But as the moments pass, curiosity gets the better of me, because I’m not certain thatwasthe Praetorian. Torren Morvane should be dressed in armor, andthatman, although he was tall with broad shoulders, is wearing a finely tailored suit. I can only hope some horrible accident befell Torren today. Otherwise, I have to hope that the Council will refuse to reappoint him at the conclave this week.
But that seems as likely as Verhardt not being reelected as Senate Leader a twentieth time.
I move the curtain just an inch, and the man turns his head, revealing the chiseled features and arrogant forehead I know all too well. Torren is a shade or two darker than my pale white skin, but his features are accentuated by sapphire blue eyes. He’s as handsome as he is fearsome, which is no small accomplishment. Being dressed in cloth makes him look like a man instead of a bronze statue.
I’m not sure which I prefer less.
The Praetorian is twenty-five and, like myself, he stands high on the bones of those who came before him. Torren was appointed after he tracked down and dismembered the man who murdered the last Praetorian. I suppose I know better than anyone that no one ever climbs this high with their hands clean.
I leave the curtain closed for the remainder of the short ride to the altar of peace. Too quickly, the bearers come to a stop and set the palanquin on the ground. I take a breath. It’s time. I can do this. I can perform my act for the night. It doesn’t matter who is here.
The curtains part, and I slip my legs out, my glass-and-silver shoes tapping on the stone. A hand reaches down to help me stand. I place my fingers into the warm, rough palm, and an unexpected calmness washes over me.
As I rise out of the litter, I find that it’s not Senator Verhardt holding my hand but the Praetorian. My breath catches. As soon as our eyes meet, he drops his hand and I pull my arm away. His gaze flits to my dress, and he steps to the side, his lip curling.
Gods. I should’ve stayed in my robes, but my chambermaids convinced me that I should wear something befitting this night of sin.
My hands shake, but I keep my head high and even smile at the Praetorian. He nods and gestures for me to take my seat, as if he’s a gentleman.
I suppose we’re both acting tonight.
But we do as we must. The Verity Guild needs to present a united front, especially with the tribunal convening soon. The man accused is the nephew of a senator, and the capital has been abuzz about this case for weeks.
Once I am in place, Senator Verhardt glances at me and then stands. Only the tick in his jaw muscle gives away his annoyance at my tardiness. He’s wearing an expensive silver suit the same color as his hair, a choice I’m sure was intentional. This man does everything with purpose.
Verhardt walks to the edge of the platform and extends his arms. “Welcome, my people of Pryor!”
His gravelly voice booms, and the capital crowd cheers. Verhardt smiles, soaking it in.
“Tonight, on the twentieth anniversary of the birth of the republic, of the Senate Council risking our very souls to deliver the realm from the tyranny of monarchs, we celebrate!”
The crowd roars. I try to picture him as a younger man, hiding a dagger, sweating and shaking, waiting with six other senators to stab the king in the back on the Senate floor, but I can’t imagine it. I’ve always known him as the most powerful man in Pryor.
“We celebrate an end to rulers who think themselves gods and, instead, revel in the installment of leaders selected from you, by you, who serveyou, the people. For twenty years, we have prospered, seven provinces coming together as one republic. May Pryor have centuries more freedom than she suffered oppression. May the gods continue to shine their favor on our great nation.”
He pauses and glances at the dais. My stomach knots under his stare.
“Justice and truth led us from a tyrannical realm to a free republic of equals. Tonight, we ask the High Priestess of the temple of truth to light the way of the Revelry.”
That’s my cue. I stand and take my place next to Verhardt, the gold of my dress flowing like water around me. The Senate Leader has known me since I was a baby, but he still eyes my plunging neckline and curves. Ignoring the turn of my stomach, I focus on my role. He remains in the center, a position of unquestioned power, so I’m forced to stand to his left.
The crowd hushes, and I slowly climb down the stairs and then walk to the drained fountain in the center of the Forum. A temple guard holds a torch out for me, and I light the bale of straw in the basin. As it flames to life, I breathe a sigh of relief. My job is done for tonight.
I hand the torch back to the guard but then lock eyes with the boy I helped earlier. His face breaks into a wide smile.
“Hail High Priestess, the heart of our nation!” he yells out.
After a moment of complete silence, the crowd around me erupts in screams and cheers. The mob roars louder than they did for Senator Verhardt as they chant “heart of our nation.”
I glance at the altar and catch the Praetorian’s stare. He quirks an eyebrow.
Verhardt is also looking at me. I incline my head to the Senate Leader, but I don’t miss how his brown eyes narrow, as if he’s reevaluating whether I’m a threat. I’ve heard the stories—ever since the rise of the republic, Verhardt has ruthlessly eliminated all competition. There are even thoughts that he had his own son killed, although I don’t believe that. His eldest child merely succumbed to a deadly fever that swept through the capital a dozen years ago.
Verhardt says the senators are chosen of and by the people, but after they killed the king, the Senate appointed themselves for life. There aren’t elections unless one dies, so I have to make this right or he will outlast me.
Once I return to the altar, I turn dramatically and gesture to him. I bow at my waist with my leg forward and a hand over my heart. The people cheer again, but this time for him, for the Faith submitting to the Council. Verhardt’s thin lips turn up in a grin, and he gives me an almost imperceptible nod.
The tension defused for now, I retake my seat, trying not to tremble. Both Mirial and my father told me to be careful with Verhardt. Father called the Senate Council a pit of vipers and said the role of the temple is that of a snake charmer. I must be on my guard, be friendly but never friends. Trusted but never trusting.
