Let's Kill Caesar

29: Politicians are Puzzles

The silence didn't last long. Not when a billion questions swirled around Endymion's head. It was a rare occasion when Alma Cicero sought divine guidance. Or whatever plan the she-devil had concocted. Cato steered them through the entanglement of temples, car jerking with each poorly calculated turn.

They passed the glittering sanctuary of Venus, the storm-grey stone of Jupiter, the marble frescos of Minerva. Endymion's body grew more stiff with each temple they cruised by. Who the fuck are we praying to?

He glanced back at Cicero, fear glistening in his eyes. Alma only smiled in her odd way and spread her legs like an obnoxious man. Endymion wrinkled his nose and turned away.

"Almost there," Cato said cheerfully, giving his cousin's shoulder a brotherly whack.

Endymion didn't answer, the weight of the phone in his pocket all too there. No doubt Pompey and Atticus would have seen Cassiel's slander by now. It sickened him to imagine the replies.

Endymion, the rogue ally. Swayed by a bottle of good wine and Bastian's pretty face. 'No better than the ever-defiant Greek diplomats.' Endymion could picture the headlines. BRUTUS TAKES A LITTLE FALL AND TRIPS INTO BETRAYAL. He was lucky Antony hadn't mentioned anything more than his drunken stupidity.

"Gaia to Brutus!"

He blinked as Cato slapped his arm. Endymion wet his lips, stomach weak. "Huh?"

Alma thrust open her door and answered, "We've arrived. Get up."

Endymion nodded dazedly and sluggishly staggered out of the car. His tongue was rough as sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. Just focus on Alma. The gods answered his prayer that very moment. Cicero snatched his phone from his pocket and slipped it into her own. The woman offered him a kind smile. "Damage control, Brutus."

His eyes followed hers to the small temple across the grassy path. Endymion's jaw dropped a little as he read the golden latin. DISCORDIA. The Greek's scorned Eris.

He flung his head toward the awaiting senators, eyes wide as they could fucking go. "You want to do damage control here?"

Cicero nodded cheerfully, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Her tongue cut the air as she purred, "Each of them have their uses. Besides, is it your plan to end up like Paris of Troy?"

Endymion looked from Alma to the temple of strife and back again. "No, but-"

"That's what I thought. Useless babble."

He balked as Cato grabbed his left hand tightly and led Endymion forward like a contemplative mule. He was tempted to dig in his heels, tear the lunatics off him and run for the sanctuary of Minerva or Juno. Literally anywhere else.

Discordia's haven had to be the smallest temple on the Capitoline. There's a reason for that. Rome took great caution with spirits such as she. It was the reason Bacchus had been leashed; rumours of terrible rites in the strange festival Bacchanalia had the great shrines and temples destroyed or abandoned.

There were still spaces in Rome for deities such as the Wine god. There had to be. They had to keep peace somehow.

So here was the temple of strife herself. Paris's and later Troy's destruction. Or so the histories told. 

"Stop staring at it like a codfish, get inside."

Cicero shook her head and gave Endymion a hard shove inside. The younger senator hissed, sneakers stubbing against the marble. A deep cold imaginary finger scratched from between his shoulders down to his tailbone. 

Endymion's mouth parted a little. "This isn't what I expected..."

Alma laughed and did a spin, glasses glinting in the light of a single brazier. "Did you really think a temple would be something just thrown together, even for one such as Strife?"

Endymion blushed, tucking loose hair behind his ears. "I guess I didn't think of it like that."

He had imagined a bare stone room with a piddly altar. Even now Rome continued to surprise him. Tall shining pillars of pentelikon marble lined the walls, sparkling sheer black curtains falling between them. The delicate fabric caught on the lightest breeze and danced like shades in the daylight. 

"I didn't know this existed; I never thought of it I suppose."

"Few do."

Cicero glided past, beelining for the glistening statue looming before the furthest wall. Cato said nothing, wore only a coy smile as he took Endymion's arm. The light touch reminded Endymion of what they were here for. He balked, bile rising as the words snapped into his focus for another time. Let's just say Brutus had a few too many...

"Whoa, whoa." Cato caught him by the armpits and carefully sat Endymion down, keeping a strong arm around his chest. 

Pain bloomed in the back of his head. Endymion screwed his eyes shut, gulping down the bitterness. His cousin let out a sigh and grabbed his face. Endymion winced as Iovita's nails dug into his cheeks. "Cato-"

"Open your eyes and look at me."

Endymion shook his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. I can't. I can't realise this is real. He choked weakly, tried to break away. Cato held fast. "Please..."

"Open your eyes."

Another set of arms wrapped around him. Cicero's hair tickled his face as she wrapped him in her warmth. Endymion shuddered as Cato ordered again, "Open your eyes!"

The moment they flung open tears flowed. Endymion let out a hopeless sob as Iovita held his gaze, face so strong. Cato's thumbs brushed away the tears as he hissed, "Don't act like it's over Endymion. Don't act like it's okay. They humiliated you."

He frowned. "They?"

Cicero chuckled, pity on her face. "You don't believe Bastian know nothing of it - they are betrothed."

Endymion shoved Iovita away before keeling over and gagging up burning spit. His tongue stung as the sick trickled out. Cato cursed and a pair of warm, small hands grabbed his shoulders. 

"Bast..." Endymion could hardly speak, utterly dumbstruck. Cicero lowered him to his knees as long drawn-out shudders travelled from his neck to his hips. Am I that blind? 

Endymion saw Bast's downcast eyes, the strange cold detatchment. What had he said? Endymion mouthed his own words and the memory sluggishly resurfaced. "I still don't believe it. You know that."

Bastain's words cut deeper than the first time. But maybe you should?

Endymion shook his head, tears streaming from his eyes. Something in his voice tore as he gasped, "You couldn't have."

Cato and Cicero shuffled to crouch in front of him, mouths drawn in harsh lines. Cato sighed and pressed a finger to his temple. "Endymion, there's a reason why I told you to stay away."

"No." Endymion shook his head violently, breath ragged. "He would have told me, stopped Antony!"

Alma reached out and cupped his chin gently, silver eyes glistening with pity. Her voice was strong as the sea as she said, "You and I both know what the truth is Brutus. As much as it might hurt."

"That's the game." Cato stuffed his hands into his pockets, face grim. "Get used to it cousin. They'll raze you to the ground before this season ends."

Endymion wiped his face, still shaking his head. He expected Cicero to jump in, say it was an exaggeration. But she added, "So we'll teach you to put yourself back together."

Cato nodded. "Politicians are puzzles."