Free Princeps' fury by Jim Butcher Page A

over the construction meant the view to reassure the Senators or to threaten them.”

    “Both, naturally,” Lady Placida replied. “Senators loyal to the Realm first can rest easy knowing that personally powerful, ambitious men will always be held accountable—and the ambitious receive the exact same message. I believe it was the original Gaius Secondus who constructed the Senatorium, and he—oh my.”

    Isana could not blame Lady Placida for breaking off in the midst of a sentence. For though the vastness of the Senatorium was generally more or less empty, hosting only the various retinues of the Senators and a few curious parties, allowed by law to watch the proceedings, that night was different.

    The Senatorium was filled to the top rows of its seats.

    The noise of the crowd was enormous—a sea of talk, a thunderstorm of murmurs. More than that, though, was the overwhelming emotion of those present. None of it was particularly sharp, but there were so many people there that the accumulated weight of all their low-intensity anxiety, curiosity, impatience, irritation, amusement, and too many others to name hit her like a sack of grain.

    Isana felt it when Lady Placida called upon her metalcrafting to shield her mind against the storm of emotions, and briefly wished that she could have done something similar—but she couldn’t. She simply ground her teeth for a moment, fighting back the surge of outside emotion, and found Araris’s hand beneath her arm, holding her steady, his calm concern a bedrock and a shelter against the tide that threatened her. She gave him a swift, grateful smile and, working from that solid point, methodically pushed away the other emotions to let them back in gradually, bit by bit, to give herself a chance to acclimate to them. Araris and Lady Placida stood on either side of her, patiently waiting for her to adjust to the environment.

    “All right,” she said, a moment later, as other Citizens continued to file in. “I’m better, Araris.”

    “Best we take our seats,” Lady Placida murmured. “The Crown Guard is beginning to arrive. The First Lord will be here any moment.”

    They descended to the rows of box seats just above the Senate floor. While not specifically, legally granted to the High Lords, it was well understood who would be occupying those seats, and tradition had long since established which High Lord would occupy which box in the Senatorium at the infrequent assemblies of both the Senate and lords.

    The seats for Lord and Lady Placida were situated above the places of the Senators from the areas governed by Citizens beholden to them. Lady Placida took a few moments to descend to the Senate floor, exchanging greetings with several people, while Isana and Araris sat down in the box.

    “Lady Veradis?” Isana asked, recognizing the young woman in the box beside theirs.

    The serious, pale-haired young healer, daughter of the High Lord of Ceres, turned to them at once, and offered Isana a grave nod. She was notably alone in her father’s section, and seemed all the more slender and frail for the open space around her. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

    “Please, call me Isana. We know one another better than that.”

    The young woman gave her a fleeting smile. “Of course,” she said. “Isana. I am glad to see you well. Good evening, Sir Araris.”

    “Lady,” Araris said quietly, bowing his head. He glanced around the empty box, and said, with perfectly bland understatement, “You seem less well attended than I would expect you to be.”

    “With excellent reason, sir,” Veradis said, returning her attention to the Senate floor. “As I trust will be made clear shortly.”

    Isana settled back, frowning, and studied the seating behind the High Lord’s boxes in general, where the visiting Lords and Counts as a rule settled in behind their own patrons. Behind Lord Aquitaine’s box, for example, was a sizeable contingent of finely dressed Citizenry,