Chapter VII
VII.
Torren
My command rings out into the quiet morning, my voice victorious and strong. I try to tamp down my excitement, but I’ve caught her. This is a misstep she can’t come back from. I finally have what I need to bring down Kerasea Vestal.
“No.” General Hadrian’s veto is gentle but firm.
No one moves.
“I beg your pardon?” I stare at him while clutching the bloody temple knife.
He shakes his head. “You already know that you cannot investigate the High Priestess due to un exorum.”
I lock my jaw and stare up at the sky. Un exorum is the doctrine that the high priests and senators are above reproach without overwhelming evidence—it literally means self-exoneration.
Someone reputable, meaning one of their own, has to witness them committing a serious crime or they have to confess in order to even be questioned. But I have the evidence in my hand.
I open my mouth and sputter, “Th-This is a temple sickle.”
General Hadrian doesn’t blink. “Which proves nothing.”
Nothing?
Words fail to come out as a million retorts race through my mind. I look to Jules for help. Instead of meeting my eyes, he’s staring at his fine sandals.
Perfect.
“Don’t you find this, along with her mal omen, a little too convenient?” I ask.
General Hadrian shakes his head. “No, I think that’s the point of prophecy. She forecast calamity, and she was correct. You can’t interrogate the temple, and you know that. You would need to convince the Senate and ultimately get the Verity Guild’s approval—meaning Probus’s vote.”
“Then I will ask him,” I say.
I stare at the cylindrical tower of the Ministry of Justice.
The temple to the god of justice is seven stories high and doesn’t just offer prayers to the divine.
The priests are justices who handle all manner of crimes and citizen complaints except for high treason, which is the province of the Verity Guild.
And a member of the guild is now a person of interest.
Hadrian rests a hand on my shoulder. “You will be denied, Torren. Even if you could convince the Senate—which you can’t—one high priest is never going to consent to the investigation of another. Let me save you the trouble.”
The truth of his statement hits my chest, knocking the wind out of me, but I shake it off.
This weapon can’t be denied. At the very least, I need to question Kerasea Vestal and find out how many people have access to these blades and the number contained in the temple.
And then I need to know her whereabouts after she left the terrace last night, if she has any scars on her body from a struggle.
“We’ll see about that,” I say.
“No. We won’t. Do not go to the Ministry of Justice. This inquiry ends here.” The general raises his chin with finality. He is the type of man who speaks softly but always gets his point across.
I freeze, my mouth going dry as Hadrian forbids me from asking Probus. Before I can begin a proper investigation, I’ve been stymied. I can technically maneuver around the general as he’s not in my chain of command, but that would put me in opposition to a powerful man I respect.
Frustration eats at me, but I know better than to show it. I’ll have to be more cunning, less by the book, to get to someone like Kerasea Vestal.
“A bet, then?” I suggest. “A friendly wager on whether Probus will agree?”
General Hadrian’s brown eyes light up. He has one vice—and it’s gambling. We’ve spent many hours together passing the time by playing dice and cards.
“A vessel of wine?” he asks.
“Torren.” Julian sighs.
Sure, now he finds the ability to speak.
“Stop this,” he says. “You’re about to lose twice, and you’re a notoriously sore loser. I refuse to be locked up for a week with you when you’re in one of your moods.”
I’m not sure what he means by “one of my moods,” but Jules is correct that we’ll soon be locked in the palace for the conclave, if it goes forward.
Still, that only puts a fine point on my need to investigate the High Priestess.
By law, we’ll spend seven days sequestered on a mountaintop, and I’d rather not have a murderess in our midst.
“Done.” I shake hands with General Hadrian. “I’ll drink to you.”
I don’t drink, but that vessel will net me a nice payday when I sell it.
The general smiles slowly. “You won’t, my boy, but you are young. Perhaps it’s best you learn that for yourself. Come, Julian, we need to handle the senator.”
I stride to the Ministry of Justice with the knife in hand. I am right, and I’ll prove it. No one is untouchable—not even Kerasea Vestal.