Kerasea picks her head up, and her eyes meet mine.
With a wave of her hand, she makes the fire retreat. The eternal flame flees until it sits calmly in the brazier next to the altar. I look around, but everything in the tower is normal, as if nothing happened.
Yet Kerasea and Zel are covered in blood.
“Kerasea,” I say, breathless. “Are you all right?”
I ask the question, but I already know she’s unharmed. Her scream was one of anger, of mourning, not of physical pain.
Awe and fear mingle in my chest. I want to take a knee to her, but this is all impossible.
How could any of this have happened?
The High Priestess stares straight ahead, slowly rocking the girl in her lap. Kerasea’s white robe is soaked in blood. There’s splatter on her neck and on her golden collar. Her hands drip crimson onto the stone floor, but the blood isn’t hers. Zel’s chest is covered, all of it stemming from a deep wound on her neck.
“They killed a child,” Kerasea says. “I was too late.”
There’s no emotion in her voice, and she’s not looking at me. She’s just staring into the distance.
I have seen men after battle look like this, wandering with grave wounds and speaking matter-of-factly as they search for their own body parts. There’s a level of atrocity where the mind shuts down.
I take a step closer, ready to own my part in this.
“I was speaking to Julian and someone overheard us—I think it was Calais. I was careless, and I deeply regret it.”
Kerasea’s green eyes finally focus on me, and she tilts her head. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sentries follow orders, and he planned to murder her. Medea is going to suffer for this.”
Again, she is not speculating. She is certain that Medea ordered the murder of her servant.
The High Priestess gently lays Zel’s body down, and then she rises from the floor. She gives the girl a mournful stare before stepping away.
“I’m ready.”
The most powerful woman in the republic pushes away her shock and raises her blood-speckled chin. I have no doubt that she is prepared to accuse Senator Medea, come what may.
“I accept your terms,” I say.
She nods. She knows that means I will stay silent as she falsely swears. But I don’t think she cares much anymore. No, from that hollow look on her face, she doesn’t give a fuck about consequences at all.
We take the stairs back into the palace. I pause as we reach the landing for the third floor.
“I’ll wait while you bathe and change,” I say.
She blinks, and her brow furrows. “I’m not going to change.”
I raise my eyebrows.
She gestures to the blood covering her. “Let them see what she’s done.”
All right then.
I can’t say I know who or even what Kerasea is right now. There’s no fear, no emotion in her. She barely seems present, but she is sharp as a sabine and poised to attack.
We arrive on the first floor and proceed directly to the throne room.
To say she causes a stir with her arrival is an understatement. The sentries posted outside the doors gasp. A senate page drops a scroll, and it falls to the floor with aclang. Another faints with a sigh. It’s audible because the room has been struck silent. The senators all stop where they are standing, frozen in horror. Julian rises from behind his desk, his eyes wide.
The blood-covered High Priestess of the temple of truth walks to the center of the room and comes to a graceful stop in front of the Council.
