CHAPTER THIRTY
Istare at Tiernon, and a thick fog settles over my brain.
“I don’t understand.”
He continues walking, practically dragging me from the training hall.
“Leon was found in his room. Someone cut into him, Arvelle.”
“That’s not possible. I was just … I just saw him earlier. He was fine. Grumpy and irritated and fine.”
Tiernon’s eyes are dark with sympathy and my heart thunders. “Is he alive?”
“Barely.” His jaw clenches. “They tried to go for his heart.”
“Just like the others. But … the murders stopped …” I pull my hands free. “I need to see him.”
“I’ll take you to the healers. But they’re trying to save his life. Velle … he’s the only person who has survived this kind of attack.”
“You don’t think he’s going to live.”
Tiernon pulls me close. “He’s tough. And he’s hardheaded. If anyone can survive this, it’s him.”
I nod, my face turning numb. I’m barely aware of my footsteps as I follow Tiernon toward the healers’ quarters.
Not Leon.
Please.
Albion lingers outside the door, his expression devastated. My eyes burn as he paces back and forth. I wonder if this is bringing back memories of his son’s death.
Axia approaches the moment we step inside, her lips turned down.
“He’s dead,” I say, my voice flat.
“No. No, Arvelle, he’s not dead. He made it through the first stage of healing.”
My knees weaken as relief washes through me. “Can I see him?”
“Not yet. They’re still working on him.” Axia’s voice turns gentle. “We know the killer uses a particular kind of poison that paralyzes the victim.”
That explains why they’re able to kill some of the fastest, strongest people in this ludus.
“For some reason, the poison took longer to work on Leon. Or it didn’t quite work as well as it should have. That allowed him to fight back. Enough that whoever did this was forced to flee.”
“When he wakes up, he’ll tell us who did this to him,” I say.
Something flickers in Axia’s eyes. Something I attempt to ignore. She doesn’t think he’s going to make it.
She doesn’t know Leon.
“You should rest, and we’ll let you know when he’s stable enough for you to see him.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Axia sends me an exasperated look, but she gestures for us to sit in the plush armchairs near the door.
Please, I beg Thalunia, picturing her temple all those years ago. Leon has worshipped you for his whole life. He taught his daughter to worship you …
Eventually I switch from begging to bribery.
All of you gods need worshippers. You’re losing power every day as people turn from the old ways. And as more and more mundanes turn to Umbros in the hopes of being turned themselves. You would be careless to allow yourself to lose a worshipper such as Leon.
Eventually, Axia returns. She takes one look at me and shakes her head. “I suppose if you made it through the Sundering, you likely have a strong stomach.” The words are a warning, but I’m already jumping to my feet, waiting for her to lead me to Leon.
Axia’s gaze meets Tiernon’s, and he gives her a nod.
“Your guardant was lucky, Arvelle,” she says. “He fought for long enough that he managed to stay alive. Several of his ribs were broken and removed, but his sternum wasn’t severed. Since his chest cavity wasn’t fully exposed, he stayed alive long enough for us to treat him.”
Axia opens the door. Several healers remain in the room, but I fix my gaze on Leon.
The covers are pulled down to his waist, revealing tight, bloodstained bandages.
“You … He’s not fully healed.”
“No.” Axia’s voice is quiet. “Humans can only take so much healing before the body needs time to … catch up, I suppose you could say. His lung had collapsed, so we treated that first, before stabilizing the chest to prevent further movement. One of our healers specializes in bone regrowth, and she has been working on his ribs.”
I can hear what she’s not saying. The damage was so extensive, there’s still a chance he won’t wake up.
“Thank you. For everything you’re doing.”
Axia gives me a small smile and points at a chair by his side. “Why don’t you sit and talk to him? Primus, may I have a word?”
Tiernon glances at me, as if debating whether he should leave me alone. I give him a nod and he follows Axia out of the room.
“He’ll be giving us his blood, he will,” one of the healers says. “Not many vampires do it, despite the need for it. But the Primus has donated it for years.”
Of course he has. The moment he began turning and his blood became useful, Tiernon helped anyone he could in the Thorn. I’d forgotten about that.
One by one, the healers finish what they’re doing and leave.
Guilt and anguish roil within my chest, until all I can do is stare at Leon’s pale, slack face.
My own self-importance led him here.
I watched him laughing with Albion, talking to the other guardants, eating and training and living, and I felt a sense of smug satisfaction. I dragged him from his home and forced him to reenter the world. Then I congratulated myself for my manipulation.
