CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #3
Tiernon’s eyes widen slightly. Likely, he’s surprised my words weren’t dripping in sarcasm or bitterness. After a moment of hesitation, he swallows. “Will you dance with me?”
I nod, no longer caring what the other novices think. I’ll be out of here in a matter of days, one way or another. Which means this may be the last time I truly talk to Tiernon.
He pulls me into his arms, effortlessly leading me in the complicated footwork. When I step on his foot, he laughs. “Clearly all those lessons I gave you didn’t help.”
“It has been years since we danced,” I hiss. “I’m out of practice.”
I’d never been sure why Ti had insisted on teaching me to dance. I was twelve years old when our lessons started. And he bribed me by telling me every hour I spent learning to dance would equal an hour he’d teach me to fight.
By then, I was deep in my training with Kassia and Leon, and I’d known Tiernon could teach me things Leon couldn’t.
I’d been right. Those lessons had kept me alive, while Kassia had died.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs.
I tell him. Sorrow fills his eyes, but he lifts his head, pulling me closer. “I know you’re still mourning, Arvelle, but choosing rage over grief will only work for so long.”
I wish I could argue but I know he’s right. Kassia’s death is a wound that refuses to heal. It festers and fevers and spreads infection throughout the rest of me.
“What do you want, Tiernon?”
He pulls me closer. “I want the old Velle. The one who threw her head back and laughed like this world was an endless source of joy and amusement. I want the woman who was relentlessly, furiously alive. And I won’t stop until I find her again.”
I look him square in the eye. “That woman is dead.”
“We’ll see about that.” He raises his hand to my forehead, his fingers stroking my sigil, and I know he’s noticed the tiny growth.
When he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, I sigh, nestling my face into his hand.
“I’m still not happy you’re here,” he says. “I’d carry you to the city walls and throw you out myself if I could.”
“We both know how that worked out.”
“Yes. I’ve been asking around. Finding out which vampires have been seen near the Thorn.”
“Ti—”
“I know you need to be here to protect your brothers, but I’m going to find out who sent you and why. And I’ll make sure you can leave.” He leans closer. “Even though you can only be here for incredibly dangerous reasons … I’m glad I got to see you, Velle.”
My eyes sting and I pull away, staring up at his breathtakingly handsome face. So familiar, and yet so different. Hunger flickers in his eyes, and my toes curl at the way he looks at me with such … need.
I raise my hand, stroking over the scruff of his jaw. “Are you ever going to tell me why you left?”
The music stops, and silence claims the room.
As one, everyone lowers their heads, and Tiernon backs away from me like I’m suddenly poisonous. I bow, canting my head to watch the emperor enter. His gaze finds Tiernon, who instantly strolls toward the front of the room.
Rorrik skulks to the emperor’s other side, his black tunic eating the light, while ornate silver buttons reflect it. Not many vampires would actually wear silver. Even brushing their hand against one of those buttons would cause them pain.
The emperor begins to speak, his voice a low drone in my ears. I tune it out, until his gaze flickers over the crowd, pausing briefly on me before moving on. My heart slams against my ribs.
Finally, the music begins to play again, and I wander back toward the edge of the room, drawn to the mural. Tiernon was close to telling me why he left. I know he was.
“Interested in the forbidden?” Rorrik purrs the word forbidden like it’s something filthy.
A chill ripples through me and I stare at the emperor’s son. He appeared without warning, my senses failing me. He directs a single glance at the novices trailing after him, and they melt away into the crowd.
Rorrik takes my hand and my stomach sags with dread. What if I accidentally … mindpath to him again? Could he use that link to get inside my mind? I didn’t ask him if it was possible, and I don’t trust him to tell me the truth.
“Trembling,” he muses. “I thought you were braver than that. Dance with me.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Why would I dance with you?”
“Because you’re curious. You’re impulsive. And you can’t help but wonder what it is I want with you.”
I hate that he’s right. Shaking my head, I let him lead me away from the wall.
The atmosphere has turned darker while I was dancing with Tiernon.
Rorrik twirls me, and everywhere I look, vampires feed on mundanes—and the occasional sigilmarked.
A bulky vampire sits on a chair near the door, a sigilmarked in his lap, his hand buried beneath her long gown as she writhes, her head thrown back.
His dark eyes meet mine as he drinks from her, eyes blurred.
Near the wide, open doors, Orna presses a novice to the wall, her fangs buried in his neck. He clutches her to him as if he’s worried she’ll escape, his eyes squeezed closed, mouth hanging open.
“Like what you see?” Rorrik’s voice is a caress. It’s sweat-dampened skin and tangled silk sheets.
“Of course not.”
He lets out a mocking laugh, which I valiantly ignore.
“I know why you’re here, little novice.”
Novice. The word is startling. I keep forgetting that’s what I am. For now. “What do you mean?” Maybe … maybe he knows I’m bonded to Bran. If so, maybe I can convince him to tell Tiernon.
“I know you’re planning to kill my father.”
My mouth falls open and he smiles, pressing one finger to the bottom of my chin and tipping it back up.
“I know everything.”
“Are you going to kill me?” My words are the barest whisper.
“No. Your goals currently align with mine.”
“You want your father dead? … Oh.” Of course he does. If the emperor dies, Rorrik will take the throne.
His eyes pin me in place, and a strange sense of anticipation fills me. There’s nothing casual about Rorrik. Everything he does is filled with intent. And when he looks at me like this, it’s as if he’s looking deep within my mind. Deep within my soul. It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.
Dangerous enough that I shouldn’t trust him. This could all be a trap.
“Still suspicious?” Rorrik’s eyes gleam. “Do you know what the emperor was doing directly before this ball, little rabbit?”
Of course I don’t.
“My father was attending a consilium, where he removed me as his chosen heir, allowing him to deprive me of my birthright if he chooses.”
And that would mean the throne would revert to his younger brother—currently at the front. I may not know much about Rorrik, but it’s evident he’s not a man who would release his grasp on power without a fight.
“What are you suggesting?” I ask.
He expertly turns us with the music, steering me toward a darkened corner.
“I’m suggesting we work together,” Rorrik murmurs in my ear, pulling me close.
His breath drifts across my skin and I shiver.
“I’m suggesting I show you exactly where to hide and wait so you can kill my father, while I will be in clear sight of numerous witnesses. As will all of my most trusted people.”
“And after?”
“I’ll create a distraction, which will allow you to flee. You’ll hear bells ringing for the guards.”
“If your father changed the law of succession, you won’t necessarily become emperor.”
A languid shrug. “Now that is to be determined. He may have changed the law, but he hasn’t named a new successor.” A manic gleam enters his eyes. “At the very least, it will be interesting. And you’ll have achieved your goal.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth. Giving him all my trust would be stupid, but it’s clear he will do almost anything to secure his chance at the throne. Perhaps I can use that to my advantage.
It’s an opportunity. One I might not get again.
I suck in a shaky breath, my stomach coiling into knots. But despite the impulsiveness of Rorrik’s plan, it’s not a bad one. I’m already in the emperor’s territory. Half of my biggest problems have been solved.
Rorrik lifts one dark eyebrow, already guiding me toward the door.
It’s simple: I do this, and I get to my brothers.
I’m going to kill the emperor. Tonight.