Page 16 of This Monster of Mine

“Might be because they care in different ways. You’ll help too. This is your city now.”

Warmth rose in her. Propping an elbow on the window, she smiled at the bustling world beyond. The road flattened into a public square the size of Arsamea. Their pace slowed.

Clusters of people poured out into a field, competing for entry into a gargantuan structure.The Amphitheatrum Aequitas. Craning her neck, she counted the amphitheater’s five tiers of flawless white marble and intricate arches and smirked.Guess I’m not destined for dirt after all, Marus.

Sentry posts dotted the perimeter of the Aequitas. Hard-eyed vigiles in colorful robes squinted suspiciously at everyone, barking orders to confiscate weapons or large items. An elderly man belligerently objected to a wineskin being taken, to no avail.

“They wear their Tetrarch’s colors,” the coachman explained. “Black and gold for Tetrarch Kadra, ivory and silver for Tetrarch Aelius, and so on. Almost every vigile is here. Can’t be too careful with the Tetrarchy and Guildmasters gathered for the Robing.Certo,with you too …” he trailed off with an awkward glance.

That’s why we’re transported separately, she realized.To make it hard for us to flee.

Evading the mob, he steered into a fenced-off side of the Aequitas, halting before a massive statue of a regal man, almost as tall as the courthouse. The coachman indicated a door into the court, partially hidden by the statue’s base.

“The horn is your cue to enter.” He bowed. “Take care, Petitor Candidate Sarai.”

She responded in kind, Petitor language conventions be damned, then turned to the sculpture. The marble man wore a benevolent smile, stretching a hand to the sky, a rune-studded rod clutched within.Which of the seven High Elsar is this? Lord Fortune? Harvest?She squinted at the rod.

“Tetrarch Aelius and his first fulgur scutum,” a low voice commented in her ear.

She jumped, goosebumps pebbling her skin.

The lanky young man behind her grinned unrepentantly. “Incredible, right?”

She could think of other words, but she supposed that the Head Tetrarch, the most powerful magus in the land and inventor of the south’s beloved lightning shields, had the right to erect ludicrously large replicas of himself.

“Harion of Dídtan.” The newcomer’s black hair stuck up at the ends, skin as golden as hers, but there was no missing the condescension in his eyes. “You must be the barmaid.”

“Sarai of Arsamea,” she corrected politely.

“Pleasure.” He took his time looking her over. “You northern girls are usually meatier.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“She has a tongue.” Harion’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “You’ve put it to good use to get this far. Which Tetrarch did you sleep with?”

Here we go. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, the Tetrarchy needs Petitors, but I doubt we’re desperate enough foryou. Unless you offeredotherincentive.” He circled her. “Can’t be Aelius. You were gawping at his statue like a tourist. Can’t be Kadra either, he’s a block of ice. That leaves”—Harion made a face—“Tullus? Really? Unless you swing the other way for Cassandane—”

“It’s myfirsttime meeting the Tetrarchy.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Suit yourself, but whoever you’re fucking won’t choose you. They’ve lined you up forhim. Someone’s going to be the odd one out.”

“There are four of us and four Tetrarchs,” she pointed out.

“Oh, youreallydon’t know.” He looked positively gleeful. “There’s only ever been three Petitors for the past few Robings. Kadra has never taken one.”

Odd.All she knew of Kadra was that he’d been elected the newest—and youngest—Tetrarch in a landslide victory a few years back. No one in Arsamea had bothered to journey to the capital to vote, and as the Tetrarchyleft the north to its devices, the election had been largely ignored. But she was surprised that Kadra’s lack of a Petitor hadn’t come up.

Becoming a Tetrarch was a daydream for all but the wealthiest Edessans. Hopefuls began as Tribunes in the military, or iudices, lower court judges, and worked to amass power until they could run for office. Even then, they had to be powerful lightning magi, popular with the masses, and shrewd politicians with spotless reputations. Aspirants relied heavily on their Petitors to ferret out unscrupulous friends and con men. For Kadra to have never had one was unheard of.

Harion stooped so they were eye to eye. “It isn’t too late to leave. You won’t last a day with Kadra.”

He clamped a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. Panic bubbled to the surface, bringing with it unanchored echoes offingers digging into her skin. Something sharp cracking over her head. Screams echoing in a black space—

Shoving Harion’s hand off, she willed herself to breathe. Men. Another fear born that night.

“Don’t touch me.”

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