Page 67 of This Monster of Mine

Sarai’s stomach curdled. An arm lay within a wooden box, runes etched all over the wood to prevent its decay. Livia’s mother must have paid a Lugen well for such preservation. Fear coiled around her at the familiar shattered fingers, the elbow joint facing the wrong way. Two bodies disfigured in death. And at the center of it all, the Metals Guild.

Her hands shook. “Another fall,” she whispered for Kadra’s ears alone.

“It was the only piece of her that wasn’t coated in metal.” Livia’s mother hugged it to her. “I don’t have anything else for you.”

Barely able to breathe, Sarai struggled for words.

“We appreciate your assistance,” Kadra said smoothly, after a quick glance at her. “I’ll see that her killers pay.”

“Ha! You won’t do anything either,” Livia’s mother said scornfully. “I went to Tullus, too, you know. He told me that anger was unbecoming, that the gods decreed Livia’s fate and that I should pray for her rest in the Bright Realms instead of conjuring culprits.”

Damn him. She took in Livia’s mother’s ragged clothes, the box she so fiercely clung to, the spark of hope in her eyes that she extinguished every time it flared up. A mother who loved beyond death, whom the world had ignored, just as it had Jovian and Livia. Eyes burning, she hugged her, feeling the bony hills of her shoulders when she patted her back.

“I’m sorry.” It was all she could say to this woman who’d been failed in every way. “I’m so sorry.”

She was quiet on the way back. Kadra rode ahead, acknowledging her silence but not prying into it. She wished he would. None of this made sense.

The Metals Guild was involved, but how did Kadra fit into this? Jovian and Livia had no ties to him beyond their corpses being found in his Quarter, and all she had was a memory of his voice, which she was starting to wonder if her cracked skull had made up that night.

By the time they reached the vigiles who’d been distributing soup earlier, she had a splitting headache. One set down his pot when he saw them and ran over.

“There’s been a strike, Tetrarch Kadra. Eighteen streets north.”

Kadra turned to her. “How fast can you ride?”

Her adrenaline surged. “As fast as you need.”

“Stay close.”

With a white-knuckled grip on the reins, she spurred Caelum on. Their mounts picked their way across the widening streets, breathing hard. Smoke hung in the air, worsening with every mile, scratching her throat. Thinking of the storm she’d been caught in with Kadra, she sent a fervent plea to the gods, her dread burgeoning when the dwellings grew larger. They rounded a cluster of trees, and Kadra drew to a halt. She froze.

Fortune, have mercy.

An insula rose ahead, obliterated. Embers still bloomed on the upper floors, Kadra’s vigiles perched on ladders to throw buckets of water at them. People clustered outside, sobbing and screaming in pain, burns lacing their skin. Her breath hitched when two of Kadra’s vigiles emerged from the rubble, carrying a blackened corpse between them. At the sight of their Tetrarch, they set the body down and came over.

“How many?” Kadra’s features were grim.

“Twelve dead, Tetrarch Kadra.” One of the vigiles wiped his sweaty forehead, smearing it with ash. “The rest are either getting there or burned enough to wish they were.”

“Get them to the healers and find a few brick Guildsmen who’ll help rebuild.” Kadra indicated the people clustering around the corpse, wailing. “Ask them where they want the bodies buried and join them in finding shelter. The air’s thick. This storm isn’t over.”

Both vigiles nodded and vanished back inside the charred building. Dismounting, she coughed at the smoke, gaze fixed on the scutum lying on its side at the front of the home. Crouching, she gingerly touched the rod, finding it cool to the touch.

“I don’t understand.” She turned to Kadra. “Why didn’t it work?”

Kadra grimly surveyed the dead. “What do you know of the scuta?”

“They’re steel rods, engraved with protective runes that Tetrarch Aelius found in an ancient annal.” Her chest tightened when the vigiles brought out another body. “Don’t they shield against lightning?”

Kadra’s laugh was ugly, humorless. “Do you know what the runes say?”

She shook her head, frustrated. “I can only read a few.”

His shadow fell over her shoulder. “May I?” He offered his hand.

The heat from the fire receded as a different rush of warmth hummed over her skin.I shouldn’t. He might feel her scars. They were at the scene of a disaster.

Yet, she still nodded. His large hand covered hers, another coming to rest on her shoulder in a steadying hold. That had always troubled her. That a man so entrenched in violence was capable of gentleness. She nearly choked when he interlocked their fingers and pressed them to the scutum, tracing each rune to show her their meaning.

---