CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #4
My heart stops. This is the same man who wanted me dead because I saw him pet his wyvern. If he learns I’ve seen him truly out of control, he might do worse than kill me.
Finally, Rorrik stops, his back to me as he stares at the statue. He can’t be praying—vampires pray only to Umbros, and something tells me Rorrik isn’t particularly pious. After long moments, his posture relaxes. Abandoning the mess he has created, he moves toward the back of the library.
Slowly, I walk down the aisle between the bookshelves as he keeps to the outer edge of the room. When he sits himself at the table and glowers down at the books, I can’t help but peer around the closest bookshelf and watch him once more.
He opens one of the books and reads, his eyes dripping blood. I wince. I know just how much it hurts. Even if Rorrik’s eyes are continually healing.
And yet … he’s not reading. He’s copying something down onto parchment and comparing it to another book. A key? It seems the words in those books aren’t rearranging themselves for him.
He’s trying to decode the words.
Rorrik is looking for something. Researching so intently, he’s bleeding from his eyes. But from the hole in the wall next to him and the broken tables behind me, he’s not having any luck finding it.
Despite my loathing, some part of me feels sorry for him.
His voice echoes in my head. 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.
Maybe I don’t feel sorry for him after all.
Maybe he deserves to suffer.
I hope he never finds whatever he’s looking for. And I hope it eats at him day and night for the rest of his life.
Rorrik reaches for the book on the edge of the table. I’m about to turn and tiptoe away when he freezes with that unnatural stillness.
Slowly, he drops his nose to the open book and inhales, sucking the scent deeply into his lungs.
Realization slides through me. I left my blood on that book.
My pulse pounds in my ears and my every instinct goes on high alert. Rorrik raises his head, his eyes dark with vicious malice.
I hold my breath. Slowly, carefully, I take a single step back. Rorrik gets to his feet.
With no other choice, I duck, crouching in the shadows of the bookshelf. The pendant only suppresses sound. I’m not invisible.
“I know you’re here,” Rorrik purrs. “You better run, little rabbit, and hope I don’t catch you.”
My heart leaps into my throat but I force myself to stay still, even as my whole body trembles. I know what he’s doing. He knows he gave me the pendant, and if I run, he’ll be able to pinpoint exactly where I am.
And he’ll enjoy the chase.
Rorrik inhales slowly, audibly, his eyes turning glazed, almost sleepy. I shove my trembling finger in my mouth, licking any trace of blood clean.
The library doors open and I let out a shaky breath. Rorrik tenses, eyes lighting with predatory intent.
A low, male voice rumbles from the doors. I can’t hear who has entered, or Rorrik’s reply. I’m too busy crawling through the shadows, all my faith in the pendant around my neck.
I silently curse, unable to see the door without craning my head around the nearest bookshelf. Trembling, I inch closer to the side of the shelf, my body still in the shadows.
Rorrik’s gaze flicks to me, pinning me in place. He’s known where I was this entire time.
He turns his attention back to whoever has walked in, and relief washes over me, leaving me lightheaded. The question? Is whoever just entered scarier than Rorrik?
Unlikely.
“What are you doing in here?”
I freeze. This time, I recognize that low, hoarse voice. Tiernon.
Slowly, I get to my feet. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Tiernon won’t allow Rorrik to harm me.
“I believe I know why you’re here, brother. Attempting to find a way for your little novice to hide her newfound power?”
I go still. Is he? I feel like an idiot standing in the shadows while Rorrik knows I’m here, so I round the shelves, meeting Tiernon’s eyes.
He frowns.
“You should know better than to spy on me.” Rorrik’s voice holds a lethal undertone, and I force myself to face him.
“I wasn’t spying. I was here first. I didn’t know it was you. And then I didn’t want to interrupt your little tantrum.”
Tiernon sighs. “Arvelle. Must you?”
Rorrik’s eyes glitter with wrath, even as he pastes a half smile on his face. “She feels safe with you here. Unfortunately, she fails to realize just how breakable she is.”
Tiernon stares back at him, eyes dark with restrained fury. “You won’t touch her.”
Uh-oh.
“I’ll just, uh …” Go anywhere else.
“Not so fast,” Rorrik says.
“Leave her out of this.” Tiernon takes a single, threatening step forward.
“But I can’t. After all, your little novice has been up to no good.”
My heart trips. “What are you talking about?”
Flames roar across the room. I duck, the heat searing my face.
My suddenly wet face.
Opening my eyes, I take in the water, which splashed up to counter Rorrik’s fire.
