Chapter 16
XVI.
Kerasea
We make it to luncheon without the need for me to serve as the tiebreaking vote.
I exhale a long sigh of relief as I plop myself down in a chair.
The resolution to send reinforcements to the second province to combat barbarian incursions was approved five to one, and so was the resolution to send naval ships to fight piracy on Lake Vesuvius in Medea’s province.
Both times, Terrance was the dissenting vote, because he said the republic could not afford these measures.
Because of the late start, those were the only resolutions debated thus far. Strangely, no one has brought up the possible war, and that should’ve been the first resolution.
Why wasn’t it?
Twenty smaller matters, such as renaming the Forum Baths to the Verhardt Baths and measures to clean the Tiger River and improve drainage in the Northside of the capital, passed without controversy.
Yet, every resolution has to be signed by every senator along with Julian, and every vote must be recorded for the archives.
Gods, no wonder this takes a full week.
Julian has been a surprisingly good clerk, dutifully writing down the results and shuffling through the massive amount of paperwork with the help of the six Senate pages.
Two servants wheel in carts containing meats, cheeses, salads, pastas, and breads. Of course, wine is offered as well, and all the senators drink.
My stomach rumbles, and I eagerly accept a plate, but then I think of Antinous having his last cold meal in the kitchens.
The fear in his eyes haunts me. He was terrified of the people in this room.
And whether Torren can prove it or not, someone here ordered his death.
How can I force the truth from them? How can I get justice for Antinous?
Senator Medea wanders over with a meager plate of a few cheeses. She has been on her feet nearly this entire time, as the senators tend to stand while they debate, but I suppose she’s not hungry. Is it guilt weighing her down? Did she have a reason to drown him?
“I’m happy to see another woman at the conclave.” She puts her wineglass next to my water. “It’s been entirely too long.”
Senator Medea is a grandmother and the benefactress of the Medea family, her patron twin brother having died long ago. She’s served as a senator for twenty-five years, but she smiles as if we’re longtime colleagues while she takes the seat next to me. Her lavender scent is pleasant but strong.
“I’m pleased to serve,” I lie.
Women and men supposedly have equal rights in the republic, but that never quite seems to be true. However, Medea argued like a man today, with the same self-assured confidence as she staunchly advocated for her province. So, she is an exception, I suppose.
Medea is from a storied noble family and has a client roll that was second only to Verhardt, but she is often criticized for being vicious and unfeeling.
To me, she seems like Mirial—no nonsense or softness, just strength and competence.
I don’t understand my father’s love for one and dislike for the other, except for the fact that traits we admire in our allies, we loathe in our enemies, especially when they are women.
“I find it odd that they chose you,” Medea says in a low voice. I blink at her, and she rests her hand near mine. “Not because you’re unqualified but because it’s a surprise that they believed a young woman would be suitable as a tiebreak vote. I wonder what they want from you…or from the temple.”
I’ve wondered the same. “I thought it was a lack of options with Verhardt’s sudden death.”
Her full lips curl into a grin. “There are always options.”
She is right. There were other elected officials from the capital who would’ve happily stepped in, including the governor, but I hadn’t thought of that until after I’d already accepted.
I felt that tradition meant they would only allow the people here enumerated in the lex conclave. But perhaps they had another motive.
Yet, Medea mentions this as if she’s not aligned with them.
“You didn’t agree?” I ask.
“No, I did. Deadlocking at the conclave would mean that millions of people suffer while we sit idle—and that is unacceptable when we are supposed to represent their interests. Even now, as we have lunch, people in my province are dying.” She stops and exhales.
“But, to be perfectly honest, you were not my first choice, as you have so little experience.”
I appreciate her honesty even if I don’t like hearing it. I am twenty-two, not a child, but compared to someone like her, I do have very little. Perhaps now is the time to admit I plan to refuse to vote.
The other senators eye us from their conversations and plates, Eyo and Terrance being the least subtle. Eyo strokes his manicured beard, and Terrance sniffs as they watch us.
