CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #5
I take his arm, dragging him away from the library door. “You were spying? If Rorrik and Tiernon find out—”
Jorah wrenches his arm away. “You killed the best man I’ve ever known.”
“I—” My voice trembles, and I drop my gaze. I can’t even look at him.
“Why? Why would you hurt him, Arvelle?”
“I didn’t mean to. You have to know that, Jorah. I didn’t know it was him.”
He’s already walking down the corridor, tears streaming down his face.
“Jorah.” I swallow as he goes still. My eyes burn, and I can barely get the words out. “Pl-please don’t tell anyone. About my power.”
With a slow shake of his head, Jorah keeps walking.
MY HEART IS heavy in my chest as I make my way to my new room in the imperius quarters. Jorah’s devastated, ashen face remains in my mind, until it’s all I can see.
One day I’ll explain what happened. One day, when I no longer need to worry about Rorrik’s potential retaliation. Nothing I say can ever make up for killing Tiberius Cotta, but even if Jorah never speaks to me again, I have to prevent Rorrik from learning he was spying.
I’ve seen what he does to spies.
Pushing the thought away, I stare down at my shaking hands.
How did I create water to counter Rorrik’s fire? How—
Fire. Fire is a sigilmarked power, and yet Rorrik can use it.
And Tiernon didn’t seem at all surprised. Is it … is it some kind of shared gift with Rorrik’s wyvern?
I open the door to my room. It’s similar to Tiernon’s, only smaller. The fireplace is calling to me, urging me to curl up in front of it and block out the world.
“Arvelle.”
I stiffen, slamming a hand against my racing heart as I turn. I’d forgotten Leon was meeting me here.
He raises an eyebrow at my reaction, but his gaze darts away. “I have something for you.”
I gesture for him to follow me in, and he steps inside, closing my door behind him.
“Nice room.” The words are gruff, and Leon shifts on his feet. Is he … nervous?
“Tiernon insisted I move in with the imperius. Do you want to sit?”
He shakes his head, steel-gray eyes finally meeting mine. They’re clear, cool, and empty of the ire that usually fills them when he looks at me.
“I have something to give you. Something I should have given you a long time ago.”
A pause, and then he seems to come to some decision, stuffing his hand into his tunic pocket. He holds a piece of parchment out to me.
“Kas … Kassia wrote this. For you. Before the Sands. If anything happened to her, I was supposed to give it to you. I haven’t read it. But I didn’t give it to you either. I ignored my daughter’s last wishes, and I have to live with that. I’m giving it to you now.” He thrusts it toward me.
A hot ache burns through my chest and up my throat. I wrote her a letter too. A letter I asked Carrick to give to her if I …
“Thank you.” My hand trembles as I take the parchment.
“I was wrong. For years, I was wrong. Kassia would punch me in the nose if she knew how I treated you. I blamed you for her death, when I knew you would have done anything you could to stop it. When I knew I was the one to blame.”
“You weren’t,” I whisper. My lips are numb, but I need to say this much at least. “Leon, the moment Galia Volker stepped into the arena …”
“Kassia was dead.” Leon gives a sharp nod.
“I can see that now. I can see you both, fighting to first blood, while Volker was fighting to kill. I see it in my nightmares, every night. There was no way for you to get across that arena in time. And Kassia …” He shakes his head.
“Years of training and she fell apart in the arena. I’ll never understand it.
And then I was weak. I was so angry at her for dying in such a stupid way, I lashed out at her best friend.
The woman she considered a sister. The woman I’d considered another daughter.
” He glances away. “I lied when I said I came to this place for Kassia. And when I said I stayed to help you for her. I did it for you.”
Tears flood my eyes, and Leon takes a wary step back.
I let out a watery laugh and he sighs, gesturing to the letter. “I have no excuse for not giving that to you. If I had … if I had, maybe you’d have mourned properly. Maybe we wouldn’t be here. You might’ve married, started a new life.”
“Leon …”
He shrugs one shoulder, a hint of temper entering his eyes. “You and I both know you’ve been frozen in time. You stopped living the day she died.”
“So did you.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “And by doing that, I disgraced her memory.” He nods at the letter. “It won’t help. I know that much. Nothing will help. But … maybe you can start to heal. Just a little.”
“Thank you,” I say again.
We stare at each other awkwardly, and he clears his throat. “Maeva mentioned it looked like Bran was threatening you earlier.”
I sigh. “Maeva needs to stay out of it.”
He massages the muscles in the back of his neck, pinning me with a sharp look. “I’ve spoken to numerous vampires and searched through ancient texts. There’s no evidence that killing Bran would harm you. So tell me the truth, Arvelle.”
