I step closer to the High Priestess, then reach out and take her left hand.
As soon as our fingers touch, she breaks her stare from Medea and looks at me. I brace myself, worried she’ll strike at me with a weapon I can’t defend against, but she just tilts her head, puzzled.
“Enough now,” I say, keeping my voice calm and measured. “You have triumphed. The Senate has agreed to an investigation. I will search for evidence—and Iwillfind it.”
They didn’t explicitly say this, but that is the standard when liftingun exorum.
Kerasea blinks hard and shakes her head, as if she is just waking up. The candles and oil lamps flare back to life, and the sun returns in the throne room.
Everyone peers upward, cautious and tentative, as if the ceiling may come crashing down on them.
Kerasea has done it—accused Medea of murder and liftedun exorum.
But as Foreau and Terrance stare at the High Priestess, an unsettling feeling hits my chest. She has won but also marked herself as more powerful than the Council. That makes her a target for their ambitions as well as their retribution.
Today will not be the end of this.
LVII.
Kerasea
I was going to murder Medea in front of the entire Council—what’s left of them, anyhow. Torren was able to stop me, and though I’m not sure how he was able to break my connection to the divine, I’m glad he did.
Julian and Senator Paolo help Medea off the ground. Once she’s seated, Julian gives her a glass of water, but it sits on the table, as she can barely keep her head up. I wonder why the Praetorian isn’t detaining her, but I look down and realize that he’s still holding my hand. Our fingers are woven together like lace.
But both of my hands and most of my robe are covered in blood.
Zel’s blood.
I shake my head.
It’s almost like I was asleep, like walking in Mirial’s memory.
What have I become? And what did I just connect to?
My heart hammers in my chest as the events rush through my mind. The sharp, shooting pain in my wrist. The horror of catching Calais with Zel. I watched him kill her. I saw her try to cling to life. I held her as she died, her eyes pleading for help. All of that is clear. Everything after is a bit hazy.
Chills careen down my spine, cold like the touch of death. I lost myself to rage.
The throne room begins to spin as I stare at the blood on my robe, my pulse throbbing erratically. I was able to murder Lucius Calais with only my blood.
All the times my father told me that I wasn’treallyElusian seem ridiculous when I am, in fact, and have always been a magic blood.
But now that I have used my power, my connection to death is growing stronger. I can’t be certain what answered my blood call.
Was it truth or death?
I sway to the beating of my pulse. I could’ve killed Medea in front of them all. Iwantedto. Something in my blood begged for hers. And just like with walking in a memory, I didn’t have full control.
How long until everyone figures out what I am?
I pant and try to stay present, but my face tingles and my stomach turns.
“Sentry Lucius Calais is dead,” I say.
I blink hard as Suh and Foreau turn my way; the others are still focused on Medea.
“The god of truth struck him down as he killed my servant in the divining room. He violated a holy place, and his memory should be stricken.”
