The Senate conspires—that’s what Antinous said. But which senator?
A thought freezes me in place: did Antinous mean that all five are in on this together? Even Paolo?
I force myself to smile at the senator.
“Of course,” I say.
I need to know what happened and, like the Praetorian, I have my own ways of getting to the truth.
XXVI.
Torren
Alone in the banquet hall, I blow out a sigh and run a hand down my face. The High Priestess just admitted that she could use Eyo’s liver as an offering to the gods. Verhardt’s same organ went missing. Have we…haveIbeen falling for an act this entire time? The knife in the fountain, the lapis in the pool, and now the poisoning—was it all her?
I draw a deep breath. No. I’ve already established that someone is framing her. This is not the time to rethink what’s already settled.
My training kicks in, and I begin my search of the banquet hall. I start with the body, rummaging through and around his purple toga, but I find nothing. There is also nothing unusual on the table or under it, nothing odd on the buffet itself.
I stare down at Eyo and stroke my chin—why not? If someone was trying to pin these crimes on the High Priestess, why not leave evidence here?
I catch my reflection in the polished gold of the goblet, including the deep line between my eyebrows. Maybe there are answers in the poisoning itself.
Red wine has pooled next to the corpse, but there is still some left in Eyo’s cup. I pick up the goblet and then use a clean glass to pour out the remains. Wine flows first, but then tannins and a thicker substance slide out into the glass. A powder turned wet. I dip a spoon in the powder and then light it on fire. It burns green—the color of romlock fumes.
The confirmation somehow makes everything worse. In the back of my mind, I was holding out hope that it could have been an allergic fit.
The sentries still wait in the hallway, and I look at each of them through the open doorway. All are suspects, because all of the men were handpicked by the senators. Again, I need to handle this with care. It’s better that the killer believes I haven’t caught on yet.
“You may all return to your posts,” I say. “Sentry Avarre?”
He’s just turned, but he halts. There’s no guilt in his expression, only vague cluelessness from Terrance’s sentry. “Praetorian?”
“Bring me all of the household staff, then return to your position.”
“Yes, sir.”
I study him, but he also doesn’t look relieved by being dismissed. It’s curious.
Minutes later, the ten household servants enter the banquet hall. They come to a halt when they notice the senator on the ground.
“A senator of Pryor has died, and someone in Jubilee may have poisoned him,” I say. “The Council demands inquiry and swift justice. Burn all the food in the fire, throw all the drinks into the snow, then boil all of the place settings. I will question you one by one.”
The servants do exactly as I ordered. I keep Eyo’s plate and the bottle of wine to examine, but I doubt the food and bottle were poisoned as well. The more thorough the poisoning, the more likely someone could get caught.
As the servants carry out the place settings, I lift Eyo’s body onto the table. Then I set up two chairs.
I am sitting beside the corpse when the first servant walks in for questioning.
“Have a seat.” I point to the chair that I placed next to Eyo’s face.
Normally, I’d move a body to a discreet location, but I want the servants to sit near the victim as they answer me, in the event one of them colluded on the murder. Romlock has caused the veins on his face to become purple webs and his tongue to swell to the point that his mouth is open. It’s grotesque, but it should help me elicit the truth.
“Did you do this?” I ask.
“Gods, no.” The blond woman holds my stare as I look for a tell. Then she examines her hands. “Is this an interrogation?”
Fear flashes in her brown eyes as my reputation precedes me. Dismember, burn, and variously torture men under interrogation and you earn the mantle of brutal investigator, I suppose.
