Chapter XXXV
XXXV.
Kerasea
I am doomed. I turn on my side, unable to get to sleep yet again.
It’s been hours since Torren walked me to my room, but I keep replaying everything we said in the tower. I don’t know why he wants an alliance, and my ignorance here is a recurring problem. I don’t know who is committing murder. And I also don’t know what the omen means.
I have racked my mind trying to recall my father’s teachings on unusual signs.
I wish Mirial were here because she’d know.
As High Priestess, I’m supposed to be the font of knowledge, but my father couldn’t teach me every single thing about politics, leading the temple, and divining from the god in my short time as an acolyte.
And we’re far from the Forum, where there are books and scrolls to help me.
Wait.
We passed a library when the Praetorian gave me a tour of the palace. There could be a copy of The Compendium of Signs. Technically, an almanac of omens is never supposed to leave the temple, but the king might’ve had one, as there is a divining room in Jubilee.
With no time to lose, I spring from bed and throw a velvet robe over my black nightgown. Then I hike up the hem and strap my dagger to my thigh. Torren told me not to leave my room, but I have to. I have to find the meaning.
I lock my door, then knock on his, but there’s no answer. I pause. Either he’s a sound sleeper or he’s not in there.
I hesitate, torn between proceeding and going back to my room, but I need that book. There’s no decision to be made—I have to go alone.
The palace is silent as I take the main staircase to the first floor.
Although the east and west hallways are lit, individual rooms are dark, and the shadows are vicious. Walking these halls is far worse than the first night because now I know that there is, undeniably, a killer among us.
My skin prickles, my muscles tensed. I breathe in shallow inhales, listening for the telltale sound of being followed.
Jubilee is full of death. Paintings and busts are missing at intervals, destroyed during the Crimson Night. All that remains are indentations and smudges of what used to be. The empty spaces are reminders of power lost, warnings that everyone, even those at the top, can fall.
Each of my steps echoes like a whisper to turn around and go back to my room. To lock and bar my door. The only thing Torren asked of me was to stay alive. And this is inviting the opposite.
I freeze, unable to push myself any farther, the danger making my limbs leaden. Someone could be hiding in any one of these darkened rooms.
I tip my head back and groan, running a hand down my hair. Torren has completely invaded my mind. I’m just going to the library.
Because I need to be useful in this alliance. I have to find answers.
Shaking off my fear, I force my feet to work until I reach the towering doors. I pull on the cold, gilded handle, then enter the library and light every oil lamp I can find.
Now brightened, the space is far larger than I thought it would be.
The room is ornate with carved molding and gold everywhere, the ceiling painted blue with a fleur-de-lis in every coffer.
I sigh. It’s beautiful, but this is massive.
An entire wall is covered in a fresco of an Elusian whose dreams foretold the future.
Gods, I could use that power right about now, since it could take hours to locate the book—if it’s here at all.
I tamp down my panic and start to search the central bookcases to my left. The Compendium of Signs is gold plated, and thus should stand out, but that’s not necessarily the case for a copy.
I scan the shelves looking for the title. The freestanding bookcases are so tall that I can’t see over them. Each holds well over three hundred tomes. I move quickly, but there are thousands upon thousands of spines to read, and some are unmarked.
My temple has a library, but it is nothing compared to this. The only repository I’ve been in that’s larger is the Great Library of Pryor in the Forum. It sits across from the Senate Hall, but it serves all the people of the republic. This served one man, the last Elusian king.
I walk down a row filled with books on the history of the kingdom, running my fingers along the old leather bindings. These were written centuries ago, the actors and scribes long dead, but the knowledge remains. There’s something both sad and comforting in that.
Each volume in this section is filled with the works of the Elusians.
The original rulers used their abilities for good, but as so often happens, the monarchy descended into selfish desires, murder, and madness.
I’m surprised the books weren’t dumped into the Tiger the way the Elusians’ bodies were sent down the river.
The heads of the royal family were kept and placed on pikes atop the Tullanium jail. Mine should’ve been there as well.
I shake off the thought, but it’s far more difficult to avoid my blood in this palace. Every painting, every room is a remnant of them. Of who I really am.
When I come to the end of the aisle, the Praetorian stands there, his muscular body blocking my way.
My heart leaps into my throat as I scream. Then I cover my mouth as the sound echoes.
He’s still in a suit, with his jacket on this time, but he could be mistaken for a chiseled statue. I’m not sure how long he was watching me, but it doesn’t look like he just arrived.
“What are you doing here, High Priestess?” His voice rumbles with anger.
I point to my own chest and blink. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Aside from scaring me to death?”
He shrugs. “I saw the light.”
