He pulls out a crumpled white robe lined with gold. It’s balled in his fist, but it’s clearly from my temple. “I found this.”
I tilt my head as I touch the edge, confusion crashing into me. “Where?”
“By the kitchens.”
That makes no sense. I shake my head. “What was it doing there?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
So he did seek me out. He noticed the light in the library because he was already looking for me. But I have larger issues than him stalking me. Why was there a temple robe anywhere near the kitchens? And why does he have it?
Now that he’s out of the shadows, I can see his eyes. They’re troubled. We’re allegedly allies now, yet he keeps me at arm’s length.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask.
He parts his lips, but then his expression closes off and he shrugs. “I just found it highly unusual for one of your robes to be lying on the floor. I thought I’d return it, since I’m sure you need it.”
“I appreciate the thought, but it’s not one of mine,” I say.
Surprise flashes on his face, and he tips his chin. “This is a robe from the temple of truth, is it not?”
We wear white, justices sit in black, and the temple of protection is cloaked in bloodred. There’s no chance of mistaking robes.
“It looks to be, but it’s not a High Priestess robe. Mine are embroidered with the eternal flame and the sword of knowledge. This is plain.” I point to the solid gold of the hem. “It’s a standard priest’s robe.”
His jaw moves like he’s physically chewing over my words, his gaze tight on me. He’s dancing around something.
“Did you actually find it by the kitchens?” I ask.
He nods. “I did.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand why it would even be at Jubilee. Maybe former priests left it behind. Or I can ask Zel if she accidentally packed the wrong robe, but I don’t know why she would and then how it would get there…”
I trail off because once again it feels like I’m far behind in a game of bock. And I’m so tired of this feeling. First the murders, then the Senate coup, and now this.
“Swear it, Kerasea,” the Praetorian says.
What?I blink.
He leans closer to me. “Swear on your god that the robe isn’t yours and you don’t know why it’s here at the conclave.”
I narrow my eyes because I don’t know why he needs this, but he looks desperate for my oath. His gaze is intense, and the veins on his neck pulse. Still, I hesitate. I don’t take swearing on the god lightly because using the divine’s name in vain is a good way to get burned.
“I need to know it’s real,” the Praetorian says, stepping toward me. “If we are to remain allies.”
It’s a striking admission—he can’t tell when I’m lying. But it’s difficult to focus on anything aside from how near he is. Warmth radiates from his chest even though he smells like snow. His sapphire eyes shine as they stare at only me. His gaze is like a beam of moonlight.
I swallow hard, but I raise two fingers and sign in the air. “I swear on the god of truth that this robe is not mine and that I have no idea why it is at Jubilee.”
He holds still but then slowly nods. Instead of looking relieved, he only seems more troubled.
“Are you going to tell me what it is you suspect I did?” I ask.
His eyes flash with respect, then he presses his lips together. “I was attacked tonight. By someone wearing this.”
“What?” The word carries, echoing in the enormous library. I lower my voice. “What do you mean, ‘attacked’? When?”
I scan him for wounds, cuts, but it’s hard to tell with him wearing a black suit. I don’t see any bleeding, though. My heart pounds, but it’s only because I’m so shocked.
