“It could have been someone losing control,” Julian posits.
I shake my head. “This wasn’t an act of passion; it was a ritualistic slaughter. Why take the time and the risk, unless it was all designed to implicate the Faith—the knife and the organs where she lit the flame, the missing liver, and the body on the altar…”
Julian and I exchange glances, and he pales slightly.
“Kera is alone here,” Julian says. “She is away from her guards, servants, and priests. They could murder her easily if they wanted to, could claim Arthago killed her. No one would look too deeply if we go to war, and the Council would gain the full support of the Faith as well as the republic.”
I remember the way both Terrance and Eyo looked at Kerasea, how condescending they were despite asking her to vote in the conclave.
While I have disdain for the temple, even I can admit that it’s the only balance to the Senate’s power. Without her, the Faith would be rudderless, and the Senate could step in.
Perhaps the murderer had planned to frame her for the crimes. But now that it hasn’t worked, what would they do next to topple her?
Without another word, we race out of the baths and up to the third floor.
XXI.
Kerasea
I rub my face, glad Zel removed my makeup and jewelry before the Praetorian and Commander showed up, banging on my door. I thought there might be a fire—turns out it was worse.
“I’m going to need you to repeat all of that,” I say. I’m seated on one of the armchairs in my silk robe, and my head is spinning.
Torren paces in front of me, his expression darkened with newfound care for my well-being. He pauses just long enough to frown at me.
“We think it best, as you don’t have a temple guard here, for one of us to escort you during the remainder of the conclave—that is all,” Julian says.
“I understand that much, but why? Why the sudden obsession with my safety when you ruled Antinous’s death to be an accidental drowning?”
“Because you know that wasn’t the case.” The Praetorian stops again and stares at me like I’m painfully naive.
Maybe I am.
Ice slides along my veins, and I grip the upholstery. I suspected; I didn’t know for certain. The undeniable truth sinks in, and my stomach drops.
He was murdered.
My eyes sting as tears well in them and my pulse throbs until it hurts. This isn’t the time to mourn, but still, a tear slides down my cheek for Antinous. He was never anything but kind to my father and me, and he was murdered by someone here, someone who believed they could get away with it.
I hastily wipe my tear and sniffle as discreetly as possible, but it’s silent in the room, and Julian and the Praetorian are both staring at me. Of course they notice.
Sympathy flashes in Torren’s eyes. I have just a moment to notice it before he blinks the emotion away.
I swallow back any other tears—now isn’t the time.
“Who ordered his death?” My voice shakes, but I push my shoulders back and manage the words. Discovering the truth is more important than sadness or anger right now.
“We aren’t certain—” Julian begins.
“Senators Eyo and Terrance are implicated,” the Praetorian says.
Julian sighs in a long-suffering way. The Praetorian must be looking into them despiteun exorum. In the history of the republic, there has only been one exception to the law protecting the leaders of the Senate and temples,and the High Priestess to the skies conveniently died before charges could be brought twenty years ago.
But Torren stands on rocky ground. I could report him. He would be dismissed from the conclave and not reappointed—just the thing I wanted before I left the capital.
Yet he’s risking his career to trust me.
I look from one to the other as the strangeness of this situation takes hold. He’s despised me for a dozen years. Why hand me a means to bring him down? “Why are you concerned about me, though? What aren’t you telling me?”
