CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
Dark eyebrows draw together. “I think that’s between the three of you. What’s important is how you respond to her goading. One of our tenets may be courage, but another is strategy. I know you can scheme—I’ve seen and heard it.”
“Very inspirational,” an amused voice says, and Lucius goes still. Behind his shoulder, Rorrik leans against the stone wall, a predatory light in his eyes.
What is he even doing here? For someone with so many responsibilities, he spends a suspicious amount of time skulking around the ludus.
Lucius turns, bowing low. Rorrik gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to do the same, and I lower my head, secretly cussing him.
“Die, die, die, die, die,” I chant, wishing my thoughts alone could make his head explode.
“No.” Rorrik’s voice is soft and silky. It’s the stroke of a hand across fur, the nuzzle of lips against warm skin.
My entire body turns blazingly hot and then icy cold.
He’s in my head. The emperor’s son is in my head.
I recoil, slamming my back against the wall. Rorrik gives me a wicked smile, while Lucius slowly rises with a frown.
“Still here.”
“Stop it!” My voice is high-pitched, panicked.
Lucius moves closer, his eyes intent. “What’s wrong?”
“Then stop screaming your thoughts at me,” Rorrik croons, amusement heavy in his voice.
I’m doing this?
Panic claws at me, and my throat constricts until I can barely breathe. Rorrik’s eyes turn feral and I want to climb out of my own skin. He’s a predator. My terror excites him.
“Leave,” Rorrik says, and I begin to sidle away, my back pressed against the wall.
“Not. You.”
I freeze. Lucius hesitates, his gaze flicking between us.
Rorrik leans toward Lucius. It’s the slightest change of position, but threat oozes from his body. “Did I stutter?”
“No.” Lucius firms his mouth. “Rorrik—”
Rorrik sighs, giving Lucius a look that’s almost … exasperated. “I won’t hurt her.”
“Go,” I say. The last thing I want is for Lucius to be hurt or worse for defending me. But I’ll remember this.
I’ll remember that he tried to stay.
Lucius reluctantly walks away, leaving me facing Rorrik in the corridor. Fresh fear washes over me, and Rorrik’s nostrils flare.
“There’s something very interesting about this little interaction,” he says. An icy presence slices into my mind, clutching it tight.
This is what makes him so dangerous.
I let out a pained sound, unprepared for the invasion. The pressure loosens slightly, and Rorrik stares into my eyes. Into my mind. He leans close, studying my sigil. “It has grown.”
I’m not sure how he knows that. The change is so slight, even Tiernon hasn’t noticed.
“And yet this is not a sigilmarked power.”
I stare at him. “Are you sure?” Some of my fear has turned into shock, and it seems to have blunted the edge of his bloodlust. Rorrik’s eyes are icy once more.
“Yes,” he says. “And yet you broke through my shields.”
I prepare to reach for my dagger, but it doesn’t seem as if my disembowelment is imminent. Instead, he looks almost … thoughtful.
Which means he probably won’t kill me if I question him some more. “Your shields?”
A sharp nod. “My mental shields are always up. I don’t reinforce them unless I’m near those who are at least half-crowned gold or full silver-crowned.
Because I don’t need to. And yet you sliced through my basic shields like they were butter.
Something you shouldn’t have been able to do as a sigilmarked with an embarrassingly small sigil. ”
He shifts his cool gaze to my face, waiting expectantly.
Understanding hits me. Rorrik doesn’t care what length my sigil is. He wants my reaction to his taunt. Why? I have no idea. Boredom maybe. Folding my arms, I raise one eyebrow, leaning against the wall behind me.
The barest hint of amusement flickers through his eyes. “I want to know how you did it.”
“I don’t know. You heard me. It just … happened.”
Rorrik studies me like he’s my judge, jury, and potential executioner, and ice slides up my spine.
“I don’t understand,” I murmur. “You’re not … reading my mind?”
“No. You were shouting your thoughts at me.”
My cheeks heat. Yes, I was demanding that he die. “What’s it called?” I ask. “This … ability.”
“Mindpathing. I know of only two sigilmarked who can do it, and both are gold-crowned who were blessed by their goddess Staleia. It’s much more common for vampires and maginari.”
I never asked Staleia for this. And I have no doubt such a power would have required years of worship in return.
There’s only one way I can explain this sudden power. Because the only other time I’ve mindpathed was with Antigrus.
“Use it well.”
My stomach twists into tight knots. “How do I make it stop?”
“You take your last breath.”
Great.
“Control it, or it will control you,” Rorrik says disinterestedly. His gaze slides past me, his expression turning lethal. “Primus.”
Tiernon places his hand on my shoulder, and I’m too relieved to shake it off.
