Chapter XXXVII
XXXVII.
Kerasea
The door slams shut and Zel shudders—as well she should. She just lied to the Praetorian, and I need to know why. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she was not in her room all night. But I wasn’t about to give her lie away in front of Torren.
Once he put on his armor, any softness in his features vanished, and he became the dreaded Praetorian once more.
As we walked into Zel’s room, his gaze sharpened on her.
She became a suspect. While I could shield her from investigation at the temple, I can’t here.
If he found evidence at Jubilee, he could torture her, even over my objections.
And then, just as he was closing in on her, he left, fleeing so quickly that a sea of questions built in his wake.
I stare at the teacup he almost knocked over. It sits innocuously on the corner of her dresser, next to some used plates and silverware, in a terra-cotta mug.
“Since when did you begin drinking tea, Zel?” I ask.
She has wrinkled her nose, calling it “leaf water,” whenever her parents urged her to take a cup at our communal meals.
“Oh…um, we have to rise so early for the conclave.” She rubs her finger and thumb together, and it’s all I can do not to sigh at such an obvious tell. It’s how I knew she was lying about staying in her room.
“I see,” I say, walking up to it and placing my fingers around its rim. “But the water inside is hot.”
Her eyes dart around. “It’s a nighttime tea.”
I nod—at least that much is true. It smells like honey and lavender in here. But the fact that it’s hot sends alarm bells ringing in my head. The tea and boiling water would’ve been procured from the kitchens. Recently. Around the same time I was in the library.
The same time someone attacked the Praetorian.
I lean closer to her. “You truly don’t know anything about the robe? Or the attack on the Praetorian?”
Her mouth falls open. “He was attacked?”
Her voice is full of genuine surprise, which means that whomever she is covering for didn’t tell her the truth. It’s best to let her sit with that. Silence can force out confessions like a cold press.
I rise from my seat. “I’m sure he will interview you again tomorrow, but tell no one about the attack in the meantime. That is my order.” I pause and stare her in the eyes.
She squirms, but she nods.
“Swear your silence, Zel. On the god of truth.” I take a page from Torren’s book, because it was clever.
“I…I swear,” she says.
“You should get some rest,” I say.
“Yes, Excellency.”
I glance at the tea once more as I leave her room, suspicions building in me, then I shut the door and stop in the hall.
My shoulders droop. My young servant just lied to me several times.
She knows who had the robe, but more than that—there had been someone else in her room.
Who? And why would she lie for them? Money, perhaps, but her family has been loyal to the temple for decades and does well enough.
First love? But there is no one here her age.
Not that age matters to a young heart…or to some men.
As I unlock my door, I wonder if I should disclose what I know to the Praetorian.
It’s what a true ally would do, and he’d have theories on why Zel would lie and who she would cover for that we could discuss together.
But I shake my head at myself. Until I’m certain he won’t brutalize her, I won’t have her harmed over a lie, especially because she wasn’t the one who attacked him.
Her surprise was genuine—she didn’t know.
I slip inside my chambers and bar my door.
I take off my velvet robe, lie down again, and smother the light.
The candle is still smoking when I realize I forgot all about The Compendium of Signs—the whole reason I left my room to begin with.
I still need to find the meaning of the omen, but the Praetorian said under no circumstances should we leave our rooms. The only choice left is to continue to hide the omen until I can decipher its meaning.
My stomach turns. At this rate, I’m not even sure we will all still be alive tomorrow morning. Someone wants me dead or in chains, and that someone was bold enough to attack the Praetorian to do it.
But where did Torren run off to? He looked so pale, so human as he fled. What could have been so important?
I lie awake with my eyes closed, but sleep won’t come. Nearly half an hour later, I’m still listening for the sound of the Praetorian returning safely to his room. And then I sit up and hold my breath because I did just catch something. It was the murmur of a hushed voice.
A grown woman’s voice.
I think it came from Zel’s room, but it could’ve also come from the Praetorian’s. Yet I know he hasn’t returned to it.
And then I don’t hear anything else. Did I imagine it, or does one of them have a woman in their bedchamber?