Chapter XXXVI
XXXVI.
Torren
Kerasea stares out of the window of my bedroom, trying not to watch me undress. Every now and then, she blushes.
It’s unexpected.
After the attack, I sent Julian to the ground floor to search for the assailant while I took the first floor, but I doubt he’ll find them. The person likely went into hiding. And I didn’t want to let Kerasea out of my sight.
I slip my armor over my undershirt and pull the leather bindings as I replay the exchange in the library. Kera’s keeping a secret—I’m sure of it—but she swore on her god that it wasn’t her robe, and no priest takes that lightly. So where does that leave me?
Someone is still trying to frame the High Priestess, but their purpose remains unclear.
Terrance is the main suspect, but striking at me and framing Kera makes little sense when he is now Senate Leader and she has recused herself.
If he suspects we know the truth, that could be reason enough, but it feels like I’m missing a vital piece of information.
It sits right at the edge of my mind, but I can’t get there yet.
I place my sabine at my hip. Dressed and now armored, I grab my manacles. Kerasea eyes them when they scrape on the wood of the bureau, but she stays silent as I slip them onto my belt.
Thinking through the assault kept me from noticing how her long black hair hangs down to her waist. How she touches her full lips when she’s worried. But it’s hard not to look now.
I step to the door, but she moves at the same time. She brushes against me, her velvet robe soft as rabbit fur against my bare arm.
“Sorry,” she says.
“My fault.”
And it is. I’m allowing her to draw too much of my attention.
My duty requires me to focus on my role as investigator.
Regardless of what Julian thinks of this nation, the republic is better than the alternatives.
I have been outside of Pryor. I fought in the wilderness where there is no law, no justice, no elections, where might equals right.
The Senate is far from perfect, but the institution ended Elusian oppression and keeps worse at bay. It is worth saving.
I take a steadying breath as I lock my door. At least we won’t have to go far. My first interview is with Kerasea’s servant.
Earlier today and yesterday, I questioned the girl, but I only asked a few surface inquiries because she is, in fact, a child. But now I need to find out who had access to this robe. Unlike Kerasea, her servant girl doesn’t lie well, so it will be easier to get to the truth.
Kera knocks on her door. She already agreed to assist me with this.
“Zel, it is me,” she says.
“Just a moment.” The voice behind the door sounds odd, panicked, and very awake.
Kerasea’s brow knits, and her eyes dart over to me.
“Does your servant normally instruct you to wait?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, but this has been a frightening time for her. I’ve told her to bar her door and only answer to me.”
The door opens, but only enough for Zel to stick her face out. Her eyes are so large and wide-set that they remind me of stags I’ve hunted.
“Yes, Excellency?” Zel is in nightclothes, dressed for bed.
“We need to speak,” Kerasea says.
Everything in the High Priestess’s voice and manner acknowledges the strangeness of this interaction.
Zel nods. “I’ll be right in.”
I raise a hand, looking at Zel. “In your chambers, please.”
Kera looks over her shoulder at me. “The wardrobe is in mine.”
“But the trunks are in hers.”
I didn’t see any in the room when Kerasea had her door open earlier. And I have to figure out what the girl is hiding.
Zel’s eyes go even wider. “My room is… It’s quite messy.”
“That’s all right, Zel,” Kerasea says.
The girl takes a deep breath and nods a couple of times. “Hold on just a moment. I need to move the chair and some other things out of the way so that I can open the door.”
She shuts the door, and I wonder if this girl could have worn the robe and thrown the dagger. It would explain her obvious guilt and strange behavior. She had the time to flee up the stairs and change. But surely she doesn’t have the strength to hold the door closed on two grown men.
“You ask her.” I hand the robe to Kerasea.
Her eyes flash with surprise, but she nods and tucks the fabric under her arm.
Again, I’m taken aback by her willingness.
Perhaps she meant it when she agreed to align with me.
But looking at Kera in a new light has its own problems. The draw I’ve been feeling becomes an undeniable magnet, and that’s a distraction.
Even if she’s not the same girl she once was, she still caused the ruin of my family.
This is a temporary alliance. Nothing more.
I take a step away and stand at attention.