“Rorrik.” He keeps his eyes on the emperor’s son, although he gives my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Rorrik doesn’t miss the movement. One side of his mouth kicks up in a lazy smirk.
“Shouldn’t you be off terrorizing someone?” Tiernon asks stiffly.
Rorrik’s eyes meet mine. “I thought I was.”
The words are almost teasing, and for some strange reason, I want to … smile. Biting my lower lip, I clamp down on the urge.
Rorrik’s eyes narrow, and something I can’t define flickers through them. When they leave my face, it’s as if the air around me turns cold.
Tiernon and Rorrik have another of their silent staring competitions, and I shift on my feet. With a sharp nod at Tiernon, Rorrik turns and prowls down the corridor.
Behind Tiernon, two novices stand, waiting and watching. He glances over his shoulder as if he’s forgotten they were there.
“Thank you, Drewsin and Cameri, you’re dismissed.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t understand why you, the emperor, or Rorrik could possibly need novices following you around all day.”
He sighs. “The emperor thinks it’s symbolic. He also believes after a year of being expected to thrust their bodies between us and any hint of danger, loyalty to the empire will be ingrained in them for the rest of their careers.”
“Hmm.” Maybe that’s my answer. Maybe I can find a novice who doesn’t have that loyalty. And we can work together.
“Arvelle?”
I blink. Tiernon frowns at me. “I heard you let Orna goad you.”
“Yeah, well, we both know my decision making has been compromised since I walked into this place.”
“Why were you talking to Rorrik?”
“He cornered me.”
“I know. Why is he so interested in you?” There’s a hint of something that sounds almost like suspicion in his voice and I don’t like it.
“I have no idea. But … I need to talk to you.”
His eyes lighten, and he nods. “In that case, come with me.”
THE IMPERIUS QUARTERS are quiet, but Tiernon doesn’t linger in the common room. Instead, he leads me down the long hall, opening a door on the left.
“Wow.” We’re standing in a separate living area complete with a fire—I have no idea how that works so far underground—and a kitchen I doubt he’s ever used. Vampires need to eat to maintain their ideal strength, but they’ll only truly starve if they lack enough blood.
Curiosity wars with annoyance, and curiosity wins. I let myself wander, taking in three separate bedrooms and …
“Outside.”
Like Rorrik, Tiernon has access to his own outdoor space. While Rorrik’s space is a forest that shouldn’t be able to exist given this ludus is in the middle of the city, Tiernon’s space is a well-maintained garden, the flowers planted in neat rows.
Tiernon opens the glass door. It’s still sunny outside, but the same thick, aether-protected tiles from the arena arch over his door, casting a long shadow that protects the room from the sun.
I’d give anything to feel the sun on my face. And I’ve only been without it for weeks. What must it be like for Tiernon?
“Go,” he says softly. “I’ll wait here.”
He’s looking at me the same way he used to when we were young, before we ever kissed. With a mixture of fondness and longing.
I don’t hesitate. Despite the frost still melting on the ground, the sun is warm on my cheeks. Senthara will never provide the true warmth I crave—it’s too far south for that—but even in the middle of Lunius, the sky is a clear, vivid blue.
I inhale a greedy lungful of greenery.
“You always loved the sun,” Tiernon says from the shadows behind me.
I turn. “So did you.”
He gives a languid shrug. But I remember the horror he lived with when he could no longer sit on the highest branches of our tree. When he could no longer turn his face up to the warmth of the sun. The knowledge of what he was losing had made the sacrifice worse.
“We need to talk,” Tiernon says, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs behind the glass door. He leaves it open, so we can at least enjoy the cool, fresh air.
I sit. May as well get this over with. “I can … mindpath.”
Tiernon’s brows dip. “Impossible.”
“Nope.”
“Go on then.” His voice is laced with challenge—just as it was so many times when we spurred each other on as children, each of our dares more audacious than the last.
I focus. How did I do this with Rorrik? It wasn’t intentional. It was as if I was attempting to drill a hole through his skull and into his thoughts with my own mind.
I strain, but all I do is give myself a headache. Tiernon’s expression flickers. Is that … disappointment?
“I can do it. I swear. I did it with Rorrik.”
His eyes turn cool. “You mindpathed with Rorrik.”
I frown at him. He can’t possibly be jealous of the emperor’s ruthless son. Can he?
Tiernon leans back in his chair. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I think … I think maybe Antigrus gave me this power? I don’t know why. And I don’t know how. Have you ever heard of maginari giving sigilmarked their powers?”
A shake of his head. “Never. I’ll look into it, but in the meantime …”
“Keep it to myself. Believe me, I know.”