“We are different, you and I,” Medea remarks.
“How so?”
“You are dismissed because you’re young and beautiful. I am dismissed because I am no longer those things.”
She is still beautiful, but she means the beauty of a young person they want to use.
I’m trying to think of how to respond when the Praetorian returns.
He looks around the room with a stern expression, but when his gaze lands on me, he doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
Something has changed. The rich cheese sours in my mouth. He found something.
Suh looks up from his third luncheon plate. The former general has barely said a word to me, but maybe with my father having passed, he feels no alliance to me.
“Have you completed your investigation, Praetorian?” Senator Terrance asks from the chair beside Suh.
Torren nods. “Of the body.”
Foreau and Eyo exchange glances.
“What more is there to investigate?” Paolo asks. As the youngest senator, he also sits with the new guard.
“I will continue to investigate the circumstances, as I have found his death to be suspicious,” the Praetorian says.
Everyone in the room stops eating, a couple of forks clattering onto plates.
Eyo sighs and tosses down his napkin. “The man drowned in a hot pool—what is suspicious about that?”
Medea sips her wine. “The timing, Eyo. It was a day after Verhardt’s murder. Let the man do his job and report his findings.”
Terrance shakes his white head. “I don’t feel there’s a need for a full investigation.”
“If I am following the Praetorian,” Paolo says slowly, turning his ring, “he believes Antinous might have been killed by someone in the palace. Surely he needs to investigate such a possibility.”
“Harass everyone based on an inkling? No.” Suh shakes his head and wipes his oily mouth and goatee.
Three of them against an investigation and two for it. If Foreau wants the Praetorian to investigate, I may have to serve as the deadlock vote already. But this isn’t a resolution, so perhaps not.
Still, I have to swallow twice to choke down a piece of bread.
I wipe my mouth, then ball the cloth napkin in my fist.
Foreau strokes his square jaw, delaying as he soaks in the attention of the group. He is the most recently elected senator, so the one most often dismissed. “I don’t see the harm in letting the Praetorian question the staff and sentries.”
I close my eyes for a long blink. They are deadlocked.
“Let’s put it to an official vote if we must, so that we can return to our meal.” Terrance manages to sound both condescending and put out. His tone is once again a little too loud for the room.
The senators cast an official three to three vote. If this were a resolution, they would revote up to twice after debate and backroom bargaining, but I’m not sure what the protocol is now.
“Well, High Priestess, it looks like you’ll need to break our tie for the first time,” Eyo points out. “What say you on this matter?”
All of them turn and eye me sharply, except for the Praetorian, who continues to stare straight ahead—the perfect soldier.
Underworld take me.
My pulse flutters in my neck, and I grip the napkin in my hand. I’d love to scratch my wrist again, but the bangles stop me.
“I… This isn’t a resolution… I don’t think I’m qualified to speak on matters of the Praetorian…”
I suppress a wince. I couldn’t sound weaker if I tried. Mirial would faint if she could hear me. Even Medea slightly frowns.
Bloody lies, how do I get out of this?
I sit straighter and try to gather myself with a breath. “Therefore, I leave it up to his expertise.”
The room is silent.
Eyo wrinkles his brow. He was a skilled debater and orator, but I shouldn’t be surprised, as he’s a well-recognized intellectual. But his mind is slower on his third glass of wine. “Is that a vote to proceed?”
“Yes, I believe that is what Verhardt would have wanted,” I say.
At his name, the senators blink, skew their faces, or physically recoil. They react as if the Senate Leader was already forgotten or I was bringing up a forbidden topic.
Senator Terrance sniffs. “He is dead, his vote no longer relevant. It is a matter of what you, in your admittedly limited opinion, believe is best for Pryor.”
His tone is so loud and condescending that steel rises in my spine. I release the napkin and lift my chin. Whatever they wanted when they appointed me doesn’t matter—I’m here now.
“In that case, as a citizen of the capital has died under mysterious circumstances, I vote to let the Praetorian proceed in his inquiry.”