Page 61 of This Monster of Mine

“Tetrarch Aelius’s convivium,” she said, and could have sworn that his eyes narrowed for a moment. “I won’t be staying until the end. I’ll be back before two.”

He considered her. “I’ll take you. Delran Tower, I imagine?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to—”

“You’ll be in elevated circles tonight, Petitor Sarai. It wouldn’t do for you to arrive smelling of horse,” he pointed out, a smile softening his words. “I’ll be only a moment.”

Which was how she found herself arriving at Delran Tower in Kadra’s ornate raeda. Dismounting, she realized that Cato was right. She would have been a joke if she’d arrived on horseback.

Situated between Cobhran Tower and Cassandane’s Favran Tower, Delran Tower was an architectural masterpiece. It looked to have been carved from a piece of limestone so large the gods themselves must have dropped it in position. A semicircular decorative wall rose above the entrance, featuring detailed sculptures of the High and Dark Elsar. Magi, nobles, and people in expensive fabrics that rippled like water stepped out of raedae around her, sauntering through the main doors with barely a nod to the magi vetting them.

She looked down at herself. Kadra’s robes were well cut, and opulent enough that she wasn’t out of place, but they were clearly still Kadra’s robes and not a gown from Edessa’s best dressmakers.

Can’t back out now. She needed to meet Helvus. Thanking Cato profusely, she straightened her back and entered, following the other attendees as they would their way up a spiral staircase.

A glass ceiling wrapped around the top of the tower to bare the heavens to the attendees’ gazes. Every star seemed inches away, the sparse sconces keeping the room in a state of perpetual twilight for better viewing.

“Incredible,” she whispered. A sharp pain jabbed the inside of her skull. She scrunched her eyes with a low hiss and blinked at a brightly lit ballroom with frescoes tiling the walls, sweeping up to the cavernous ceiling. Jewels dripped from the party’s wealthy attendees, winking from ears, necks, and rings. Platters of meat occupied a long table at the center of the room, people popping a few morsels into their mouths as they sized up their peers.

“Told you you’d love it.” An arm looped through hers. Startled, Sarai gasped and the luminous ballroom winked out. Breathing hard, she took in the darker,differentballroom she was in.

Another memory. And she’d beenawake. Sweat beaded on her forehead.Calm down. Make sense of it later. Gather information now.

“Alright there, Sarai?” Cisuré peered at her. “It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” The other girl had never looked more stunning, golden curls cascading down her back. Her silver shift was liquid moonlight, hugging her waist before billowing at her ankles. “Your hair! Oh, it’s lovely, but your … robes.” She sighed.

Sarai inhaled raggedly. “I thought we didn’t have to dress up.”

“Which meant that you should at least wash your face, barmaid.” Harion sauntered over from the wine table, glass in hand. His new nose still looked raw.

She feigned sympathy. “Does it still hurt to wash yours?”

“Let’s not speak of it,” Cisuré interjected. “It was a little tiff that got out of—”

“She got lucky.” Harion drained his glass, unconcerned. “Another minute, and I’d have had her.”

Sarai gave Cisuré a meaningful look. With a waspish look in Harion’s direction, the other girl dragged her across the room, introducing her to a slew of people. They passed a resplendent Aelius, Cassandane looking stunning in a crimson gown, and Tullus’s roving eyes. Helvus was conspicuously absent, much to her frustration, but there was no shortage of influential faces. Tribunes from military camps on the borders, Praetors of southern towns, charming playwrights and more noble families than she’d known existed clustered around tables packed high with unusual dishes.

After an hour of faces and names and no further triggered memories, a pattern emerged. Almost no one was from the north. She’d only run into one other person, an elderly Tribune. Ur Dinyé’s north-south divide was on full display tonight.If these are the country’s most renowned businesspeople and talents, then no wonder the north’s upset.

“And they sent in petitions for weeks.” An older iudex chatted with Cisuré about the northern towns who’d complained after the latest hike in Grains Guild taxes. “You’d think they’d have some sense. Why bring a claim against the Guild you rely on for bread?”

Because they aren’t getting any regardless.Staying silent through sheer force of will, she popped a tart into her mouth, wondering how many in Arsamea would kill for a morsel from this table.

When Tullus joined their conversation, she immediately feigned rapt attention in the iudex’s chatter. After many attempts to get a word alone with her, he slunk away when Cisuré pulled her to meet yet another person of import.

“Grains Guildmaster Admia.” Cisuré waved down a sharp-faced woman in emerald robes, who eyed Sarai with mild distaste. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”

You’ve met before?Sarai looked askance at Cisuré and pasted on a smile as the Guildmaster assessed her clothing.

“We just heard about the tax increase.” Cisuré wrinkled her nose. “It can’t be easy weathering that criticism.”

Admia made a dismissive gesture. “They can complain all they want. It changes nothing. If they want grain, they’ll pay the coin on it.”

Sarai’s hand curled tighter around her wineglass. “What do the extra taxes go toward?”

“Well, growth and seizing opportunity are crucial to our operations. Rising profits dictate a healthy economy, and Guilds are the backbone of that.”

A lot of words to say nothing. “Do the profits go to wages, equipment, expansion?”

---