Chapter Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“I think that’s it.” Three days before the trial that would determine her fate, Gaius leaned back with a groan. “That’s every book in here.”
Sarai slumped against the wall. She had written records of Petitor deaths matching with dates of stormfall, family statements of a common theme of paranoia before their deaths, registers of the Metals Guild buying plots of land after they’d been struck by lightning, and she’d soon be requesting the certificates Jovian had mentioned of Helvus’s ownership of the iron mine from which he’d produced the scuta.
But she had no direct evidence.
Heading to the Hall of Records, she tried to convince herself that she could survive a thousand lashes, while Gaius kept up a steady stream of chatter to boost her spirits. She’d always expected to starve in Arsamea, not be whipped before a crowd.
“Sometimes, I think you’re more terrifying than Tetrarch Kadra,” Gaius went on cheerfully. “Scarier when you can use their mind against them, instead of mutilating or burning or torturing the truth out of men and women—” Finally seeming to realize that he wasn’t doing Kadra’s character any credit, he pressed his lips shut.
“So Tetrarch Kadra tortures women?” she asked wearily.
“They commit crimes too, you know!”
“Right,” she muttered. “What if it was a girl? Say, fourteen.”
Gaius’s brow furrowed. “Tetrarch Kadra doesn’t harm young people. Sends them to the mines in rare cases. But he tends to give them a chance. ”
At least there was that.
She had the Hall of Records memorized at this point. Seeking out the dull gray limestone building that housed the Mining Archives, she requested the records for iron mines found over four years ago. The archivist’s eyebrows jumped to the ceiling.
“It’s good to have someone come looking for these.” He handed her a set of tomes. “Haven’t had anyone read those since Telmar.”
Her fingers stilled on the first page. “Magus Telmar?”
“You know, the drunk.” The archivist chuckled. “How he hasn’t stabbed himself during a swordsmanship lesson is beyond everyone. The man has a liver of stone.”
Odd. She thanked him and promised to return the records in a few days. After the trial. Part of her hoped that making the promise would ensure that it came true.
“So that’s it?” Gaius looked worried at the blank way she kept staring at the records. “Nothing else Jovian or Livia left behind?”
“This is it.” She zipped Aoran Tower’s key back and forth on the cord around her neck. “If we could get our hands on a scutum, it would change everything, but …”
“What about Livia’s mother or Decimus? Did they have any?”
“No. Livia got rid of all her scuta before her death, and Decimus—”
She froze. Decimus had attempted to give her a scutum in thanks after she’d dispatched Helvus. Then, there’d been his tearful remarks the first night they’d visited. She even helped pay for our scutum when he was short on coin , he’d said.
But Livia and Jovian had both known the scuta were flawed.
Livia had died two weeks before Jovian. He’d moved in with Decimus. And brought a scutum with him, saying Livia had helped him purchase it.
Dumping her books on Gaius, she dug in her pockets for the leather pouch in which she’d been storing all the letters. She thrust Livia’s last letter under Gaius’s nose .
“That night she went to the Metals Guild, he came with her!” she said triumphantly. “She died, but he was able to lug out a scutum.”
No wonder Jovian had gone half-mad toward the end. He must have blamed himself.
“Gaius, Decimus has that scutum!” She beamed. “He tried to give it to me a month ago! I didn’t remember—I refused back then because I didn’t know, but—we have proof for the trial!”
“Elsar be praised!” Arms full of books, he grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll inform Tetrarch Kadra to assign Decimus a guard right away.”
Bubbling with excitement, she nearly skipped out of the Hall of Records.
“This calls for celebration,” Gaius said thoughtfully.
“We can’t very well throw a convivium.” She laughed.
“What about something equally exuberant that Aelius won’t suspect?”
“Like what?”
He smiled mysteriously, eyes faintly cunning. “You’ll see.”
Sarai set her pen down, eyes swimming. Her collation of written evidence for the trial twisted in the flickering light from the hearth in Kadra’s office.
Everything’s ready . In three days’ time, all of Ur Dinyé would know.
The door swung open. Kadra stalked in and paused to find her bracing her head against his desk.
His eyebrows snapped together. “You need to rest.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.” She organized the parchment spread over the desk’s surface.
