He brushes his wavy hair away from his forehead. “I want to express again how saddened I was by your great father’s passing, but I am happy to see you in the robes and collar of the temple.”
He, and all of the senators, attended my father’s elaborate funeral procession just a few months ago. But Paolo and I both lost our mothers long before we could remember their faces, and now, we fill our fathers’ roles. He understands the loss better than most.
“Thank you,” I say. “I will do my best to serve the Council as he did.”
“It is a difficult time to be at your first conclave, given the circumstances.” He glances around the room. “If there’s anything I can do to assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
His voice is soft but genuine. I’m about to respond when I catch Julian’s blond head poking around the doorway. Paolo turns to see what I’m looking at, as does everyone else.
“Praetorian, may I have a word?” Julian asks. There’s something off about his tone and his eyes. He’s normally so casual and full of life, and he’s distinctly neither at the moment.
Torren and Julian exchange quick, hushed words, and then they leave. An unsettling feeling drapes over my shoulders.
“Is this how the first day of the conclave normally proceeds?” I ask.
Paolo spins his sapphire ring and shakes his head. “No, not at all. Verhardt would commence at ten sharp. As the eldest statesman, Terrance intended on opening the conclave this year. But we cannot start without a clerk to document and record the resolutions.”
Terrance was going to jump into Verhardt’s role? Was there a reason other than age?
“Nothing is normal this year.” Senator Foreau walks over with a frown. He rubs his palm along his bald head. “And now we wait on a secretary.”
All of them, including Antinous, are from elite families. Senators must be noble, and typically they are patrons or benefactresses, although Medea is the only female senator in the last fifty years. Yet they speak of Antinous as if he’s a servant.
It’s after ten thirty by the time the Capital Commander and the Praetorian return. The mood is piqued at best with crossed arms, furrowed brows, and sighs. Except for me. The longer the delay, the less time I’ll have to potentially serve as a deadlock breaker. I am sure they had difficulty finding Antinous, since he was not staying in an assigned room, but I look past Julian and Torren and don’t see him.
“Well, finally!” Senator Terrance’s voice booms, and he moves his white head like a swan, staring between the two men. “Where is the Senate Clerk, Commander Monroe? I assumed you’d bring him here so that we could begin.”
“He is dead,” the Praetorian says.
The throne room is completely silent as a small yelp escapes my lips. The high-pitched sound echoes as I close my eyes and try to breathe. I thought Antinous was being paranoid last night or was just drunk—at least that is what I told myself. I thought that no one would dare harm him at the conclave. But now he is dead.
And since we are locked in, at least one person at Jubilee is responsible.
I look around the room, trying not to shudder as I take in each suspect—the older faces of Terrance, Medea, and Suh and then the younger senators. There are no tears, but also no guilty expressions. They all seem vaguely surprised, with lined brows or narrowed eyes. Really, they are reacting as if they were told the kitchens have no more orange juice—put out but not weeping. Suh runs a hand over his goatee, and Eyo raises his eyebrows. But I can only read so much truth from people who constantly wear masks.
“We found him drowned in the thermal baths,” Julian adds.
Senator Suh twirls his cane. “What an unfortunate accident.”
“This certainly is a development,” Medea adds.
“It’s for the best,” Eyo says. “I’m sure he didn’t want to live without being attached to Verhardt’s teat.”
Again, there’s mild laughter from Terrance and Foreau. I bite the inside of my lip. Antinous was a faithful servant to the Council for more than twenty years. He risked his own life conspiring to murder the king. My father told me it was Antinous’s idea for the Senate to kneel and publicly present their bloody daggers before the god of truth.
There’s nothing funny about this.
The Praetorian steps forward. “No one said it was an accident.”
That sobers the Council. I grip my robes as my golden necklace feels like lead on my chest. Stares volley around the room, some puzzled, others skeptical.
Senator Foreau looks at Torren and steeples his bejeweled brown hands in front of his lips. “What are you implying, Praetorian?”
“His death is suspicious,” Torren replies. “Drowning in a four-foot-deep hot pool is uncommon for an adult.”
Senator Paolo spins his sapphire ring. “The pools are five feet deep. Surely that could’ve been an accident.” He looks around for agreement, and Terrance nods.
“It could’ve been, but it could also have been foul play,” Torren says. “I will need to investigate.”
