Chapter 21
XXI.
Kerasea
I rub my face, glad Zel removed my makeup and jewelry before the Praetorian and Commander showed up, banging on my door. I thought there might be a fire—turns out it was worse.
“I’m going to need you to repeat all of that,” I say. I’m seated on one of the armchairs in my silk robe, and my head is spinning.
Torren paces in front of me, his expression darkened with newfound care for my well-being. He pauses just long enough to frown at me.
“We think it best, as you don’t have a temple guard here, for one of us to escort you during the remainder of the conclave—that is all,” Julian says.
“I understand that much, but why? Why the sudden obsession with my safety when you ruled Antinous’s death to be an accidental drowning?”
“Because you know that wasn’t the case.” The Praetorian stops again and stares at me like I’m painfully naive.
Maybe I am.
Ice slides along my veins, and I grip the upholstery. I suspected; I didn’t know for certain. The undeniable truth sinks in, and my stomach drops.
He was murdered.
My eyes sting as tears well in them and my pulse throbs until it hurts. This isn’t the time to mourn, but still, a tear slides down my cheek for Antinous. He was never anything but kind to my father and me, and he was murdered by someone here, someone who believed they could get away with it.
I hastily wipe my tear and sniffle as discreetly as possible, but it’s silent in the room, and Julian and the Praetorian are both staring at me. Of course they notice.
Sympathy flashes in Torren’s eyes. I have just a moment to notice it before he blinks the emotion away.
I swallow back any other tears—now isn’t the time.
“Who ordered his death?” My voice shakes, but I push my shoulders back and manage the words. Discovering the truth is more important than sadness or anger right now.
“We aren’t certain—” Julian begins.
“Senators Eyo and Terrance are implicated,” the Praetorian says.
Julian sighs in a long-suffering way. The Praetorian must be looking into them despite un exorum.
In the history of the republic, there has only been one exception to the law protecting the leaders of the Senate and temples, and the High Priestess to the skies conveniently died before charges could be brought twenty years ago.
But Torren stands on rocky ground. I could report him. He would be dismissed from the conclave and not reappointed—just the thing I wanted before I left the capital.
Yet he’s risking his career to trust me.
I look from one to the other as the strangeness of this situation takes hold. He’s despised me for a dozen years. Why hand me a means to bring him down? “Why are you concerned about me, though? What aren’t you telling me?”
Julian and the Praetorian exchange the guiltiest looks I’ve ever seen. I sigh. They wouldn’t last a day in the shoes of a woman who has to lie for her own survival. Julian needs to get better at this, as he’s a future patron. The Praetorian is a lost cause.
“You were selected to replace Verhardt in the conclave,” Torren says. “It’s incongruous with tradition, and the Council asked you for a reason. It’s not beyond imagination that if someone was so bold as to murder Verhardt in the Forum and Antinous here, they are settling all affairs this week.”
He thinks someone might want me dead. I shudder but push down the fear, because something is still off.
He’s telling the truth, but not all of it, which leaves more questions than answers.
“But you didn’t know any of this last night when you were following me,” I say.
Julian’s eyes dart to his friend. He didn’t know.
The Praetorian stares directly at me. “I found it suspicious that you were leaving your chambers in the middle of the night.”
“So you were, in fact, following me. And then you hid to listen in on my conversation with Antinous.” I state it as a fact, not a question.
Julian turns and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“That is correct,” Torren answers.
“I need to be…elsewhere.” Julian raises his hands. “I literally cannot hear this, Tor. Plausible deniability. Peaceful slumber, High Priestess.”
Julian bows to me before exiting the room.
As he shuts the door, I realize that once again I’m alone with the Praetorian and, this time, we’re in my bedchamber. The heat of his gaze burns when it’s just the two of us. Whatever roils under the surface in public erupts when we’re alone together.
My dagger sits in my nightstand, but, of course, it wouldn’t be much use if he wanted to harm me. He disarmed me last night so easily. My wrist burns with the memory.
He keeps his distance, though, staying on the opposite side of the room. However, there’s no sense of ease.
“Why were you following me, really?” I ask.
His gaze dips to my lips and then drifts to where my heart pounds. “Because your actions were suspicious.”
It’s the truth, mostly.
“Why should I trust you?” I ask. “If you were listening at the door to the kitchens, you heard that Antinous thought you carried out the murder of Verhardt. You’d have the motive to kill a clerk who suspected you. Especially when no one could investigate you.”
I hold my ground as Torren’s cheeks take on a reddish hue. He’s either embarrassed or angry—maybe both—but there’s no guilt in his expression.
“I didn’t kill Verhardt or Antinous,” the Praetorian says through his teeth. “If you’d like to consult your bird signs, feel free, but do me a favor and ask the eagles who actually commissioned the murders so I can bring charges against an elite.”
I spring to my feet, outrage flowing through me as I ball my hands into fists. He just insulted my entire Faith. “You mock the gods at your own risk, Praetorian.”
He strides closer. “You are the one at risk here. And rather than realize it and accept my protection, you accuse me?”
My heart leaps as he stops just a step too close. We’re face-to-face, and it’s like I can feel the heat radiating from his chest. I keep my chin high as we stare at each other. “I’m only at risk if you continue to fail at your job.”
He flinches, wounded for a moment. Regret floods me, but he clears his expression and squares his shoulders.
“As you wish, Your Excellency. Consider it my order for you to be escorted at all times. Ignore that and pray your god will protect you or, better yet, that you learn some skill with that blade.”
He bows with a flourish and leaves the room. My legs shake, and then I tumble back into the armchair once the door is shut.
Bloody lies, what have I gotten myself into?
More questions than answers swim in my mind, but I do know one thing: he was telling the truth. He didn’t kill Verhardt or Antinous. So who did?