17. 16 #2
Talia only raised an eyebrow at the questioning sunner, until he nodded through gritted teeth. He moved over to the body that once housed Jusia, and I had to look away as he gripped her middle.
I heard the shuffling and the grunt of exertion. The thump registered somewhere in the back of my mind. My imagination could fill in the rest. The sunner acknowledged the act was done with a clear of his throat.
Once I saw him move away out of the corner of my eye, I looked again.
“Ten above,” I muttered, as my hand flew to my mouth.
This time, I mustered the courage to take two steps forward.
It took a moment to see the new marks over the old.
Her golden mark had dulled to black like mine, hopefully at the point of her death and not before.
Its thorny fine lines, usually rendered perfectly against the canvas of her skin, were now warped.
It made it hard to notice the raised abrasion at the small of her back, but it was very visible where it carved up to her neck.
The cuts no longer bled. How could they, submerged in water for so long? How long had she been in the canal before they found her? Days? Instead, what was left of the cuts was now a raised pattern on her skin.
A huge circle, carved from the top to the bottom. Inside of that one lay another smaller circle. The second around the size of a handspan, in the middle. Between it, spokes connected the very centre to the edges, like a wheel.
Lines drawn with a knife upon her, and so many of them.
No, she could not have done this herself. Whoever had left this pattern on her, it must mean something. Some dull ringing came into my head, but I didn’t have the sense to understand it yet.
I was numb. I was entirely numb as each new facet of this crime revealed itself.
I reached out, as if I thought to touch her, or soothe her, then pulled my hand back.
Her forehead lay against the table, and her eyes were still open, staring into the grain.
She was dead. She didn’t know where she was. But it looked so uncomfortable.
I clenched my hands into fists and turned back to Talia. Did I need to see this? Could it not be told and not shown? Words were enough. Words were too much, as it was.
I said nothing, only staring at her.
Her dark eyes revealed nothing. “You should know that the sunners suspect the House of Pain is responsible.” Now, only now, she stumbled slightly across her words. “Due to the mutilation.”
I swallowed.
The sunners thought Davian’s House was behind this?
I had to understand the logic. Who else venerated torture?
Who else would go to such extreme lengths to mark the skin of another, to revel in it enough to commit to this level of sick artistry?
I would suspect the House of Pain, too. But did I?
I hardly knew. The actual operations of that House were still largely a mystery to me.
I had not seen what they got up to in those rooms away from the lounge; I didn’t know how far Samiscus pushed them.
Petros’ words, his unwavering belief that the House of Pain had something to do with it, swirled back to the top of my mind. I wasn’t surprised Petros had drawn that line, but it was clear enough he was biased against Davian, and maybe that House at large. Cuts alone weren’t proof.
She had shown me for a reason. She was telling me this for that same reason. Be it warning or otherwise, she knew something of my whereabouts since leaving. I couldn’t tell if it calmed me or irritated me to know I was being followed without my knowledge. What else had I missed?
The sunner stepped forwards, his hands reaching up to caution her. “This is an active investigation, Leader Talia.”
Talia’s eyes flashed. “As her sister, she is entitled to know the current theory.”
“Why would Samiscus’ House do this?” I asked.
The Leader looked at the sunner with thorns in her eyes. “I am sure that is something they will be asked to answer in due time.”
I glanced between them, unwilling to look behind me.
Unable to say anything more. The reality of it hadn’t settled.
What I’d seen was burnt into me, and yet, even in the very room, I couldn’t imagine it was something I had seen myself.
Or that it was Jusia, who was always the most beautiful of us all.
Talia flicked an eyebrow. “Are you done?”
I nodded dumbly.
“I’ll see you out.” Talia strode back through the kitchen. I followed, holding onto the wall, my vision blackening at the edges. The sunner in the kitchen started to call after her, and once more she waved him away. “I’ll be back for you boys in a moment.”
She held the door open for me, her face neutral. I stepped out, feeling as if I might be sick.
Talia closed the door as soon as I was through, and grabbed my shoulder with a painful grip.
“I don’t know the nature of your association with the Samiscans.
If this was their doing, you must tell me.
” Her voice was low, hardly more than a mutter.
I gasped as her nails drove in harder. “If it wasn’t, I would know that, too.
If you discover the truth, you come here.
No one harms one of my girls and gets away with it. No one.”
I nodded. “Yes, Talia.”
I rested my hand on the door as my head swam. I was going to be sick, and every part of me felt shaky.
“Perhaps it was for the best that Ekris sent you away.” Talia dropped her hand, and gave me a dismissive nod. “Be careful, Annie.”
I gave her a weak smile, knowing it was a kindness.
All of it, this was her own brand of tenderness.
Then I left the House as quickly as I dared, crouched over as I held my stomach with one hand and drifted the other across the wall for support.
A cold sweat had come over me, and I didn’t want to decorate the floor with my breakfast.
Ben let me out, and I sat on the stairs for a long time, with my head between my knees.
It was odd to feel a weight come off me as I left the darkness of my former home.
It would be my home once again, in all hope.
I told myself it was only the events of the day that made it feel unfriendly.
Once I was welcomed back, and I could hear Ekris’ praise again, it would all feel right. Everything would be as it was.
Not everything, though. Jusia had been murdered.
As I hid my face in my skirts, I knew two things to be true.
The first, was that Davian was right to suspect Robar.
Him showing up with the ring of one murdered woman, only to be seeing another woman who wound up dead: it was too much of a coincidence.
I couldn’t believe him capable of murder, but I could no longer make excuses for him. I had to believe he knew something.
And second, there was more to this than any sick pleasure of torture. The circles carved into her back meant something. A sheet of paper swam in my memory. Raised cuts in skin, and a wider piece of work left unfinished. I would revisit the library when my head stopped pounding to make sure.
Last time, the killer had carved circles, but he hadn’t completed the work. I had to know what it meant.