“That is the prophecy organ, is it not?” I ask.
Julian purses his lips, because there’s nothing more to say. “Uncle Hadrian wants this kept quiet.”
“Because it also implicates the temple,” I say.
“Because it would set you down the wrong path. Torren, this still doesn’t equal the High Priestess having any involvement with the murder. You and I both know that the knife was too convenient and the scene too strange. You admitted as much when Probus questioned you. The most likely scenario is that someone is trying to pin the murder on the Faith.”
Five gods and yet there is only one worshipped as “the Faith.”
“Or she did it to cast the disbelief,” I say.
Julian purses his lips. Probus was also unconvinced by that argument. The old man is sharper than people give him credit for. He questioned me until I admitted it could potentially be a setup, and then he promptly denied my request.
Jules sighs. “She couldn’t have decapitated him with that knife, and you know it—at a minimum, a sword was used, and we haven’t found that yet. And even with the sharpest axe in the world, Kerasea doesn’t have the strength to take a man’s head off, certainly not in a clean swipe. A last time: leave it be.”
We walk out of the barracks, and I admit that his logic is sound. It would take far more muscle and experience than she has to decapitate a grown man in a single motion. I should be more concerned about Julian’s warnings, but I can’t stop now. Even if she weren’t the one to take his head off, conspiracy to commit the murder of a senator is the same as the act. It is high treason, punishable by the foulest death. And that would be a fitting end to her.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I say, tossing my rucksack over my shoulder. “I’ll see you at the palace.”
I knock fists with Julian and walk out. I love him like a brother, but he didn’t grow up with me. He didn’t live in the filth of the slums, hungry and wanting. Julian can’t ever really understand me. What I went through. What the Vestal family put me through.
Alone, I stride toward the massive temple of truth. The colonnaded temple occupies the entire east end of the Forum. It is as large as the public baths, and it is the grandest temple to any god in Pryor.
I bypass an endless line of citizens waiting to confess their lies and buy forgiveness and climb the marble steps of the temple.
As I walk inside the towering bronze-and-gold doors, the scents of lilacs and eucalyptus gently waft through the silent space. Gilded mosaics cover the ground, and sculpted columns reach forty feet into the air, holding up the high-coffered ceiling in the Great Hall. The line of citizens continues into the more austere Inner Hall. The colossal marble statue of the god of truth seated on a throne looms at the end of an enormous reflecting pool.
I genuflect. It is not the gods that trouble me but their use by ambitious men…and women.
A temple guard with a scar on his face approaches me. They all wear steel and leather armor with blue capes, but this one is different, with gold embellishment on his chest. He’s a few inches shorter than I am and middle-aged, with grays peppering the black of his short hair. He must be the chief temple guard.
“May I help you, Praetorian?” he asks.
“I am here to bring the High Priestess to the conclave,” I say.
He shakes his head. “That’s not possible. The High Priestess already left for Jubilee.”
“What? It’s not yet nightfall.” I take a step back, physically thrown by the news.
The guard stares at me, and there is nothing more to say. Either he is lying or she is already gone. Either way, I missed my opportunity.
I turn on my heels and squeeze my rucksack strap. Julian had tried to warn me that Kerasea is cleverer than expected. Perhaps all she was doing in that dress last night was distracting me, and I refuse to be thrown off a scent so easily. The only reason for the knife, the missing liver, and her glancing at the scene of the crime would be her involvement in the murder.
She knows something. And I will stop at nothing until I find it out.
X.
Kerasea
We’ve nearly reached Jubilee Palace by the time Mirial finishes lecturing me. She hasn’t treated me like a High Priestess on this carriage ride and honestly, I’ve enjoyed it.
“You jeopardized the entire Faith and the very future of Pryor itself,” she says.
Well, “enjoyed” is a strong word.
Finally silent, Mirial sits back and folds her arms. My chambermaid, Zel, blows out a relieved breath. Poor Zel. She’s not known where to look for the past four hours as we’ve traveled from the heart of the capital up Mount Ara. Her big brown eyes darted around as Mirial listed out my missteps and foolish mistakes, but Zel has reached into the shadows and bravely squeezed my hand for support. She may only be fourteen, but she often seems wiser than her years. I squeeze her hand back.
It’s been a long night, but we’re now near the top of the mountain.