I stare at him. He’s standing in a shadow so I can’t read his eyes, but his voice rings true. It’s just not the whole truth.
I try to will my heart to slow, but it doesn’t help that I was just thinking about the Elusian slaughter. I was wrong about the Praetorian not being discreet. Apparently, he can move soundlessly if he wants to.
“Is that so?” I ask.
The Praetorian shakes his head. “You didn’t answer my question. It’s rude to continue to ask your own.”
I look around, trying to remember what he asked, but it’s difficult to recall while trying not to faint. “What didn’t I answer?”
“What you’re doing here. I seem to remember asking you to stay in your room when I saw you last.”
I sigh and decide to tell him the truth, although I’m loath to admit it. “I thought there might be a Compendium of Signs here. I need to find out what the split omen means before the conclave begins tomorrow. I can’t tell the Senate about it without being able to explain the meaning.”
His eyes stay locked on mine, his mouth still. I hold his gaze but then notice that he’s standing oddly. His arm is bent, hiding something behind his back.
“What do you have?” I ask.
He pulls out a crumpled white robe lined with gold. It’s balled in his fist, but it’s clearly from my temple. “I found this.”
I tilt my head as I touch the edge, confusion crashing into me. “Where?”
“By the kitchens.”
That makes no sense. I shake my head. “What was it doing there?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
So he did seek me out. He noticed the light in the library because he was already looking for me. But I have larger issues than him stalking me. Why was there a temple robe anywhere near the kitchens? And why does he have it?
Now that he’s out of the shadows, I can see his eyes. They’re troubled. We’re allegedly allies now, yet he keeps me at arm’s length.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask.
He parts his lips, but then his expression closes off and he shrugs. “I just found it highly unusual for one of your robes to be lying on the floor. I thought I’d return it, since I’m sure you need it.”
“I appreciate the thought, but it’s not one of mine,” I say.
Surprise flashes on his face, and he tips his chin. “This is a robe from the temple of truth, is it not?”
We wear white, justices sit in black, and the temple of protection is cloaked in bloodred. There’s no chance of mistaking robes.
“It looks to be, but it’s not a High Priestess robe. Mine are embroidered with the eternal flame and the sword of knowledge. This is plain.” I point to the solid gold of the hem. “It’s a standard priest’s robe.”
His jaw moves like he’s physically chewing over my words, his gaze tight on me. He’s dancing around something.
“Did you actually find it by the kitchens?” I ask.
He nods. “I did.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand why it would even be at Jubilee. Maybe former priests left it behind. Or I can ask Zel if she accidentally packed the wrong robe, but I don’t know why she would and then how it would get there…”
I trail off because once again it feels like I’m far behind in a game of bock. And I’m so tired of this feeling. First the murders, then the Senate coup, and now this.
“Swear it, Kerasea,” the Praetorian says.
What? I blink.
He leans closer to me. “Swear on your god that the robe isn’t yours and you don’t know why it’s here at the conclave.”
I narrow my eyes because I don’t know why he needs this, but he looks desperate for my oath. His gaze is intense, and the veins on his neck pulse. Still, I hesitate. I don’t take swearing on the god lightly because using the divine’s name in vain is a good way to get burned.
“I need to know it’s real,” the Praetorian says, stepping toward me. “If we are to remain allies.”
It’s a striking admission—he can’t tell when I’m lying. But it’s difficult to focus on anything aside from how near he is. Warmth radiates from his chest even though he smells like snow. His sapphire eyes shine as they stare at only me. His gaze is like a beam of moonlight.
I swallow hard, but I raise two fingers and sign in the air. “I swear on the god of truth that this robe is not mine and that I have no idea why it is at Jubilee.”
He holds still but then slowly nods. Instead of looking relieved, he only seems more troubled.
“Are you going to tell me what it is you suspect I did?” I ask.
His eyes flash with respect, then he presses his lips together. “I was attacked tonight. By someone wearing this.”
“What?” The word carries, echoing in the enormous library. I lower my voice. “What do you mean, ‘attacked’? When?”
I scan him for wounds, cuts, but it’s hard to tell with him wearing a black suit. I don’t see any bleeding, though. My heart pounds, but it’s only because I’m so shocked.
“A few minutes ago. So, imagine my surprise at finding you out of your room.”
I can’t stop shaking my head. A few minutes ago? That means he was searching for his assailant and found me here. That explains why he looked at me the way he did, but why would someone wear this? Who would dare attack him to begin with?
An icy feeling grips me. The only reason someone would leave this behind would be to frame me. Whoever it was simply didn’t realize my robes are embellished.
Or they thought I’d be dead before he could notice.
“Why would someone frame me?” I ask aloud.
He nods and leans closer to me. “That is exactly what we need to discover.”