CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Years ago, before the twins were born, Kassia became sick. She shook with fever, her thin body racked with shivers. I sat by her side, heart pounding, ignoring Leon each time he attempted to shoo me away.
When the healer came, I memorized everything about him—from his bright red cloak to his huge satchel. There was no doubt in my mind that his satchel held very important things.
Eventually, Leon ordered me from the room. I spent the next several hours hovering in the hall, my ear up against the door. But by the time the healer left, Kassia’s fever had broken and I knew she would be out of bed within a few days. If not for that healer, Kassia might not have woken up.
When the healer finally opened the door, I stumbled into the room. Behind him, Leon was asleep, his head on Kassia’s bed while she blinked blearily at me.
The healer guided me away. “She needs rest.”
“Do you think I could be a healer like you one day?” I blurted out.
He pushed the door wider as his gaze flicked up to my brow. “With a sigil like that, any gold family would be more than happy to pay for your training if you married one of their sons.”
I didn’t really understand marriage. Few people in the Thorn were married. But I knew golds married golds, silvers strived to marry golds, and bronzes would give almost anything to marry either golds or silvers and offer their children a chance at more power.
And yet … my mother was a gold. She hadn’t benefited from it in any way.
Perhaps … perhaps my father was also a gold. Maybe if I found him, I wouldn’t have to marry into one of the gold families to train as a healer.
“Arvelle.”
I blink, staring up at the ceiling. Now I know that dream was nothing but a childhood fantasy. I don’t fix people. I kill them.
“Arvelle.” Maeva’s voice is a low whisper as she climbs the ladder leading to my bunk. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for training with the imperius?”
I shrug, pulling the blanket higher over my shoulders.
“Well, you’ll need to get up. Everyone has been called to the arena.”
“I’ll be up soon.”
Maeva hesitates. “Are you …”
“I’m fine.” Even I can hear that my voice is dead, but I force myself to sit up.
“You look like you haven’t slept at all.”
Because I haven’t. Maeva gets the hint, dropping down from my bunk. Within a few days, we’ll be moving into novice quarters. Which means we’ll finally get our own rooms. I’ll be free to marinate alone in my own self-loathing.
“The emperor is in the arena,” someone calls out. “Nyrant says we have to go. Now.”
This is it then. This is when I die.
Slowly, I pull on my training clothes, numbly sheathing my weapons. Maeva doesn’t say another word as we walk together down the long corridor from the ludus to the arena. But she flicks concerned looks my way.
The air is damp and cold. The emperor stands in the middle of the arena, healthy and strong. I’ve had his hateful face memorized since the moment I arrived in this place. And it’s this face I saw last night.
Rorrik stands by his father’s side. I know exactly how he did it. He got into my head. He used his power to make me see Tiberius as the emperor. What else could he make me see? What else could he make me do? Nausea sweeps through my body, making my head spin.
Rorrik smiles at me, and I hear someone’s breath catch behind me. “Gods, he’s beautiful.”
The nausea engulfs me, until I’m forced to gulp breath after breath. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my dagger. If I’m going to die, I’ll do it with a weapon in my hand.
Tiernon moves to the emperor’s other side. Seeing him here, standing next to the emperor … now that I know he’s his son … I rip my gaze away, my stomach swimming.
I was a stupid child who grew into a stupid adult. Tiernon has been benefiting from that stupidity since the day we met.
And now, so is his brother.
I’ve never seen so many people gathered on the sand before. Along with all of us who survived the Sundering, hundreds of guards stand in line behind us, their heads bowed.
Behind the guards, I catch a glimpse of the guardants, the healers, the novices, and even Jorah. His eyes are wet.
To the right of the emperor, the Sigilmarked Syndicate has gathered—the thirteen of them now just twelve. All of them are wearing black robes, their sigils darkened with black ink as a tribute to Tiberius.
“Something terrible has happened.” The emperor speaks in a low hiss. “Someone dared to strike out at this empire, killing Tiberius Cotta. His death is a devastating loss for our empire. I don’t need to tell you that it was also the greatest failure of palace security in history.”
He sweeps the rest of us with his attention. “While there were many failures that led to Sigilkeeper Cotta’s death, the assassin was ultimately able to succeed because this guard was not at his post.”
