Page 119 of This Monster of Mine

“Who?” It was an order.

“I don’t know.”

She thought back to Kadra standing over her, cavalierly ordering a new face, a furious Othus beside him. All those years hungering for the truth, and now, part of her wanted nothing more than for it to stay buried, to stay assured that whatever he had done hadn’t been to hurt her.

Once the final wound sealed, Sarai drew away, staring at the blood coating her fingers.

“That isn’t what you’d do, though, is it, Kadra?” she asked softly. “You wouldn’t maim an innocent so badly that they wished they were dead.”

“No.” The word was guttural. Taking her hands, he wiped the blood from each finger with a clean bandage. “Are you alright? After Decimus.”

“I’ll pull myself together. I’ve a little over a day left. Can’t let them win.”

His gaze turned molten. She shoved down the aching warmth humming in her, the painful desire to reach out and touch him just once more. Instead, she gestured at his chest.

“New skin usually itches for a day or two. Goodnight, Kadra.”

“Why?” he asked as she made to head upstairs.

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand his meaning. “Because you’re wrong,” she said, her heart racing a mile a minute. “I never despised you. Even when I wanted to.”

At his silence, she looked up to find him watching her with an emotion that defied description. She didn’t protest when he took her hand. For an aching, electrifying moment, she thought he would pull her to him.

Holding her gaze, Kadra bent and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist, lingering against her skin. “Goodnight, Sarai.”

When he let go, she wobbled to her room and leaned against the door. There was no going back from that. No hiding from what she’d seen in those black eyes.

Hunger.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

One more day. Sarai eyed the white column of Cobhran Tower to the east with grim resolution. She had no doubt that Cisuré would seek her out tonight.

She had the curious sensation of being perched on an executioner’s axe, watching as it tore sinew from bone in a shoddy stroke. It seemed that her friendship with Cisuré needed only one more blow to sever it. And while she would have held on for as long as it took, she doubted Cisuré would be as willing. Not when she had repeatedly brought the axe down herself.

A somber Gaius waited for her outside Aoran Tower, and she was hit by a wave of guilt so deep that she nearly dropped to her knees.

“I’m so sorry about the others.” She met his eyes without cowering. “If I hadn’t brought all of this on—”

“Forgive me, but I must stop you.” Gaius shook his head, holding up a hand. “We’ve lost many people to Tetrarchs Aelius and Tullus. Including Tetrarch Othus, as we’ve only just discovered. Some may blame you. But the only people at fault here are those doing the killing. The rest of us are only guilty of not keeping our heads down when trying to do the right thing.”

She halted at the familiarity of his response. Just like Telmar’s odd pronouncements the day he’d given her Kadra’s invitation to Aoran Tower.

“Gaius, I have an idea,” she breathed. “Where do the instructors live here?”

He looked unnerved at her change of subject. “Petitor Sarai, if you’re unwell—”

“I need to see Telmar.”

Raising his eyes to the sky, Gaius muttered something about Kadra’s Petitor being as mad as he was. “Oh, alright then.”

She’d expected a magus’s offices to be grand, but Telmar’s abode, stashed in a corner of the Academiae’s Safsher Hall, was barely bigger than her bedroom. Though that likely had to do with the bottles littered across the floor.

She’d knocked at first, then pushed the door open when he hadn’t responded. Plumes of dust wafted about his cramped office, clinging to heavy curtains that only let slivers of light through. The shelves, laden with books on posture and technique, looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades, but the crates ofibezscattered around the room were spotless. Gaius took one look at the mess and indicated that he’d rather stand guard outside.

She pointedly cleared her throat. The figure dozing in his chair, wrapped in his cloak, didn’t budge. Grabbing the closest bottle, she uncorked and held it under his nose.

Telmar jackknifed to his feet, grabbing at the bottle. She held it out of reach, waiting as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

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