“We didn’t.”
“And yet you’re defending him?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Just making an observation.”
“Hm.” Lisbeth’s eyes were unblinking as she held his gaze. It was unnerving. “Well, if you studied the words of the Divinities, you might realize that forgiveness doesn’t come freely. It must be earned. If it were not so, there would be no justice.For every sin, there is a punishment,” she said, clearly quoting a scripture penned by some saint at some point. And yet, something about those words made his skin tighten.
Or maybe it was simply the look in Lisbeth’s eyes as she’d said them.
“What do you think Trevill’s punishment should be?” Carver asked on a whim.
“Death,” Lisbeth said without hesitation. “Treason against the emperor cannot be tolerated.” She clasped her hands before her, the long sleeves of her robe nearly swallowing them. “Although I must say, I think Chancellor Morav and others might plead leniency for him.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He’s one of them,” she said simply. “Sometimes, loyalty clouds judgment.”
Carver found that rather ironic, coming from a cleric. Their devout worship bordered on cultish, in his opinion. “You haven’t been in the capital long, but you seem to have strong opinions about Chancellor Morav,” Carver observed.
The smile Lisbeth gave him was bladed. “It didn’t take long to form my opinion about her. We interact daily, since we both serve the emperor so closely.”
A servant brushed by them, and Carver passed off his empty wineglass. “I was sorry to hear about Bartholomew’s retirement.”
“He was a good man who served the emperor well for many years,” Lisbeth said. “It is daunting to be the one to take his place.”
“You must have done something remarkable to gain Highest Cleric Jeremiah’s attention.”
“You flatter me. I merely serve the Holy Superior—and the Divinities—to the best of my abilities.”
“Still, your position is a powerful one.”
“I suppose you could think of it that way, if you wanted to reduce it to such simplistic terms.”
He cocked his head at her. “How would you define being the spiritual advisor to the emperor and his court, if not as a position of great power?”
She considered her answer before she gave it. “A grave responsibility.”
He couldn’t decide if the answer surprised him or not. Choosing to ignore that for now, he asked, “May I ask why the Highest Cleric chose to make such a significant change in church leadership now, of all times? Why not let Bartholomew see the emperor through our time in Esperance?”
“I couldn’t say. The Holy Superior had his reasons, I’m sure.” Lisbeth let her hands fall to her sides. “May I ask you a question, now?”
He dipped his chin.
“How are things between you and your wife?”
His spine stiffened, though he tried not to show it. “Why do you ask?”
She lifted one shoulder, making the folds of her robe ripple. “Your time in Esperance was cut short, which didn’t give you the time we wanted you to have to build your foundation as a couple. And the months you spent there were certainly harrowing. I just wondered if you felt your marriage was lacking in any way.”
“No.”
For the first time, he thought her faint smile might be real. “You’re truly a man of many words, Carver.”
Forcing his tongue to loosen, he said, “Things between us are good.”
“Are you happy with her?”
He frowned. The question felt . . . off. “Yes. Very.”
