Chapter Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
As her heels touched the Aequitas’s stage, the first thing Sarai noticed was that someone had pulled the sword free of Kadra’s chest. It lay on the ground, gleaming scarlet.
Hefting the blade, she searched for its owner. The crowd parted, aghast, evidently having witnessed the otherworldly figure conversing with her. She would have laughed at the fact that Aelius had been scant yards from a god and missed it. But there was no laughter in her.
On the dais, the object of her pursuit easily fended off attacks from Cassandane’s and Kadra’s vigiles, many of whom lay dead with charred necks. Anek had abandoned Cisuré in favor of supporting their Tetrarch, who sported several ugly wounds in addition to the hole in her shoulder.
Tossing away another body, Aelius fought a black-robed vigile Sarai recognized as Gaius. She tested the blade, recalling her offhand remark to Kadra months ago.
Every snowgrape harvester learns to throw a knife.
“I’m the Magus Supreme.” He shot a bolt that Gaius narrowly missed. Sarai raised her arm, narrowing in on Aelius with single-minded hatred. “You could never—”
An ugly squelch filled the air. The wet sound of a stake sinking into mud, of a knife severing a vine. Aelius froze, looking down at the blade that had slammed through one side of his ribcage to emerge from the other. His mouth worked even as his knees buckled, and he fell headfirst down the stairs to rest in a crumpled heap .
Sarai watched the tremulous rise and fall of his chest for a moment, then turned to the crowd.
“We’ll start with a single log.”
For a moment, no one moved.
Then, Gaius, eyes wet with tears, staggered down the steps toward the log pile that was always to the far right of the stage.
Several vigiles fisted Aelius’s white robes, dragging him to the post at the center of the stage where they bound him. His fingers twitched, only able to summon a few sparks of lightning in his weakness. Kadra had been stronger.
Gaius placed the log by Aelius’s feet and then turned to her, bowing low. Crouching beside it, Sarai drew yaris and stepped back as flame swept over the wood. Aelius shook his head groggily, the sword bisecting his body still embedded.
“Aelius of Edessa, you stand here accused of the homicidium of too many people to count, including past Petitors. Your crimes are ambitus , calumnia , torture, attempted homicidium , bribery, corruption, and almost every unsavory act an elected official can commit,” Sarai said softly. “How do you plead?”
Alarm sparked to life in his gaze as the fire moved toward his feet.
Sarai turned to Gaius. “Another log.”
Someone pressed a log in her hand. She turned to find another of Kadra’s vigiles, eyes red. Several of his people waited, all carrying wood. She gripped the vigile’s shoulder in silent grief before placing the tinder at Aelius’s feet.
He yelped as the log cracked, sending a shower of sparks over his feet.
“How do you plead?” Sarai asked again, too numb for spite.
Blood ran from his mouth as he opened it, trying to speak.
She tilted her head. “Another log.”
One by one, they gave them to her, and she placed each one at the feet of the man who had ruined so many lives for coin .
She didn’t have to wait long for the heat to bite his heels, for it to wrap around his ankles to the discordant music of his screams. Expelling a long breath, she sat on the stage, drawing her knees to her chest as Tetrarch Aelius of Edessa, Magus Supreme, burned to death with his own blade in him. Tendrils of fire ran up his cheeks as people cursed his name, and vigiles vindictively added logs to his pyre in the name of the man whose life he had taken.
And she couldn’t tell if it was smoke or anguish behind her silent tears.
So this was vengeance, Sarai thought numbly. A broken, empty blankness where joy should be, devoid of pomp and celebration. And why would there be any? In less than a day, the Tetrarchy had been whittled to a single Tetrarch. And the man she loved was dead.
“Sarai.” Cisuré staggered toward her, sounding as though she was in shock. “You—”
“Leave me alone.” She was the last person Sarai wanted to see.
“Turn around, you need to—”
She shot Cisuré a glower so fierce the other girl retreated a few steps. But there were whispers growing behind them. Frantic. Awed. Sarai stilled as she heard boots approaching her from behind. At the other end of the stage, Gaius turned deathly pale. And someone sat beside her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t turn to face her companion. She’d deluded herself once already. If she did it again, she might never be able to stop.
“He looks better charred,” a beautiful voice murmured. “But I thought you disapproved of burning.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“You have no obligation to ever forgive me,” the voice continued. “You owe me nothing. But I must ask.”
She steadfastly stared straight ahead as his voice grew the slightest bit hoarse.
“I seem to be missing a hole in my chest. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? ”
She exploded. “Of all the hav?d things to joke about—” Swiveling toward him, she halted.
