Page 141 of Terror at the Gates

I threw the towel away and turned off the water. “Your mother’s scary,” I said. “I think she might be worse than mine.”

Her name was Marguerite. Her family came from money, having discovered oil in the Nara-Sin Desert almost sixty years ago. It was the wealth that had allowed her to marry into the Sanctius family, the same wealth that gave her a superiority complex.

“She hates me,” said Sienna. “I never do anything right. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t even try.”

I smiled a little. “I think you probably do many things right,” I said as I slipped on my gloves. “But you are a little too careless with the things you do wrong.”

I moved past her, heading for the door.

She followed. “What do you mean?”

I paused and looked at her. “A word from the wise,” I said. “If you’re going to be a rebel, be smart about it. Lock the door next time.”

I left the bathroom, pausing to run my hand over a wet spot on my dress, hoping it might dry faster, and smiled when I heard the lock click into place even as my chest tightened. It was possible I’d just failed her. She was young and impressionable, and her willful spirit could still be beaten out of her.

Maybe I should have told her to behave.

“There you are.”

I looked up as Macarius approached, brows drawn. I was confused because there was a familiarity to his words we didn’t have, considering I had just been introduced to him.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “Your father wants to speak to you.”

“Oh,” I said. Now I was even more confused. “He could have found me himself. I am sure you have better things to do.”

I also didn’t appreciate being approached right outside the bathroom.

Macarius smiled, but I got the sense that he only did so to be polite.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’d much rather fetch a beautiful woman than engage in polite conversation with a bunch of people I don’t like.”

I couldn’t decide if he was being sincere or just saying something he thought I wanted to hear. Maybe I just had trust issues.

“Thank you, Mr. Caiaphas,” I said and started down the hall.

“I’ll escort you,” he said, falling into step beside me.

“That really isn’t necessary,” I said, heading up the stairs, letting my hand rest on the cold rail of the banister. “This is my childhood home. I know well where I am going.”

“Of course,” he said. “I confess, I wanted an excuse to continue talking.”

“I’m not really all that interesting, Mr. Caiaphas.”

At least I didn’t want to be interesting to him.

“But you are,” he said. “I’d like to hear more about your time proselytizing in Nineveh.”

“There isn’t much I can say about it,” I replied.

“Really, after two years?” he asked. “You have nothing?”

I didn’t respond. He was annoying, and I really wanted him to go away.

“Could it be that instead of turning people toward God, you spent all your time with Zahariev Zareth?”

I glanced at him but didn’t let his question stall me. He wasn’t smiling, but I got the sense he was proud of himself for catching me in what he thought was a lie.

“Zahariev is a good friend,” I said.

---