18. 17
Outside the prison, the sunners seemed agitated, but they let me in as easily as they had before.
Only a couple of hours after visiting the House of Love, I stepped up into the same entrance room with the same four doors.
The same man sat behind it, and he jumped as soon as I stepped in, smoothing down his red hair.
Yes, they were definitely all nervous today.
What’s worse, the whole place reeked like the streets two days after the Festival of Pleiidus.
“You, again,” the man said, his posture relaxing. “Now isn’t a good day. We have a man under Oath.”
“I see,” I said, and didn’t hide my visible disappointment. “I had a new theory on Saskia.”
The redhead, Drach, if I recalled correctly, straightened in his chair. “You did?”
“I wanted to speak with Petros,” I said. “He told me to come back if I thought of anything else. But if he’s busy—?”
Drach stood up, and his chair scratched against the wood. “I’ll see if he’s administering or just watching.”
I didn’t quite understand this, but I nodded and smiled in thanks.
Drach disappeared behind the bolted white door, and I took the moment to peek behind the desk.
There were a vast number of keys, and no indication of which key related to what.
Drach had also had a key loop on his belt, which I assumed would hold the most important ones.
I could grab a handful at random, but for what gain?
So I stood where he’d left me, and was glad for it, as the white door opened only a minute later.
Petros was sweating, but his eyes held a victorious glow.
He was far more intimidating than the man at the desk, and part of me regretted my decision to come here as he looked me up and down with a predatorial reckoning.
But I had an idea, and I was the only person who might be able to use this lead.
After Jusia, I didn’t want to waste any more time.
Petros strode over to me, all but pushing Drach out of the way. “Bella.”
He had remembered my fake name. I was now especially relieved I hadn’t given him my real one. “Me again.” I plastered on a smile like I had been taught. “Petros.”
He returned the smile, but it wasn’t genuine. He gestured for me to follow him into the same dingy room as before, and I rolled my shoulders back and stepped in. I didn’t want to show fear, but I hadn’t forgotten his glee when describing different missing and dead devotees.
We settled into the same seats as last time. Here, Petros wasted no time, staring at the door as he opened his questioning. “How can I help you?”
I had a feeling he would rather be watching whoever’s Oath it was. He had humoured me though, and that boded well. I let my smile fall. The sincerity I wanted to convey, the fear I sensed he thrived off. “I wanted to speak with one of your prisoners.”
Petros raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?” he asked. Then his eyes widened, and he pointed at the door. “You were here about the missing Sea girl, right? Let me guess. You heard about the man we just brought in. You’ll have to wait.”
The man they just brought in? This was poor timing, then. If they’d already found someone for the crime, I might have to come up with some other reason for my interest. “You’ve arrested someone for Saskia’s disappearance?”
“In a roundabout way,” he replied eagerly. “Someone else died. Another devotee.”
The comment conjured the image of her body on the table, and that sucked any life out of my cheeks. So this hubbub was about Jusia after all.
Petros carried on. “Gave us all the reason we needed to finally arrest the fucker. He’s down there now, getting questioned under the Oath of Light by Aseem himself. If he was involved in your girl’s mess, we’ll know soon enough.”
I blinked, not quite caught up. “Who are we discussing, sorry?”
“The Samiscan brute. Davian,” Petros said. I froze, and he saw it. “That’s not why you came?”
“Davian,” I said. I breathed the name, hoping to show confusion, but mostly to buy time.
All of this, all of the people here and the activity.
Davian was here.
They had arrested him. He had been brought to the prison, within hours of me leaving. And for killing Jusia? It was unthinkable. We were working to find out who did it, and they arrested him? What a joke. I knew the sunners suspected the House of Pain, but surely that wasn’t enough evidence.
Petros spoke into my silence. “The Aralaji fucker who killed his wife. We finally got enough with this new one to charge him. The body had been cut up. Only a Samiscan would think of it.”
“I remember now,” I said, clenching my fist beneath the table.
I hadn’t picked up on the tone before when he'd spoken of Davian.
Was his hatred of Davian partly due to his fears or dislike of the Aralaji?
I tried not to react as I considered his hypocrisy, given his own Leader was Aralaji, too. “Can I watch?”