“Petitor Sarai, will you be coming?” Gaius’s head popped out from behind Kadra’s frame.
“Where to?” she asked absently.
“The pleasure house! To celebrate! We’re all going. Tetrarch Aelius won’t suspect anything.”
She was suddenly, completely, utterly awake. Something hot and bitter squirmed in her chest. She turned to Gaius, studiously ignoring Kadra. Her words were slow and precise .
“Anek mentioned that it was a tradition.” She forced her face into something resembling amusement.
“Good way to release the pressure.” Gaius winked. “It’s been too long since our last outing. We curtailed it on account of your arrival, but you’re one of us now.” He patted her shoulder. “Should I saddle your horse?”
“Yes,” she said at the same time that Kadra said “No.”
She didn’t look as Kadra’s gaze bored a hole into her profile.
“You’re tired,” he said as though that was the end of the matter.
“I’m awake.” She reached for her birrus, stomach churning. “You aren’t the only one who’s been under pressure.”
Gaius shifted awkwardly as she awarded him a bright smile.
“Are we going as a group?” She wrapped her birrus around her.
Glancing at Kadra, who was radiating visible menace, Gaius muttered something about having to confirm that and raced out of the office.
The door shut, leaving a strange, uncomfortable intimacy in the room. Acid frothed in her gut, dread snaking under her ribs to squeeze tight. She shoved it aside, shaken.
It’s not like we’re anything to each other . This shouldn’t matter . Kadra had gone to pleasure houses before and likely seen all manner of exhibitionism. She slapped the scrolls containing her summaries of evidence on his desk with unnecessary force, all too conscious of him watching her. Stop, you’re being ridiculous . Pulling herself together, she retreated behind a placid mask. Neither of them said a word. By the time Gaius returned, the tension in the room was thick enough to slice. Looking terrified, he eked out that their horses were saddled and fled once more.
Kadra finally moved from his position by the fireplace. “Do you really want to come?”
Her eyes jumped to his. His coal-black gaze glittered, something turbulent within. At least, she wasn’t the only one seething.
“Might as well see what the fuss is about.” It was past time that she cauterized this madness. What if Kadra met someone in the future? Or if the owner of that accursed ribbon resurfaced? That panic was welling in her even now at both possibilities didn’t bode well.
Kadra’s jaw tensed. “If you’d like.”
“I would.”
Their black moods persisted until they reached the stables, where Kadra’s vigiles, who’d been chatting excitedly, suddenly found themselves quite occupied with the sky, the grass, or the buttons of their tunics. She put on an outward show of interest in “Where the Cocks Crow” as the pleasure house was called.
“Do they have anything similar in the north?” a woman asked with interest.
“It was just affairs in Arsamea, with each other or the rare outsider.” A new female arrival in town sparked as much of a hunt as for deer in the winter. “The closest pleasure house was all the way in Sal Flumen.”
The vigile gave her a pitying glance. “You haven’t lived much then.”
“Life was survival.”
“Isn’t it always?” The woman sighed.
It wasn’t long before their motley group of at least twenty vigiles drew up outside a pleasant-looking inn. Only the jaunty sign perched on an overlarge weather vane at the top gave its identity away. As Sarai read it, her lips twitched. Someone had seen fit to convert a “C” to a “G.”
“‘Where the Cocks Grow,’” she read. But a laugh wouldn’t come.
The clammy feeling in her chest twisted with every step to the front gate and she was flooded with dread when a stunning woman met them there.
“Tetrarch Kadra’s party?” Her strikingly pale eyes seemed to glow as she smiled. “Right this way.”
Inside, the pleasure house wasn’t like any of the raucous, wine-soaked xanns she’d slept at on her journey to Edessa, or as opulent and high-priced as a xann she’d briefly spotted in Kirtule. This place embodied comfort and easy amusement.
An array of plump couches and cushions decorated the atrium’s tiled courtyard with a fountain of wine at the center. Artfully placed candlesticks illuminated a wide staircase that led to two floors of private rooms, scantily-clad pleasure workers at every corner. By the fountain, a troupe of musicians roared bawdy songs to a growing crowd, dancing in the nude.
