I stare straight ahead at the towering white marble buildings of the Forum in the distance, each a marvel of civilization, from the towers to the hanging gardens to the shimmering spire. “I am but a ray of sunshine in the dusk.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as I quote one of my favorite poets, then he taps his chin. “Let’s see, what’s bothering you…lately? I know you don’t exactly appreciate the upcoming night of sin because to you, it’s just more paperwork.”
He’s right—the Revelry is a headache. What started as a celebration of the end of an eternal war and a magical tyrant has become a night of sin. Most people just drunkenly revel, but some take it too far and think all crime is legal. It is not, but there are always those looking to give in to darker impulses, and it is our job to stop them.
As if proving my point, a man wanders by wearing little more than a fig leaf. Already deep in his cups, he’s spilling wine in the street. He almost collides with a dignified couple, but they all just laugh it off.
I shake my head and continue on. “Nothing is bothering me.”
“You’re the republic’s worst liar,” Julian says.
I draw a breath and turn to stare daggers at him without breaking stride.
“Oh, those blue pools the ladies love,” he says, chuckling.
I roll my eyes. He really is the worst best friend I could have. Sometimes, like right now, I regret protecting him the day we met, but he’s also my only real friend. I assume this is what it’s like to have a younger brother—to love someone as much as you’re irritated by them. The gods blessed me with being an only child. Well, aside from my half sisters, but they’re far younger than I am, and we’ve lived entirely different lives.
“But you hate the Revelry and all of this every year,” he continues. “So why grumpier abouttonight— Oh.” He smiles like a cat cornering a broken-winged bird. “Never mind.”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his hazel eyes innocent. He’s not innocent at all.
We enter the Forum, and I glance at the clusters of citizens already gathering in the huge, open courtyard. The space is surrounded by every major civic building and temple on all sides, so it’s a natural public gathering place on a good day. Tonight, there will be an absolute mob.
I spare a quick glance at Jubilee Palace perched atop the snow-capped Mount Ara, high above us in the distance. It was once the king’s pleasure palace, but now we use it to elect the Senate Leader and pass laws each year. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be locked in there with the Council and someone far worse than a drunken mob.
My chest tightens, and I pick up my pace. I appreciate Julian’s grunt of annoyance as he matches my long strides. We pass the Republic Baths and the Library of Pryor as I head toward the barracks behind the armory.
Four years ago, when I was appointed as Praetorian, I was given the Villa de Armas, but I had no taste for that place. I keep my bed near the Forum, where I’m the most needed, not in a Southside villa like Julian.
Two sentries salute us as they hold open the doors to the barracks.
“Do you have something to tell me or are you just here to torment me?” I ask.
Julian’s smile fades. “Actually, I do.”
The change in tone catches my attention as we step into the tiled hall. I stop. We don’t have to go far—my rooms are first off the entrance. But Julian avoids being serious at all costs. This must be important.
I unlock the door, and we enter my apartment. My quarters are the most luxurious and spacious in the barracks, which isn’t saying much. Jules calls it a “grand hovel.” But I have a living space, a bedroom, and a private bath, which is all I need. I’ve lived with far less.
“There’s a rumor that the temple of truth received a mal omen today, and we have reports of a potential Arthagian incursion. I’m sure there won’t be a war—the Senate will roll over as per usual. Still, some in command are calling for the Revelry to be canceled.”
Jules is right. An incursion hardly matters, as we’ll cede land to them. Pryor will do anything to avoid another Hundred Year War, and the neighboring kingdom knows it.
Instead, I focus on the omen. Of course it’s the temple. Of course it involvesher. I grip the doorknob in my fist.
“Oh, well, if the bird livers say it, it has to be true,” I mutter, flipping the lock.
Corrupt, powerful, and fraudulent, the temple should’ve been left in the past during the Crimson Night, along with the Elusian king’s bloodline, but it was the Faith who legitimized the Senate. The morning after all the magical royals were slain, Osiris Vestal called the people to rally behind the Council.
The High Priest showed the frightened mob a golden liver and said that the god of truth favored a republic of equals. He proclaimed that the Senate would lead the people to prosperity. His actions cemented Pryor’s freedom from imperial rule, but ultimately, it was a deal with the underworld. Now the temple holds nearly as much power as the Senate. But while the Senate is the voice of the people, the temple only speaks for themselves.
“I’ll be joining you tonight,” Julian says, poking at my books near the armchair.
I raise my eyebrows. “You won’t be at your father’s soiree?”
Julian has had a complicated relationship with his father ever since the war—meaning, nearly his whole life—but Jules can’t resist a good party.
