Chapter XLI
XLI.
Kerasea
The baths are a marvel of Elusian magic, drawing hot, cold, and temperate from a time long before we understood engineering. But that’s not why Torren wanted me to come down here. We stand in the frigidarium by the rushing water so that we can’t be overheard.
Not compared to the way I noticed a woman’s hushed voice in his room last night.
My stomach twists, and I look away. I’m being ridiculous. What difference does it make if he had someone waiting for him in his bed? Why would I even care?
“Are you all right?” the Praetorian asks.
“I… Were you speaking to someone in your room last night?” I ask.
Confusion clouds his face, and I already know it wasn’t him.
My heart sinks, because then it was Zel, and somehow that’s worse.
Who could she have been talking with? The only other woman here is Medea, though there are also servants.
Maybe it was innocuous—just her asking for more tea. But I doubt it.
“What did you hear?” he asks.
We stand next to the waterfall, and mist gathers on his armor and in his raven hair. He glistens as he leans closer to me.
“A woman’s voice. But only for a moment and then not again for the rest of the night, so maybe I didn’t even hear it.”
“I assure you there was no woman in my bed last night,” he says with a laugh.
Heat flushes my cheeks, and I stare at the waterfall. Curse my face. I might save the Senate some trouble and die of embarrassment right here.
“Kera…” he says.
The last thing I want to do is look at him, because I’m sure I am red as a rose. But the silence lingers.
Reluctantly, I look up. Amusement decorates his lips. He stares down at me, his features softer than I’ve ever seen. His full attention with that little smile is intoxicating.
Just a glance feels so intimate—like he’s only ever looked at me this way. Like he’s only ever been kind with me. And unlike with Senator Eyo, this isn’t calculated. Tor’s gaze shifts to my lips, his eyes mesmerizing. The draw to him is a siren call, and my limbs itch to obey.
I hold still.
He had a reason for asking me here, and it wasn’t for this.
“What did you want to speak to me about?” I ask, clearing my throat. It’s a rather pathetic attempt to regain some footing.
His brow wrinkles in confusion. Could he have been caught up in the moment as well? Just as I think it, he inhales and stands straighter. “If I gave you the cook’s liver, could you divine whether he was murdered or took his own life?”
“What?”
My head hurts from the sudden change in topics and the jarring change in tone. I stare at him like it’s a joke, but, of course, he is serious.
“After Senator Eyo died, you said that you could divine whether he was murdered,” Torren adds.
Bloody lies. What do I say to this? I can’t admit that I fabricated it to cover up my admission. I have no choice but to continue with the charade.
“I would need the whole body—not just the liver.” I say a silent prayer that he doesn’t have it.
He nods. “I can give that to you.”
Of course he can.
I am doomed. It’s like I can feel the rope around my neck, but it’s just the collar of the temple.
I grip my robe and force my breathing to stay steady as I think it through.
The Praetorian is a disbeliever. If I put the cook’s liver into the eternal flame, nothing will happen, but Torren won’t know that.
He doesn’t understand how I interpret signs from the god.
I take a deep breath. I can play along, but why does he even want this?
“You suspect the cook was murdered even though you said he took his own life?” I ask.
He frowns slightly. “I know he was killed.”
‘But then why…”
“Someone paid him to take the fall. If I reported that he was murdered after confessing, the Council would’ve convened the Verity Guild to convict him of high treason.”
That is the real story? My heart pounds. So this must be the reason for the blood on his sleeve and why he seemed off when he was in the divining room. And also possibly why he pulled away from me when I touched him. Did he align with me just so he could discern what happened to the cook?
“Why do you care so much about a servant?” I ask. It doesn’t match up with his brutal image, that’s for sure. “What if he did put the poison in?”
“He didn’t. And justice is never served by letting an innocent man take the fall.”
In his eyes, there are a million unspoken words. He still believes his father was innocent. I won’t be able to change his mind, because it would require changing his heart.
Still, the cook is already dead—there’s no worse the Senate can do to him. But maybe that’s not who Torren is ultimately worried about.
“You want to protect the cook’s family,” I whisper.
Torren swallows hard. “Yes.”
My heart squeezes. This is a completely different man than the one I thought I knew. This is who Julian is friends with, who the sentries admire and Hadrian respects. I see it now.
I see him.
This is the moment to tell him that I never intended for him to lose everything, but what do I even say?
I’m sorry for what happened doesn’t quite cut it.
Not this many years later. I understand might work, but I don’t truly understand—I’ll never be able to get my mind around having everything taken from you overnight when you did nothing wrong.
I didn’t mean to laugh seems far beyond the point.
I bite my lip at having nothing good to say.
“I could have you removed for lying to the Senate, you know,” I murmur.
Well, that wasn’t on the list, yet he looks relieved. Perhaps he also wants to let the past lie.
Tor shrugs. “You won’t. We have an alliance, remember?”
There’s that smile again. He stares at me and shifts closer, or maybe I moved in—it’s hard to tell. The draw to him is undeniable. I stare down at the pools of the frigidarium, finding them suddenly very interesting. I need to do anything other than look at him.
Tor reaches out and places his thumb under my chin. Gently, he raises my face so I have no choice.
Why does something light up inside me when he touches me? Why do I want him closer when it’s the worst thing for me?
He stares into my eyes and then at my mouth. My lips part. He’s going to kiss me, and I think I might want it. But then, as my eyes drift closed, he backs away. “I’ll get you the body after supper.”
Thrown by how he cooled off, I’m about to ask what happened. I open my mouth, but then a movement catches my eye. I whip my head to the side. He turns to see what I’m looking at just as the shadow shifts.
Someone was listening in. We were so lost in whatever this is between us that we didn’t notice.
Underworld.
He and I exchange glances, and then he runs.