Chapter XXXIV
XXXIV
“YOU KNEW ALREADY, DIDN’T YOU.”
Emissa’s the first of us to speak as we reach daylight again, finally departing the nightmare of Military’s prison and emerging back into the fresh air and solemnity of Agerus’s fields.
I am lost in thought. Shaken and sad and outraged and vengeful.
Almost don’t register that she’s spoken; when I do, I suck in a long breath and finally look up from my introspection. “I had no idea.”
“No. Not that. Not … what they do here.” She’s focused on the gravel path ahead. “You knew what he was going to say.”
I don’t answer for a long few seconds. She knows—knows me too gods-damned well. It doesn’t mean I have to admit it. I’m tempted not to.
But there’s something else that’s occurred to me, since we left the bowels of the Necropolis. She does know me too well.
“And you wanted me to come here.” Clarity of thought returning as we put distance between ourselves and what just happened, solidifying my certainty.
What I saw in there confirms her story about her actions at the Iudicium more than anything she could have said, more than anything Veridius could possibly tell me.
It’s not something I think I would ever have truly believed, until I saw it for myself.
She smiles, just slightly. Still not looking at me.
I snort, then reflect the expression. Genuine, even if it’s one of chagrin.
Vek. And here I was, mildly guilty about using her to get access to the prisoner.
“I didn’t know all of it,” I say eventually.
“But I’ve heard things. Enough to guess.
” No details—she couldn’t have expected that—but it’s an admission. A relenting.
And from the way her smile briefly touches her eyes, it’s enough.
“How did you find out about this place?”
The smile fades. “You heard what happened in the Senate, straight after the attack?” I nod.
Military bringing motions to try and force their way into Solivagus, under the pretext of helping Religion secure the island.
Ugly scenes when Religion and Governance united to block them.
Not the start of all the tension, but certainly one of the reasons it all boiled to the surface.
“Military heard Religion had recovered bodies, but by that point there wasn’t a lot of cooperation going on.
And with Indol defecting, I was the closest thing they had to someone who had Veridius’s ear.
So my father told me about the Necropolis.
Got me to sign a Silencium, gave me one for Veridius, and sent me back.
” She exhales. “In the end, Governance and Religion agreed to give up the one body they had, but only if their Dimidii got to be part of the interrogation. You can probably guess the rest.”
I grimace. I can.
Silence for a while, and then I glance across at her. “You were right about the blood test, by the way. Thanks.”
She nods. “Eidhin, I assume?”
“Eidhin.”
“Good.” She smirks. “And you even managed to win a chariot race after it all.”
“You heard about that?”
“Gods. Everyone heard about that. Catenicus, standing up to senators so jealous that they tried to take away his title. Beating everyone in his Placement exams while missing an arm, then doing it again in the race. People wouldn’t shut up about it.
” She rolls her eyes ostentatiously, though her humour quickly fades. “And then there was Iro.”
I wince. “Have you seen him?” The ongoing rift between the senatorial pyramids means I’ve barely heard anything about his condition, let alone had the opportunity to check on him personally.
“No. Last I heard, he was still in a Vitaerium. Healing, but … he hasn’t woken up yet.” Her eyes are sad. We both know that after this long, the chances of him waking at all are slim.
I exhale. Nothing unexpected to the news. “Are people still saying I did it deliberately?”
“No one’s saying that.” I look at her, and she gestures. “No one with any sway. Or sense. Or who knows you even a little.”
I bob my head to convey my thanks for the sentiment, even if I’m not sure it’s true.
Hard to know which has been worse: the insinuation that I intentionally injured Iro, or the fact that most of the rumours seem to laud it as a blow for justice.
Largely, I suspect, because Tertius Decimus has been so staunchly against the land rights reforms of which I am now an official supporter.
“Tertius Ericius thinks I should hire permanent protection. Just in case.”
“Well. Quite aside from Iro—you defected from Military to Governance. You’re wildly popular with the Octavii and Septimii, which everyone’s immediately threatened by.
And you’re supporting a cause to take land away from more than half the Senate, while secretly trying to figure out who among them are traitors.
All while wandering around Caten, which feels like it’s a few wrong words away from civil war on any given day.
” Reproving, in a grimly affectionate way. “Maybe he has a point?”
