Chapter VIII
VIII.
Kerasea
A rich patron sets a heavy velvet bag overflowing with gold coins into my hands and then gives his onyx-and-ivory cane to his servant. He slowly lowers himself to his knees at the feet of the colossal statue of the god of truth.
From the break of dawn, the patrons and benefactresses of the elite Southside families have come to the temple to confess their lies and buy clemency for last night’s misdeeds.
They are, of course, first in line. Lower nobles and merchants will follow, then citizens, and only then, if there is still time, will we hear servants.
As I hold the velvet bag, I wonder if Atonement Day was created just to fill the temple’s coffers, but I shake away the doubt and hand the offering to an acolyte.
The line of nobles waiting with their gold suddenly shifts. I look up from anointing the patron’s forehead as four steel-clad sentries enter the inner hall. One would be unusual; four Senate sentries standing at the other end of the reflecting pool is remarkable.
“State your purpose,” the chief temple guard says, stepping out to meet them. He is a former battle-hardened sentry with a white scar across his brown face.
“The Senate Council requests an audience with the High Priestess,” a sentry replies. “We have orders to accompany Her Excellency to the Senate Hall at her first convenience.”
An icy feeling settles across my chest, and my stomach twists.
Why am I being summoned? My mind flashes to the omen I concealed and then my other, darker secrets.
I grip the sleeves of my white robe as I recall the black liver, and the smell of death fills my nose.
Was this another misstep? Or did they discover something far worse?
Guilt rises through me, but I swallow it down. They don’t know my secrets. They can’t.
“For what purpose?” Mirial asks, folding her arms as she appears to my right out of nowhere. Last I saw her, she was taking confessions in one of the silent alcoves far from the inner hall.
“We were not informed, Priestess,” the sentry answers.
Sweat gathers on the top of his lip. He can’t be more than nineteen, his youthful expression making me feel older than my twenty-two. He shifts his weight as she stares him down like a hawk.
I press my lips together. Whatever this is can’t be good. The Senate is well aware that today is a high holy day and the busiest of the temple’s year.
I don’t want to go, but I also can’t refuse without good reason.
“Yes, of course.” I hand the blessed oil to Mirial even though her lips are set in a line so thin that her mouth looks like a crease. “I am the Council’s servant.”
The sentry blows out a breath, looking thoroughly relieved. “Please, this way, Excellency.”
As we make our way through the Forum, anyone who crosses my path bows low to me, pressing their fingers to their mouths. I move my hand in blessing, but I tremble as I walk.
The Senate Hall is in the middle of the Forum, so it doesn’t take long to reach it.
I catch a glimpse of billowing white sheets by the altar of peace just as I’m escorted inside.
It’s strange for there to be work screens up now, but I don’t have time to inquire before I’m brought into the domed room where the Council and Verity Guild convene.
Where the Praetorian found me last night.
Shaking off the memory of him grabbing my wrist, I enter the Senate floor. A ring of seven heavy wooden seats lines the circular space under the dome, and then there are rows for viewing, making it like a political theater. Or…there should be seven seats. One is missing.
The room is empty except for six senators.
Senators Eyo and Medea stand with Senator Terrance of the third Province, Foreau of the fourth, Suh of the fifth, and Paolo of the seventh.
They range in height, age, and skin color, but each of them wears a purple toga, the formal robes of the Council when in session.
They all turn as I come in. Senate Leader Verhardt and the clerk are noticeably absent.
I bow to the senators, happy to be in my ceremonial white robe and not that gold dress. “A most blessed Atonement to you all. The Council has requested an audience?”
“Yes, High Priestess,” Senator Eyo says, stroking his black beard. Someone must trim it every day because the length never changes. “We are sorry to disturb you on this high holy day, but there has been a development.”
He pauses, and silence blankets the room. It’s then that I feel the somber, worried aura around me. Their tension pulls my muscles taut as I wait for him to continue.
Eyo parts his lips, but before he can speak, the doors open behind me with a loud thud. My heart leaps as I turn to catch the Praetorian striding in, his breastplate shining in the sunlight of the oculus. In his armor, he looks like a demigod of war.
