This Monster of Mine

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was still black when she opened her eyes. She wondered why her head hurt. Then, memory returned and terror with it. He’d drugged her drink. She’d taken a sip only because he was watching, and it had doomed her.

Whisper-soft legs skittered across her skin. She jumped with a muffled shriek and froze. There was a weight over her mouth. Thick and tight.

Panicking, she reached out to claw at the dark, but restraints knotted her hands and ankles. Wood pressed against her knees, softened by cloth. A wardrobe. She threw herself at the walls, silently pleading for a crack that she could prize wider. Finding a hinge, she leveraged her feet to push harder. The door wobbled but stayed put. He must have tied the door handles together on the outside.

Sounds penetrated her struggling. She shrank back as a door creaked open. Footsteps entered the room, a group of men judging by their voices. One approached the closet, purposeful strides ticking like seconds on a water clock. He stopped before the doors.

Gods save me.

Sarai’s eyes flew open to utter black. Not again. She struggled against the sheets, throwing them off to sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, blinking back tears.

Another one. Too vivid to be a dream, laced with the same sharp panic that characterized her memories of the Fall .

Wiping her eyes, Sarai snatched a piece of parchment and jotted down everything she remembered. A wardrobe, a man, a drugged drink . She paused. Restraints . She grimly glanced at her swollen wrist from Harion’s attack hours earlier and sucked her lower lip between her teeth, her theory solidifying. The healer who’d repaired her skull had snippily informed her that severe head trauma often resulted in permanent amnesia, but perhaps that wasn’t a rule. The rest of her memories could be waiting for the right key.

The walls of her room seemed to draw closer, darkness caging her in. She unlocked the door and walked along the mezzanine.

Below, the tablinum was dark—a rarity, seeing as Kadra seemed to work every hour of the day. The robes hung by the door indicated that he was home. Elbows propped on the railing, she inhaled low and slow, finding peace in the silence. In the knowledge that he was only a few yards away and that nothing could touch her within Aoran Tower without his say-so. Nothing but him .

Neither the drugging nor the restraining seemed like something Kadra would do. Which left the Metals Guild, who had means, opportunity, and power. The only questions left were why—and how the hells she was to get more information when their investigation was at a standstill given that Livia’s mother’s whereabouts were still unknown. The trail of evidence for older Petitor deaths had long grown cold. I can’t hold the illusion long enough to visit the Hall of Records .

Several yards away, a bed creaked. She glanced toward Kadra’s bedroom and silently bolted toward hers. Going to shut the door, she halted on impulse and left a gap, peering through.

He emerged knotting a dressing robe over that godsforsaken muscular chest. Instead of heading downstairs, however, he sat on the uppermost step. The dull thunk of glass meeting ground, and he raised a wine bottle to his mouth, drinking deep, staring ahead.

He can’t sleep , she realized. It was strange seeing him like this, man not monster, roughly carved out in the moonlight. She hated that she found his too-stern features beautiful. That she wanted to know where else he could touch her when her body had proven that it wouldn’t panic if he did.

She hated that she wanted him.

For weeks, she’d held on with iron will whenever they argued, whenever he dipped his head toward her, eyes alight with amusement or cunning, and whenever the rich timbre of his voice had shaped her name. But the desire frothed within her, as hungry as vengeance and far more foolish. He was a Tetrarch and a killer. And she was a patchwork creature.

She withdrew from the door, ignoring the burn in her throat. Sitting at her desk, she lit a candle and read petition after petition for hours. And when the man she shouldn’t crave knocked at her door, she could almost convince herself that she felt nothing.

Half a day later, she tottered out of the marketplace and wondered if this was all there was to her life now. Court, a blur of names and accusations, and more petition-reading. Harion, Anek, and Cisuré hadn’t detailed the minutiae of their workdays, but the former two seemed to have significantly more free time than she did if they’d been gathering information on her to boot.

After the previous night’s fiasco with her illusion, she’d reduced it to cover only visible skin instead of her entire body. A quick look at her armilla showed that she had a couple hours left before her magic sank low. Not enough to visit the Hall of Records, but perhaps enough to see another Quarter.

Glancing over to where Kadra was giving his vigiles some directive or the other, she hopped on Caelum. Gaius spotted her and frowned. Miming that he should tell Kadra that she was leaving, she raced off before he could protest.