I give a rueful chuckle. Hesitate. “Speaking of looking for traitors. You mentioned you wanted to help.”
“Of course.” Her green-eyed gaze meets mine, shining. She smooths a lock of dark hair from her face. Smile genuine and hopeful. “Anything.”
I ignore the old flutter in my chest. “If it did turn out that Military’s leadership knew about the attack.
Organised it. And we managed to get a list of names, and proof.
” It feels wrong to ask this of her, after what she’s told me today.
But I’ve communicated at length with Ulciscor about it, and he agrees that this is our best option.
“We can’t have it coming from Governance or Religion; Military would just claim we fabricated the evidence and go to war.
But if someone from within were to reveal them as traitors, it would distance Military as a whole from their actions.
New leadership could then be ratified by the Senate, and they could all work together to ensure that those responsible are properly punished.
Which hopefully, might even lead to everyone being more amenable to negotiating on other issues, too.
Let us deescalate what’s happening in Caten. ”
Emissa exhales. From her expression, she saw where this was going before I got halfway through. “I’ll speak to my father.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes I do. If you can get names and evidence, it’s a good plan.” She says it gently. “You’re not worried he might be one of them?”
“No.” Her father wasn’t at Suus. Wasn’t mentioned once in the hours of conversation I overheard. “Are you?”
“He’s not a good man, but he would never put me in danger like that.”
Exactly the impression I’d had, given the way she’s always talked about him. I acknowledge it with a tight smile.
We walk a while longer. The silence more comfortable, this time. There’s been a gradual easing of the tension between us.
“Question.”
Emissa raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“When we first met, after my Transvect got attacked. Ulciscor thought maybe Veridius had you drug me with something.”
She gives me an exaggerated smile. Shows too many teeth.
“Oh, gods’ graves. Really?” It’s more laughed than vehement. Trivial compared to everything else. “Anything else I should know?”
She thinks. Smiling properly now, enjoying the release of the shared humour.
“Veridius was sure you were cheating, you know. He kept accusing me of letting my feelings get in the way of finding out how you were doing it—how you kept progressing through the gods-damned classes so quickly.” She emits a little laugh of her own.
“Do you know how frustrating that was? I should have rotting hated you. I spent two years doing nothing but prepare myself for that place. You spent two months.”
There’s a deliberate pause there. Emissa’s not a fool; she has to have wondered how an orphan from Aquiria could possibly have the education I showed at the Academy. She never asked, though. I always appreciated that.
“But the rest of it was real,” she adds softly.
We’re approaching the steps to the Transvect. I can see the others now, waiting on the platform up ahead. Dwarfed by the mass of stone and wood and glass. Emissa slows.
“You’re not coming?” I shake my head before she can answer. Annoyed at myself. “Of course you’re not coming. You and Veridius need to stay disconnected.”
“And I’m guessing the others don’t really want to see me, anyway.” A long pause. “Can you forgive me, Vis?”
Silence. Emissa watching me anxiously. I look at her. Lovely and vulnerable and opening up to me.
And some small, pained part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s real.
That’s the moment, I think, when I know.
I do believe her. I believe her and I forgive her and I know that I cannot fault her for her secrets; mine are greater and deeper by far.
But nor can I trust her. Not fully. Not ever, anymore.
My parents were right. Love requires more.
Anything less is a self-deception, a dream from which I’ll inevitably be woken.
“I forgive you. I do. But … some mistakes can’t be undone.
” I don’t say it with blame. It’s an explanation.
An apology. A regret. I understand everything she’s done, wouldn’t have done it differently myself.
But it doesn’t change what happened. Nothing can.
My voice cracks. “I could have saved him, Emissa.”
“I know.” She sucks in a shaky breath. “I know.”
At an unspoken signal we embrace, a tight, bittersweet hug that lingers as she buries her face in my shoulder. The smell of her hair makes my heart ache.
We stay like that a moment longer and then break apart, a kind of rueful smile exchanged. Still sad, but something freeing about the air being cleared like this. Even if it hurts.
I glance back as I reach the top of the platform. She’s still watching. Raises a hand in farewell, and I mirror the motion. Wondering when I will see her again.
Maybe not for a long, long time.
I join the others, and we board the Transvect for Solivagus.