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“That I’m seen as a vamp-friendly Pythia, yeah.” I shrugged. “But it takes a little more than that. Half the senators aren’t convinced that I know what the hell I’m doing. It’s easy for them to imagine me being under Mircea’s thumb; it’s a little harder for them to believe I’m strong enough to be a real asset.”
“And without believing it, they’re bickering and feuding over leadership instead of doing anything about the war.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Typical.”
I didn’t say anything; from what I’d seen, Circle politics were no different, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. “Anyway, the point is that I’m better off where I am right now—”
“That’s debatable.”
“—but to be able to work with the Senate, I have to be accepted by them, and not as a servant. A servant takes orders; she doesn’t give them. But that’s sort of my job now, isn’t it?”
He looked at me with exasperated eyes, brilliantly green in the harsh lights of the diner. “The former holder of your office gave orders, and they were obeyed.”
“Were they?” I munched crust. It was slightly burnt on the bottom and chewy, with little dough bubbles here and there. Perfect. “How often did Agnes persuade the Senate to do something they didn’t want to do?”
“I’m sure there were any number of times.”
“Name one.”
He scowled.
“Yeah. They might have fiddled around a little, debating some issue they didn’t really give a damn about, and then let her think she’d had a victory. Particularly if they wanted something in return. But to actually give up part of their sovereignty to someone they viewed as being in the Circle’s back pocket?”
“The Pythia is supposed to be neutral.”
“Try telling that to a vamp.” I caught his hand as he reached for more red pepper flakes. “Seriously?”
“What?”
I nodded at his current piece of pizza, which was almost completely red—and not because of sauce. “You’re going to give yourself heartburn.”
“I don’t get heartburn.”
“What? Never?”
“No.”
I let him go. That was completely unfair. I ate antacids like they were candy.
“Anyway, we weren’t at war in Agnes’s reign, so it didn’t matter as much,” I said, digging a half-finished pack of Rolaids out of my shorts. “It does now.”
Pritkin cocked an eyebrow. “And you think that going out for the evening is going to make them respect you?”
“More than staying in would have.” I chewed a couple of tablets while he thought that over.
“It still sounds like something an enemy would do,” he said. “Pushing you, testing you—”
“An enemy would use the information to hurt me,” I pointed out. “Mircea would never do that. At least, he wouldn’t intend it that way. But burying me under a stack of guards, restricting who I can see, where I can go . . . it is hurting me.”
“It’s also safer,” Pritkin said,
looking sour. Probably because he was being forced to agree with a vampire.
“You can say that after the last few days?” I sat back against the seat. “Nowhere is safe. Nowhere has ever been safe. I’ll take reasonable precautions, even unreasonable ones sometimes. But I’m not going to live like a prisoner.”
“It’s only been two months—”
