Sin Archbishop Of Envy Novels & Stories

"You look like a million-dollar inheritance. Let them stare. It keeps them focused on your face and off the hidden gear." I smoothed my hand over his sleeve, playing the part of the devoted, high-society partner. "Are you sure the Archbishop is even here?" "He's here," Enzo replied smoothly, guiding me through the sea of silk and tailored wool toward the VIP mezzanine. "A man like Archbishop Laurent doesn't miss a humanitarian gala. It's where he collects his blood money under the guise of orphan relief."

At that moment, the Arcadian delegation arrived. The Lunarch — a tall, severe man with iron-gray hair and eyes like frozen steel — approached the table flanked by Bishop Veyra and two Cathar guards. Their white-and-gold robes stood out sharply against the crimson and black of Valros. The tension at the table thickened instantly. King Alaric rose to greet them with cool formality. “Welcome. Please, join us.” The Lunarch inclined his head stiffly, his gaze flicking across the table — lingering longest on Raven. Bishop Veyra’s expression was harder to read: a mix of disapproval and reluctant curiosity.

"I told you I would destroy the cage. Look around you. The world belongs to us today." "I am only looking at you, Adrian," she whispered back, a beautiful, tearful smile breaking through her composure. The Archbishop raised his hands, preparing to initiate the sacred liturgy, when a sudden, soft murmur traveled through the pews of the Manhattan elite. The tense, high-society atmosphere of the cathedral instantly softened into a wave of suppressed chuckles and adoring whispers.