I pause, my silence question enough.
“You haven’t even properly conducted an inquiry into Verhardt’s murder,” he says. “Do you know who the last person was to see him alive?”
I bristle, but Julian is correct. I haven’t because I’ve had no chance to do so. “No. Lady Verhardt was too ‘indisposed’ to speak with me, and she refused to let me interview her son or household staff. Which speaks to her guilt, not innocence. Perhaps when we get back to the capital—”
“It was me, Torren.”
My heart stops. One moment, two, as our eyes meet, and the chamber feels too small and too warm. But Julian calmly holds my gaze.
“I was the last person to see him alive at his villa,” he continues. “A group of sentries and I walked Verhardt back, and then I stayed at his request. He and I had a glass of brandy, and then I left at nearly four in the morning. Are you going to investigate me now or just continue to obsess over Kerasea?”
Without waiting for a response, he shakes his head and walks out of the chambers. I remain frozen in his wake. It’s the first argument we’ve ever had, but the suspicion he just cast could end not only our friendship but the republic. Because the nephew of the general and the future patron of the Monroe family just admitted that he had the opportunity to kill the Senate Leader.
XVIII.
Kerasea
The only other deadlock I had to break today was whether to increase the grain dole to the poor of Pryor, and that was a fast yes, even if Eyo, Foreau, and Suh argued that full stomachs make people lazy. Terrance had a surprisingly passionate plea to increase the dole, but I’m not sure if that was to help the poor or not, since most of the grain is grown in his province.
I still need a way out of voting again, though. I am not a representative, and my role is already causing a shift in the attitudes of the senators—just as Mirial feared.
Having now opposed Eyo twice, I am clearly not nearly as attractive to him as I was during the Revelry.
Small gift from the gods, I suppose. But I have to keep everyone satisfied. The Faith doesn’t need powerful enemies, especially one as intelligent as Eyo.
We mill around the banquet hall before dinner, all of us in formal wear, sipping on sparkling wine. Unlike yesterday’s midnight meal, this one will begin at eight. Tomorrow’s conclave will start at nine, as the legislative days lengthen through the week. By the end, we will commence at dawn.
The Praetorian and Commander stand close to the doors, although, strangely, I don’t think they’ve spoken to each other since arriving.
Senators Foreau and Paolo stand near me. Foreau continues to talk about his province as Paolo and I pretend to listen, the youngest senator trying and failing to find breaks in the conversation where he can speak. Paolo leans on his toes, spins his ring, but he can’t get a word in.
“Of course, with our twin coast provinces, you’re already aware of how the god of the earth blesses our shores with abundance,” Foreau says to me. “Yet it was kind of you to increase the grain dole today. I hope you will support me in my motion to increase the fishing allowance, as it will also benefit the less fortunate in the republic.”
He’s not really looking for a response, but I nod politely. Foreau either doesn’t notice or care about how Paolo frowns at the mention of a coastline. The seventh province’s entire coast was lost under his father’s tenure when the Senate gave the land to Arthago to end the Hundred Year War. The annexation and retreat were a complete disaster for the new regime and nearly ended the republic before it began.
Senator Medea walks over to join us. She smells like elderflower this time and smiles gently. “You did well today, High Priestess.”
Paolo lights up at the change in topic, rocking on the balls of his feet. I am in heels, so we stand at about the same height. “Yes, you did an admirable job,” he says.
I voted on the same side as both of them, but I’ll take the compliments. They were the only two senators who seemed genuinely concerned about the people in their provinces.
“Courting the vote of the capital, are we?” Eyo says, strolling over with his wine. He smiles, all charm again. “You’ll find, High Priestess, that our two provinces have far more aligned interests than any of the others.”
“Because you are the only ones safe from our enemies,” Foreau says, frowning.
Eyo raises his black eyebrows and strokes his beard. “A barbarian horde at our border says otherwise.”
Foreau laughs. “You mean the people you steal from the wilderness, whom you force to work your lands and brothels?”
Eyo colors red. I’ve heard that rumor as well—that soldiers form raiding parties to capture women and children. Neither the Senate nor General Hadrian would sanction such a thing, but it’s certainly possible in the wilderness. People will always do terrible things for profit and power.
Is that the reason someone killed Verhardt and Antinous? For money or increased power? I’ve already had the thought that no one rises to high status with their hands clean. And every single person in this room rose to dazzling heights at a young age.
“What enemy does your province border, Foreau?” Medea asks. “Here I thought your province is safely in the east, is it not?”
“Which means my coast is highly valuable to the Kingdom of Arthago,” Foreau says, his voice a low rumble.
Conversation comes to a grinding halt at the name of our greatest enemy.
