The nobility fall over themselves to toast with the Senate Leader. After everyone drinks, Verhardt moves to the edge of the veranda where a black velvet sack has been placed on the ledge of the stone railing. He waves at the masses below us before raining fistfuls of gold coins down on the crowd. Patrons typically entertain the commoners during the Revelry, but rarely are their displays this expensive.
The people are whipped into a frenzy, trying to catch the gold bullions. They chant his name, and the nobility applaud. I turn just in time to catch the hungry gaze of Senator Eyo and the dismissive frown of Senator Medea as they stare at Verhardt.
Not wanting to let my eyes linger on them, I look to the left and meet the Praetorian’s stare. I’ve been looking at them, but he’s been staring at me for gods know how long. I want to flee, but instead, I turn away and drain my wine flute, then take another. The golden liquid is sweet, cold, and refreshing.
But it’s also strong.
I’m nearly done with my second glass before I realize it. At the same time, Senator Eyo makes his way to me. He has a full flute of ice wine and a glass of red wine. He offers me the flute.
“Thank you, Senator,” I say, my skin prickling as he ogles my neckline.
“Excellency.” He smiles, revealing straight teeth in his manicured beard.
He casually leans on the column near me. His eyes focus on my face as if I’m the only woman here, his young mistress, like his wife and children, apparently forgotten for now.
“Beautiful night for the Revelry,” he says. “The stars favor Pryor.” He looks up and then refocuses on me. “And the gods favor you, Excellency. I trust all is well at the temple.”
“Of course.” I take a long sip to cover the lie, even though I already feel the wine swimming through my head.
“We all miss your honored father, of course, but you have done an admirable job in his stead. It is no small accomplishment to follow in the footsteps of a giant.”
“Thank you. I hope to honor his memory,” I say.
Eyo looks on either side of us, then leans in closer. It’s designed to make me feel special, to hang on his every word. And even knowing it’s a game, I lean in, too.
“The Republic of Pryor is changing. Some want to live on past glory.” He eyes Verhardt before returning his gaze to me. “I focus on the future. On what Pryor could be—on truly serving the people and being the leadership they need. We are part of the new guard, you and I.”
“Oh?”
I try to follow his conversation, to anticipate where he is leading this, but my mind is blurring by the second. I didn’t eat supper, and the ice wine makes my pulse beat far too quickly. The night takes on a fuzziness at the edges.
“…change is as inevitable as war,” he says.
At least I think he does.
That couldn’t be what he said, though. Pryor does everything possible to avoid a war. I blink hard, trying to refocus. I need space to gather myself, because this is not the company nor place to be caught unaware.
“Would you pardon me, please?” I say, gesturing with my empty flute. “I promised the High Priest of the temple of protection that I would speak with him before he leaves.”
Senator Eyo frowns but slowly lifts his arm for me to pass. Even though he’s not overly tall, when he stands straight, he looms over me. “Of course, High Priestess. I’ll have a servant refresh your glass.”
Eyo snaps his fingers at the nearest servant and then eyes my body as I move past him.
I make my way through the leering crowd. Stares, perfumes, and laughter feel like they’re closing in on me. I focus on my steps, keeping them measured and graceful even as my legs ache to run. Silently, I curse this dress.
My father would never have worn something so ridiculous.
Heat rushes into my cheeks, and tears sting my eyes. My father wouldn’t have done any of this. He would’ve asked Verhardt why he wanted to hide the omen. He wouldn’t have drunk too much around Senator Eyo. He wouldn’t feel constantly in over his head. He wouldn’t make mistake after mistake after mistake.
I’ve never missed him more or felt less ready to fill this role.
I break free of the crowd and take the stairs down to the darkened Senate floor.
Once I’m alone, I can breathe and untense my shoulders. Everything is quiet in this space. The colored marble floor is illuminated by a beam of moonlight from the oculus, making the emblem of Pryor glow. The republic is represented by seven blades fanned out with a snake wrapped around the hilts. I stop and stare at the patinaed bronze seal.
I finally manage a deep breath for the first time since I left the temple. I want to go back now. My father would return to the temple well before dawn, but I’m not sure what’s expected of me. And I suppose that’s the problem—I am supposed to spiritually lead the people, but I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s only a matter of time before everyone realizes I’m very much not my father.
I blow out a heavy sigh. I’m a fraud.
