CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
Blessings from the gods are supposed to be immediately reported to the emperor. Leon had kept his own blessings quiet, and he’d warned Kas and me to do the same.
“Those who are blessed by the gods have a strange way of going missing … or worse. The emperor has an obsession with consolidating power—creating bloodlines he can control. That’s why so many members of the Sigilmarked Syndicate end up in marriages he arranges.
Blessings from the gods are rare and erratic, often appearing where they’re least convenient.
When they show up in someone who hasn’t proven loyalty to Vallius Corvus, those he can use are leashed, forced to do his bidding. ”
My stomach twists at the thought.
“If I’d registered Thalunia’s blessings, all of us would have been monitored for the rest of our lives.
Or worse. Thalunia didn’t give any of us anything flashy, and you and Kassia could pass your speed off as the product of rigorous training.
” Unexpected humor flashes in his eyes and I can’t help but laugh.
Rigorous training indeed.
Leon crosses the room, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. He gestures toward the chair. “Tell me about Cotta.”
Bitterness coats my tongue as I drop into the chair. “I fucked up, Leon. Tiberius was a good man. He was one of the only people trying to help the mundanes. He was responsible for the tax cuts in the Thorn last year, did you know that?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Yes, you fucked up. And now you’re going to have to live with it. But you don’t have time to wallow in it now. So what will you do next?”
I hunch my shoulders. I am wallowing in it. But he’s right.
“I can’t kill Bran. The bond won’t allow it.”
“You need to get close to the emperor.”
I blow out a breath, standing to pace. “Even before I killed Tiberius, Bran had told me the emperor was becoming more and more paranoid.”
“Is it paranoia if someone is trying to kill you?”
I turn and point at him. “That’s what I said. But I don’t know how I’ll get close to the emperor now. He learned his lesson and he’s only trusting his safety to the imperius.”
“I told you. You need to join the imperius.”
I give him a look, still unconvinced. “I barely survived the Sundering.”
Leon’s eye roll says more than words. “You would have done a lot better if you weren’t constantly attempting to save lives instead of end them. Not to mention you were continually distracted.”
He doesn’t expand on the distraction. But for once, his voice is empty of blame, even as Kassia’s name lingers in the air between us.
“I’m guessing you have a plan.”
He gives me a grim smile. Of course he has a plan. A plan he likely formed the moment he learned why I was here.
“Once a week, a handful of the imperius play cards. But instead of playing for money, they play for favors. You need five votes from any imperiums to be chosen as this Sundering’s gladian.”
I shake my head. “I’ll never get five votes.”
“You can also do it with one vote from Tiernon.” He frowns at whatever he sees on my face. “What is it?”
“He’s the emperor’s son, Leon.”
Leon stares at me. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “All those years, and you never …”
“No,” I grind out. “I knew he was a noble. That’s it. He never wanted to talk about his family, and I respected that, because it wasn’t often I wanted to talk about my own. Besides, have you heard any of the gladians or guardants talking about the Primus’s birthright?”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “No. I suppose if he’s the youngest son, it would be irrelevant. At least until the consilium … if the emperor truly did remove Rorrik as his appointed successor.”
Rorrik’s face flashes in my mind’s eye—cold, cruel, calculating. There’s only one reason he’s continually skulking around the ludus. He’s intently focused on his end goal—whatever that goal truly is.
Would Rorrik kill his brother?
Yes. He would.
Rorrik will kill anyone who gets in his way.
But then … why didn’t he kill his father before the emperor removed him as his designated heir?
I sigh, pushing the emperor’s ruthless son from my mind. “When is the imperius playing next?”
Leon gives me a humorless smile. “Tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll … try.” Getting to my feet, I move toward the door. But I can’t help but ask …
“Why are you helping me?”
Leon’s eyes meet mine. “The same reason I came with you. It’s what Kassia would have wanted.”
Kassia would have screamed at me if she knew I’d ended up in this position.
Always biting off more than you can chew, Velle. Most people are content with a slice of the pie, but you always want the whole fucking pie.
Leon sighs at whatever he sees on my face. “Go rest while you can. You look exhausted.”
“HIT ME,” MICAH says, and I bite my lip to hide my smirk. He’s overconfident, unskilled, and outmatched. But at least he’s enjoying himself.
The imperius common room has been turned into a gambling den.
