Whether that was true or not, it was not Malachi’s place to decide. He could not claim happiness either, not if he was being honest, but happiness? Love? Those things paled in comparison to what the church offered him: not only the opportunity to guide others towards the light, but salvation.

No, he would never fall in love. No one was worth losing that over.

The universe would, naturally, laugh in his face a few nights later.

But for now?

For now, he was resolute.

Malachi could not help but think of his niece when Mable touched his arm; she reminded him of her somewhat.

“A troublemaker?” repeated Malachi, with no small amount of amusement. He lifted his chin and faced forward as they walked, and hummed faux agreement.

There was nothing wrong with being short, of course. He certainly wished he was shorter, but he understood that other men might have the opposite issue with similar insecurities…

“Have you tried watering him?”

He rose a brow, offering her an inquisitive glance. “Perhaps more sunlight would do the trick. He is still young, I do believe there’s hope. And if not, these robes do come in much smaller sizes.”