Kadra’s Quarter bordered Tullus’s to the north and Cassandane’s to the west. The marketplace they’d just adjudicated in had been in the north, so she went farther that way, until she entered an ivory-bannered public square. Dismounting, she tied Caelum to a post.

Coin pouch pleasantly full from her wages, she took a turn about the shops, examining bejeweled fabrics, ribbons for the end of her braid, polished leather boots, and a place that had her halting before the doors, grinning from ear to ear. A bookseller.

She stepped inside, the day’s stresses falling away at the mix of aromas: cedar-scented leather tomes, pinewood, cinnabar, burnt resin from the ink bottles lining the back of the shop, and the clean sweetness of linen thread. Cross-legged by one of the shelves, the proprietor glanced at her and smiled.

“Here’s a surprise,” the woman said, setting aside the books she’d been shelving. “Been a good while since I last had a Petitor visit. What can I do for you?”

She didn’t have a clue. “I’m open to anything. I haven’t seen so many books before.”

“Well, this is going to be a treat.” Before Sarai could think, the bookseller was steering her by the shoulders. “I’ve a bit of everything. The history annals are here.” She indicated books as wide as their combined heads. “The city’s in no shortage of poets. We have more than we know what to do with. The religious texts and annotated editions of the Codices are toward the back. If it’s politics and philosophy you’re after, they’re over by the inkwells. And the romances”—she stopped before a bookshelf that, at first glance, was pure chaos—“are here.”

Sarai studied the sea of volumes, their fabrics every shade under the sun. At thirteen, Cisuré had managed to sneak enough coin from Marus to purchase a romance. They’d giggled all night over the swaggering pirate lord and his very exasperated but willing captive-turned-wife and tried to understand the mechanics of the very graphic sex within.

Seeing her hesitation, the bookseller nodded. “It’s overwhelming. Of course. If you’d rather get to know Edessa better, there’s plenty in the contemporary section. I’ve everything from betting books to The Alternate Histories of the Sidran Tower Girl .”

Sarai started. “The what?”

“Excellent stuff. Well-researched accounts of who the Sidran Tower Girl could have been as written by magi and vigiles.” Showing her a set of books with numbers etched on their spine, the woman plucked one off the shelves. “This one says she was a spy sent to assassinate the Tetrarchy by the last known heir to the royal bloodline. Compelling evidence. But this one has some promising points that she was actually the heir. Oh, and there’s the romance in the fifth volume!”

Wrath and Ruin . The woman snapped open a crimson volume to reveal an illustration of someone who looked nothing like her ferociously kissing a magus-in-training. Sarai sagged against a pile of books, almost toppling them over. Perhaps Othus had been onto something by having her recorded as dead. The Elsar only knew what these southerners would have come up with if they’d known she was alive.

At the other woman’s expectant glance, she coughed weakly. “I think I’ll just take this.”

She snatched the largest volume off a shelf and thrust it in the bookseller’s hands.

“Excellent choice.” The woman happily accepted two aurei in payment.

Departing in a daze, Sarai cracked open the novel and immediately snapped it shut, face burning after a few filthy lines. Well, then . Something to look forward to later.

Heading back to Caelum, she pulled back when the crowd surged in the square, people running to catch sight of two figures on white horses. Fighting panic from the press of bodies, she wriggled out at first opportunity and spotted Cisuré and Aelius making a round through the square. Judging by the throng, this was a social visit.

As she watched them, an ache spread inside her. There wasn’t a face in the crowd that didn’t smile at Cisuré, people approaching her on all sides. Despite coming from the north, her elevated parentage granted her the same respect as her southern peers. She was just as popular as Aelius, glowing in the afternoon light and, smiling up at him, all soft eyes and adoration. It was odd. She’d seen Cisuré besotted before, but this crush had none of the wide-eyed girlhood she remembered .

For his part, Aelius was nothing but congenial, smiling genuinely as he gripped every hand and waved at children. And there were tells here too. A softening of his gaze when it rested on Cisuré, an acquiescence to her directing him toward vendors. Off-kilter, she turned away, squeezing past several spectators in search of Caelum. She paused when she heard her name above the square’s chatter. Within minutes, Cisuré appeared at her side.

“I thought I saw you!” she panted. “What are you doing here?” Before Sarai could answer, her eyes went to the book in her hands and widened. She grinned wickedly and slung an arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Apparently, I’ve a lot more than I thought. The Alternate Histories of the Sidran Tower Girl ? Really?”

