“They killed him right there, you know,” a voice says.
I jump and turn, putting my fingers over my lips to keep from screaming. My heart pounds as I recognize the Praetorian standing in the shadows. He followed—or found—me.
I swallow, forcing my heart out of my throat.
“So I’ve heard,” I say. Somehow my voice comes out as steady, my tone almost bored.
“They stabbed the king a hundred times, terrified of his Elusian-magic blood and his ability to heal himself. After all, he’d lived three hundred years and survived numerous attempts on his life. But all unjust power comes to an end. One way or another.”
The Praetorian steps out of the shadows and into the light. His eyes are just deep set enough that they’re the last things illuminated on his face. He’s attractive the way a knife’s gleaming edge begs to be touched.
Even in heels, I have to tip my head up to look him in the eyes. I feel too small, too breakable around him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
My limbs itch to flee, but I make myself hold still. I lift an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same.”
He smiles as he stops a step too close to me, invading my space, daring me to cede ground. I don’t. His lips part as if he’s considering telling me a secret, but nothing feels fake about this.
“I’m keeping a close watch on you.”
From the way he says it, I’m not sure if he’s worried that I’m in danger or that Iamthe danger. A shiver rolls down my spine.
“Why is that?” My pulse leaps in my neck, and I really wish I hadn’t finished those wine flutes. I feel his presence, his nearness too much.
His gaze traces slowly down my face to my neck and then up again. “Because you don’t belong here.”
My breath catches. He can’t know that. No, if he knew that, I’d be in Tullanium jail. Or tortured until my death in the arena. I mentally shake the thought away. He must be implying that I shouldn’t be High Priestess. My pride responds, steeling my spine.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“This room is closed.” He smiles. “And Senator Verhardt is looking for you. I can make excuses if you’re in over your head.”
Underworld take me.
I raise my chin and stare at him. “No, thank you, Praetorian.”
He smiles to himself before quickly donning his normal emotionless expression. Chiseled marble and nothing more.
I move to return to the terrace, but all six-three of the Praetorian stands in my way. I think about slinking around him, but no—I am the High Priestess of the temple of truth. He’s the one who should give way to me.Heis the one who doesn’t belong among civilized people.
With my mind made up, I step to him. He doesn’t move, so I brush against him. He stiffens as my dress slides along his suit. I stare him in the eyes. He smells like snowfall in the woods, and unexpected sparks pool in my stomach as time slows. I can feel every beat of my heart, and I can almost hear his pulsing with mine.
His eyes narrow, but he yields, moving just enough for me to pass.
I’m nearly by him when he reaches out and grabs my wrist. He doesn’t hurt me, but there’s unmistakable power in his grip. My skin burns where he touches it. I inhale sharply, then raise my eyebrows. He immediately releases me and turns away.
I force myself to walk normally as I leave the Senate floor, but my knees and hands shake. What was that? Why did he follow me? And why did I like being caught?
I’m never drinking ice wine again.
VI.
Torren
The Revelry ends without me figuring out why Verhardt wanted to hide the mal omen, but it also concludes without the prophesized calamity, so I suppose that’s a win.
As I fall into my bed, though, I’m not thinking about the Senate Leader. I’m picturing the flush on the High Priestess’s face when I said she didn’t belong on the Senate floor. I’ve yet to understand why she would flee to an empty room. I followed her, thinking she was secretly meeting someone, but as I watched, she seemed…human, like the celebration was too much for her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was on the verge of panic. But Kerasea Vestal is as elite as any of them—why would the party bother her?
