Chapter XXVII
XXVII.
Kerasea
I sit in the throne room, scratching at my wrists under my bangles as the Council begins to vote on whether or not to conclude the conclave.
“Now is the time for action,” Suh says, banging his fist on the table. “Now is the time for bravery, in honor of our dearly departed colleagues. We must save this republic from her enemies. I, along with every patriot, will vote to proceed.”
“I agree,” Terrance says loudly. “It is the moment for action, for resolve. The loss of Senator Eyo should galvanize us. Thus, to fulfill my duties as senator and champion the republic, I, too, vote to proceed.”
“Meaningless bravado aside,” Foreau says, waving his opal-encrusted hand, “because we are a republic, the first and second provinces must have elected representatives in any conclave. I vote to conclude until new senators are chosen by the people, for the people.”
Terrance narrows his eyes, his cheeks coloring at the slight.
Paolo stands and turns his ring. “I vote to conclude, although I motion that with concluding, we hold elections with great haste. I further add that we convene a special session on Arthago within a month’s time.”
Terrance and Suh both sputter as Paolo retakes his seat, his light brown cheeks assuming a cherry hue.
“Which will be far too late for the people of my province,” Medea says from her chair. “And because of that simple logic, I vote to proceed.”
My stomach sinks. With the majority vote, the Council has decided to stay.
I stare at the five remaining senators. Is it possible? Could they have truly colluded together when they can’t agree on simple resolutions?
Senator Paolo leaps to his feet. “The High Priestess must vote for the first province.”
Terrance shakes his head. “We are not tied.”
Foreau looks from Paolo to Terrance, his brown eyes lighting up. “On a matter of this level of importance, all provinces need a voice.”
Before anyone else can speak, I stand. “I vote to conclude.”
Terrance, Suh, and Medea all sit back in their chairs with varying levels of annoyance as the room falls silent. Then their gazes sharpen like knives on me. Chills careen over my shoulders, but I hold still, gripping the sleeves of my robe.
The six of us revote, but everyone holds the same positions. We are deadlocked, and because we are six, there is no solution in sight.
“Commander Monroe, fetch Sentry Calais, please,” Terrance says, rubbing the bridge of his long nose. “As he is from the second province, he can vote to break this deadlock.”
I’d marvel at how quickly Terrance found an answer in his own favor, if it didn’t mean us staying trapped with a murderer.
Foreau stands before Julian can respond. “We cannot allow a man who will benefit from continuance of the conclave to have the final say, when we have not even voted on his acceptability.”
Paolo murmurs his agreement.
Suh raps his cane on the floor. “If every province is to have a voice, as you just asserted, the second province must have one.”
Medea keeps her chair but shifts her arm enough to draw everyone’s attention. “While I agree with you in theory, Suh, Foreau is correct that the sentry would have a vested interest in the outcome of the vote. We cannot allow him a voice before we decide on his suitability.”
At Medea’s words, Terrance’s eyes widen, and sweat breaks out along his white hairline. If Suh and Medea fail to support him, he will likely never be the Senate Leader. He frantically looks around the room, and his eyes fall on Julian.
“Very well, what say you, Commander Monroe?” Terrance asks.
“You, like the Praetorian, are responsible for our safety, and you come from a noble house with a storied tradition of leading the republic. Pryor depends upon us for law and order. As unprecedented as these times are, they call for leadership. Do the needs of the republic demand we proceed or do they not?”
“He is also from the capital, and one province should not have two votes,” Suh says.
Terrance sighs. “I am open to suggestions, but we are hopelessly deadlocked. If we remain this way, we will not be able to vote on another resolution, and we will all lose.”
Suh eventually nods. “I withdraw my objection for this vote only.”
I turn toward Julian, shocked that they would choose him, but as he stands, I loosen my grip on my sleeves.
I exhale, welcome relief easing the pressure in my chest. Foreau and Paolo both relax their postures as well.
Julian and the Praetorian were both worried for my safety last night.
They know these are murders, not accidental deaths.
Julian will vote to conclude, and this nightmare will be over.
We can all return to the capital at dawn if the mountain is passable.
“I vote to proceed,” he says.
His voice sends shock waves through my chest and ripples through the room. My mouth falls open, and I shut it so quickly, my teeth click. I blink twice and shake my head. I must have misheard him.
Terrance smiles while Foreau and Paolo throw up their hands in frustration. I glance at Julian. What is happening right now?
“My vote may come as a surprise to some,” Julian begins.
“But grave assaults have occurred on our republic. A violent madman has murdered our Senate Leader while our greatest enemy has once again violated the peace treaty honored by us to the letter for the last nineteen years. The passing of Senator Eyo was indeed tragic, but laws must be made here for the other three million citizens of Pryor.”
He gently paces, commanding the eyes and ears of everyone in the room.
“As nobles, we enjoy the pleasures of our elevated births, but ultimately, we are servants to the people,” he says. “We are shepherds of the flock, and we cannot shrink from our duties in the face of wolves. Not if we dare call ourselves elite.”
Suh raps his cane, seconding Julian’s thoughts.
“I have full confidence that the Praetorian will get to the bottom of Senator Eyo’s demise and if, gods forbid, someone is to blame, I swear that justice will be swift and merciless,” Julian continues.
“In the meantime, I will conduct the sentries in full daily watches to ensure that the Council remains safe through the conclusion of the conclave. May the gods guide the Senate and may they bless and save Pryor.”
Julian sits after sounding every inch a polished politician. I glance at the others, and even Paolo and Foreau look swayed, slowly nodding. But his words only cause more doubt to swirl inside me.
Whose side is Julian Monroe on? What does he truly want?
My stomach twists when I consider what I really know about him—not distracted by the charm or the disarming nature.
Julian was born powerful, a future patron of one of the wealthiest families in Pryor.
He is General Hadrian’s nephew and the youngest Capital Commander ever.
But due to both, he was close to Verhardt.
Antinous would have trusted Julian, as he was not part of the Senate.
And Torren would hesitate to even look sideways at his best friend.
Is his affable nature the perfect cover?
Julian smiles, and a shadow crosses his face, distorting his features. His teeth look sharper, his eyes darker. I dig my nails into my palms, my wrists itching so badly, I want to take off my bangles.
Could he be a killer? Is he murdering his way to a seat on the Senate Council? Or worse?
“Given the vote and eloquence of Commander Monroe, we will proceed shortly with the next resolutions,” Terrance says. He smiles with his yellowed teeth to their gums, unable to hide his glee.
“Very well.” Julian picks up his reed pen and motions to the Senate pages.
He has just dipped his pen in ink when Torren steps into the doorway.
“Commander, a word, if you please,” the Praetorian says.
Julian turns and looks at his friend. “Of course.” Then he stands and bows to the Council. “I will bring in Sentry Calais upon my return.”
The Commander and Praetorian both disappear as the Senate muses over the bright future of Julian Monroe. But if he is who I think he might be, none of us are safe now.