I’m about to exit the caldarium when a shimmer catches my eye. In the pool where Antinous was found, on the step, there’s something in the water. These pools are tiled with mosaics of the skies, but there is a blue stone that is out of place in the design.
What is that?
I stop next to the water, shove my sleeve up to my shoulder, and dip my hand in. I was right—it is a loose stone, not a tile. I pull my arm out of the water, and in my palm is a small, polished piece of lapis.
Exactly like the ones on the High Priestess’s robe.
XVI.
Kerasea
We make it to luncheon without the need for me to serve as the tiebreaking vote. I exhale a long sigh of relief as I plop myself down in a chair. The resolution to send reinforcements to the second province to combat barbarian incursions was approved five to one, and so was the resolution to send naval ships to fight piracy on Lake Vesuvius in Medea’s province. Both times, Terrance was the dissenting vote, because he said the republic could not afford these measures.
Because of the late start, those were the only resolutions debated thus far. Strangely, no one has brought up the possible war, and that should’ve been the first resolution.
Why wasn’t it?
Twenty smaller matters, such as renaming the Forum Baths to the Verhardt Baths and measures to clean the Tiger River and improve drainage in the Northside of the capital, passed without controversy.
Yet, every resolution has to be signed by every senator along with Julian, and every vote must be recorded for the archives.
Gods, no wonder this takes a full week.
Julian has been a surprisingly good clerk, dutifully writing down the results and shuffling through the massive amount of paperwork with the help of the six Senate pages.
Two servants wheel in carts containing meats, cheeses, salads, pastas, and breads. Of course, wine is offered as well, and all the senators drink.
My stomach rumbles, and I eagerly accept a plate, but then I think of Antinous having his last cold meal in the kitchens. The fear in his eyes haunts me. He was terrified of the people in this room. And whether Torren can prove it or not, someone here ordered his death. How can I force the truth from them? How can I get justice for Antinous?
Senator Medea wanders over with a meager plate of a few cheeses. She has been on her feet nearly this entire time, as the senators tend to stand while they debate, but I suppose she’s not hungry. Is it guilt weighing her down? Did she have a reason to drown him?
“I’m happy to see another woman at the conclave.” She puts her wineglass next to my water. “It’s been entirely too long.”
Senator Medea is a grandmother and the benefactress of the Medea family, her patron twin brother having died long ago. She’s served as a senator for twenty-five years, but she smiles as if we’re longtime colleagues while she takes the seat next to me. Her lavender scent is pleasant but strong.
“I’m pleased to serve,” I lie.
Women and men supposedly have equal rights in the republic, but that never quite seems to be true. However, Medea argued like a man today, with the same self-assured confidence as she staunchly advocated for her province. So, she is an exception, I suppose.
Medea is from a storied noble family and has a client roll that was second only to Verhardt, but she is often criticized for being vicious and unfeeling. To me, she seems like Mirial—no nonsense or softness, just strength and competence. I don’t understand my father’s love for one and dislike for the other, except for the fact that traits we admire in our allies, we loathe in our enemies, especially when they are women.
“I find it odd that they chose you,” Medea says in a low voice. I blink at her, and she rests her hand near mine. “Not because you’re unqualified but because it’s a surprise that they believed a young woman would be suitable as a tiebreak vote. I wonder what they want from you…or from the temple.”
I’ve wondered the same. “I thought it was a lack of options with Verhardt’s sudden death.”
Her full lips curl into a grin. “There are always options.”
She is right. There were other elected officials from the capital who would’ve happily stepped in, including the governor, but I hadn’t thought of that until after I’d already accepted. I felt that tradition meant they would only allow the people here enumerated in thelex conclave. But perhaps they had another motive.
Yet, Medea mentions this as if she’s not aligned with them.
“You didn’t agree?” I ask.
“No, I did. Deadlocking at the conclave would mean that millions of people suffer while we sit idle—and that is unacceptable when we are supposed to represent their interests. Even now, as we have lunch, people in my province are dying.” She stops and exhales. “But, to be perfectly honest, you were not my first choice, as you have so little experience.”
I appreciate her honesty even if I don’t like hearing it. I am twenty-two, not a child, but compared to someone like her, I do have very little. Perhaps now is the time to admit I plan to refuse to vote.
The other senators eye us from their conversations and plates, Eyo and Terrance being the least subtle. Eyo strokes his manicured beard, and Terrance sniffs as they watch us.