And now he’s dying.
“I’m so sorry, Kas,” I murmur. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She never would have risked the people I love. Never.
My sword digs into my back, and I remove my sheath, leaning it against Leon’s bed.
“Arvelle.” Tiernon’s voice is low, cajoling.
“Thank you for giving him your blood.”
“Of course.” He sighs. “I’ve been summoned by the emperor.”
“It’s fine. You should go.” I want to be alone anyway.
“Hopefully I’ll be back in a few hours. If I’m not, I’ll send one of the imperiums to check on you.”
I nod and feel him hesitate behind me. Leaning down, he kisses the top of my head and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
I watch Leon’s breaths, panicking when it seems like they’re slowing down, and getting to my feet to pace when they turn shallow and quick.
The healers check on him every so often, and at one point I’m sent away while they do something to his ribs.
From their grim expressions, I’m glad he’s unconscious for it.
“Arvelle.” Albion’s voice is low, hoarse. He steps closer to Leon, his expression almost … lost. When he pats Leon’s hand, his own hand trembles.
The lines on Albion’s face look deeper, his blond curls in disarray. He looks thinner, as if he’s been skipping meals.
I get to my feet, offering my chair. “Sit.”
He waves me away. “I won’t stay long.” When his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Arvelle.”
“He’s still alive.” My voice is sharp, and his eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “Leon … Leon would hate for people to be seeing him this way.”
He nods, his gaze lingering on Leon like he’s saying goodbye.
“You should eat,” he says. “Leon would want you to keep your strength up.”
I shrug, sliding into the chair once more. My eyes sting, and Albion crosses to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
My throat aches. “Do you … do you think the dead can see us? Hear us?”
His smile is achingly sad. “I believe the dead are closer than we can imagine.”
When he leaves, I stare into the distance. If the dead can see how we’re going about our lives, then Kassia can see exactly what I’ve done to her father.
Hours later, Maeva walks in. She hesitates when she sees me, before edging closer, eyes wet as she looks down at Leon.
“I’m sorry, Arvelle.” Her gaze doesn’t leave his mangled body. “He’s a good man.”
“He is.” Leon is a complicated man, but a good one. My voice is hoarse. Rough. She doesn’t speak again, and neither do I.
When she walks out the door without another word, I tell myself it’s relief that makes my chest ache. Nothing good happens to the people I care about. If they’re smart, they leave. If they’re not, they end up dead, kidnapped, or fighting for their lives.
“If you think you can hide from me, you’re wrong.” Bran’s voice is a dark, unwelcome intrusion.
Slowly, I turn. “How did you get in here?”
He gives me a bored look. When he attempts to move closer to the bed, I scramble to my feet.
“I want to see my brothers.”
“Worried I might have killed them after your failure?” He casts a dismissive look my way. “I haven’t. Yet.”
“Elva swore to keep them alive, unharmed, and as happy as they can possibly be without me by their sides.” I memorized my words carefully.
Bran sniffs. “And so she has. The clever one is healed, and the mouthy one is learning how to use his new power. Meanwhile, you still haven’t held up your end of the deal.” His expression turns terrible. Dread punches me, and I take a step back, but it’s too late.
An invisible fire spreads from my neck, down to my chest, burning like acid.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Make it stop!
I must pass out, because when I open my eyes, I’m on the floor, with Bran looming over me. “We have a deal. I did my part. Now it’s time to do yours.” Pain explodes in my neck once more and I writhe on the marble.
Finally, the agony ends, but the shadow of it remains and I tremble, my body aching.
I let out a low, pained groan. “Why me, Bran? I know you’re working with the vampire rebels. Why not use them to target the emperor?”
Bran raises his eyebrow. I tense, expecting more pain, but he leans casually against the door. “Clever Arvelle. The rebels are busy fighting for a cause close to my own heart.”
“Sun madness.”
He gives a slight nod “Perhaps living in the darkness would be tolerable if vampires had never experienced basking in it before. But instead, we gradually lose its comfort, day by day, until even moments beneath it would turn us to ash. I have known many who have succumbed, losing their lives in their desperation to feel nature’s heat on their skin. ”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You’re concerned about sun madness? This might surprise you, but your sun tonics are also maddening you.”
“The tonics are a temporary measure,” he snaps. “Soon, none of us will need them.”
“And then what?”