Jubilee Palace was the former summer imperial residence, built centuries ago by the king so that he could escape the oppressive mid-year heat in the capital.
My father told me that Jubilee Palace is far larger than it seems from the Forum. I tip my head, peering up through the carriage window. The six floors of the residence sit perched on a cliff at the mountaintop—a marvel by itself. And that’s not counting the two spiraling towers. As it was the summer palace, there are only thirty guest bedrooms. In a normal year, nearly all of them would be full for the conclave. But this is far from a normal year.
We will hold to the tradition, though, as written in thelex conclave. For a week, we will be locked in—the six senators, each with a chosen page and an unarmed sentry; the Senate Clerk; the Praetorian; the Capital Commander; myself with my attendant; and a skeletal staff of ten servants to cook and clean for all of us.
Mirial won’t be staying at the conclave. She only accompanied me on these steep winding roads to lecture me about my agreement to serve as the deadlock vote. Apparently, my father never would have consented to such a thing. The balance of power in Pryor keeps the republic from crumbling, and I could unwittingly destroy the entire system—if Mirial is to be believed. She may be right, but I have no idea how to avoid this now.
I scratch the underside of my wrist, an old nervous habit. Mirial frowns. I know. I’m scarring my porcelain skin, and it’s already red and agitated, so I stop. I push the sleeves of my white blouse back down.
Instead, I dig my nails into the armrest as the carriage pulls up to the steps of Jubilee—the seat of power for my true bloodline and where they were ultimately eliminated. But they weren’t my family. A family is much more than blood and bones.
I release the armrest. The Elusians were nothing to me. I was brought to the temple as a baby and adopted by my father. Osiris saved my life and gave me a new beginning, he and Mirial both. They raised me.Osiriswas my father, and Mirial is now the only one left who knows the truth about me. Everything else is the past.
I draw a deep breath and push my lineage to the back of my mind.
Despite it being nearly midnight, the inside of the palace is lit up bright as day. The massive, carved mahogany doors are open wide, revealing the Praetorian in the doorway.
Bloody lies, of course he’s standing there.
I left out my interactions with him when talking to Mirial, as I still don’t know what to make of him. But she scowls.
“Street trash,” she whispers under her breath, and I cringe.
It’s like my father is still here.
Zel hops out, and then the coachman gives me his hand to help me from the carriage. I’m in riding pants and boots instead of my robes, but I can use all the assistance I can get right now.
As soon as I step outside, the cold mountain air chills me. It was already cooler in the capital today, but the temperature has plummeted on the top of Mount Ara. I have multiple trunks of robes and dresses, along with furs, because it can easily snow on the mountain this time of the year. It feels like it might—the air is heavy and biting around me.
I shiver, my clothes not nearly warm enough.
“May the gods be with you,” Mirial says once my trunks are unloaded.
“May the gods bless and keep you.” I move my shaking hand in blessing.
She frowns from the carriage window, clear concern in her pale eyes. I suppose she’s right to be worried. I have to spend a week locked in with the most powerful people in the republic—including the one in the doorway.
I straighten my spine, push back my shoulders, and take a deep breath. I can do this. I can get through the conclave one minute at a time.
I pretend to casually saunter to the entrance despite fully shaking. I tell myself it’s the cold—just the cold.
“High Priestess,” Torren says, inclining his head.
“Praetorian.”
The Praetorian’s full lips curl in a semblance of a smile, but his eyes are on my luggage and the shining carriage pulling away. It must look excessive if you think of everything as belonging to one person, but none of this is mine. As High Priestess, I don’t have any personal possessions. Even my undergarments are technically property of the temple. I have a Southside villa that has been in my family for centuries, but aside from that, my sole estate is a simple country house far outside the capital.
Sometimes, I dream of living a quiet life there, but I was chosen by the god long ago. To turn away would be unthinkable.
Once again, Torren stands in my path. At least I haven’t had ice wine tonight.
I’m nearly past him and into the warmth of the palace when he leans closer.
“May I offer you a tour, as this is your first time at the conclave?”
I stop short, my mouth falling open. Why is he suddenly interested in me? First, there was that moment in the Senate Hall during the Revelry, then he followed me out into the Forum this morning, and now this. I’m no stranger to drawing the attention of men. Seemingly, every eligible bachelor in Pryor has offered his hand to me, but like my undergarments, it’s only due to my position. If I were a chambermaid, they’d try to bed me, not marry me. But that’s clearly not what the Praetorian is after. Frankly, he can’t stand me, so why the tour?
I want to decline, but perhaps walking with him will help me figure out his motivations.