Several enforcers drag a Praesidium guard forward. He’s still wearing his uniform and I recognize him by his curly, white-blond hair. I feel sick to my stomach. He’s one of the guards Rorrik had promised would be distracted when I escaped.
“Please … please!” The guard’s voice is high and thready. Bruises cover his ashen face, a streak of old blood below his nose.
The emperor merely speaks over him. “The punishment is turning.”
Murmurs break out. I lean closer to Brenin, who looks suddenly sick. “What does he mean?”
Surprisingly, he answers me. “Sigilmarked can’t turn into vampires.”
I give him a look. Everyone knows that. “So why …”
He frowns at me. “It’s a death sentence.
A particularly painful one. A sigilmarked body will begin to rip itself apart, unable to complete the turning.
” He nods toward the Sigilmarked Syndicate.
They stand stone-faced, watching the emperor with carefully neutral expressions. But I can practically feel their rage.
Not only was one of their own killed, but this punishment …
“It’s one more way for vampires to taunt the sigilmarked,” Brenin says, fury and disgust dripping from his voice.
A few rows in front of us, I see Kaeso stiffen.
“Dying through a turning is undignified and agonizing,” Brenin continues, “but the punishment doesn’t end there.
Many believe Viderux will not take one who has lost pieces of their humanity, while Umbros won’t even deign to show himself to anyone who is not a vampire. ”
So this man will be lost even after death, with nowhere to go, and no chance to find his loved ones in the afterlife.
“Please,” the man begs. “Not that. I have children!”
I’m going to vomit.
The emperor nods, and the guards drag the man away. With a wave of the emperor’s hand, we’re allowed to disperse.
“Brenin,” Kaeso says. Brenin ignores him. Several other sigilmarked give Kaeso and the other novice vampires dark looks as they leave. I can’t find it in me to have any sympathy for vampires at this moment. Even someone as warm as Kaeso.
Jorah steps toward me, and I attempt a smile. “Jorah.”
“Tiberius Cotta is dead.” Jorah’s words are heavy, his shoulders slumped. There’s no blame or suspicion in his voice, but I wince anyway.
“Did you know him?”
“He was my friend.”
My mouth turns dry. “Your friend?”
“I wanted to be a gladian. I tried nine times but couldn’t make it through training. Everyone laughed at me, but Tiberius told me I could still work here. He helped me get my position in the ludus. No one else would give me a chance.” Jorah sighs.
My entire body turns hot, and an icy sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I took that kind, thoughtful man from this world. I left him choking in his own blood.
No. I didn’t leave him.
I coldly waited to make sure he was dead.
Jorah continues to speak, but I can’t hear him over the sound of blood pounding in my ears. Did Tiberius have a family? Probably. At the very least, he had friends. Friends who now have a hole in their lives thanks to me.
I never got a chance to thank him for the weapons he gave me. For his sponsorship. The only thanks he got from me was a slit throat.
Maeva casts me a concerned look as she approaches, and I nod to Jorah. “This is Jorah. Jorah, this is Maeva. I’m so sorry, I have to … go.”
I stumble through the crowd, muttering apologies as I sprint toward the closest bathroom. I barely make it, slamming the door behind me and retching up what little I ate yesterday. When I’m finally done, I lean over the sink, splashing water on my face.
“Coward,” I mutter. “Failure.”
“You forgot to add one more,” a low voice says behind me and I whirl. Rorrik lounges in the doorway. Slowly, he steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Fool.”
I wipe at the water dripping from my face. “Why did you do it? Why me?”
When he moves toward me, any pretense of civility is gone. This is the man who disemboweled his enemy the first time I saw him.
He was always this man.
“One little conversation and you decided to trust me. It was so easy.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I’m embarrassed for you.”
“Why Tiberius?”
“Why? Because I needed him dead, and I needed to be sitting by my father’s side while it happened, with all my most trusted people in full view.
” Temper simmers in his eyes, and it’s almost as if he’s truly furious at how easy it was to manipulate me.
“You didn’t even make it difficult. You’re going to have to fight harder than this if you’re going to survive here, little rabbit. ”
A heavy weight settles on my chest. I loathe Rorrik, but he’s right. I was desperate to get to my brothers. I grew complacent and let it make me reckless. I know better than to trust anyone, and yet I trusted the evilest man I’ve ever met.
