My heart pounds and my mouth goes dry as I open the lid of the chest. I look down.
There, on a small velvet pillow, is the diamond ring of the republic.
It was Medea this entire time.
LIX.
Kerasea
I wake up to sunlight pouring onto my face, but I’m not in my own bed. I’m not even in my room in Jubilee Palace. These sheets smell like snow and sandalwood.
I sit up with a start, and the room spins. I clutch my head as I fall back onto the pillow.
“You’re all right. You’re safe,” Julian says from the doorway.
I look around and realize I’m in Torren’s bedchamber. Bloody lies, how did I get here? My head throbs, and then I realize that I must have fainted in the throne room.
“Torren carried you here and posted me to guard you, Excellency,” Julian says.
I look over because there’s new reverence in his eyes and his tone. Instead of his normal humor, he’s serious.
“Where is he now?” I ask.
“Searching for evidence against Medea. You haven’t been asleep long—maybe an hour.”
I nod. At least the sleep was dreamless. But then I look down and notice the blood all over me. I cringe at the sight.
“I’m sure you’d like to bathe and change. The conclave has ended, and we are all leaving soon,” Julian says.
“Thank you, Commander,” I say. As usual, I’m grateful for his kindness.
I rise from the bed, but slowly because it feels like my body was beaten. Every joint aches down to my bones. Julian rushes in and offers me his arm. I take it, and we walk to my room.
“I’ll be just outside your door,” he says.
I smile, close the door, and undress. I’m surprised there aren’t bruises on my skin. Blood soaked through my shift, so I throw it into the fire. I want to burn the ceremonial robe as well, but there are sacred lapis stones inside, so I roll it into a ball as the water warms up.
It takes two baths to fully scrub Zel’s blood from my body. I wrap my wrist, pin back my wet hair, and then don simple riding clothes. Once I’m done, I open my bedroom door to see Julian turn and smile.
He escorts me to the throne room. Two sentries stand at the door. They both sign with their fingers to their lips and bow low to me as we enter.
I smile, though unease grips me. I’m not their commander. They should’ve saluted Julian, not me. But calling the god in front of them has put me above their chain of command, because the thing Pryor respects the most is power.
My fingertips grow icy. Religious fervor can be just as dangerous as the truth. More so.
Julian and I wait in the doorway as the senators speak. Torren stands at attention in front of the table. Ease and hope fill me at the sight of him.
But something is wrong—his jaw is clenched.
“While the evidence the Praetorian presented is compelling and troubling, ultimately all Senator Medea stands accused of is the murder of a commoner,” Suh says. “Tullanium is inappropriate.”
Torren found evidence and asked to bring Medea to jail. My heart quickens. Not only did he carry me to his bed and safeguard me, but he will bring a senator to justice.
“Is there not room in Tullanium for Medea?” Foreau asks. “The note from her hand to the victim along with the High Priestess’s testimony is evidence enough for detainment before trial. And her being in the possession of the diamond ring of the republic minimally shows her involvement in Verhardt’s death.”
The diamond ring of the republic? The one Verhardt wore?
Medea masterminded all of this.
