The servants announce dinner, and relief flushes through me.
I take my seat again next to Julian. Of course, Antinous’s seat and Verhardt’s chair at the head of the table are empty.
The Praetorian sits across from me and finally sets his gaze on mine. He’s disturbingly handsome in another tailored suit. He’s clean-shaven as always, and his neck looks no worse for having my blade to it last night.
I pull my eyes away from him, trying to forget the feel of his body pressed against mine outside my door, as servants bring in the first course of intricately arranged vegetables and delicacies. I pick up my fork but then recall how some of the Council thought raw grain would be too much of a luxury for others.
“Skies, it is still snowing?” Medea stares at the wall of windows. “The roads will be impassable soon.”
“We’re locked in for the week, Medea.” Terrance chuckles. His chair is angled so that it’s nearly on the corner as he continues his bid to quite literally occupy Verhardt’s seat. “Don’t get hysterical. What is the difference?”
Her mouth slants. “Well, the body of Antinous…”
The room quiets as everyone realizes that having a rotting corpse inside Jubilee Palace is not ideal.
“I sent him down the mountain earlier, and he was received by the priests of the god of protection,” the Praetorian says. “They will see Antinous back to his family.”
The senators resume eating, no longer concerned about a decaying body.
Most bodies are burned in Pryor, but some of the older families, like Antinous’s, have mausoleums where they rest their dead. I’ve never understood why they pay taxes to keep skeletons in the darkness rather than burn them in the light, but it is an old tradition from before the rise of prominence of the temple of truth. Every one of the Faithful are burned on a pyre.
“Have you completed your investigation, Praetorian?” Suh asks as they clear his empty plate. He claps his hands free of crumbs.
The Praetorian nods. “I found no evidence of foul play.”
It takes all my composure to not skew my face. He’s lying. And just awful at it. He shakes his head slightly as he delivers a mistruth. However, no one else notices, or at least they don’t care enough to.
Torren meets my stare. We both know someone killed Antinous. One of the people in this room gave the order, if not held him under. But he can’t investigate any of them.
“Very well. An unfortunate accident, as we stated,” Senator Terrance says, projecting his voice down the table. “But at least the other members of the Council will be satisfied now.” He sniffs at the frivolous concerns and then quickly composes his face and fakes a genial smile. “We should have music with our meal to lift this somber mood. Medea, your page can play the harp, can he not?”
“The lyre, yes. Go fetch him,” Medea says to the nearest servant. A redheaded woman who is around my age takes off running.
But I keep my eyes on Terrance. He is much too happy to sweep Antinous’s death aside.
“Commander Monroe, you have done a commendable job as clerk,” Suh remarks, shifting his cane. “Perhaps we should make it permanent.”
The suggestion is greeted by laughter, as was intended. A man like Julian is far more likely to be elected senator than serve as a clerk.
“I am afraid that, like my uncle, I am more suited for the sword than the pen.” Julian smiles.
“Ah yes, here’s to General Hadrian.” Suh lifts his glass, and everyone joins him. “May the gods ride beside him on his victory chariot.”
Everyone drinks.
“Many in the fifth province believe he could finally lead us to victory against the Arthagian bastards,” Suh continues, holding Julian’s gaze. “If we are bold enough to go to war, we could win back our ceded territories and possibly more.”
“The same is said in the seventh province,” Paolo adds, spinning his ring at a dizzying speed.
“I will relay your commendations,” Julian says with an easy grin. He’s far more skilled at politics than the Praetorian or me.
“Some say he should be a warrior king.” Foreau frowns into his goblet.
Terrance sniffs and nods in agreement.
“I believe I’ll skip that particular recommendation,” Julian says to hearty laughter at the table. But Foreau wasn’t joking. He exchanges glances with Eyo. The general’s popularity is a danger to their power. Perhaps that is why they haven’t voted on declaring war yet.
“Some say the same about a holy queen,” Eyo says, turning his attention to me. His brown eyes are suddenly sharp instead of dulled with drink.
