CHAPTER TEN
Ilean over and close my eyes, instantly rejecting this new, unwelcome reality.
Tiernon has the gall to sigh, placing his hand on my shoulder. I launch myself backward, landing on my ass.
He freezes, and Bran’s confidence in me suddenly makes sense.
He knows about my history with Tiernon. With the Primus. And the Tiernon I knew would never hurt me. Maybe Bran figured I was his best chance to get beneath Tiernon’s guard and close to the emperor. And that’s why he made me swear not to warn the Primus.
Just days ago I vowed to find the Primus’s weakness.
Six years ago, I was that weakness.
But Tiernon’s eyes meet mine, and I remember one cold fact: this isn’t the Tiernon I knew.
The Tiernon I knew would never have abandoned me.
My next breath comes out like a sob, and Tiernon’s expression tightens. “What are you doing here?” he asks again.
My eyes burn, but I won’t let him see me cry. “What are you doing here?” My voice rises hysterically.
Nothing. He crosses his arms, as if he has all the time in the world. I force my voice to steady. “You’re the Primus.”
It’s not a question, but he nods. His eyes are still so cold, I can barely look at him. “You never wanted this. You wanted to be a healer,” he says. “So what are you doing here? How could Kassia let you—”
“Don’t you dare say her name!”
Shock flickers across his face. “Arvelle.”
“Kassia is dead,” I hiss.
Shock turns instantly to stunned grief. “How?”
“How?” I let out another hysterical laugh. When he says nothing, I take a step forward, getting into his space for once.
“She bled out next to me in the arena above us. I’m surprised you didn’t see it—after all, you must have been here somewhere.”
“Arvelle.” My name is half plea, half command.
“I waited for you. I waited for months.”
Years. That’s the real truth. I waited for years.
What little color Tiernon had in his face is gone. “I’m sorry. Kassia—”
“I said don’t speak her name.” My throat is suddenly so thick it hurts to speak. “She would have killed you for what you did to me.”
He stares at me for long moments, and we fall into a stiff silence. Finally, he picks up his helmet, stepping back. “I will see you here tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This changes nothing. You’ll still be here tomorrow morning. You’ll train with the imperius.”
“No, I fucking won’t.”
He curls his lip, displaying sharp, white fangs. “You will.”
There’s no or in that sentence. I no longer know this man. I don’t know how far he’ll go to keep me in line.
All those lessons I so painstakingly taught him over the years—about how people have the freedom to make their own choices … those lessons clearly didn’t stick.
When I don’t reply, he gives me a gentle shake.
“Listen to me. You have no idea how long some of these gladians have been training for this. Their families want nothing more than for their children to be close to the emperor. Close to power. They will do whatever it takes, even if it means killing you in that arena. So you don’t hesitate. You don’t show mercy.”
I attempt to shake him off, but he doesn’t relent. “I will find out why you’re here,” he promises. “But until I get you out of here, you have to stay alive.”
Despite the rasp in his voice, for the first time, he sounds like the man I knew. The man I loved.
And that hurts even more.
“Let me go.”
His hand loosens, and he thrusts it into his hair.
“Arvelle—”
“Stay away from me.” Turning, I stalk from the training hall, leaving what’s left of my heart lying dead on the ground behind me.
UNSURPRISINGLY, TIERNON DOESN’T stay away from me. Instead, I’m forced to train with him every single day, before I meet Leon to train with the other gladians. Leon follows through with his threat, adding a training at night as well.
For the next week, I train three times more than everyone else. I’m still slow, my muscles constantly aching, but there’s one good thing about losing myself in physical activity. By the time I climb into my bunk each night, I’m too tired to dream.
And I have to admit … something is enjoyable about all the training, even though each time I see Tiernon’s face a wound opens up in my chest.
Focusing only on improving my sprint times and upper body strength is freeing, despite Leon’s bad attitude and my own demons.
I worry about my brothers relentlessly, but for once, I’m not forced to choose between new shoes for Gerith or aether for the lamps. I’m not forced to calculate if there’s enough bread left to get us through until my next job or if I’ll need to take a loan from a moneylender.
Instead, I’m obsessing over how I’ll kill the emperor when it’s finally time. And when I’m not doing that, I’m forced to confront the fact that Tiernon has been here for six years—just a few miles from me.
In my darkest moments, I thought he was dead.
I would lie in my bed sobbing, convinced he’d never returned because he’d been murdered while leaving the Thorn, or some other calamity had occurred.
