Page 153 of This Monster of Mine

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 thehavïdthings 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 youeverything. 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.

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