“We were not informed, Priestess,” the sentry answers.
Sweat gathers on the top of his lip. He can’t be more than nineteen, his youthful expression making me feel older than my twenty-two. He shifts his weight as she stares him down like a hawk.
I press my lips together. Whatever this is can’t be good. The Senate is well aware that today is a high holy day and the busiest of the temple’s year.
I don’t want to go, but I also can’t refuse without good reason.
“Yes, of course.” I hand the blessed oil to Mirial even though her lips are set in a line so thin that her mouth looks like a crease. “I am the Council’s servant.”
The sentry blows out a breath, looking thoroughly relieved. “Please, this way, Excellency.”
As we make our way through the Forum, anyone who crosses my path bows low to me, pressing their fingers to their mouths. I move my hand in blessing, but I tremble as I walk.
The Senate Hall is in the middle of the Forum, so it doesn’t take long to reach it. I catch a glimpse of billowing white sheets by the altar of peace just as I’m escorted inside. It’s strange for there to be work screens up now, but I don’t have time to inquire before I’m brought into the domed room where the Council and Verity Guild convene.
Where the Praetorian found me last night.
Shaking off the memory of him grabbing my wrist, I enter the Senate floor. A ring of seven heavy wooden seats lines the circular space under the dome, and then there are rows for viewing, making it like a political theater. Or…thereshouldbe seven seats. One is missing.
The room is empty except for six senators. Senators Eyo and Medea stand with Senator Terrance of the third Province, Foreau of the fourth, Suh of the fifth, and Paolo of the seventh. They range in height, age, and skin color, but each of them wears a purple toga, the formal robes of the Council when in session. They all turn as I come in. Senate Leader Verhardt and the clerk are noticeably absent.
I bow to the senators, happy to be in my ceremonial white robe and not that gold dress. “A most blessed Atonement to you all. The Council has requested an audience?”
“Yes, High Priestess,” Senator Eyo says, stroking his black beard. Someone must trim it every day because the length never changes. “We are sorry to disturb you on this high holy day, but there has been a development.”
He pauses, and silence blankets the room. It’s then that I feel the somber, worried aura around me. Their tension pulls my muscles taut as I wait for him to continue.
Eyo parts his lips, but before he can speak, the doors open behind me with a loud thud. My heart leaps as I turn to catch the Praetorian striding in, his breastplate shining in the sunlight of the oculus. In his armor, he looks like a demigod of war.
Torren is the last person I need to see. Heat rises to my face as I think about how I brushed against him mere hours ago.
Curse all ice wine.
He stops beside me and stands at attention. I catch the glimmer of something in his right hand, but it’s on his other side, so I can’t quite see. And this close to me, his sandalwood-and-snow scent is distracting.
Even the most powerful people in the republic can’t help but give him their attention.
Senator Medea worries her hands as she steps forward. Her limbs are thin, but her body is tall and curvy.
“Praetorian, tell us, do we have a suspect in custody?” she asks, direct as ever.
Suspect? I look from side to side. So this is not about me or the omen. I exhale in relief. Perhaps this is about the Verity Guild, but no, Probus is not present. He would have to be, right?
Confusion roils inside me as I bite my tongue. This is the worst place to be unaware.
“Soon. We are working on it,” the Praetorian replies.
“Then why are you here?” Senator Terrance’s voice booms. At seventy, he is the eldest senator, but he has a tall, athletic frame juxtaposing his shock of white hair. His voice is too loud, though, because he is losing his hearing. But his gaze is still sharp as it spears the man before him.
“I have located the murder weapon,” the Praetorian answers.
“Murder?” I blurt out, then I soften my tone. “What murder?”
The senators turn silent, reserved; the shift is palpable. My words seem to hang in the air as no one responds.
Torren holds his chin high, but his eyes drift to mine. I study him, yet he says nothing. The senators exchange glances, and Senator Paolo steps forward. He is the youngest senator at thirty-four and short with a slight build. His wavy brown hair nearly the color of his brown skin and a baby face mean he barely seems his age. Like me, Paolo tried to fill his father’s shoes after he died.
“Senator Verhardt was murdered overnight, High Priestess.” He speaks softly as he twists the large sapphire ring on his little finger. “I’m so sorry to be the one to give you this most grievous news.”