I take a seat on the bed, suddenly exhausted. “Two nights from now, the emperor will be at a dinner with the Vampire Council. Bran has instructed me to kill Vallius there.”
“Or what?”
“I don’t think he needed to specify an ‘or what.’ He has my brothers.”
“He wants you to kill the emperor in public?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a death sentence.”
My stomach twists, but I force myself to keep my voice even. “Yes.” I didn’t want to tell him, except … “When they kill me, they’ll interrogate anyone who knows me. I need you to leave, Leon. Tiernon knows Bran has my brothers. Please, make sure they’ll be safe.”
Leon’s face is white. “You won’t do this.”
“I will.” The words are cold. Certain. “I need you to make sure my brothers have a good life, Leon. Please.”
“No. You will not do this.”
Frustration bites at me. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“I’ll do it.”
I surge to my feet. “You will not.”
“It’s not just for you. This is for your brothers. They don’t deserve to grow up without you.”
“You—”
With a stiff nod, Leon walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I let him go. But I won’t let him throw his life away. It’s not happening.
I sit on my bed, smoothing the edges of the parchment. I can picture Kassia writing in her messy scrawl, folding it unevenly, and handing it to her father with that cocky grin that said he wouldn’t need it.
But she never expected the worst to happen.
No one ever does.
Hands shaking, I unfold it.
Arvelle,
Can you believe it’s finally happening? All the training, all the early mornings, all the bruises and blisters and strains … tomorrow it will be all over.
I wasn’t going to do this. We said we wouldn’t. But I know you’re writing your own letter. I know you better than you know yourself.
And that’s a gift, Velle. If I don’t make it, I hope you’ll remember that much. Our friendship was the greatest gift of my life. And if my life doesn’t continue, and yours does, I hope you can say the same about mine.
But I also hope you find new friends. A new family. A new life. If I’m not there to haul you into the sun, those friends will drag you into it with them.
Tell Ger and Ev I love them. They’ll help you get through this, but don’t you dare smother them. Especially Ev. That boy needs to make some mistakes and learn from them.
My father … we both know this is going to destroy him. Gods, I swore I wouldn’t cry writing this, but … look after him, Velle. If I don’t make it … he’ll be like a bear with its paw caught in a trap—the more you attempt to help, the more he’ll lash out. But he’ll need you more than ever before.
Whatever happened in that arena, you have to put it behind you. You have to let yourself be happy, Velle. Or else, what was it all for? What did we train so hard for if not for a future?
Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. I hope it’s peaceful (but not too peaceful, because we both know you’d be bored mindless).
I suppose I better wrap this up. You’re about to arrive with Ger and Ev, and we’ll suffer through my father’s cooking. This time, though, the flavors will be a little brighter. The texture a little smoother. It’s funny how the thought of your own mortality can do that.
If there is any good that comes from my death (and let’s face it, not much will, since I am incredible), I hope it’s that. I hope you love harder. I hope everything is brighter and smoother and more.
Don’t let my death dampen everything great in your life. And tell me this much:
Can you smell the salt-tinged air? Can you feel the heat of the sun? Are you living, Arvelle? Are you loving?
—Kas
Tears roll down my cheeks like a flood. I stare around the room, deep below the ground, as far from the ocean as I can get.
No, Kassia. I’m not.
Six years it took Leon to give this letter to me, and I still can’t blame him.
A knock sounds at the door, and I wipe at my cheeks. “What is it?”
“Arvelle?” Maeva’s voice comes through the door.
“Yeah.”
She cracks the door open, eyes widening. “Are you …”
“I’m fine.” I place the letter carefully on the bed. “What is it?”
She studies my face, but after a moment she sighs. “I was thinking about the maginari. I know you said you didn’t want to help but—”
“Maeva.”
Her chin juts out, and for a moment I see Kassia glowering at me. Kassia, who would have tried whatever reckless plan Maeva is cooking up. Kassia, who shouldn’t have died but did.
My stomach churns, and I bury my head in my hands.
“Velle …”
“Stop.”
“You’re upset. Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“I thought we were friends.” The hurt in her voice is like shards of glass thrown into my face.
But my conversation with Leon has reminded me of something crucial: My guardant isn’t the only one who will be in grave danger after tonight—whether my attempt to kill the emperor succeeds or not. Anyone close to me could be tortured.
“We’re not. I don’t want or need any friends.” Even as I say it, I want to claw the words back.
Lifting my head, I meet Maeva’s glistening, rage-filled eyes.
She doesn’t say another word. She just turns and walks out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.