone here. Who wants to begin?”

A pause followed as they stared at each other, then Fink said, “Actually, my gift is for Amarinda.”

Amarinda’s doubletake came almost as fast as mine. She never offended anybody, not even accidentally.

“Me?” she asked. “May I ask why?”

“Because you make me study every day,” Fink said, reaching for his gift. “I hate studying, but you still make me do it. But I forgive you.”

Amarinda smiled. “You forgive me for trying to make you smarter, and a better person?”

“Yes.” Fink passed her a small package, which she unwrapped, revealing a book. Then he laughed out loud. “I tricked you! Now you have to study.”

“But I want to study,” she said. “I like learning.”

Fink instantly stopped laughing. “Oh, that’s right.”

“My turn then,” Amarinda said. 

I held out my hands, but instead, Amarinda gave her gift to Tobias. “I heard that you spoke rather sharply to Jaron on the lifeboat. You should have trusted me to be strong, rather than to be angry with him. This is my way of forgiving you.”

Tobias’s cheeks went red. “I will never forget that again.” He opened the package to a small drawing of Amarinda, one where she looked as confident and capable as I’d ever seen her. He could not look at this and doubt her strength.

And although I had insulted him at every good opportunity, Tobias’s gift went to Imogen, a new pair of boots. He explained, “Back on Belland, Jaron took you with him up the trail and left me behind with Fink. Maybe at one time, he might have asked me to come, but he has begun to trust you more.”

Imogen shook her head. “He doesn’t trust me more than you; it’s just different.”

“No, I definitely trust her more,” I assured them with a smile.

Imogen thanked Tobias, then passed a package to Roden, which frankly, was odd since no one could possibly have caused her more grief in the past year than I had. He opened the package, finding a dagger. She said, “This is to replace the one you used to stab Jaron in the thigh. I forgive you for that.”

“You’re forgiving him? Shouldn’t I be the one to do that?” I glanced over at Roden. “You’re still not forgiven, by the way.”

“No, this forgiveness is mine.” She turned back to Roden. “Do you know how many times I had to listen to Jaron complain about that injury? Honestly, Roden, that went too far.”

“I accept your forgiveness,” Roden said.

I banged my goblet on the table, drawing everyone’s attention my way again. “I don’t wish to argue about this, but that was his knife in my thigh. I had every right to complain.”

“You did, which is why I didn’t need to forgive you,” Imogen said, taking my hand.

“You could’ve forgiven me for something else then,” I said. “All of you could have. Tobias? You’re my Minister of Limiting Boring People to No More Than Eight Minutes! Doesn’t that offend you?”

“Why should it?” He shrugged. “I find most of those boring people quite fascinating.”

I looked at Fink. “Surely I offended you.”

Before he could answer, Roden stood. “You offended me plenty.”

It was about time. Yet his hands were empty. “Where’s your gift then?”

Roden looked around and finally picked up his fork, which he walked over to me, then said, “I forgive you, Jaron.”

“That fork is already mine. It isn’t a gift.”

He dropped the fork in front of me. “I didn’t get you a gift, all right? Only forgiveness.”

“For?”

“For being a good king.”

I tilted my head. “And how exactly does that offend you?”

“Because for a brief moment, I was going to be the King of Carthya, or so I thought. Conner chose me, which meant I had outsmarted you. I had won. Then you tricked me, and I was angry—”

“You tried to assassinate me.”

“All right, I was very angry.” He shrugged. “Maybe I never quite got over it. Until tonight.”

By now, my smile had faded. “You’re forgiving me for tricking you?”

“No.” He stared back at me. “I’m forgiving you for being you. I wanted to be king, and maybe I’d have been a good one. But you have proven yourself a great king. And I forgive you for it.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, except to raise my goblet to him, which he returned with a sincere nod of respect.

“Nothing for me then,” Fink said, though I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. “Haven’t I offended anyone this year?”

“You have offended me,” Imogen said.

“And both me and Tobias,” Amarinda added.

“I mostly just try to ignore you,” Roden said.

Fink turned to me, and I nodded, quickly adding, “Actually, you never offended me, but your rat did. I really hated your rat.”

Fink shrugged. “You didn’t even notice when he died.”

“I was fighting a war at the time.”

“Sure, but you could’ve said something.”

I groaned. “I wouldn’t have had anything nice to say about your rat. But it’s time I forgive it for…being a rat. And forgive you for having it.”

Errol had been at the door and now I motioned for him to come forward with both hands behind his back. When he reached Fink, he brought one hand out, revealing a small cage with a new rat inside it. Fink’s eyes lit up. “Jaron, really?”

“If I see this thing loose in the castle, I won’t know it’s your pet and I’ll kill it.”

“I’ll put a ribbon around its neck.”

“I’ll remove the ribbon, then tell you I didn’t know it was your pet before I killed it. I mean it, Fink. You keep that thing in its cage, in your room, where I can’t hear it or see it or smell it.”

“I’m going to name him Runaway.”

“That’s a terrible name. It implies that it will escape its cage.”

Fink smiled. “Too late. I already named it.”

“Fine.” With that finished, I reached for Imogen’s hand, who took Fink’s, and so went our hands around the table.

Imogen said, “This was a difficult year. May the coming year bring us only peace and happiness.”

The others agreed, but for my part, I couldn’t imagine a happier, more peaceful moment than this one. That is, until halfway through dessert when Fink said, “Uh, Jaron, I’m going to need another gift of forgiveness from you.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“My rat is gone.”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I wasn’t going to curse as much around Fink.  After taking my first bite of dessert, I calmly said, “Find that rat, or I guarantee in one minute, I’ll be the one needing your forgiveness.”

Fink stared at me, wondering if I was serious.

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…”

That’s about the time when something ran over my foot.

But today was Saints’ Day. So I’d let this one go.

Only this once.