Page 59 of This Monster of Mine

The walls of her room seemed to draw closer, darkness caging her in. She unlocked the door and walked along the mezzanine.

Below, the tablinum was dark—a rarity, seeing as Kadra seemed to work every hour of the day. The robes hung by the door indicated that he was home. Elbows propped on the railing, she inhaled low and slow, finding peace in the silence. In the knowledge that he was only a few yards away and that nothing could touch her within Aoran Tower without his say-so.Nothing but him.

Neither the drugging nor the restraining seemed like something Kadra would do. Which left the Metals Guild, who had means, opportunity, and power. The only questions left were why—and how the hells she was to get more information when their investigation was at a standstill given that Livia’s mother’s whereabouts were still unknown. The trail of evidence for older Petitor deaths had long grown cold.I can’t hold the illusion long enough to visit the Hall of Records.

Several yards away, a bed creaked. She glanced toward Kadra’s bedroom and silently bolted toward hers. Going to shut the door, she halted on impulse and left a gap, peering through.

He emerged knotting a dressing robe over that godsforsaken muscular chest. Instead of heading downstairs, however, he sat on the uppermost step. The dull thunk of glass meeting ground, and he raised a wine bottle to his mouth, drinking deep, staring ahead.

He can’t sleep, she realized. It was strange seeing him like this, man not monster, roughly carved out in the moonlight. She hated that she found histoo-stern features beautiful. That she wanted to know where else he could touch her when her body had proven that it wouldn’t panic if he did.

She hated that she wanted him.

For weeks, she’d held on with iron will whenever they argued, whenever he dipped his head toward her, eyes alight with amusement or cunning, and whenever the rich timbre of his voice had shaped her name. But the desire frothed within her, as hungry as vengeance and far more foolish. He was a Tetrarch and a killer. And she was a patchwork creature.

She withdrew from the door, ignoring the burn in her throat. Sitting at her desk, she lit a candle and read petition after petition for hours. And when the man she shouldn’t crave knocked at her door, she could almost convince herself that she felt nothing.

Half a day later, she tottered out of the marketplace and wondered if this was all there was to her life now. Court, a blur of names and accusations, and more petition-reading. Harion, Anek, and Cisuré hadn’t detailed the minutiae of their workdays, but the former two seemed to have significantly more free time than she did if they’d been gathering information on her to boot.

After the previous night’s fiasco with her illusion, she’d reduced it to cover only visible skin instead of her entire body. A quick look at her armilla showed that she had a couple hours left before her magic sank low.Not enough to visit the Hall of Records, but perhaps enough to see another Quarter.

Glancing over to where Kadra was giving his vigiles some directive or the other, she hopped on Caelum. Gaius spotted her and frowned. Miming that he should tell Kadra that she was leaving, she raced off before he could protest.

Kadra’s Quarter bordered Tullus’s to the north and Cassandane’s to the west. The marketplace they’d just adjudicated in had been in the north, so she went farther that way, until she entered an ivory-bannered public square. Dismounting, she tied Caelum to a post.

Coin pouch pleasantly full from her wages, she took a turn about the shops, examining bejeweled fabrics, ribbons for the end of her braid,polished leather boots, and a place that had her halting before the doors, grinning from ear to ear. A bookseller.

She stepped inside, the day’s stresses falling away at the mix of aromas: cedar-scented leather tomes, pinewood, cinnabar, burnt resin from the ink bottles lining the back of the shop, and the clean sweetness of linen thread. Cross-legged by one of the shelves, the proprietor glanced at her and smiled.

“Here’s a surprise,” the woman said, setting aside the books she’d been shelving. “Been a good while since I last had a Petitor visit. What can I do for you?”

She didn’t have a clue. “I’m open to anything. I haven’t seen so many books before.”

“Well, this is going to be a treat.” Before Sarai could think, the bookseller was steering her by the shoulders. “I’ve a bit of everything. The history annals are here.” She indicated books as wide as their combined heads. “The city’s in no shortage of poets. We have more than we know what to do with. The religious texts and annotated editions of the Codices are toward the back. If it’s politics and philosophy you’re after, they’re over by the inkwells. And the romances”—she stopped before a bookshelf that, at first glance, was pure chaos—“are here.”

Sarai studied the sea of volumes, their fabrics every shade under the sun. At thirteen, Cisuré had managed to sneak enough coin from Marus to purchase a romance. They’d giggled all night over the swaggering pirate lord and his very exasperated but willing captive-turned-wife and tried to understand the mechanics of the very graphic sex within.

Seeing her hesitation, the bookseller nodded. “It’s overwhelming. Of course. If you’d rather get to know Edessa better, there’s plenty in the contemporary section. I’ve everything from betting books toThe Alternate Histories of the Sidran Tower Girl.”

Sarai started. “The what?”

“Excellent stuff. Well-researched accounts of who the Sidran Tower Girl could have been as written by magi and vigiles.” Showing her a set ofbooks with numbers etched on their spine, the woman plucked one off the shelves. “This one says she was a spy sent to assassinate the Tetrarchy by the last known heir to the royal bloodline. Compelling evidence. But this one has some promising points thatshewas actually the heir. Oh, and there’s the romance in the fifth volume!”

Wrath and Ruin. The woman snapped open a crimson volume to reveal an illustration of someone who looked nothing like her ferociously kissing a magus-in-training. Sarai sagged against a pile of books, almost toppling them over. Perhaps Othus had been onto something by having her recorded as dead. The Elsar only knew what these southerners would have come up with if they’d known she was alive.

At the other woman’s expectant glance, she coughed weakly. “I think I’ll just take this.”

She snatched the largest volume off a shelf and thrust it in the bookseller’s hands.

“Excellent choice.” The woman happily accepted two aurei in payment.

Departing in a daze, Sarai cracked open the novel and immediately snapped it shut, face burning after a few filthy lines.Well, then.Something to look forward to later.

Heading back to Caelum, she pulled back when the crowd surged in the square, people running to catch sight of two figures on white horses. Fighting panic from the press of bodies, she wriggled out at first opportunity and spotted Cisuré and Aelius making a round through the square. Judging by the throng, this was a social visit.

As she watched them, an ache spread inside her. There wasn’t a face in the crowd that didn’t smile at Cisuré, people approaching her on all sides. Despite coming from the north, her elevated parentage granted her the same respect as her southern peers. She was just as popular as Aelius, glowing in the afternoon light and, smiling up at him, all soft eyes and adoration. It was odd. She’d seen Cisuré besotted before, but this crush had none of the wide-eyed girlhood she remembered.

For his part, Aelius was nothing but congenial, smiling genuinely as he gripped every hand and waved at children. And there were tells here too. A softening of his gaze when it rested on Cisuré, an acquiescence to her directing him toward vendors. Off-kilter, she turned away, squeezing past several spectators in search of Caelum. She paused when she heard her name above the square’s chatter. Within minutes, Cisuré appeared at her side.

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