Groupings of all orientations and numbers lounged about, clothed, unclothed, deep in conversation or fondling each other on couches, blowing clouds of blazeleaf into the air. The vigiles scattered in every direction with uproarious cheers. And, suddenly, she was alone in a world she’d only ever read of. She hung her birrus over her wrist, skin tingling at the moans coming from the patrons and drifting down from the second floor.
Off-kilter, she nearly didn’t notice the quick glances from vigiles at every corner, even as they selected their partners. Eyes swerved toward her and then several steps to the left where Kadra was heading to the bar. Trying to escape them, she ducked into the ebb and flow of people dancing by the musicians and accidentally inhaled a lungful of blazeleaf. She tottered, a languorous heat spreading through her.
Across the room, Kadra inspected a bottle of wine. Glowering at the cork for a long moment under the barkeep’s nervous gaze, he uncorked it, poured some in a glass, and stared at it some more before practically downing the entire bottle. She stared as he pointed out another bottle and performed the same ritual. He didn’t turn to her once.
He never engages , Anek had said, but perhaps, deep down, she’d secretly hoped that she would prove the exception. A foolish wish that had cost her. I shouldn’t have come . Perhaps this was why he’d tried to stop her. Because he’d known how lost she would be here. Swallowing, she ignored the heat behind her eyes. At least she hadn’t given any outward indication of what she felt for him. Tetrarchs and Petitors were bound for life. One foolish confession and she’d have condemned them to horrendous awkwardness. She debated slinking away when a beautiful neutralis stepped in her path.
“Petitor Sarai.” They smiled, all dark eyes and riotous golden curls. “I’m Tavlis. Your first time, I gather? ”
She nodded in admiration at how unselfconscious they were by their nudity. “I’m still taking it all in.”
“ Certo ,” they said easily. “Would you like to know where to start?”
Catching a glance from a vigile who’d never cared much for her until recently, she stilled at the pity in his eyes. Turning back to Tavlis, she nodded. This foolish pining would only get her hurt.
“I …” She stared at the floor. “I don’t really know what to do. Should we talk first?”
“Would you like us to talk or would you like me to start slowly?” Tavlis asked gently. “You can halt whenever you’d like.”
She’d never seen a smile as mesmerizing as theirs. But she felt nothing. “Slowly,” she stammered.
They leaned toward her, looping an arm around her waist to pull her close. Her palms went damp with something that felt like panic.
“Buttons or do you want my mouth?” they whispered, inches from her.
A weight squeezed her chest. “Buttons,” she made herself say.
Gentle fingers caressed her jaw, another hand working at her collar. The first button slipped free, then the next. Cool air brushed her exposed skin, and all she could think about was when Kadra had done the same after Tullus had burned her.
Pressing her against a pillar, Tavlis stroked the exposed skin of her collarbone and stilled, looking thoughtfully at her skin.
The scars . “Could you,” she stammered, and tried again. “Could we finish the buttons first? And can we keep … everything on?”
Tavlis smiled softly. “Absolutely.”
They resumed their downward path. Feeling close to tears, she glanced back at the bar. Kadra’s fist choked the stem of his wineglass as he tipped it upward, taking a hard swallow. His mouth drew into a hard line like the burn of alcohol wouldn’t soothe him. Looking terrified, the barkeep refilled his glass.
Is something wrong ?
Lips brushed her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Is something wrong?” Tavlis asked carefully.
“No.”
Tavlis tilted their head to one side. “It’s darker on this side of the pillar. If you’d prefer the privacy.”
A few feet away, the vigile who’d teased her about not having lived enough enthusiastically slid onto her partner and waved at Sarai.
She immediately shifted over to the other side of the pillar. “That’s helpful, thank you.”
Tavlis pressed another kiss against her collarbone. She tried to make her body respond to the soft whisper of hands into her open tunic, but it all felt wrong. Yet, if she left, there would be pitying glances tomorrow as the vigiles gossiped that their Tetrarch truly did feel nothing for her. She had to prove that she was equally unconcerned. Because, at some point between her distrust and this powerful, unyielding man calling her “strong,” she’d wanted the rumors everyone had been parroting to be true.