Cisuré shrugged sheepishly. “The fifth volume was a massive success.”

“I wonder why.” Finding her horse, Sarai stuffed the book into her saddlebag right as Aelius joined them.

“There you are, Cisuré. Petitor Sarai, a pleasure.” He smoothly escorted them out of the square. “How have you been?”

“Very well,” she stammered. It still boggled her mind that the Head Tetrarch of Ur Dinyé knew her name. “And you?”

“I’m well taken care of.” He chuckled with a smile at a blushing Cisuré. Sarai suddenly wanted to bury herself in a hole. “I hear that your searches haven’t been proving fruitful.”

She nearly choked. “Unfortunately not.”

“Well, I didn’t think it would be easy.” He sighed. “Tullus has received several inquiries from the Metals Guild about missing Guildsmen in Kadra’s Quarter. You wouldn’t happen to have heard anything about that, would you?”

Her instincts kicked in. “Missing?” She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, Tetrarch Aelius. We haven’t received any petitions regarding them.”

It wasn’t a lie. Damn it to hell. I’ll turn into Kadra at this rate . A slight shift in the parameters of an answer was his favorite tactic .

“That’s quite alright.” The lines under Aelius’s eyes deepened, and for a second, he looked far older than his age. “I wish he wouldn’t make things so difficult. We’re all on the same side, and what’s best for Ur Dinyé is all that matters.” He exchanged a rueful look with Cisuré. “Incidentally, we’re having a little gathering in a week and a half, on the moonbright night. Would you care to come?”

“Oh, I don—yes,” she amended at Cisuré’s vehement nod. “ Tibi gratias ago , Tetrarch Aelius. It would be an honor.”

“It’ll be our pleasure to have you.” Making his farewells, he merged back into the spectators.

“Alright, I’ll concede that I’m a little fond.” Cisuré sighed.

“A little ?”

“He won’t take it seriously. I think he thinks I’m too young.”

“Ten years is a difference at our age.”

Cisuré pouted. “Don’t remind me. Anyway, I keep hearing that Kadra’s tied you up in cases. You’ll enjoy the convivium—party,” she amended at Sarai’s confused look. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there.”

“Should I get something to wear?”

“No need! You don’t have to dress up. Just look good.”

Most days, she doubted she could. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll love it. You know the city, the job, and the commoners now. Time to meet some people of value.”

Value. “Will the Guilds be there?”

“Without a doubt. You will come, won’t you? It’s on the eighth day of the Month of Wind at Delran Tower.”

Sarai smiled grimly. Perhaps an audience with Helvus would trigger another memory.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The Month of Moons ended with a plethora of gossip about Harion’s new nose—a distraction for which she’d thanked the Elsar daily. Kadra hadn’t pried about her attacker’s identity at the tavern, but judging by his faint smile at the topic of the nose, he knew. A week into the Month of Wind, the second moonbright night of the year arrived quietly, marking over a month that she’d been a Petitor. Dressing, she marveled at the thought. On the first moonbright night, she’d been assessed by Telmar in Arsamea. And here she was, readying herself for a gathering with Ur Dinyé’s most influential people.

Her spirits lifted at the mirror’s now familiar reflection of her in Petitor’s robes, hair piled on top of her head in a bit of architecture that had taken hours. She couldn’t paint her skin or lips when nihumb ’s illusion would just cover it all, but she could do this much.

Cato looked surprised when she came downstairs. “That’s beautifully done, Petitor Sarai. Any reason?”

“Tetrarch Aelius’s convivium,” she said, and could have sworn that his eyes narrowed for a moment. “I won’t be staying until the end. I’ll be back before two.”

He considered her. “I’ll take you. Delran Tower, I imagine?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to—”

“You’ll be in elevated circles tonight, Petitor Sarai. It wouldn’t do for you to arrive smelling of horse,” he pointed out, a smile softening his words. “I’ll be only a moment.”

Which was how she found herself arriving at Delran Tower in Kadra’s ornate raeda. Dismounting, she realized that Cato was right. She would have been a joke if she’d arrived on horseback.

Situated between Cobhran Tower and Cassandane’s Favran Tower, Delran Tower was an architectural masterpiece. It looked to have been carved from a piece of limestone so large the gods themselves must have dropped it in position. A semicircular decorative wall rose above the entrance, featuring detailed sculptures of the High and Dark Elsar. Magi, nobles, and people in expensive fabrics that rippled like water stepped out of raedae around her, sauntering through the main doors with barely a nod to the magi vetting them .

