Page 64 of This Monster of Mine

“What thefuck?” His roar cracked through the ballroom. Everyone fell quiet.

Oh no.

Cisuré’s smile slid off her face, a familiar panic in her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” Her voice was high. “Here, let me.”

Before Sarai could stop her, she batted at the man’s robes, smearing the drink. He shoved her aside. A broken sound left her. On the other side of the ballroom, Aelius abandoned a group of nobles and strode over. Aware of all the eyes on them, Sarai dragged Cisuré behind her, but the Guildmaster wasn’t done.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? Disgraceful behavior, flailing about like that, like a drunk—”

“Petitor,” Sarai interjected. “Like a drunk Head Tetrarch’s Petitor. Happens to the best of us, doesn’t it?”

A loud “Hear, hear!” from Signet Ring’s group shattered the predatory quiet. Several people tittered, and the crowd moved on.

Sarai led Cisuré off to the sidelines, an arm firmly around her shoulders. “Breathe. You don’t have to say anything.”

Aelius caught Sarai’s eye on their way past him and gave her a grateful look, inserting himself to soothe the ego of the irate Guildsman. Spotting the balconies overlooking the ballroom, she pulled Cisuré toward one of the curtain-covered stairways leading up to them.

Behind the curtain, Cisuré planted herself on a step, chin wobbling. “I ruined everything.” Tears threatened to spoil her artful eyepaint, and Sarai shook her head, kneeling beside her.

“It’s alright. It was an accident, and he overreacted. Everyone thought so.” She repeated variations of the phrase, patting Cisuré’s back until she’d calmed down enough to laugh at the whole thing.

“The next time I have more than two drinks at one of these, stop me.”

“The next time I come to one of these will be too soon,” Sarai said with a groan. “Now, go out and dance.” She could hear instruments picking up. “I’m happy where I am.”

Cisuré left after giving her a hug. Sarai resolved to stay behind the curtain until it was time for her workday to begin. She’d had enough excitement.

Music soon filled her quiet hiding place, stringed and wind instruments vibrating in notes of such joy that she could understand why the Naaduir of music had been elevated to one of the Elsar in many cultures. She tapped her feet to the tune when voices drew close to her curtain.

“I can’t imagine what he’s doing here. He knows he isn’t wanted. At least two-thirds of us have lost coin because of him,” a woman sniped. “Not like we don’t know what he’s done.”

“There’s no proof he killed Othus,” a man noted.

“Oh, isn’t there? Who hasn’t heard Othus roaring at him? Kadra had motive, opportunity, and gained everything. I can’t believe he wasn’t jailed.”

“And those eyes.” Another woman made a sound of disgust. “He looks like a blackstripe bear, you know? Just craving blood.”

Sarai doubted the woman had ever come within a hundred feet of a blackstripe bear.

“What about that new Petitor of his? The one who’s fucking him,” a second man asked. “Anything we can do with her?”

“If he’s fucking her, then I’m a Saint. I saw her earlier, and she’s the homeliest thing.”

Sarai stared at her hands.Fair enough. She wished they’d leave. She could barely hear the music.

“He kills all his lovers,” a second man insisted. “That’s why you never hear of them. He’s using this northern girl as a shield. I bet you the bodies are in his tower. If we use the girl, we could break in, obtain proof, and get rid of him.”

Alright, that’s enough. She pushed aside the curtain and smiled blandly when the group of assorted nobles and Guildmasters jumped.

“I haven’t seen any bodies yet, but I’ll be sure to keep you informed.” She gave each of them a scathing once-over. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to inform the Tetrarch I’m fucking about a very sinister plot to storm his tower.”

They watched her with complete indifference. One opened his mouth when a quiet footfall sounded, a figure emerging to stand at her shoulder. She didn’t have to look. The frozen expressions on the group’s faces gave his identity away.

Kadras’s tar-black eyes, unnerving on the best of the days, held enough muted violence to reduce them to stammers and rumbles of discontent. But when he turned to her, he wore only the same surprise and perturbation as when she’d goaded Red Tunic into throwing a punch. Like he hadn’t expected her to defend him and didn’t know what to do with her now that she had.

Feeling just as awkward, she gave them both an out. Ducking behind the curtain, she went up the stairway and onto the narrow balcony to which it led. Moments later, she heard footsteps behind her. Kadra faced her, one hand braced against the railing. A banked fire encompassed her so slowly she couldn’t tell if she was aflame. She was all at once a mortal before one of the Wretched. Transfixed, foolishly eager to approach.

People danced below. Cisuré and Aelius led everyone, silver-clad stars twinkling in the ballroom’s gloaming. Harion had managed to wrangle some poor girl into joining him, while the girl Anek was spinning looked half in love with them already.

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