“Watch the Oath of Light?” Petros repeated like I was a simpleton. “Only sunners and members of the accused's household can sit in the viewing gallery.” He laughed, and I flinched. “Don’t worry, though. When he confesses, you can see him hang.”
My stomach dropped and clenched a fist together. He hadn’t done anything. I knew that. The Oath would make everything come out, and it would be revealed that he hadn’t killed his wife or Saskia or Jusia. This was a good thing, I tried to remind myself.
But I hated it.
“Bella? I haven’t shocked you too much, have I?” Petros prodded, clearly hoping he had.
“I didn’t know he had been apprehended,” I said, weakly. Then I met his gaze and tried to summon some warm expression. “That is—That is fantastic news. I hope he’s swinging from his neck for his crimes before sundown.”
Petros didn’t look convinced, but nor did he look suspicious. I must appear too meek to him to be of any consequence. He glanced again at the door. “What did you want, then?”
I cleared my throat, trying to remember what I had thought was important before. I tried to remind myself it still was. That Davian would be free very soon. “Last time I was here, you mentioned you had a killer downstairs. He had killed a child from Merriment. Is he still here?”
Petros had his turn to look surprised. “He’s still here.”
“Can I speak to him?”
His brow pulled together. “Why would you want to do that?”
It was a great question.
My previous alibi was riddled with holes. I could no longer suggest he had much to do with Saskia, if Petros was so sure he’d already got his man.
So instead, I looked down at my hands. A model of embarrassment, a sheepish uncertainty. This was a face Talia had taught me long ago. The coquette, who knew every intimacy of a male body but looked as if she’d never been touched before. The innocent Ekrissian, the walking oxymoron.
I pursed my lips. “You said he was one of our finest madmen.”
“I also said he was already in prison when your friend went missing.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head tilt and his tone shift into something bordering suspicion. “So, why do you want to speak with him?”
I dampened my lower lip, keeping my head down.
“In truth, Petros, when you spoke of him…” Now I lifted my head, the blush coming naturally from the act of dishonesty and adding colour to my story.
“It intrigued me,” I said, staring into his dark and squinting eyes.
“His madness. The ability to kill a child. What sort of person would do that? I found a report about him.”
Petros only stared, his gaze shifting to my mouth as I wetted my lip again.
I swallowed. “I suppose you could say that I’m—”
“Curious?” he finished.
“Yes,” I whispered, scanning his eyes. “You made me curious.”
I left the words to dangle as my forehead began to sweat.
Finally, Petros cracked a smile filled with a poisonous contentment. “I underestimated you. I thought I had scared you the other day. It seems I’ve intrigued you.”
I watched him from under my eyelashes. “You have.”
Underestimated me, I finished in my head. He continued to do so, only not in the way he suspected.
If the previous statement was the bait, then this—staring at him as I was doing now—this was the hook that kept him on my line. I could only hope it was enough.
Petros glanced at the door, and then back to me.
Each time his gaze fell upon me, he studied me more than I felt comfortable enduring.
And yet, I persisted. I stared at him as I would a patron before our dance of bodies truly began.
I sized him up as my would-be predator, and hoped he still underestimated me enough to decide I was prey.
A curious woman. Nothing more.
He clucked his tongue and crooked his finger towards me, beckoning me forward.
I stood, and stepped around the table. His breath was in dire need of refreshment.
Here, we had not Ekris’ bounty, where I might encourage him to sip and eat until the staleness of his breath might abate.
Here, I had to withstand it with the same eagerness.
Petros smirked as I approached without a pause. Then he spoke softly, his voice filled with regret. “I cannot escort you down there.”
I blinked. Damn. I thought I had him. The consternation and disappointment was one of my first true expressions since entering these walls. “Oh, I see.”
He winked. “I cannot go with you.”
Oh.
I quickly smiled, then at his warning glance, I stifled it. Then he hooked a key off of his belt and held it in his fist.
“Through the black door. Down two floors, there’ll be a locked door. On the other side, tell the guard that I let you down,” he said. “You’re there for Juven, and you were sent by Wisdom.”
I hesitated. “Wisdom?”