“You want to protect the cook’s family,” I whisper.
Torren swallows hard. “Yes.”
My heart squeezes. This is a completely different man than the one I thought I knew. This is who Julian is friends with, who the sentries admire and Hadrian respects. I see it now.
I see him.
This is the moment to tell him that I never intended for him to lose everything, but what do I even say?I’m sorry for what happeneddoesn’t quite cut it. Not this many years later.I understandmight work, but Idon’ttruly understand—I’ll never be able to get my mind around having everything taken from you overnight when you did nothing wrong.I didn’t mean to laughseems far beyond the point.
I bite my lip at having nothing good to say.
“I could have you removed for lying to the Senate, you know,” I murmur.
Well, that wasn’t on the list, yet he looks relieved. Perhaps he also wants to let the past lie.
Tor shrugs. “You won’t. We have an alliance, remember?”
There’s that smile again. He stares at me and shifts closer, or maybe I moved in—it’s hard to tell. The draw to him is undeniable. I stare down at the pools of the frigidarium, finding them suddenly very interesting. I need to do anything other than look at him.
Tor reaches out and places his thumb under my chin. Gently, he raises my face so I have no choice.
Why does something light up inside me when he touches me? Why do I want him closer when it’s the worst thing for me?
He stares into my eyes and then at my mouth. My lips part. He’s going to kiss me, and I think I might want it. But then, as my eyes drift closed, he backs away. “I’ll get you the body after supper.”
Thrown by how he cooled off, I’m about to ask what happened. I open my mouth, but then a movement catches my eye. I whip my head to the side. He turns to see what I’m looking at just as the shadow shifts.
Someone was listening in. We were so lost in whatever this is between us that we didn’t notice.
Underworld.
He and I exchange glances, and then he runs.
XLII.
Torren
I’d hang whoever designed this palace by their ankles if they weren’t long dead. There’s no clean line of sight as I run out of the frigidarium. I race through the changing room and then the entry hall of the baths, but the door swings open to the palace before I can get a look at who it was.
Curse the Elusians’ grave.
Someone was eavesdropping on Kera and me. Someone may have heard that I suspect the Senate murdered the cook, could have seen how close I was to taking the High Priestess in my arms and kissing her.
I need to find them and silence them—no matter who it was.
My sword bangs against my hip as I enter the hallway off the baths. I look to the left and to the right, but there is no one. The halls are empty.
Son of a jackal.
Someone is either hiding in one of the servant rooms, the armory, or they made it to the stairs.
Footsteps sound around the corner. I back up a step as I grab my sabine, silently pull my sword, and hope the person mistimed their reappearance. I swing back to strike just as an old servant woman comes around the corner. She grabs her chest and falls against the wall, dropping a basket of knitting as I halt my motion.
I stop the sword just in time.
“Where are you coming from?” I ask.
“The kitchens…s-sir,” she stammers.
