Page 27 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

Renatus.

He sat at the head of the table, alluring as ever as he gazed at them over the candlelight. His almost-white hair gleamed in the warm glow, eyes hooded, watching Vita like a predator lying in wait.

With a smile, he nodded to the group as Aurora escorted Vita to the place on his right. The Praetor hurried to sit at the High Consul’s other side, leaving his wife to mingle with Aurora on the far end of the too-big table.

“High Consul, what a pleasure it is to be here at the palace again,” Amulius simpered, bowing awkwardly as his wife and Vita followed suit with curtsies.

The High Consul didn’t speak at first, but leisurely turned his gaze to the Praetor with a shrewd smile.

“The pleasure is all mine. Please,” he said, gesturing to the table filled with herbed meats, potatoes, warm bread, and red wine. “Partake in my feast. I insist.”

Amulius shuffled to sit and Vita did the same, aware of how fast her heart was beating, so near to the High Consul once more. She made an effort to keep her eyes on her plate, though she could sense an ardent gaze prickling the skin on her neck as she picked at her food.

The High Consul almost seemed bored as he spoke to her employer, and Vita caught his glance more than once. She listened intently, trying to note any important information, though her nerves made it difficult to hold on to anything.

“Vita, darling, have you been a good girl today?”

She swallowed a gulp of wine as the High Consul spoke to her, his voice soft like velvet. Her goblet clinked as she set it back on the table and turned to meet his gaze. His lips were curled into a sneer, his chin resting on slender fingers as if he awaited the most interesting answer in the world.

“Yes, High Consul,” she said, eyes wide.

What was this? Was he going to tell Amulius about last night? Had the kiss been a cruel joke, the assurances that he’d protect her from her employer a lie? Gods, she hoped he didn’t know Drusus or Verian’s names. Maybe they could be spared punishment.

She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the Praetor to see his reaction, but could imagine that he would not be pleased by the way this conversation was going.

“Of course you have,” the High Consul purred, his eyes never leaving hers.

The room was silent for a few long moments before he tore his gaze away, glancing around the table.

“If everyone is satisfied, Praetor, I would appreciate it if we spoke in my office.”

Amulius muttered an answer as he stood up to follow. Before they reached the door, the High Consul flicked his shiny hair over his shoulder and looked back at the table.

“Come along, Vita, I would like to speak with you too.”

She was compelled to stand, no longer in control of her limbs. A servant, a short woman with pointed ears, ushered her to the High Consul. He gave Vita a mischievous smile as he linked his arm through hers and placed his free hand on her elbow. His touch was icy, like the stone floor of a dungeon, sending a shiver through her body as he led the way through the empty halls.

His office was posh, each wall lined with a bookshelf extending to the ceiling. Dusty tomes filled the shelves, along with baubles and curios Vita would have liked to get a closer look at if she weren’t so frightened. He sat down at an enormous wooden desk covered with a golden rose motif and gestured to two chairs.

Vita glanced around the room as she sat, wondering what she was doing here. The Praetor seemed to be wondering the same thing, furrowed brows betraying his concern.

The High Consul finally spoke, as if reading their minds.

“Praetor. I’m sure you’d like to know why you’re here.”

“I am, High Consul, though of course it is a pleasure to spend any time in your presence.”

Amulius gave him a pompous smile, his specialty.

“There’s no easy way to say it, but Vita will not be traveling home with you tonight. She will be staying here.”

Staying? She would be staying? What the Hells did that mean?

She held her hands in her lap, trying not to give in to the tremors that so badly wanted to shake her body. She supposed she should be grateful that she wasn’t feeling a… no.

Best not to put words to it, in case that manifested one into existence.

“I beg your pardon, High Consul?”

---