Page 11 of Blood Sanctuary, Part Two

The Dexion took a seat and poured himself a glass of Hesperine wine. He lifted the goblet to his nose and breathed. Then he set it away from him.

Corks popped all around them, and every flask of wine in the entire hall began to spill its contents. Cassia was the only person who did not jump.

Chrysanthos watched the massacre of dark red wine stain the white silk tablecloth and pour over the tile. “My nephew is three years old. Too young to have any memories of his father—my brother.” He gave them a cold smile. His injuries made the expression macabre. “My brother has been in his grave less than a year, and the boy’s mother struggles to raise him alone. I do what I can for my nephew, but within the walls of a temple, I am frequently out of reach.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Cassia said in the silence.

“It is the Hesperines who should be sorry,” said Chrysanthos. “By the time they were done with my brother, there was little more left of him than of the Hesperine errant you saw tonight. I would ask Queen Soteira where her people’s compassion for mortals was when Hesperines deprived a mother and child of my brother. I would ask any man here if the Hesperines who murdered him do not deserve to burn on Anthros’s pyre.”

Cassia had no reply to that. To such grief, such blind hate, she could make no argument.

She’d had no idea. This was the enemy she and Lio faced. Not just an Aithourian. One with a deep, personal grudge against Hesperines, wrought by loss.

She had no doubt Chrysanthos was somehow mistaken. But that didn’t matter. He blamed the Hesperines for his brother’s death.

The Dexion didn’t seem to notice the wine that had splashed onto his robes. “That is why I am here. For my brother. You would all do well to remember why you came, as well.”

With that, he stood and quit the hall.

BLESSED TRAITORS

When Cassia slipped outto the courtyard, she told herself she was not surrendering. She had done all she could to strengthen the embassy’s faith in the Hesperines despite Chrysanthos’s condemnation. If she said anything more, it would be too obvious whose side she was on.

There wasn’t any more she could do. The damage was done.

Chrysanthos hadn’t even explained the circumstances of his brother’s death. It didn’t seem to matter. His emotional speech had taken root in the men’s minds and given fruition to all sorts of doubts, speculation, and second thoughts.

Cassia took refuge among the Sanctuary roses, only to discover she was not alone. So this was where Benedict had disappeared to. He sat on a bench by the fountain with his elbows propped on his knees, contemplating the amulet of Andragathos in his hands.

“Forgive me for interrupting your solitude,” said Cassia. “I shall bid you good night and proceed to my rooms.”

He looked up. “Not at all, Your Ladyship. No need to go inside on my behalf.”

She had yet to ascertain how he had taken Chrysanthos’s declaration. Was there still hope of keeping Benedict on her side? Against all odds, it might yet be possible to sway him by appealing to his conscience. There had to be a chance. She could not afford to lose Benedict.

In fact, it would hurt to lose him. It would hurt not just her plans, but also…her.

“May I join you, then?” she asked.

“Of course, Your Ladyship.” He looked in the direction of her rooms.

Through the glass, Perita and Callen were visible inside. Apparently satisfied as to propriety, Benedict moved over to make room for Cassia on the bench.

She sat down next to him. “Does Andragathos offer you any clarity of mind regarding tonight’s events?”

He shook his head. “I am no more certain of the Hesperines’ motivations than any other man here. Or woman.”

She waited to see if he would say more. But he sat in silence with her, worrying his amulet between his fingers.

“When Master Gorgos tries to teach us a lesson on guilt, he exhorts the Scions, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed,” Benedict said without expression. “I know all about how much better it is to die than to live in shame.”

“You and I do know. Yet neither of us has lain down and died yet, have we?”

“That would be a poor way to repay those who let us live.”

“‘Let us live,’ you say, as if we did not already have a right to. Do you really believe that? Will you really sit here and think any human would be better off dead than restored to life by Hesperines? That you and I would be better off dead, because my mother was a concubine and your father a traitor?”

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