It was beyond stupid.
“You saw a chance, and you couldn’t help but take it.” Rorrik is still watching me intently. “For all your logic, you have problems controlling your impulses, don’t you? You caught a glimpse of a way out, and you couldn’t help but try.”
I don’t say a word, but I don’t need to.
Rorrik steps closer. “Does it hurt?” he asks, his tone curious.
I suck in a sharp, painful breath. “Does what hurt?”
“The innocent people you’ve killed in the past twelve hours. There will be more of them, you know. He’s not the only guard who was away from his post.”
I flinch, attempting to turn away, but he catches my chin, and something dark flickers in his eyes.
“I saw you kill that griffon. I bet you have nightmares about it even now. You couldn’t even let a criminal die in front of you when you had the chance to save her.
So tell me …” He leans closer, until his breath is cool on my face, the scent of ice stinging my nose. “Does. It. Hurt.”
My chest aches, throat so tight my voice comes out as a whisper. “Yes.”
He tips his head, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “You’re such a perfect little victim.”
I don’t bother asking why he’s doing this. I know why Rorrik’s loathing is personal now. This is all about Tiernon. If he’d stayed away from me like I begged him to, his brother wouldn’t have turned his attention to me.
Rorrik lifts one hand, gently brushing a finger down my cheek as I tremble. “Did you truly believe someone could hide in the emperor’s closet? Do you have any idea how powerful he is?”
My cheeks burn at the derision in his voice. But he’s right. I was beyond idiotic. I was desperate and angry and impulsive. All my worst traits combining for one insane decision.
I ignored my instincts.
The moment I pulled out that cloak, some part of me knew I had done something terribly wrong.
Rorrik winks at me. “Say something, darling. Fight back.”
“What do you want me to say? You won, Rorrik.”
His eyes flare. I’m not sure if it’s the admission that he won, or my use of his name. Either way, he’s not done.
“You know I thought at any moment you were going to understand. But no. You really thought a guest room was the emperor’s quarters. Although I shouldn’t be surprised given the slum you grew up in.”
“You used your power to make Tiberius look like your father.” The words come out remarkably steady considering I want to heave once more.
“An easy feat for a vampire, especially one such as me.”
Blood spraying, a choked gasp, a man turning into a corpse.
Rorrik angles his head at my silence. But his eyes are sweeping greedily over my face. He’s waiting for a reaction again.
I won’t give him one.
“So what you’re saying is you owe me,” I say.
Delight sparks in Rorrik’s eyes and he leans closer. “Excuse me?”
I don’t allow the threat of his huge body to make me rethink my words. “I did you a favor. I killed someone you needed killed. Essentially, you hired me as an assassin and yet you haven’t paid me. So you owe me.”
“You attempted to kill my father and killed one of his most popular advisers instead. I haven’t told the emperor of your transgressions. Yet. There’s your payment.” He sweeps me with a final glance, his eyes lingering on my slumped shoulders.
“I like to break people. In fact, it might be my favorite thing to do. But you? You were broken before you even walked in here, hiding your shattered shards from the world with the tattered cloak of your pride. Honestly, it’s a little boring.”
He sweeps out of the door, disappearing down the hall. Leaning over, I splash more water on my face, lifting my gaze to the mirror.
For the first time since Kassia died, I can no longer look myself in the eyes.
Gold glitters across my forehead. Numbly, I stare at my sigil.
Once more, it has grown.
Exhausted, and heartsick, I make my way back to the gladian quarters. There are only two people I want to talk to. Two people who will remind me why I’m in this place.
Climbing up to my bunk, I reach beneath the woolen blanket for my mirror.
Glass shreds my palm and I hiss, yanking the blanket away from my mattress and revealing the broken shards of my whispering mirror.
Who would have done this?
Bitterness floods my mouth. Oh, there are plenty of suspects.
Rorrik could have ordered it done just to make my life more difficult.
One of the others could have decided they were tired of my so-called relationship with the Primus.
Hester and Baldric clearly want me to pay, and they have friends in this room.
Regardless of who did it, the outcome is the same. I can no longer talk to my brothers. Which means I can no longer ensure they’re safe.