My heart thuds because somehow I already know the truth—Mirial is the one who screamed, and Tor is about to confirm it. But I wait for the axe to drop, still holding on to the shred of hope that I am wrong. That even if Mirial, the only person who really knew me, was attacked, she survived.
Because my heart can’t bear the alternative.
He draws a deep breath, his armor rising, then closes his eyes for a long blink before opening them. “When I investigated the source of the scream we heard, I found a body on the terrace. It was Mirial Bauman.”
He speaks gently, but his words are razor-sharp and cut to my core.
My face goes numb, blood draining out of my cheeks. It was silly to think I could brace myself for this. It’s worse, so much worse for a thread of hope to snap. Mirial is dead. She was there for my first steps in the temple, my first words, my first pimple, my first heartbreak. My father trusted her with my very life, and so did I.
I’m trembling, numb, too shocked to even cry, grief a palpable thing in my veins.
According to Zel, she was here to protect me from these vipers. But why didn’t Mirial tell me she was here? Why did she secretly meet with Verhardt?
My heart drops at the thought that she might’ve been capable of murder, but no matter what the answers are, I have to know the whole truth about my friend.
And I must discover who killed her.
A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away.
“Did you…catch the person who did this?” I ask.
Torren sighs. “I didn’t. And I am so very sorry.”
Frustration and deadly fury waft off him, even though he had no duty to protect someone who snuck into the conclave. I feel the same urge as I did before—to help, to disclose that I am Elusian and the magic in my blood can provide us with answers, but I can’t tell him. Torren is attracted to me, as much as I am to him, but even with what we just did, I can’t reveal myself. With my father and Mirial dead, there’s no one left who I can trust. No one else can ever know the truth about me. But there is one thing I can do.
“Can you…can you bring me her body?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “Her body?”
“I want to see her and I…I have to divine whether she jumped, Torren. She was…troubled. Perhaps there is no one to catch.”
I hate having to lie about her, but she would’ve understood.
Torren closes his eyes and presses his lips together—the thought of suicide obviously not crossing his mind because it’s so unlikely. But as it is still a logical possibility, he nods.
“I can. But, Kera, her body… She fell from a great distance. You understand that there was significant damage. She will not look—”
He thinks I’m concerned with the trappings of godless death. I can’t think of anything that bothers me less. I have far greater concerns than gore, but it’s kind of him to think about how I’d react. These little unexpected moments crack my defenses around him and meld my heart to his.
“She was like a mother to me,” I say. This time I don’t have to lie. “I just want some time alone with her—to say goodbye.”
He swallows and sighs. “I can give you that much.”
Tor reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder, now a man again, not just the Praetorian. His warm palm takes the chill away. He hesitates, then he reaches up and strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch is firm, but also surprisingly gentle. I want to lean into his hand. I want to fall into his embrace again and let him take some of this pain away. But I hold still. I can’t have him, no matter how much I want him. It’s too dangerous. Mirial’s death is a stark reminder of how I can never be truly close to anyone again.
He lets his hand fall away, and it drops to his side.
“I’m very sorry, Kera. May the Underworld receive her.”
It’s far more respect than Mirial would’ve given him. My heart flutters and my muscles ache to take his hand, but there’s no room for that. Not now, not ever. I cannot be entangled with someone as perceptive as Torren. No matter what I desire, there are things that simply can’t be.
Not in this life.
“Thank you, Torren,” I say.
His eyes meet mine, searching, but I look away. He draws a sharp breath, the rejection landing.
“I’ll bring her to the tower.” He turns and leaves without another word.
