Читать книгу An Ember in the Ashes - Sabaa Tahir, Sabaa Tahir - Страница 21

Hours after I’m named an Aspirant, I dutifully stand beside Grandfather in his cavernous foyer to greet guests arriving for my graduation party. Though Quin Veturius is seventy-seven years old, women blush when he looks them in the eye, and men wince when he deigns to shake their hands. The lamplight paints his thick mane of white hair gold, and the way he towers over everyone else, the way he nods at those entering his home, makes me imagine a falcon watching the world from an updraught.

By eighth bell, the mansion is packed with the finest Illustrian families, along with a few of the wealthiest Mercators. The only Plebeians are the stable hands.

My mother wasn’t invited.

‘Congratulations, Aspirant Veturius,’ a moustached man who might be a cousin says as he shakes my hand in both of his, using the title the Augurs bestowed on me during graduation. ‘Or should I say, your Imperial Majesty.’ The man dares to meet Grandfather’s gaze with an obsequious grin. Grandfather ignores him.

It’s been like this all night. People whose names I don’t know are treating me as if I’m their long-lost son or brother or cousin. Half of them probably are related to me, but they’ve never bothered acknowledging my existence before this.

The bootlickers are interspersed with friends – Faris, Dex, Tristas, Leander – but the person I wait most impatiently for is Helene. After I took the oath, the families of the graduates flooded the field, and she was swept away in a tide of Gens Aquilla before I had a chance to speak to her.