Tiernon just stares at me. “Since when can you use water?”
“I-I can’t.”
It … it doesn’t make sense. Antigrus couldn’t have gifted me with this power. I’ve only seen a couple of people using water since I arrived—
Horror slashes through me, sharp and sickening.
One of them was the woman who used her power to make two gladians slip on my first day of training—but she died during her first challenge …
And the other was Tiberius Cotta, who drained water from a pitcher the day the sponsors watched the gladians fight before my first challenge.
I only interacted personally with one of them.
Rorrik gives Tiernon a slow smile. “Each time she kills someone, she becomes a power-snatching imp. It’s why she can suddenly mindpath and shield like a maginari, while also wielding water like a gold-crowned. It’s endearing, really.”
I take a step back, shaking my head. “But … I’ve killed … others.”
Rorrik’s eyes gleam. “No, you haven’t. In fact, you’ve been very careful to keep people alive. You should really work on that.”
My head whirls, waves of nausea sweeping through me. I’d thought Antigrus had given me a gift. But Rorrik’s right. I took what was his when I killed him. And there’s no question—I stole Tiberius’s water from him too.
Like a murderous leech.
“Wait.” Tiernon is staring at me like he’s never seen me before. “You killed Tiberius Cotta?”
My stomach sinks. “I—”
“That’s why you were so upset. I thought it was just because you liked him …” His mouth hardens. “You told me you didn’t know why your shield was griffon blue.”
“Because I didn’t know. I was in here researching tonight because I thought Antigrus gave me his shield.”
“A griffon shield.” With a low laugh, Rorrik leans against the bookshelf at his back. “Have you succeeded in mindpathing with anyone else yet? Or is that little gift reserved for me alone?”
“Stay out of this,” I hiss.
Tiernon glances between us, and then his gaze drops to the place on my neck where Bran’s mark burned the night he tried to help me escape.
“Of course,” he mutters. “It’s why you want to join the imperius, isn’t it?” His brows draw together and his eyes widen. “You killed Tiberius by mistake. You’re being forced to kill my father.” Understanding dawns in his eyes and I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Ti—”
“Someone needs to teach her how to control her powers.” Rorrik narrows his eyes at me. “All it would take is one little mistake like the one you just made, and my father would kill you.”
“No one will know that she gets her power from—” Tiernon stops speaking, but I finish his sentence.
“Death,” I say woodenly. “I get my power from death.”
Rorrik strolls toward us, but his eyes are intent when he waves one hand in my direction, his gaze still on Tiernon.
“Do you believe our father will care where she got her power? The moment he learns she has powers from both maginari and sigilmarked, he will see her as the threat she is and kill her. That’s if he doesn’t torture her first.” He gives Tiernon a humorless smile.
“Perhaps she will get lucky, and our father will merely line up his enemies, forcing her to kill them one by one to take their power so he can use her on the battlefield.”
Tiny dots blur my vision, and I stumble. A flash of movement—Rorrik’s hand shoots out—as if to steady me, but he freezes just short of contact. I suck in a breath, and Tiernon is suddenly at my side, wrapping his arm firmly around my shoulders.
Rorrik steps back, his jaw tightening.
“Why would you care?” My voice is hoarse.
Rorrik’s eyes linger on Tiernon’s arm, and his expression turns flat. “Because if the wrong people learn what you can do, and that I knew about it, things might become complicated for me.”
Of course this is about him.
“No one will learn about it. I’m being careful.”
Rorrik nods toward the water pooled on the floor. “You’re careful until you’re under threat.”
My skin prickles. I wasn’t under threat today, when I almost conjured a shield in the training hall.
“So what are you suggesting?” Tiernon asks.
“Simple, brother. Either you train her, or I will.”
Tiernon actually looks like he’s thinking about letting his ruthless brother train me.
I have no doubt that if I’m forced to work with Rorrik in any capacity, one of us will end up dead. He’s lethal, but I’m motivated.
Shaking off Tiernon’s arm, I walk toward the door. “We’ll talk about this later, without your brother.” I’m more than willing to be trained. But not by Rorrik. Never by him.
“Giving up?” Rorrik’s voice drips with amusement. Amusement and something darker. Ignoring him, I push open the wide library doors and freeze.
Jorah stares at me with glistening eyes, his expression frozen.
Oh gods.
I shut the door behind me, hoping Rorrik and Tiernon are still busy antagonizing each other.
“Jorah—”
“You … you killed Tiberius.”