Page 17 of This Monster of Mine

He made a show of backing away. “Like I’ve any interest, barmaid. No one does in someone so green that you don’t even knowwhyyou’re here. Edessa nicknames each year’s Petitors, you know. To keep them straight, given how many we’ve gone through. Cisuré is ‘the Saint.’ Anek is ‘the neutralis.’” He smirked. “And I’m ‘the lover.’ But you’re just the northerner the betting books have already marked as a dead girl walking.”

Her hands balled into fists, when a low voice spoke behind them.

“I wouldn’t buy that. Several magi were calling him ‘the lecher’ just last night.”

She snorted at Harion’s indignant sputtering as a genderless neutralis descended from a raeda, fiery spirals of hair spilling over their forehead.

“Anek of Edessa.” Razor-sharp brown eyes swept over her for barely a second, but she had the discomfiting sense of being thoroughly assessed. “You must be Sarai.”

“Pleasure.”

Another raeda halted to release Cisuré, who hugged her in greeting. Harion immediately began pestering the other girl on which Tetrarch Sarai had slept with. Sarai started toward him with a curse when Anek raised a hand.

“Enough, Harion. Look, we may as well put our cards on the table. Who does everyone want?”

“Anyone buthim,” Harion pronounced.

“Cassandane for me.” Anek folded their arms, uniform stretching tight over impressive biceps. They turned to Cisuré. “Tetrarch Aelius for you, yes?”

A trick of the light seemed to paint Cisuré with a sudden pallor. “No preference.”

“No preference? Please. You’ve been wild foryears—”

“We don’t get a choice.” Cisuré flashed a nervous smile. “Let’s just hope for the best.”

They rolled their eyes. “So, Aelius for you, Saint. And Sarai?”

Glancing at a red-faced Cisuré, Sarai wondered what that was about. “I—”

“She’s getting Kadra.” Harion shrugged. “Everyone knows it.”

“No, we don’t,” Anek snapped. “It could just as easily be one of us.”

Unease crawled up Sarai’s spine.“Is there something wrong with Tetrarch Kadra?”

“Something wrong?” Harion whistled, leaning against Aelius’s statue with breathtaking insolence. “Besides him being a bloodthirsty madman? Let’s see. How about that every one of our dead colleagues were last seen in Kadra’s Quarter before their untimely ends?”

The implication dashed over her like icy water.There it is.The missing piece of information that explained everyone’s paranoia last night.

“My congratulations on being a human sacrifice for Kadra. Youngest Tetrarch in a century but the man’s mad.” Harion snickered at her bloodless face. “Gods, Saint. Didn’t you warn her?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Cisuré gave her a pleading look. “There are … rumors about Kadra.”

Rumors that had never reached Arsamea, because the assessors had never discussedwhythe Petitor deaths had begun. Had it been a murderer at the top all along?

Anek made a sound of exasperation “You lot are worse than the gossips. If there was a shred of evidence, he would’ve been put on trial.No one—not even Kadra—can talk someone into killing themselves. We’ve plenty of reasons to be wary of him without resorting to gossip.”

Harion smirked, and Sarai couldn’t help wondering if Anek was wrong. She’d heard of kings in the far western wastelands commanding ice, and the Kashyalin people beyond the ocean opening portals between countries. If she could read lies, then who was to say that there wasn’t some equally rare talent where someone could induce another to die?

The dull boom of a horn cut through her panic. Long and low, the note rippled to a close, and Sarai’s heart thudded. It was time.

They clustered by the side door into the Aequitas. Anek gripped the handle. “Ready?”

They exchanged grim nods, and the door swung open. Soil yielded to a pristine marble hallway, the crowd’s roars growing with every step. A shaft of sunlight pierced the ground ahead, and the corridor gave way to the Aequitas’s stage. Tens of thousands of voices swelled in an explosive roar across the tiered, open-air amphitheater. Sweat gathered on her hairline, trepidation clasping her heart instead of triumph, as she wondered just how many Petitors the crowd had seen come and go.

Opulent seating boxes graced the front row, filled with extravagantly attired Guildmasters and nobles. Everyday folk clustered in the higher rows, straining for a glimpse of their soon-to-be Petitors. Catching her gaze, Anek inclined their head toward the long dais at the other end of the stage where the four people who held Ur Dinyé in their palms watched and waited.

A beautiful, dark-haired woman occupied the far left of the dais, crimson robes buttoned to the throat. Sighting Sarai’s wide-eyed stare, shewiggled her fingers in a cheerful wave.Cassandane. Beside her was a stern-faced man in indigo robes, gray threading his temples. Tullus, the oldest and longest-running Tetrarch. He looked more like a cleric than a statesman. Drawing her gaze from him, she found Harion staring at her with a knowing smirk.

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