She looked down at herself. Kadra’s robes were well cut, and opulent enough that she wasn’t out of place, but they were clearly still Kadra’s robes and not a gown from Edessa’s best dressmakers.

Can’t back out now . She needed to meet Helvus. Thanking Cato profusely, she straightened her back and entered, following the other attendees as they would their way up a spiral staircase.

A glass ceiling wrapped around the top of the tower to bare the heavens to the attendees’ gazes. Every star seemed inches away, the sparse sconces keeping the room in a state of perpetual twilight for better viewing.

“Incredible,” she whispered. A sharp pain jabbed the inside of her skull. She scrunched her eyes with a low hiss and blinked at a brightly lit ballroom with frescoes tiling the walls, sweeping up to the cavernous ceiling. Jewels dripped from the party’s wealthy attendees, winking from ears, necks, and rings. Platters of meat occupied a long table at the center of the room, people popping a few morsels into their mouths as they sized up their peers.

“Told you you’d love it.” An arm looped through hers. Startled, Sarai gasped and the luminous ballroom winked out. Breathing hard, she took in the darker, different ballroom she was in.

Another memory . And she’d been awake . Sweat beaded on her forehead. Calm down. Make sense of it later. Gather information now .

“Alright there, Sarai?” Cisuré peered at her. “It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” The other girl had never looked more stunning, golden curls cascading down her back. Her silver shift was liquid moonlight, hugging her waist before billowing at her ankles. “Your hair! Oh, it’s lovely, but your … robes.” She sighed.

Sarai inhaled raggedly. “I thought we didn’t have to dress up.”

“Which meant that you should at least wash your face, barmaid.” Harion sauntered over from the wine table, glass in hand. His new nose still looked raw.

She feigned sympathy. “Does it still hurt to wash yours?”

“Let’s not speak of it,” Cisuré interjected. “It was a little tiff that got out of— ”

“She got lucky.” Harion drained his glass, unconcerned. “Another minute, and I’d have had her.”

Sarai gave Cisuré a meaningful look. With a waspish look in Harion’s direction, the other girl dragged her across the room, introducing her to a slew of people. They passed a resplendent Aelius, Cassandane looking stunning in a crimson gown, and Tullus’s roving eyes. Helvus was conspicuously absent, much to her frustration, but there was no shortage of influential faces. Tribunes from military camps on the borders, Praetors of southern towns, charming playwrights and more noble families than she’d known existed clustered around tables packed high with unusual dishes.

After an hour of faces and names and no further triggered memories, a pattern emerged. Almost no one was from the north. She’d only run into one other person, an elderly Tribune. Ur Dinyé’s north-south divide was on full display tonight. If these are the country’s most renowned businesspeople and talents, then no wonder the north’s upset .

“And they sent in petitions for weeks.” An older iudex chatted with Cisuré about the northern towns who’d complained after the latest hike in Grains Guild taxes. “You’d think they’d have some sense. Why bring a claim against the Guild you rely on for bread?”

Because they aren’t getting any regardless. Staying silent through sheer force of will, she popped a tart into her mouth, wondering how many in Arsamea would kill for a morsel from this table.

When Tullus joined their conversation, she immediately feigned rapt attention in the iudex’s chatter. After many attempts to get a word alone with her, he slunk away when Cisuré pulled her to meet yet another person of import.

“Grains Guildmaster Admia.” Cisuré waved down a sharp-faced woman in emerald robes, who eyed Sarai with mild distaste. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”

You’ve met before? Sarai looked askance at Cisuré and pasted on a smile as the Guildmaster assessed her clothing .

“We just heard about the tax increase.” Cisuré wrinkled her nose. “It can’t be easy weathering that criticism.”

Admia made a dismissive gesture. “They can complain all they want. It changes nothing. If they want grain, they’ll pay the coin on it.”

Sarai’s hand curled tighter around her wineglass. “What do the extra taxes go toward?”

“Well, growth and seizing opportunity are crucial to our operations. Rising profits dictate a healthy economy, and Guilds are the backbone of that.”

A lot of words to say nothing . “Do the profits go to wages, equipment, expansion?”

Admia’s eyebrows arched. “You’re very interested in how I allocate my coin.”