Deitra, Lucius, Micah, and Neris are currently playing, and the stack of weapons and money continues to grow on the table in front of them.
From my quick calculation, Lucius will win this round, unless he happens to believe Neris’s bluff.
He studies her out of the corner of his eye. But since I can see Lucius’s cards and Deitra has already folded, I know Neris has nothing to justify the hint of a smirk on her face.
“Fold,” Lucius says, and I shake my head, leaning back in my chair as I continue sharpening one of my knives.
His sudden curse tells me they’ve shown their cards.
Neris lets out a whoop and sweeps everything on the table toward her.
“What about you, Arvelle?” Micah asks with a wink. “You want to play?”
He knows I do. I cornered him a few hours ago at dinner and made the easiest deal of my life: he invites me to play with the imperius, and I introduce him to Briona—a gladian I’ve only spoken to a few times.
“Hmm.” I feign disinterest. “It’s been a while since I played.”
Micah shrugs. “It’s just for fun.”
He grins at me and I get to my feet, strolling over to their corner, where couches and chairs have been wedged together around one of the circular tables.
I take a seat next to him, wincing as my bruises make themselves known. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my coin purse, which is currently heavier than it has ever been. “I’m in.”
Deitra rolls her eyes, clearly unhappy with my inclusion, but she keeps her mouth shut.
Neris deals the round, and I pick up my cards, keeping my face carefully blank as I study my hand.
My cards could be worse, but they could definitely be better.
I place a coin on the table. I’m not interested in the coins and weapons the others are adding to the pool.
All I care about are the favors. And according to Leon’s source, they typically don’t get added to the pool until a few hours in, when the imperiums become bored and decide to increase the stakes.
They’ll watch me closely this round to evaluate my skill, which means I’ll be losing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about cards—and life—it’s that it’s better to be underestimated.
I run the numbers in my head as we all place a card face up. For a single moment, I’m back in the Thorn, watching hundreds of futures be won and lost over the years.
Life was a struggle there. But for the most part, my hands were clean. My decisions only impacted myself and my brothers.
“Arvelle?” Lucius nods at my cards and I silently curse. I’ve lost count. Thankfully, I was planning to lose this round anyway.
“Fold.”
Micah finally wins a round for the first time, and I can’t help but chuckle at his proud grin.
I place another coin down, cracking my neck as Neris deals the next round.
The world falls away as I focus on nothing but my count, my hand, and studying the others to determine their tells.
The door opens, and Tiernon strolls in, his wide shoulders almost brushing each side of the doorway. His eyes meet mine, and he tilts his head, his lips curving.
Perfect. Now it’ll be even more difficult to win.
On the bright side, I should continue to be underestimated. If Tiernon wanted to tell the others just how skilled I am at this game, he’d be forced to admit he was the one who taught me how to play.
“Deal me in,” he says, taking a seat next to Neris.
Leaning down, he swipes a finger through blue paste in a small bowl on the table, sweeping the paste below his nose.
He winces as the Scent Shroud slowly turns incandescent, dulling both his sense of smell and the edge his vampire instincts would otherwise give him during this game.
The same paste shimmers beneath Deitra’s nostrils.
It’s only fair. Otherwise, the vampires would win every single hand.
I win the round, but I’m forced to fold early for the next.
Tiernon’s eyes meet mine, and I’m suddenly back in the Thorn. He taught me this game a few months after I began refusing to take gold from him. After I’d declared us friends.
We played almost every day—using whatever we had on hand to bet—acorns, walnuts, dead flowers. Years later, when we were lovers, we played for … other things. Tiernon’s gaze drops to my mouth and my cheeks blaze with heat.
Oh yes. He remembers too. I take a shaky breath and sweep up my cards.
I’ve long suspected Tiernon taught me this game in an effort to help me replace the gold I had previously been so reliant on.
And it worked too. For years, I’d tell him about my wins each time I saw him.
The look of pride he’d give me would make warmth spread through my chest, and we’d grin at each other conspiratorially.
The door opens once more, and this time, my curse is audible. Neris widens her eyes at me as Rorrik strolls into the room.
“Ah,” he says as his brother turns visibly tense. “Now this looks like … fun.”
My mouth floods with bitterness. “It’s not surprising that you would see people enjoying themselves and feel the need to ruin it.”
Micah jumps to his feet. “Forgive her—”