Chapter XLIX
XLIX.
Kerasea
Zel opens the door to the divining room, and her face brightens even though she’s shivering in the cold of the room. Still, she curtsies to me.
“Excellency.”
I extend the fur I brought, and she immediately wraps it around herself, snuggling against the soft warmth.
“Thank you,” she says.
In her eyes is also gratitude for saving her from the Praetorian. But she shouldn’t thank me just yet.
“Zel, I need you to tell me who was staying in your room. Now.”
Her smile fades, and she shakes her head.
She looks like she might try to deny what I already suspect, but I am in no mood for this. I stare at her the same way I stared down Torren.
“I know you were lying when we spoke before,” I say. “Beyond being the conduit to the divine, I heard you talk to someone in your room at night. You lied to me, and you are fortunate that I didn’t disclose it to the Praetorian, but I will have your honesty now. Confess before the god.”
She sniffles, her eyes filling with tears, and then they spill over as she shakes. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for lying, High Priestess.”
Zel hangs her head as she trembles. She’s genuine, but it’s hard to feel anything but anger. I don’t have room for sympathy right now.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to lie to the Senate investigator?” I ask.
She nods, but she does not, in fact, realize it. She has no idea that death would be the least of her worries.
“I know,” she cries. “I didn’t want to lie, but I had no choice. I swore I wouldn’t tell… I…” Then her voice is choked off with tears, and her face reddens as she sobs.
I sigh my frustration and try to keep my composure.
“Tell me the name, Zel,” I say. “And then I will hold your hand in the eternal flame.”
She gasps, her eyes wide. She knows that if she lies to me, she’ll lose that arm. It’s a threat but also a promise. I can’t have a servant who feels justified in hiding things from me. As soon as we return to the capital, I will have her discharged, but for now, I need the truth.
If they don’t respect you, you’re dead, my father used to say. They can either love or fear you enough to respect you.
“It was Mirial!” Zel blurts out.
I freeze. My cheeks tingle as blood drains from them. I scratch my wrist and try to breathe evenly, but that was who I thought screamed earlier.
The cup of tea on Zel’s dresser fits Mirial’s presence, as does the standard robe. And both would have placed Mirial in the kitchens when the Praetorian was attacked.
My stomach twists and my heart pounds as the truth hits me.
I can’t be right, though. I saw Mirial leave. She only accompanied me to Mount Ara to lecture me. She had no reason to stay.
“What was Mirial doing here?” My voice comes out as clear and even, hiding my turmoil.
Zel is all emotion, and I can’t afford to be the same. I am the High Priestess, not Zel’s or even Mirial’s friend. I lead the Faith of millions of citizens. And I lie as part of my survival.
Zel shakes her head, still crying. “She was here to protect you. That is what she said—she asked me to hide her because this was your first conclave. She said you were in danger because of intervening in the voting and that we had to protect you.”
My shoulders droop and my heart sinks. It was all for me?
No, that’s not possible. If Mirial was found here, however innocently, she’d be arrested at the least. Somewhere in my mind, though, I know there’s no limit to what she’d do to keep me safe.
She swore she would watch over me when my father was on his deathbed.
And Mirial always means an oath. She would do anything to protect me.
From any danger.
“Did she throw the dagger at the Praetorian?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Zel looks down and away. She doesn’t rub her fingers together, but she isn’t quite being honest, either.
“Place your hand in the fire, Zel, and swear you have no knowledge.”
Her eyebrows knit, and her chin wobbles at my cold tone. “I think she did it—it made sense with the robe—but she didn’t tell me anything. I swear.”
It’s the truth, and it’s just as frustrating as a lie. Why would Mirial try to kill Torren? She believes that he is dangerous and lowly and that his father was a traitor…but attacking him wouldn’t protect me, and Mirial is pragmatic to a fault.
Then I remember the way she silently moves—how she just appeared next to me when the sentries came into the temple. The uneasy way she looked at Torren from the carriage. She never trusted him because my father didn’t.
Pieces fall into place as I grip my sleeves.
Mirial could’ve followed me into the dark kitchens on the first night and overheard my conversation with Antinous.
She could have seen the Praetorian moving Eyo’s body.
She could have believed the Praetorian was a real danger to me.
She also could’ve been the one listening by the baths, as she is both silent and fast enough to elude Torren.
She would have started that fire in the woodshed to hide what I can do.
That I am Elusian. Because she was the one person left who knew the truth about me.
I swallow hard. All of that makes a certain amount of sense, but why keep things from me? Why not just tell me she was here at Jubilee?
“Is there anything else you are hiding from me?” I ask Zel.
She looks all around, obviously trying to think of what else she lied about. “I’d never seen that book before the Praetorian held it up. I don’t think it was Mirial’s, either.”
No, it was all too convenient, and Mirial had no reason to poison Eyo. Well, none that I know of.
“Did Mirial talk to any of the senators while she was here?” I ask.
“Not that I saw.”
An unhelpful response, but at least it’s true. I’m missing something, though. This doesn’t add up, and when that happens, the reason is always a lack of truth.
“The last senator I saw her talk to was Verhardt on the day of the Revelry,” Zel adds.
I will myself to not react, but her statement knocks the air from my chest. This feels enormous, like it would explain everything. “Where was that?”
“Well, it was strange, really. I was coming back from the market with my mom, and I looked down Demeter Alley and I saw Mirial and Verhardt talking together. But when I stopped and looked again, they were gone.”
Neither the Senate Leader nor the priestess would have had any business being on the fisherman’s wharf by the Tiger River. Zel happened to see a clandestine meeting.
“Did you ask Mirial about that?” I ask.
Zel shakes her head. “No. I thought I was just seeing things, but now…I’m not sure.”
“Stay here,” I say. “And lock the door.”
I take the key and rush out of the divining room. I have to hope that Mirial is still alive to tell me what she was doing here and why she secretly met with Verhardt on the day he died.