So, the money goes to you . It had probably paid for her dazzling emerald robes. She recalled those winters where grain had run dry. Cretus had ceased serving flatbread, and there hadn’t been so much as a crust to steal. So this was one of the people behind those hard months. A well-fed viper.

Cisuré shot her a warning glance. “No! She’s curious about how you’re expanding operations. Have you considered bringing Urd farming techniques to other countries with arid soil? I hear that Kashyal is facing drought.”

Admia tsked. “Their rulers won’t hear of it, but there’s coin in the venture, certo .”

The tarts Sarai had been shoveling in her mouth were starting to taste like dirt. She’d assumed that Kadra’s rebuffing of the law was asinine, because surely, as a Tetrarch, he could change everything with a few words on a scroll. Yet, the Tetrarchy’s hands were largely fettered when it came to economic matters—the leveraging of Guild taxes, rent, or the price of goods—where Guilds and nobles held more power and less responsibility. And their greed ran too deep for words on parchment to accomplish anything.

Stomach leaden, she gave her empty plate to an attendant collecting them with a whispered thanks, and realized that she’d lost Cisuré. Squinting in search of her, she jumped at a tap on her shoulder. An inebriated group of what looked to be siblings eyed her with curiosity.

“Good evening.” She glanced at the signet ring on a man’s hands. Nobles .

“You’re Kadra’s Petitor, right?” The ring’s owner clapped clumsily when she nodded. “Perfect. See, he never comes, and my sister’s tired of putting up with this bore in the hope that he’ll arrive.” He nudged his sister who rolled her eyes.

“I asked where he was once ,” she grumbled. “But really, why doesn’t he come?”

Sarai was at a loss. “Well, I wouldn’t know.” She assumed he’d been invited. Aelius wasn’t the sort to scorn him. “He’s quite busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Signet Ring chuckled. “He was always off somewhere before, and he’s still at it.” He dropped his voice. “We were magi-in-training at the Academiae, you know. Different years, but he was known .”

She couldn’t resist probing further. “Was he a difficult student?”

“Difficult?” Signet Ring whistled. “He was a genius. Spun lightning in circles around us, literally. Tetrarch Aelius had just become Head Tetrarch, and everyone was already putting Kadra’s name forward as his replacement. His old man was furious.”

“He was furious every day,” another chimed in. “Wasn’t a day when he wouldn’t chew him out in public.”

“Entertaining as shit,” his sister guffawed. “In class, Kadra was untouchable, and outside, Othus was boxing his ears behind Safsher Hall.” She mimicked a harsh, male voice. “I wanted the best, and I got you!”

Oh . Sarai quieted. So Kadra had known it too. The awful feeling of being watched through one’s denigration.

“So you’ve lived with him a month, right?” Signet Ring’s sister began speculatively.

“I barely see him,” Sarai said shortly, before the group could start prying. Politely excusing herself, she wandered about the room deep in thought until a familiar man entered her path, wineskin in hand .

“Evening, barmaid. You couldn’t look more lost if you tried. Here.” Telmar passed her a wineglass.

“Good to see you, too, Magus Telmar. But I’ve already had—”

“Just hold it. It helps you look less confused. See? You aren’t alone and friendless. You’re on your way to a drink.”

Sarai cracked a smile, and he looked pleased.

“You’ll get used to this.” He grinned cheerfully, well on his way to sotted. “Just a lot of hob …” He paused in search of the word. “Cob?”

“Hobnobbing?” Sarai offered.

“Precisely!” He smacked his thigh and tottered. Sarai caught his elbow with a wince and gently ushered him over to the sidelines where he proceeded to inform several attendees that he’d “discovered her.”

Anek joined her, a vision in scarlet, fiery hair in lustrous, tight curls. “Gods only know why he’s always like that.” They shook their head sadly. “But this business is something else. More uncomfortable than the Robing.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Sarai sighed. “I’m out of place.”

“I doubt I belong here either.” They shrugged. “But I’ll show up until I do. They can make the space for me.”

She envied their confidence. “I keep thinking that they won’t.”

“We’re already past the hardest part. Not everyone gets an invitation to one of these, only big names. I believe Tetrarch Kadra was invited a few years ago when he was a iudex, and never went after the first.”

Disquiet crawled through her at the memory of the luminous ballroom she’d glimpsed earlier. “These conviviums, are they always at Delran Tower?”

