The girl starts breathing like a rabbit, completely undone by one question. She shakes terribly, and notably, she wasn’t this nervous when I questioned her about Antinous or Eyo.
Kerasea reaches out and rests a hand on the girl’s arm again. “It’s all right, Zel. Just respond honestly and everything will be fine.”
Zel nods but still fidgets, not looking at me. “I left for dinner and to undress the High Priestess. That is all.”
My mind shifts at the words “undress” and “High Priestess” in the same sentence. But I push aside thoughts of Kerasea naked.
“Do you have other robes in this room?” I ask. “High Priestess’s or otherwise?”
Zel shakes her head. “All the ones we have are hanging in the High Priestess’s wardrobe.”
I look at each of them in turn. If they are both telling the truth, then this is yet another attempt to frame Kerasea for murder.
But why go to the lengths of attacking me just to frame her? An attack on the Praetorian is an attack on the Senate. It is treason and attempted murder. Someone would need a compelling reason to take that risk.
Suddenly, my mind races. UnlessIwasn’t the target.
The memory of standing outside in the snow, arguing with Julian plays in my mind. He was in even thinner clothes than I was, and likely would have succumbed to the frost first.
Was he the real target?
Molten panic pours down my back as I think it through.
Julian is well liked, but he voted in a single resolution and that was to proceed with the conclave. His vote, like Kerasea’s abstention, ultimately robbed Senators Paolo and Foreau of power. What if the dagger wasn’t aimed at me? Did one of them try to kill Julian and frame Kerasea?
Something about the idea sinks its claws into me. A blade thrown, Julian dead or wounded, and I’d find the temple robe. Instead of continuing in my alliance with the High Priestess, I’d pursue her relentlessly and follow the clues left for the other murders as well.
Maybe the High Priestess isn’t the only one in danger. Maybe Julian is, too.
And he’s alone now, searching for the assailant.
“Excuse me, please,” I say, standing.
Both Kerasea and Zel stare at me.
“Lock up the remaining robes, then bar your doors—and this time actually stay in your rooms until breakfast,” I add. “Do not leave under any circumstances.”
I wait, looking at Kera, who slowly drops her head into a nod, then I grab the doorknob, nearly knocking over a variety of items on the bureau in my rush to leave. Julian is alone on the ground floor because I sent him there. I have to find him.
I only pray he’s still alive when I do.
XXXVII.
Kerasea
The door slams shut and Zel shudders—as well she should. She just lied to the Praetorian, and I need to know why. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she was not in her room all night. But I wasn’t about to give her lie away in front of Torren.
Once he put on his armor, any softness in his features vanished, and he became the dreaded Praetorian once more. As we walked into Zel’s room, his gaze sharpened on her. She became a suspect. While I could shield her from investigation at the temple, I can’t here. If he found evidence at Jubilee, he could torture her, even over my objections.
And then, just as he was closing in on her, he left, fleeing so quickly that a sea of questions built in his wake.
I stare at the teacup he almost knocked over. It sits innocuously on the corner of her dresser, next to some used plates and silverware, in a terra-cotta mug.
“Since when did you begin drinking tea, Zel?” I ask.
She has wrinkled her nose, calling it “leaf water,” whenever her parents urged her to take a cup at our communal meals.
“Oh…um, we have to rise so early for the conclave.” She rubs her finger and thumb together, and it’s all I can do not to sigh at such an obvious tell. It’s how I knew she was lying about staying in her room.
