Page 58 of This Monster of Mine

“Sarai? What are you doing?”

Damn it.She closed her eyes with a wince and turned to face a white-lipped Cisuré. “I was just … leaving.”

Horror and distaste warred for prominence on the other girl’s face. “Harion, I apologize on her behalf. She’s just sensitive—”

“Shove it,” he spat, with a look so spiteful she was nearly impressed, before running for his horse—undoubtedly to find a healer.

Cisuré was ashen-faced. “I thought you’d finally learned to control yourself.”

“I had to! He—”

“Do you think the gods want us to lash out at the first sign of disrespect?” She examined the swelling on Sarai’s wrist and flinched. “Rage andviolence are ugly tools used by people who don’t know how to resolve conflict without resorting to bloodshed. This was unnecessary. You’re better than that.”

“Look at me! I’m sopping wet for areason. He would’ve drowned me.”

Cisuré stared at her, disbelieving. “I’ve known him for four years. He has his flaws,certo, but he was just angry after your stunt with the wine. He’d never behave like—”

“A self-absorbed man who took a blow to his ego? He can, and he did. Should I have drowned and returned from the Bright Realms to tell you that I stayed kind and true to the waterlogged end? Do you think he’d have stopped if I askednicely?” She realized she was yelling when Cisuré’s face crumpled, eyes taking on a hunted look.

Gods.She needed to leave, but not with Cisuré like this. Marus had been happy to bruise and wound Sarai in public, but Cisuré’s scars had occurred in darker places.

She took Cisuré’s hands. “I’m sorry. I am. I tried to hold it in.”

“There’s something in you at times. I saw it earlier. You enjoyed hurting him.” Cisuré squeezed her hands, and Sarai winced as her sprain throbbed. “I don’t want Kadra to rub off on you. Take this matter with the Metals Guild. Why antagonize them? We’d be done for without their scuta. Do you know what it was like without the scuta four years ago?Nothingwas certain. All it took was more lightning than the magi protecting the area could control and homes would go up in flames. The Metals Guild hold thesafetyof our country.”

“Debt-slaves are illegal!”

“What if the Guild just meant to give them a job like Cretus did for you? The children just misunderstood the rigors of work, and started complaining.” Cisuré shook her head. “You’re a Petitor. Try to see both sides instead of only your own. Please.”

Sarai dropped her chin to her chest. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to like what I’m saying,” Cisuré said ruefully. “Just try to believe me.”

She swallowed a glum sigh. Sometimes, Cisuré could be a little too ignorant of the real world. “I’ll see you soon.”

Balling up her soaked birrus, Sarai led Caelum to the front of the tavern and stilled at the figure waiting by the door. Kadra considered her wet hair, then made a sweep of her bedraggled frame. She sighed.

“First assassination attempt.” She climbed onto Caelum, shrugging when he suddenly looked murderous. “I sent him to the healers. I’m tired. Goodnight, Tetrarch Kadra.”

She spurred the mare on. Glancing back, she froze at the faint smile forming on his face. And the question returned.Why was he there the night of the Fall?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was still black when she opened her eyes. She wondered why her head hurt. Then, memory returned and terror with it. He’d drugged her drink. She’d taken a sip only because he was watching, and it had doomed her.

Whisper-soft legs skittered across her skin. She jumped with a muffled shriek and froze. There was a weight over her mouth. Thick and tight.

Panicking, she reached out to claw at the dark, but restraints knotted her hands and ankles. Wood pressed against her knees, softened by cloth. A wardrobe. She threw herself at the walls, silently pleading for a crack that she could prize wider. Finding a hinge, she leveraged her feet to push harder. The door wobbled but stayed put. He must have tied the door handles together on the outside.

Sounds penetrated her struggling. She shrank back as a door creaked open. Footsteps entered the room, a group of men judging by their voices. One approached the closet, purposeful strides ticking like seconds on a water clock. He stopped before the doors.

Gods save me.

Sarai’s eyes flew open to utter black.Not again.She struggled against the sheets, throwing them off to sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, blinking back tears.

Another one. Too vivid to be a dream, laced with the same sharp panic that characterized her memories of the Fall.

Wiping her eyes, Sarai snatched a piece of parchment and jotted down everything she remembered.A wardrobe, a man, a drugged drink. She paused.Restraints. She grimly glanced at her swollen wrist from Harion’s attack hours earlier and sucked her lower lip between her teeth, her theory solidifying. The healer who’d repaired her skull had snippily informed her that severe head trauma often resulted in permanent amnesia, but perhaps that wasn’t a rule. The rest of her memories could be waiting for the right key.

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