“They used to be at Sidran Tower.” Sarai’s heart plummeted. “The space was rented to Guildmasters and so forth for their escapades, but the practice was discontinued after the Sidran Tower Girl.” Mistaking her frozen face for surprise, Anek explained. “Apparently, there was a convivium up there the night the girl fell. No word on who the organizer was, but everyone in attendance swore they didn’t know the girl. ”

She almost couldn’t speak. “Can the average person obtain an invitation to a convivium?”

“They’d have to be very talented or very desperate.”

I know which one I was . Jovian’s theory that she’d been invited to Sidran Tower was looking increasingly plausible. She clutched her empty glass like an anchor.

An invitation. A secret passage into the Academiae that took me inside. A party with Edessa’s wealthiest. A man who’d drugged my drink. And stormfall after I fell . But who had brought her there?

A commotion at the entrance diverted her attention. Exchanging a look with Anek, they both rose on tiptoe, trying to make out who was causing all the fuss. She fell back on her heels at her first glimpse of a pair of piercing eyes.

Anek’s jaw dropped. “But Cassandane said he never comes.”

Kadra emerged from the darkness of the hallway, passing by curious conversants with disinterest. He’s wearing his robes . And suddenly, she couldn’t be gladder that she’d done the same.

“Would you look at that?” Harion popped up by her elbow with a sneer. “You match. He wears it better.”

She dug an elbow in his ribs, right as Kadra turned and spotted her. The world stopped for a moment as the lines bracketing his mouth relaxed. The broad line of his shoulders grew less rigid. He was looking for me . She made to go to him when Signet Ring’s sister stepped into Kadra’s path, looking excited.

Ice built in Sarai’s chest. What am I doing? Hating herself, she veered to where Cisuré stood by a pillar instead. “Doing alright?”

“Much worse now that he’s here,” the other girl slurred with a glower at Kadra. Her eyes looked a little too glassy for Sarai’s comfort.

She plucked the wineglass from her hand, holding it out of reach when Cisuré reached for it. “Isn’t there a dance later on? Imagine stepping all over Tetrarch Aelius’s feet. ”

That quieted Cisuré. She slumped against a wall, fanning herself. “Quite the night, isn’t it? Though I don’t know why he had to come.”

“I wish you’d tell me why you hate him.”

“He’s Marus. Don’t you see?” Cisuré’s face sobered. “It’s all there.”

Is it? She knew the flat of Marus’s hand and the violent eruptions of his temper too. She hadn’t found either in Kadra.

Across them, Signet Ring’s sister gave Kadra a coquettish smile, angling her impressive cleavage into his line of sight. The ice in Sarai’s gut cracked. Enough of this . She raised her head, forcing herself to see Kadra’s reaction. She nearly choked.

He looked right through the woman, features perfectly polite but so utterly devoid of expression that the woman began to falter. After a few more minutes of chatter, Kadra met her eyes and held them. The woman froze, blanched, then turned on her heel and raced for the wine table.

Sarai stifled a snort. Mood much improved, she turned to Cisuré only to find her regaling a group of nobles with stories of the north.

“And that’s how snowgrapes are harvested, but Sarai would really know best. She’s done it for years.”

Sarai shrank back at the dawning curiosity and derision on the listeners’ faces.

Not seeming to notice, Cisuré slung an arm around her. “And that’s not all she could do with a harvesting knife, if you’ll believe it. I pitied whoever faced her down in Arsamea.”

A dark figure at the edge of her vision paused at the words. Of course he passes by now.

Sarai determinedly avoided Kadra’s curious glance. “Cisuré, I really don’t think—”

“If anyone dared trouble her, she’d find a way to get revenge. Once, a few girls decided to break into her little shed while she was working at the tavern. They turned the whole place upside down. Over the next few days, she drugged their meals, crept into their homes and shaved their heads as they slept!” Cisuré choked, wiping a tear. “The girls knew it was her, of course, but they couldn’t never understand how they’d slept through it.”

Kadra was looking more amused than she’d ever seen him. Awkwardly clearing her throat, Sarai nudged her friend.

“You’ll have everyone thinking I’m deranged,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Never.” Cisuré waved a hand airily, knocking a wineglass out of a passing Guildmaster’s hands and onto his robes.

“What the fuck ?” His roar cracked through the ballroom. Everyone fell quiet.

Oh no.