And I’d never know, because he was so careful to never reveal anything about his family. I’d never pushed. Not once.
When he was in the Thorn, he was mine, and that had been enough.
“What is wrong with you today?” Leon hisses at me.
It’s the day of my first challenge. We’re sitting in the lower stands in the arena. For the first challenge we’re allowed to watch and support our fellow gladians before we step onto the sand ourselves.
Leira walks into the arena, carrying her sword and shield. She’s wearing a thick silver bracelet around her wrist, and I squint, attempting to study it further.
“The emperor wants blades and fists only,” Leon says. “The suppression cuffs block your use of power. And they dampen vampire speed and strength to even the score.”
Something in my chest relaxes. I have such little power that this is good news for me. I don’t know who I’m fighting, but at least it will solely come down to physical strength and skill.
Titus steps out into the arena, waving his sword in the air with a roar. He slams his sword against his scutum, and the crowd roars with him.
My heart skitters in my chest. I like Leira. She’s one of the few people here who hasn’t taunted me for my lack of training. Titus’s brother is already a member of the Praesidium Guard, and I know he has been giving him extra training.
Just as I’ve been having extra training.
My fight is directly after Titus and Leira’s, and yet all I can think about is Tiernon.
“Arvelle,” Leon snaps. “Do I need to explain to you how important it is for you to focus?”
“No.” I keep my gaze on Leira. Her expression is grim, but she flicks her long braid back over her shoulder and nods at Titus, raising her parma. Like me, she has chosen the smaller shield.
Titus gives her a nasty smile.
“Fight!” the enforcer calls out.
Titus attacks like a storm, swinging his sword again and again.
But Leira is fast, gliding out of reach, avoiding his blade unless she has no choice but to allow him to hit her shield.
I catch her grimace as his blow strikes her parma, and she’s forced to duck and roll, leaving the shield on the ground behind her.
Titus throws his own shield to the ground and sprints across the arena after her, teeth bared in a vicious grin.
“Come on, Leira,” I mutter.
“Arvelle …” Leon’s tone gets my attention. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath. “Tiernon is the Primus. Th-the Primus is Tiernon,” I say, tripping over my words.
Leon stares at me uncomprehendingly. “He … what?”
I nod. “He’s been here the whole time. He wants to know why I’m here. You can’t tell him about my bargain with Bran, Leon.”
Leon’s mouth thins. “You know I wouldn’t risk your brothers,” he snaps.
I just nod, my stomach roiling.
“You can’t think about this now,” he says. “Listen. I know who you’re fighting. I heard one of the guards talking.”
That catches my attention and I meet his eyes. “Who?”
“Maximus.”
Maximus’s face flashes in front of my eyes and I attempt to remember his weaknesses during training. He’s fast. Brutally fast. I know that much.
My lungs constrict, and Leon narrows his eyes at me.
“Yes, he’s fast,” he says. “But he doesn’t have good instincts.
He second-guesses himself. Something you’ve also begun doing for some reason I can’t comprehend.
But if you can drown out that fear and self-doubt and lean into your instincts, you can take him. ”
I nod, but I’m not sure I believe him. I’m not sure Leon believes himself.
A woman behind me lets out a yelp and I snap my gaze to the ring.
No.
Leira slumps to her knees, her eyes dazed. Her mouth hangs open, blood coating the side of her face.
She lowers her head in a bow to the emperor. A plea for mercy.
But it’s too late. With a victorious roar, Titus approaches her at a run, spearing her with his sword.
“Healers,” I shout, but the word is lost in the exultant cheers of the spectators surrounding us.
Leira is choking on her own blood. Titus pulls his sword free and she slumps to the ground. His hands are in the air and he waves his sword as the crowd screams for him.
The emperor smiles.
I launch to my feet. I’ll drag her to the healers myself if I have to.
“Arvelle.” Leon’s voice is low, his face pale. “Arvelle.” He catches my wrist. “It’s too late.”
A guard steps into the arena, wraps his hand around Leira’s limp arm, and drags her body toward the exit. The sand beneath her is bright red, clumped together …
Leon tugs on my wrist until I’m sitting once more. “Arvelle.”
He waits until I pull my gaze from the arena, where new sand is being spread over Leira’s blood.
Leon scans the spectators around us, but no one is paying any attention. When he leans close, his voice is so low, I can barely hear him.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
I stare at him, and he attempts a reassuring smile. It sits on his craggy face like an ill-fitting mask and he immediately trades it for a frown.