Torren is the last person I need to see. Heat rises to my face as I think about how I brushed against him mere hours ago.
Curse all ice wine.
He stops beside me and stands at attention. I catch the glimmer of something in his right hand, but it’s on his other side, so I can’t quite see. And this close to me, his sandalwood-and-snow scent is distracting.
Even the most powerful people in the republic can’t help but give him their attention.
Senator Medea worries her hands as she steps forward. Her limbs are thin, but her body is tall and curvy.
“Praetorian, tell us, do we have a suspect in custody?” she asks, direct as ever.
Suspect? I look from side to side. So this is not about me or the omen. I exhale in relief. Perhaps this is about the Verity Guild, but no, Probus is not present. He would have to be, right?
Confusion roils inside me as I bite my tongue. This is the worst place to be unaware.
“Soon. We are working on it,” the Praetorian replies.
“Then why are you here?” Senator Terrance’s voice booms. At seventy, he is the eldest senator, but he has a tall, athletic frame juxtaposing his shock of white hair. His voice is too loud, though, because he is losing his hearing. But his gaze is still sharp as it spears the man before him.
“I have located the murder weapon,” the Praetorian answers.
“Murder?” I blurt out, then I soften my tone. “What murder?”
The senators turn silent, reserved; the shift is palpable. My words seem to hang in the air as no one responds.
Torren holds his chin high, but his eyes drift to mine.
I study him, yet he says nothing. The senators exchange glances, and Senator Paolo steps forward.
He is the youngest senator at thirty-four and short with a slight build.
His wavy brown hair nearly the color of his brown skin and a baby face mean he barely seems his age.
Like me, Paolo tried to fill his father’s shoes after he died.
“Senator Verhardt was murdered overnight, High Priestess.” He speaks softly as he twists the large sapphire ring on his little finger. “I’m so sorry to be the one to give you this most grievous news.”
I gasp. The sound echoes in the domed space, and I put my fingers over my mouth.
“Verhardt is dead?” I shake my head as tears immediately sting my eyes.
My lip begins to quiver, not out of love for the senator but from shock.
And fear of what this might mean for the republic.
“But…we just saw him last night. I don’t understand. ”
“It is a difficult crime to comprehend,” Eyo says, frowning. “But I am sure the Praetorian will deliver a suspect before dusk. Verhardt’s murder will not go unpunished. We will make an example out of the killer.”
Eyo holds his chin high as the other senators nod their approval.
“May the River of Death guide him and may the underworld receive him.” I incline my head, and the Senate does the same. “May Verhardt’s good deeds outweigh his flaws to lighten his soul.”
Once I’ve recited the typical death prayer, I raise my head. “So then the conclave will be delayed until—”
“The conclave will proceed as planned, High Priestess,” Senator Terrance says in a loud voice.
He straightens his aged shoulders and rubs his fingers and thumbs together, as if physically taking the reins of the Council.
“We have unanimously decided to move forward, as the needs of the republic are both pressing and greater than any one man—even our beloved friend. We face enemies both at home and abroad, which brings us to why we called you here. As we will now proceed with an even number of senators, we ask you to serve as the deciding vote in the event of a deadlock at this year’s conclave. ”
My mouth falls open, and I widen my eyes, glancing at the senators. What they’re proposing has never been done before. Balance is maintained in part by the fact that the temples and Senate have separation.
Bloody lies, how would my father have handled this request?
My gut response is to decline. The Faith is not supposed to intervene in the political affairs of the republic. But, of course, we have before when we sided with the original Senate after they cut down the royal family. It’s how the temple of truth has eclipsed all other faiths.
The Praetorian’s eyebrows rise. “The High Priestess is not, nor has she ever been, an elected representative, Senators.”
I side-eye him. Of course he’d think I was unqualified. Even though I don’t want to vote, I bristle at the implication that I’m unable to.
“It is my suggestion that you allow us to investigate, for the conclave to be delayed, and for everyone to remain in the capital for your own safety,” Torren continues.