Cisuré’s smile slid off her face, a familiar panic in her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” Her voice was high. “Here, let me.”

Before Sarai could stop her, she batted at the man’s robes, smearing the drink. He shoved her aside. A broken sound left her. On the other side of the ballroom, Aelius abandoned a group of nobles and strode over. Aware of all the eyes on them, Sarai dragged Cisuré behind her, but the Guildmaster wasn’t done.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? Disgraceful behavior, flailing about like that, like a drunk—”

“Petitor,” Sarai interjected. “Like a drunk Head Tetrarch’s Petitor. Happens to the best of us, doesn’t it?”

A loud “Hear, hear!” from Signet Ring’s group shattered the predatory quiet. Several people tittered, and the crowd moved on.

Sarai led Cisuré off to the sidelines, an arm firmly around her shoulders. “Breathe. You don’t have to say anything.”

Aelius caught Sarai’s eye on their way past him and gave her a grateful look, inserting himself to soothe the ego of the irate Guildsman. Spotting the balconies overlooking the ballroom, she pulled Cisuré toward one of the curtain-covered stairways leading up to them .

Behind the curtain, Cisuré planted herself on a step, chin wobbling. “I ruined everything.” Tears threatened to spoil her artful eyepaint, and Sarai shook her head, kneeling beside her.

“It’s alright. It was an accident, and he overreacted. Everyone thought so.” She repeated variations of the phrase, patting Cisuré’s back until she’d calmed down enough to laugh at the whole thing.

“The next time I have more than two drinks at one of these, stop me.”

“The next time I come to one of these will be too soon,” Sarai said with a groan. “Now, go out and dance.” She could hear instruments picking up. “I’m happy where I am.”

Cisuré left after giving her a hug. Sarai resolved to stay behind the curtain until it was time for her workday to begin. She’d had enough excitement.

Music soon filled her quiet hiding place, stringed and wind instruments vibrating in notes of such joy that she could understand why the Naaduir of music had been elevated to one of the Elsar in many cultures. She tapped her feet to the tune when voices drew close to her curtain.

“I can’t imagine what he’s doing here. He knows he isn’t wanted. At least two-thirds of us have lost coin because of him,” a woman sniped. “Not like we don’t know what he’s done.”

“There’s no proof he killed Othus,” a man noted.

“Oh, isn’t there? Who hasn’t heard Othus roaring at him? Kadra had motive, opportunity, and gained everything. I can’t believe he wasn’t jailed.”

“And those eyes.” Another woman made a sound of disgust. “He looks like a blackstripe bear, you know? Just craving blood.”

Sarai doubted the woman had ever come within a hundred feet of a blackstripe bear.

“What about that new Petitor of his? The one who’s fucking him,” a second man asked. “Anything we can do with her?”

“If he’s fucking her, then I’m a Saint. I saw her earlier, and she’s the homeliest thing.”

Sarai stared at her hands. Fair enough . She wished they’d leave. She could barely hear the music .

“He kills all his lovers,” a second man insisted. “That’s why you never hear of them. He’s using this northern girl as a shield. I bet you the bodies are in his tower. If we use the girl, we could break in, obtain proof, and get rid of him.”

Alright, that’s enough . She pushed aside the curtain and smiled blandly when the group of assorted nobles and Guildmasters jumped.

“I haven’t seen any bodies yet, but I’ll be sure to keep you informed.” She gave each of them a scathing once-over. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to inform the Tetrarch I’m fucking about a very sinister plot to storm his tower.”

They watched her with complete indifference. One opened his mouth when a quiet footfall sounded, a figure emerging to stand at her shoulder. She didn’t have to look. The frozen expressions on the group’s faces gave his identity away.

Kadras’s tar-black eyes, unnerving on the best of the days, held enough muted violence to reduce them to stammers and rumbles of discontent. But when he turned to her, he wore only the same surprise and perturbation as when she’d goaded Red Tunic into throwing a punch. Like he hadn’t expected her to defend him and didn’t know what to do with her now that she had.

Feeling just as awkward, she gave them both an out. Ducking behind the curtain, she went up the stairway and onto the narrow balcony to which it led. Moments later, she heard footsteps behind her. Kadra faced her, one hand braced against the railing. A banked fire encompassed her so slowly she couldn’t tell if she was aflame. She was all at once a mortal before one of the Wretched. Transfixed, foolishly eager to approach.

