Everyone slowly turns toward the windows where snow still falls. It’s not a whiteout, but it’s not far from a blizzard. The storm that started yesterday has caused steady, accumulating snow. And we can’t even see the capital below us. The roads are now impassable.
We are all trapped inside the palace with a killer.
The room is silent, the five remaining senators in various states of disbelief. Julian and Kera are simply quiet, looking around at intervals. But they already knew we had a murderer here.
I must solve this, but for now I have to deal with another dead body. I can’t send Eyo down the mountain like I did with Antinous, but I need to preserve his corpse. I stare out the windows. If I bury him in the snow, that will hold him until we can leave.
“Hopefully the storm will subside tonight, and then we’ll depart at dawn,” I say.
“We…we must proceed with the conclave,” Terrance says. His lips are still colorless, and his spotted hands shake, but his white head is high, determined as he stands.
Everyone looks at him. The High Priestess’s eyes widen. I can feel the ridges in my own brow as Julian’s head tilts. What did he just say?
“I beg your pardon, Senator,” Kerasea says slowly, “but there is no one to vote for the province of Cortana now. Surely we must conclude.”
It’s the first words she’s spoken since Eyo died.
Her eyes are glassy, and her skin is another shade paler. She’s rubbed her temples several times and clutched at her golden bangles. She’s the only one who is reacting like a murder took place, and she was also the first to suggest we do anything to save him.
“Terrance is right,” Suh says. He uses his cane to rise from his seat. “We cannot conclude the conclave under any circumstance. Even this.” He pauses and looks down at Eyo with the same regard he gave to the orange juice earlier. “Not when we are on the precipice of war. Now, more than ever, is the time to act with valor. We must vote upon the Arthagian aggression before we conclude.”
He bangs his cane on the floor.
Terrance nods eagerly, wetting his lips. “All Senate sentries and pages are from our home provinces. Due to the critical nature of this year’s conclave, I propose that one of the staff from the second province stands in Eyo’s stead.”
Paolo waves his hand, physically brushing away the suggestion. “We cannot allow a commoner to vote on matters before the Senate just because it is expedient. We must conclude the conclave and allow the provinces to hold elections. We can convene a special assembly in the Senate Hall regarding Arthago after the new senators have taken their seats.”
Suh shakes his head. “That will be months too late. Today is already a tardy response if we want our nation to be respected. If we want to uphold the dignity of this republic.”
“Eyo’s sentry, Lucius Calais, is the son of a man I made noble decades ago,” Medea says. “He is young, as he is serving his legion time, but he is no younger than the High Priestess. He could step in if necessary.”
Foreau shakes his bald head. “He is not elected.”
“Neither is the High Priestess,” Terrance urges.
Conversation swirls around Kerasea Vestal like sharks circling blood. She stays silent but seems increasingly agitated, twisting the bangles on her wrists and clutching her necklace. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and then her eyes dart over to Eyo’s body on the floor.
“Commander, bring in Sentry Calais,” Suh says. “We will interview him and then hold a vote on whether he is suitable.”
I step forward. “Senators, I have ordered that no one is to come or go.”
They cast incredulous glances my way. No one restricts the movement of the Senate. But in this case, I must. After three murders, this is my first opportunity to take in the scene before anyone can tamper with it.
“Youordered?” Foreau repeats.
The senators variously express their outrage with being trapped in here “like a bunch of commoners.” I focus on my steady breathing to keep frustration at bay. They just watched Eyo die in front of them; either they are blinded by their ambitions or they are being led by the murderer.
“I am sure you want me to determine whether anything else might be tainted,” I add casually. “If, as Senator Suh posited, it was poison.”
That sobers them. Each one looks around, casting suspicious glances at their own goblets and plates and then at one another.
“I can divine the truth,” Kerasea says.
Everyone turns and stares at her, including me. A fork clatters to the ground. Someone gasps, and color returns to the High Priestess’s cheeks as she blushes.
“As to whether it was a natural death or a murder,” she adds in a quieter voice.
Son of a jackal. She is going to get herself killed.