She didn’t pull her gaze away fast enough when Kadra looked up from his drink, and he unerringly found her across the room. The look in his eyes knocked all breath from her. Heat tangled with something sour. She only realized that she’d gone motionless when Tavlis raised their head.
“Are you alright? Is this what you want?” Cupping her cheek, they pressed an openmouthed kiss to her jaw.
And something splintered, echoing like the crack of a whip across the room.
She sprang back. The pleasure house barely paused for an instant before resuming its business. It took her only a moment to find the source of the sound. Fragments of Kadra’s shattered glass dug into his hand, wine leaking into the wounds. He stared at it, the anger in his eyes looking strangely like it was directed inward.
I can’t do this .
Sarai turned to Tavlis. “I’m so sorry. You’re absolutely lovely. I just … I thought I could, but I can’t.”
When she managed to meet their eyes, there was a hint of a smile on their face.
“Of course, Petitor Sarai. Perhaps another time.”
Insisting on paying them, she hastily half-buttoned-up her uniform and strode to the door. She’d just have to absorb what the other vigiles had to say tomorrow. Easing out of the crush, she walked right into Kadra.
“Leaving already?” He pried a shard of glass from his hands. Something infinitely wild seethed under his now too-calm demeanor.
She swallowed. “You were right. I’m tired.”
A muscle bunched in his jaw, eyes flinty. “Does my presence bother you?”
“In general?”
“Now.”
Her heart beat at a breakneck speed. “You mean am I not indulging tonight because you’re looming over my shoulder like one of the Wretched?”
The muscle in his jaw looked liable to snap. “Yes.”
Fascinated, she stared at it. “No.” Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped closer. “You aren’t the only one who manages their needs,” she murmured.
Kadra went rigid. A breath and his eyes closed. “Fuck.”
A violent shudder rippled through her when his eyes traced the open column of her throat as though he were searching for words in the gait of her pulse.
A patron squeezed past them, pushing them together against the door. Kadra braced himself with a palm right as she clutched at his robes to steady herself. The muscles under her palm tensed. She expected him to step back. He didn’t.
“Is that the only reason why you’re leaving?” Wine scented the air between them. “I saw you. Earlier.”
“People expect celibacy of you. I’d be the odd one out if I didn’t indulge. ”
“Then why stop?”
“Because I feel nothing ,” she grit out. “And when you”—she snapped her fingers in front of her face to signify his glass shattering and her corresponding snap of realization—“I had enough of forcing myself to try. I can’t so—”
“Neither can I.”
She was suddenly afire. She looked up, her lips parting at how close his mouth was to hers.
“Because everyone’s a liability?”
“Yes.” Kadra slipped a hand on the back of her neck, tilting her head up with his thumb. “And because I shouldn’t.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“I shouldn’t .” His voice was hoarse. His palm circled her throat. The faintest hint of pressure, and she instinctively tilted her chin to give him better access.
“Because?” It was almost a plea.
His thumb moved to her jaw, eyes holding a world of conflict. That halted her. Not like this. Not if you’ll regret it. She grabbed his hand before he could lean in. He looked as dazed as she felt. They stared at each other, before their hands fell.
After a long moment, he spoke. “This way.” He led her past the crush of bodies and to a side door that led out of the building.
Outside, she drew several deep breaths, the sweet smoky scent of blazeleaf, alcohol, and sex fading in favor of unpleasant reason. When she finally looked at Kadra, he was getting their horses ready, movements jerkier than she’d ever seen them.
“I … hope you don’t regret leaving,” she mumbled.
He turned, face back to its implacable set. “I never stay long enough for them to actually poison the wine.”
Her jaw dropped. “You terrified that barkeep for no reason!”
A hint of the wildness she’d seen earlier returned to his features. “You were watching. ”
Flushing, she cleared her throat. “Your hand.”
He looked like he’d long forgotten that it was bleeding. Taking it, she held herself back from pressing into him when he curled his fingers around hers, holding them still as she quickly mended the cuts.
Kadra gave her a dark smile, helping her onto Caelum. “Home?”
Wisdom save me . Aoran Tower wasn’t her home. She was long overdue to find her own domus. She took the reins, searching for common sense and finding none.
“Home,” she agreed.