With knives for eyes and a cruel edge to his smile, Drenevan bu Kadra, scourge of her heart, sat beside her, utterly intact.
I never said I would deny you his return , an ice-cold voice whispered in her head, and if she could move, she would have crumpled and sobbed in relief.
Kadra’s gaze traced her features, dropping to the arm she’d nearly cut in half. With a rough curse, he reached for it but froze as his hands met her skin, the weight of the past settling between them.
Conscious of all the eyes on them, she wearily rose, throwing her good hand toward Kadra.
“The gods have answered,” she announced to the crowd, and only faintly winced when they roared in jubilation. She had no words after that.
Cassandane took over, clutching her wounded shoulder. “There will be much to do in the upcoming days. To record what happened here, and construct safeguards to prevent it from happening again. But those are concerns for the future. Today, we rest and heal. We will convene again four days from now,” she said, voice weak, and was met with more cheers.
The spectators in the Aequitas began to disperse. On the dais, Anek shook their head, looking stunned, before indicating that they and Cassandane would be leaving. Factionless, Cisuré blankly watched as the crowd thinned, then she quietly filed out. Gaius turned to them, bowing low before dragging Aelius’s charred corpse from the stage so it bumped every step.
Then it was just her and Kadra. And the truth between them.
In the intervening minutes, his features had closed, eyes carefully blank when she turned to face him. In an attempt to disrupt that rigid calm, she threw down a gauntlet.
“I see you took good care of my ribbon,” she began, and watched an almost imperceptible flinch run through him. He expected recriminations and judgment; she knew that much.
“I was told that you were dead,” he said simply .
“Othus truly thought you were guilty. He had me healed, given a new face, then carted back to Arsamea.” She drew a deep breath. “I spent four years hating you.”
Kadra inclined his head, distant and unreadable. “Understandable.”
“I didn’t remember much, but I recognized your voice at the Robing. Even when I agreed to stay in Aoran Tower, it was with the intent to destroy you.”
His features tightened. “So why save me?” He looked from her bleeding arm to her runes on the stage. “Why risk your life for me?”
“You did the same.”
“Fourteen, and I left you to die,” he ground out. “I owe you everything . You owed me nothing.”
“Your debt is paid.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be so quick to forgive me. There will be days when this will resurface between us. And you will despise me for it.”
“You keep saying that. That I’ll hate you or regret being with you. But if I did, I wouldn’t have Summoned Death to beg for you!” she snapped. “Gods, I love you, Kadra, but you’re the biggest fool in all Edessa.”
He blinked, and she laughed.
“I spent the past few months forgiving you,” she said, drawing closer. “Disliking you, doubting you, admiring you—reluctantly. I’ve gone through every stage between grief and acceptance already. And that was when I still wondered if you had thrown me off Sidran Tower.”
“I left—”
“Me for Death? Yes.” She shrugged. “But you ran there right after me in a four-year-long apology. Cisuré didn’t even try.”
Something bleak crossed his face.
One more step and she was inches from him. “Like it or not, I’ve already forgiven you. So if you’d just hurry up and kiss me, I’d appreciate—”
With a raw groan, he lifted her against him, one hand gripping the back of her head. His stubble scraped her skin as he pressed kisses against her wet cheeks, her jaw, her throat, whispering that he was sorry, that he loved her. She reveled in the feel of him. He was here. Alive .
Long moments later, he stroked her hair. “We need to have an election.”
“Plotting already?”
He chucked her under the chin. “Can I convince you to take up a position? You were magnificent. Especially today.”
She shuddered, arms wrapped around his waist. “Absolutely not. I’m happy where I am.”
He gave a wry sigh. “Cato said you might say that.” He searched her eyes. “You’ve done well. Better than your younger self dreamed.” He exhaled roughly. “That was the worst part of it. Seeing the dreams in your eyes, then seeing you on the ground—” He broke off.
“That makes two of us.” She swallowed, clutching him close. “Still, you were very kind back then, telling me how to get to the Academiae.”
“Led you straight to your doom. But you always did see the best in me.” His lips curved. “Trying to make me better?”
She snorted. “I think you’ve made me worse. I set Aelius on fire.”
“I saw.” Interlocking their hands, he kissed her fingers. “Tell me, what do you want from here on out?”
She raised a brow. “Anything?”
“Name it and it’s yours.”
Footsteps alerted her that Kadra’s vigiles had decided that he and his Petitor had had enough time together.
She rose on her toes to whisper it into his ear. “Then be happy with me.”
A slow smile formed on his face. “My beautiful Petitor.” He swung her into his arms to the shock of them all. “That will be the easiest of feats.”