Page 34 of This Monster of Mine

He raised an eyebrow. She kept her face blank as his eyes dug into hers.

Finally, he let go. “Explain.”

Rubbing her frigid skin, she temporarily forced her suspicions aside. “If Jovian was crushed to death by those bookcases, he would have faced a short distance to the ground. There’d be evidence of internal bleeding or asphyxiation, bruising on his back from the bookcase’s weight, not this”— she swallowed—“pulverization. That requires height and gravity. Like he … splintered on impact. Someone would have noticed if that happened in public—everyone probably saw his face at last year’s Robing. But his body could go unnoticed for much longer in the Academiae. It’s less busy there, and I haven’t seen any building that rivals the towers for height.”

Kadra leaned against the icy walls. “And how is it that a man who fell from a tower was found in his study under four bookcases?”

You know why. She dared meet his gaze and found steel within.Careful.She still had no proof of his involvement. Yet, fire crawled up her throat when she glanced at the door behind which Jovian rotted.

Pretend it’s a theory. It’s just a theory.She unfettered her tongue. “I imagine that a death on the Academiae’s grounds would be … undesirable.”

“Meaning someone concealed his suicide to preserve the Academiae’s reputation?”

“I never said his death was a suicide,” she whispered.

A stillness graced Kadra’s face, as though she’d surprised him, and he was perturbed by it. Withdrawing from the opposite wall, he approached her, bending until their faces were level.

“Petitor Sarai.” His voice was silk. “That’s a dangerous theory.”

She didn’t move. “Danger doesn’t change the truth. I used to climb snowgrape vines for a living. I … know what a fall looks like. And I don’t think he wanted to die.”

His face tightened. “Agreed,” he said softly.

The door to the ice room with Jovian’s corpse scraped open. She hurriedly stepped away from Kadra as Geena emerged.

“I thought Arsameans slept in snowdrifts. Didn’t think the cold would be too much for you,” she scoffed. “How would you like me to record the death, Tetrarch Kadra?”

“A fall. The suicide was staged.” His tone brooked no refusal.

“Homicidium?But—” Geena halted when Kadra glanced in her direction. “Certo. Should I do the same for the other one?”

Other one?Sarai’s heart halted. “There’s another corpse like Jovian’s?”

“Tullus’s Petitor two years ago.” Kadra started up the stairs. “He apparently walked into a bull pen and was trampled to death.”

Truth.Another mangled corpse. Another method of disguising a fall. But if Petitors were falling off the Academiae’s towers, then …what happened to me never stopped.

It wasn’t just her and Jovian. Someone was killing the Tetrarchy’s Petitors.

“Why?” she whispered. The question echoed up the stairwell to Kadra, who gave her an inquiring glance. She ran up to him. “Why are you only investigating thisnow? If there’s another body like Jovian’s, then there’s been a killer behind some of these supposed Petitor suicides for years! And you only formed a theory of death for Joviantoday.”

“I didn’t.”

“We agreed that it was a fall justminutesago.” Inches from the main landing, the stench of death choked her. “Wasn’t that the purpose of this little jaunt?”

Geena’s eyes nervously darted between them as he drew an inch closer.

“No, Petitor Sarai.” His voice sank low, and she swallowed. “I’ve visited this corpse on nine occasions to hear the same explanation of death by bookcase from nine different Lugens.” The barest smile brushed his lips. “No one has sharedmyhypothesis. Until today.”

Truth.Frozen, she stared numbly as he straightened and vanished upstairs.

“And I kept saying it wasn’t a fall!” Geena covered her mouth in horror. “Do you think I offended him?”

“I doubt it,” Sarai muttered. Kadra evidently didn’t take offense to much. Ungluing herself from the stairs, she paused when Geena caught her elbow.

The Lugen looked uncomfortable. “How did you know it was a fall?”

She flinched. “The hands.” She stuffed hers in her pockets, hiding joints doomed to eternally tremble. “There’s no hiding the hands.”

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