A few moments later, a chair scrapes the floor, then the door opens. The room is, in fact, a mess. In the legions, everything we carry must be folded and put in place. This girl has never heard of the concept.
Or maybe the whole point is chaos so that it’s harder to find something amiss.
Her room is as large as mine, as they are all guest bedrooms of the old king, but hers is cramped. Makeup, a clothes press, books, and linens are strewn around the room as if it were hit by a windstorm. The window is open, but that wasn’t the cause.
There is an en suite bathroom to the left. I step toward it.
“What are you doing, sir?” she asks.
“Investigating,” I say.
She doesn’t say anything in return. I open the door and look around.
The bathroom is also messy, but it all seems like the normal items a teenage girl would have.
The tub is empty—no weapons or obvious vials of poison in here, although there are plenty of terra-cotta pots and glass jars.
I could toss the room and conduct a thorough search, but it appears unlikely I’d find anything of interest, and Kerasea would likely object anyway.
Right now we are in accord. It’s best to keep it that way.
I walk back into the bedchamber. Kerasea sits in an armchair across from Zel, who perches on the side of the bed, looking embarrassed but not guilty. She is patting Zel’s hand. Kerasea looks at me and stops. Then she leans closer to her servant.
“Zel, this was found by the kitchens,” Kerasea says. “Have you seen it before?”
She shows her servant the robe I found, but interestingly, she doesn’t mention that I was attacked. It’s the same way I questioned her earlier.
“That is a priest’s robe, Excellency.” Zel looks completely confused as to why Kerasea would ask.
“Did you bring this to Jubilee?” Kerasea asks.
Zel shakes her head. “No.”
I watch her closely. She’s being honest, but she’s also hiding something. Her shoulders curve in, her fingers fidgeting.
“Were you in this room all night?” I ask.
The girl starts breathing like a rabbit, completely undone by one question. She shakes terribly, and notably, she wasn’t this nervous when I questioned her about Antinous or Eyo.
Kerasea reaches out and rests a hand on the girl’s arm again. “It’s all right, Zel. Just respond honestly and everything will be fine.”
Zel nods but still fidgets, not looking at me. “I left for dinner and to undress the High Priestess. That is all.”
My mind shifts at the words “undress” and “High Priestess” in the same sentence. But I push aside thoughts of Kerasea naked.
“Do you have other robes in this room?” I ask. “High Priestess’s or otherwise?”
Zel shakes her head. “All the ones we have are hanging in the High Priestess’s wardrobe.”
I look at each of them in turn. If they are both telling the truth, then this is yet another attempt to frame Kerasea for murder.
But why go to the lengths of attacking me just to frame her? An attack on the Praetorian is an attack on the Senate. It is treason and attempted murder. Someone would need a compelling reason to take that risk.
Suddenly, my mind races. Unless I wasn’t the target.
The memory of standing outside in the snow, arguing with Julian plays in my mind. He was in even thinner clothes than I was, and likely would have succumbed to the frost first.
Was he the real target?
Molten panic pours down my back as I think it through.
Julian is well liked, but he voted in a single resolution and that was to proceed with the conclave. His vote, like Kerasea’s abstention, ultimately robbed Senators Paolo and Foreau of power. What if the dagger wasn’t aimed at me? Did one of them try to kill Julian and frame Kerasea?
Something about the idea sinks its claws into me. A blade thrown, Julian dead or wounded, and I’d find the temple robe. Instead of continuing in my alliance with the High Priestess, I’d pursue her relentlessly and follow the clues left for the other murders as well.
Maybe the High Priestess isn’t the only one in danger. Maybe Julian is, too.
And he’s alone now, searching for the assailant.
“Excuse me, please,” I say, standing.
Both Kerasea and Zel stare at me.
“Lock up the remaining robes, then bar your doors—and this time actually stay in your rooms until breakfast,” I add. “Do not leave under any circumstances.”
I wait, looking at Kera, who slowly drops her head into a nod, then I grab the doorknob, nearly knocking over a variety of items on the bureau in my rush to leave. Julian is alone on the ground floor because I sent him there. I have to find him.
I only pray he’s still alive when I do.