“Please see me in my chambers,” I say.
They both bow.
I accept the welcome by the rest of the servants and nod to the chief temple guard. It’s hard to keep my expression placid, as I now know what he did on the Crimson Night. But I’m sure he barely remembers it. Another body. Just another dead servant in Pryor.
I walk down the corridors to my quarters, but as usual, even in my own rooms, I’m not alone. One of my chambermaids waits to serve me, but it’s not Zel. It never will be again.
As soon as I step inside, the maid kneels and removes my riding boots. My bare feet have just touched the floor when there is a knock on my door. I already know that it’s Zel’s parents.
“Enter,” I say.
Her mother and father step inside on hesitant feet. Zel inherited her wide brown eyes from her mother and her father’s thick, curly hair. Looking at the two of them, I can piece her together, and it makes my heart break once more.
“Excellency,” they say simultaneously. They bow and sign with their fingers to their lips.
I close my eyes for a long blink, dismiss my chambermaid, and then I begin. “I regret to say that I have the most grievous news to tell you both.”
The husband and wife exchange worried glances. Zel’s mother holds her skirts so tight that her knuckles whiten, but she waits patiently. Surely she noticed that her daughter did not arrive with me. She must at least suspect that something is awry. I search for words to make this easier, but nothing can soften a death blow.
I draw a breath. “Zel has crossed to the Underworld. While we were at Jubilee, her life was taken. Your daughter died simply because I failed to keep her safe, and for that I can never form an apology worthy of your ears or make amends. I don’t pretend to understand how you feel, but do know that I loved her, too. I grieve with you. We will honor her tonight with funeral rites and praise her memory, but I don’t expect that it will be nearly enough.”
Zel’s mother closes her eyes, and her father bows his head. “May the Underworld receive her,” he says.
“May she navigate the River of Death to the shores of eternal peace,” I recite.
I mean it.
The quiet of truth descends on the chamber as they attempt to process the loss. I hold still and wait, ready to answer their questions, though I dread them.
“You said…you said her life was taken,” her mother says. “Do you know who killed her?”
Her father frowns. I suppose he doesn’t want to know, but it is now my duty to tell her.
“Lucius Calais, a nobleman and sentry.”
They exchange sad glances. They know that his elite status means that he won’t face any consequences. And he would not have, but for what happened.
“He is dead by my—” I begin, and then I catch myself. “By the will of the god of truth, he was killed for shedding blood in a holy place. He was struck down, but it was not in time to save Zel. She died quickly in my arms.”
Tears stream down her mother’s face, and pain radiates through my chest. I have replayed those last moments a dozen times. If only I’d acted faster, responded to the call of my blood sooner, she would still be alive.
In the end, this was my fault.
“That is all we can ask,” her father says. “Thank you, Excellency.”
“A million thanks be to your great name,” her mother says.
I stare. They’re thanking me? My stomach roils at their gratitude, but I maintain my composure.
“The Senate has offered recompense.” I swallow my disgust for their coin and for Zel’s parents thanking me when I cost their daughter her life.
I hand the bag of gold to her father. “It is not nearly enough, but please take this with my sincere condolences.”
“Excellency, you are too magnanimous,” he says with a deep bow. Her mother also curtsies.
The worst part is they are genuinely moved. I failed horribly as a shepherd. I allowed one of my flock to be eaten by a wolf. They were given mere gold for the life of their firstborn, and they are thanking me.
Because another noble would have kept the coins. Because another priest would’ve let him walk free.