People danced below. Cisuré and Aelius led everyone, silver-clad stars twinkling in the ballroom’s gloaming. Harion had managed to wrangle some poor girl into joining him, while the girl Anek was spinning looked half in love with them already.

“Not dancing?” At the edge of her vision, Kadra studied her profile.

“I’d rather observe.” After a second, she offered the rest of the truth. “And I don’t know how. ”

“And if you did?”

“I don’t know. I think I’d be rather particular about my partner.”

He would be a magnificent dancer, she guessed. Just as elegant outside of combat as in it. Theirs was a strange dance around a ballroom of their own. Avoiding, intersecting, joining each other’s paths intentionally. Always watching.

Glancing down at the giddy dancers, she looked away when the floor teetered. He moved like lightning, gripping her elbow as she swayed. Warmth radiated where his palm met the fabric. Sucking in a breath, she withdrew. His gaze dropped to the wineglass in her hands, and she scowled.

“I’m perfectly fine, Tetrarch Kadra. I’ve only had a glass this entire evening. I … don’t do well with heights.”

He considered her thoughtfully. “Yet, here you are.”

They were no longer talking about heights. “I wanted to see if it would help.”

He seemed to move a fraction closer. The balcony shrank. “Did it?”

“No.” They were mirror images now. A hand on the railing in a cursory nod to the entertainment but angled toward each other. She hated it. She wanted to step closer. “I see why you don’t come to these now. Walking in elevated circles doesn’t mean you can change them.”

A slow smile. “We can’t all drug and shave the heads of our offenders.”

Her cheeks burned. Fucking Cisuré. “I was much younger, and it didn’t end up being all that clever. I scrubbed out the latrines for a year as punishment.”

“Was that when you stopped standing up for yourself?”

She looked up. “What—” She broke off, the dark indulgence in his eyes rattling her even more. “What does that matter?”

“Ennius, court, tonight, you throw yourself forward in everyone’s defense. But not in yours.”

“Because it’s irrelevant.”

“Why would it be irrelevant? ”

“Why do you care?” she snapped, and realized she’d given herself away when his smile widened.

The quiet that bloomed between them was soft and knowing. After a moment, she lowered her head and sighed.

“It is difficult to have to convince others of your humanity.” She stared at her shaking fingers on the railing, inches from his. “Not just being human but being … worthy of all the accoutrements of humanity. A roof over your head, fair compensation for your labor, and justice when a wrong is committed.” Heat licked behind her eyes. “But so many don’t believe that. And they’ve spent their entire lives proselytizing that people are tools to be exploited. Advocating for myself before these people”—she indicated the jewel-decked attendees and shook her head—“it’s impossible. You’re the plaintiff, defendant, and Petitor rolled into one. They’re the iudices. They conclude that you’re biased, envious, and they won’t believe a word. So why lose my temper and pay the price when I could keep my head down?”

She barely kept her voice steady. “But it’s easier to defend someone else. Because at least they don’t have to feel like everyone is arrayed against their existence. At least they know they’ve someone on their side.” In Arsamea, it was all she’d hoped for. These days, she didn’t bother. “There you are. Will that be all, Tetrarch Kadra?”

She blinked until her vision was no longer blurry and looked up. A roaring began in her ears. Because she’d somehow set Kadra ablaze.

Something quiet and lethal burned in his eyes. “Choose me.” His voice was rough, jaw tensed like he hadn’t wanted to say it. As if she hadn’t given him a choice but to say it.

Her silence stretched, raw and taut. A tendril of hair fell into her face. His brow furrowed, fingers reaching out, waiting for her dazed nod before tucking the lock back in place. An aching warmth hummed where his fingers brushed her skin.

“Can you say that tearing the Tetrarchy apart will fix this?” she whispered. “If it’s gone, will you change everything for the better? ”

The electrifying emotion faded from his face. “I can’t.” The words were empty. “But others can.”

True. “Who?”

“That knowledge has a price. Do you want me after all?” There was a disconcerting sensuality in his slight smile.

She crossed her arms. “Where’s that group of Guildmasters again? I should let them into your tower.”

His shoulders shook with a low huff of laughter. And for the first time, she allowed herself to grin back, to fool herself that they weren’t enemies, that Sidran Tower had been a bad dream. They stayed atop the balcony watching the partygoers congregate and part like waves. Watching as they danced far above the lives they ruined.