Chapter 34
XXXIV.
Torren
It’s easier to move a body with two people, but not down this many steps in a narrow space. And Julian is struggling. I pause when we get to the bottom of the tower to give him a breather.
“You know, sometimes it’s really hard to be your friend, Tor.” Julian smiles while shaking out his arms.
“I’m aware.”
I put a pillowcase around the cook’s neck wound and then wrapped and tied him into bedsheets from one of the spare rooms. He lies on the ground while I wipe sweat from my forehead.
I carried the body’s heavier torso, and it was no picnic to move him around the winding staircases.
We’re only lucky that rigor mortis hasn’t completely set in yet.
“Any idea who killed him?” Julian asks.
We’re in a staircase where anyone can overhear us, so I shake my head no. I combed the entire celestial tower while waiting for Julian and found nothing. Whoever killed him knew to cover their tracks.
After a brief rest, Julian and I take the stairs until we reach the kitchens. Only the front door is chained. We’ll bring him out the delivery door.
There aren’t any deliveries during the conclave, since no one comes or goes, but as we pass the pantry, the lights are on, and it’s still fully stocked.
We stop again by the grain sacks, and then Julian nods for us to proceed outside.
He walks backward, making deep indentations in the snow, as we step into the cold night. We pass the woodshed and stop behind it. It’s a good place to store a body, as there isn’t food nearby and it’s decently far from the palace.
I’ve already used it once today.
My stomach bottoms out as I clear another depression in the snow, and then we lay the cook next to the mound that contains Eyo’s body.
Julian catches his breath quickly and then helps me cover the cook with tightly packed snow.
“If you’d told me he was in the tower, I would’ve posted a sentry at the door,” he says.
“I’m sure the sentry would have conveniently seen nothing.”
He shrugs. “Possibly, but then we’d know which sentries are in league with them.”
I pause. “Them? You think it’s more than one senator?”
Ice grips me, and I stomp my feet. I’ve had the same thought myself, but Julian giving it voice makes it feel even truer.
Julian shakes his head. “It’s possible, but conspiring requires trust. I don’t see any of them giving one another that kind of leverage. At least not for long.”
I stare up at the moon—so he’s had the same thoughts and come to a similar conclusion. Everyone remains a suspect.
My hands are red and painful by the time we’re finished burying the cook, but I barely noticed, lost in my thoughts.
Julian and I both blow into our hands. Eyo’s body is undisturbed, so we are done here.
“Let’s get back inside,” I say.
“Wait.” He walks two steps closer to me. “Why didn’t you tell me where you put the cook?”
I glance at the snow mounds. “We can have this conversation inside.”
Now that we’ve stopped moving, the cold seeps into my bones. I put my suit jacket on when I was searching the tower, but I’m not in furs, and Jules is in nightclothes and boots.
Julian shakes his head and folds his arms, remaining in place. “I’d rather have it here and now. Do you not trust me?”
Before the conclave, my answer might have been different, but too much suspicion has been cast on everyone here. I have to keep my thoughts to myself, as toppling an elite is a nearly impossible task. I don’t need to worry about anyone else breaking under pressure.
“I don’t trust anyone.”
Julian flinches, and then his eyes search mine. “We’ve been through a lot for you to say something like that. Too much for you to mean it—and yet you do.”
“Jules…” I don’t know what to say because he’s right, but this isn’t about me or my friendships.
“I trust you with my life, but my investigation, this role, has to come before anything else—even you. I am impartial and unfeeling because I have to be. Because the republic is more important than my individual feelings or allegiances.”
“No, you choose to be unfeeling.” He points to the two bodies buried in snow.
“Because this is the republic, Torren—the scheming, the bloody grabs for power, the corruption, extortion, and violence, the lechery and selfish desires, all of it. This is what you’re defending. This is what you’re putting first.”
It’s a treasonous insult to Pryor and one I never thought he’d utter. The worst thing is that he means it.
I straighten my spine. “Say that again?”
Julian sighs, and his shoulders slump. “Let’s go. We can have this fight somewhere with a fireplace and brandy.”
He walks away, and as he goes, I realize that I need to settle this in my mind once and for all. I’ve already aligned with Kera. Can I fully trust Julian, enough to work with him?
My stomach turns at the thought of him betraying everything we hold dear. As different as we are, we became friends because we have the same values. As young men, we both bled and killed for this republic. He has literally fought at my side in the wilderness. Would he ever turn traitor?
No, it’s not possible.
I know for a fact that killing a man stains his soul. He couldn’t sleep after he killed, even in defending this republic, and when I asked why, he said it was because the men he hurt haunt his nightmares. He couldn’t shake murder even when it was in self-defense.
And he’s been sleeping just fine despite three murders.
I hurry after Jules and find him outside by the kitchen door. My breath makes fog in the air as I come to a stop.
“I don’t think you killed him,” I say. “The cook…or any of them.”
A line forms on his forehead as Julian stares at me. “Well, at least there’s that, I guess.”
He rubs his arms, holding himself tightly. Then he stomps his feet to warm them.
“Why are you still out here?” I ask.
“The door is locked.”
“That’s not possible.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I beg to differ.”
I try the handle, and the door doesn’t budge. It is locked, but these doors don’t lock on their own. Luckily, I have the skeleton key in my pocket.
I put it in and the lock turns. I push the door, but it doesn’t open.
Julian and I exchange glances. It could be an accident—a servant who was going about their nightly routine and barred the door—a coincidence of timing. But it doesn’t feel like that.
Someone locked us out.
I glance at the palace; there is a kitchen window just large enough to fit through. However, it’s too high up to reach from where we’re standing, even if I lift Julian.
“I’ll kick in the door,” I say.
If it’s barred with thick metal or heavy furniture, I won’t be able to, but something smaller could break. It beats trudging through this snow trying to find another way. And the longer we stay out here, underdressed for the cold, the more dangerous it is.
Julian steps out of the way as I stand in front of the entrance, ready to try.
I plant my left foot, swing around, and extend my leg, channeling my strength into a single strike.
I kick straight into the center of the wooden door.
It flies open and bangs into the wall, the wood waving back and forth from the force. But nothing breaks.
Julian and I stare at the opening and then at each other.
“Maybe it was frozen shut,” he says. But he rubs his knuckles. He doesn’t believe his own words because we had no issue getting the door open before.
No, someone was holding it shut, then heard that we were about to kick it in.
I grab my dagger from under my pants leg and hand it to Julian, then I pull out the long blade hidden in the breast of my dinner jacket.
I motion my head for Julian to fall in after me. Wordlessly, he follows. I regret not changing into armor before I moved the body, but my blade will have to be enough.
As we walk inside, the kitchen is darker than when we left. No light comes from the pantry.
That’s not a coincidence, either.
I’m about to tell Julian to get back when something flies at my face. I dive against the wall, taking Julian with me. We fall back just as a dagger clatters onto the ground.
It missed me by an inch.
Heart pounding, I check Julian, but he taps three times on my thigh, giving me the all-clear signal.
We recover just as the door to the kitchens swings open. In the sliver of light, I catch the edge of a white robe fleeing down the hallway. A ceremonial robe from the temple of truth.