For our safety? So he believes this is not a single random act but an attack on the republic?
Senator Foreau shakes his head. His scalp is shaved so clean that it shines like varnished wood. He steeples his fingers and says, “We will be safer sequestered on the mountain—unless you and your men cannot properly perform your duties.”
Foreau stares at the Praetorian with eyes as dark brown as his skin.
“Of course.” A muscle in the Praetorian’s jaw ticks. “As you wish.”
Senator Medea waves a delicate hand. “We will be perfectly safe. But back to the matter before us: will you vote at the conclave, High Priestess? There is a desperate need left by Verhardt’s passing, and we ask that you serve the republic in this trying time, just as your father did before you.”
All eyes turn to me.
Underworld, what do I do now? My mind whirls. I need time to decide, to figure out the correct answer, but I feel like I’m in a pit of vipers and one wrong move will mean a venomous strike.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t know why they want to hand me this kind of power. I can’t shake the feeling that there is more going on than I can sense.
My gaze lands on Foreau’s quietly amused expression. My stomach twists. Yes, there’s definitely a hidden agenda here.
I eye Medea on his right, but her face is perfectly powdered and expressionless as she waits.
I take in the remaining senators one by one.
Senator Eyo continues to stroke his manicured beard as Suh leans his large body on his diamond cane. Suh was part of the original council that killed the king. His gray hair is as short as when he was a general, even though he resigned from the legions long ago.
I wait for him to speak, as he was a friend of my father’s. He opens his mouth, but he just coughs, his heavy jowls rippling.
An unease settles across my shoulders as I continue to stall. Senator Terrance’s mouth is puckered now as if he swallowed a lemon. His patience wears thin.
Finally, I glance to Senator Paolo, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Senator Medea and spinning the jeweled ring on his left hand. He and Medea have always been kind to me. I hope I can count on them during the conclave.
I startle as I realize I’m already contemplating the senators in terms of allies and enemies.
I turn my gaze back to Senator Foreau’s and find his mouth still slightly.
They have all let me take my time because they know I have no choice.
I can’t oppose them without a valid reason.
“I am, as always, a servant to the Council.” I incline my head and ignore the scream building in my throat. I have a lot of practice with this maneuver. For the past three months, it’s felt like I’ve had to smile while drowning. And now I’m being pushed out into deep water, and I don’t know why.
“Excellent.” Senator Suh finally looks up and claps his meaty hands together, cane still grasped in one fist. He shifts, his toga pulling taut around his bulging torso, before he goes back to leaning on his cane again. “We will prepare to leave at dusk.”
Thus dismissed, I bow again and exit the Senate floor. As I make my way out of the Senate Hall, I do my best to keep my legs from wobbling. Discreetly, I clench and unclench my sleeves in my fists.
I don’t see as much as feel the Praetorian following me. His footfall is nearly silent, but his presence is unmistakable, causing the muscles in my back to tense.
“Yes?” I ask without turning around.
He comes up alongside me as we step out into the Forum. I look to the right, toward the altar that had been surrounded by white sheets. But it’s exactly how it always is on this crisp spring day. Whatever work they were doing must be complete.
The Praetorian’s blue eyes sharpen on me. “Something wrong?”
“The Senate Leader was murdered, and there wasn’t a single tear in that room,” I mutter. “Men and women who knew him for more than two decades. Could one—”
I cut myself off, remembering that I’m speaking to the Senate protector. I shake my head, trying to pull myself together. He doesn’t need to know my thoughts, especially not that I think someone in the hall might be a murderer. “I assume I will see you at the conclave tonight.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” He drifts closer, and his voice is so low that it rumbles.
I tilt my head. “Even though you have a murder to investigate?”
His gaze flickers from my eyes to my mouth and back again. I hold my breath as he leans close to my ear. “Especially because of the murder.”
His lips turn into a small smile. Then he strolls toward the armory. I’m so dazed and dizzy from the past few minutes that I can’t even respond. What does the Council want with me? What does he want with me?
I suppose I’m about to find out.