CHAPTER THIRTY #2
“And then the sigilmarked will pay. While we’re forced to hide from the sun, the sigilmarked bask in it. They’ve had this power the entire time and have kept it from us, making us scurry around in the darkness like rats. It’s the one thing they hold over vampires.”
My heart stutters. Tiernon told me any help the sigilmarked can offer is temporary. Was he wrong? Or is Bran delusional? I’m leaning toward the second option.
“Does the emperor know the sigilmarked can help you?”
“Yes. He refuses to negotiate. Refuses to give up any political ground to the sigilmarked. He believes we should all welcome the darkness and shun the sun. He sees our longing as weakness. But I will return the sun to our people.”
My heart thunders against my ribs. I have no idea how he thinks he’ll achieve that. But it’s obvious he’s committed to his cause.
More pain. I clench my teeth together, suppressing a desperate scream. Bran leans over me, his eyes wild. There’s no sign of the cold, apathetic vampire I met on my doorstep.
He’s desperate. And the more desperate someone is, the more dangerous they are.
“It’s only going to get worse, Arvelle,” Bran hisses. “The itch beneath your skin. The need. The pain. If you fail to fulfill your end of the bargain, it will turn you insane.”
My entire body twitches, my lungs so tight I can barely breathe. When I open my eyes again, he’s gone.
I lie on the cool marble floor for long moments, panting, my entire body bruised and aching. Eventually, I haul myself up, just as a healer steps inside.
Bran has left two dark red marks on her neck and fingerprints on her throat. But she bustles around as if nothing has happened, checking Leon’s breathing and murmuring a few words of a chant. Leon’s sigil flares in response, and she gives a short, satisfied nod before stepping back out of the room.
Bran took her memories.
Nausea swamps me, just as it does each time I’m forced to face the vampire’s most threatening powers.
At some point, Neris arrives with a plate of food. I eat it numbly, and she steps toward Leon’s bed, lowering her head and murmuring something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
A tiny hint of color enters Leon’s cheeks, and I stare at her.
“My mother was from Nesonias,” she says. “I received a spark of her gift.”
My eyes burn, and I press the heels of my hands against them, suddenly unable to speak. Neris doesn’t even like me. I think she’s spoken to Leon once.
She pats my shoulder. “I know,” she says. “My talents know no bounds. I would be speechless too.”
A hoarse laugh leaves my throat and I wipe at my wet cheeks. Neris gives me a hard stare.
“I know a little about what you’re facing. And I know many people would give up right about now. But you’re not one of them. Your guardant was hurt. But you’ve wallowed enough. So what are you going to do about it?”
With that, she walks out the door.
I get to my feet to pace.
What am I going to do about it?
This isn’t like when Kassia died. Then, I was entirely alone, with no one to rely on but myself.
Now … now I could have people. If I let them in.
I saw that look on Maeva’s face when she visited earlier. It was a look I recognize. A look that told me she wanted to bridge the distance between us but didn’t want to let herself get hurt.
Pushing people away hasn’t helped me. It hasn’t made anything easier. Those same people made it through my defenses regardless.
So what am I going to do about it?
I’m going to find Maeva. And I’m going to find out who did this to Leon and kill them. Then I’m going to find a way to get my brothers back and break the bond with Bran.
And then I’m going to kill him.
My plan needs work. But I can at least complete the first step.
I move to Leon’s side. “I’ll be back. Fight, Leon.”
The healers’ quarters are quiet, and it’s not until I make it into the corridors that I realize it’s early in the morning. I’ve stayed with Leon all night. Which means Tiernon never returned.
My stomach twists, but I don’t have time to linger on it.
“Arvelle,” Brenin calls. “How’s Leon?”
“Alive, but barely. Have you seen Maeva?”
“No, sorry. I overslept.”
That explains the mussed hair.
“I guess I’ll see her at training.”
“Training is postponed for a few hours. The emperor has ordered a few novices to fight in the arena first.”
I sigh, and Brenin’s gaze sweeps over my face. “Maeva told me what happened. Is everything …”
“I’m fine.”
He shakes his head at me and turns to go.
And I’m doing it again.
I catch his arm and suck in a shaky breath. “Leon’s really hurt, Brenin. I’m scared.”
Warmth reenters Brenin’s eyes. “You’d be stupid not to be scared. But Leon’s a tough old goat. You know he once told me his dead grandmother could swing a sword faster than me?”
My laugh bubbles from my chest. “That sounds like him. Thanks.”
Brenin lets out a low, annoyed sound. Hester saunters down the corridor toward us, wearing a wide grin. “Shouldn’t you be spreading your legs for the Primus?”
“My inner thighs are chafed. I needed a break.”
Brenin snorts a laugh, and fury flickers across Hester’s face. But it’s immediately replaced by that same smug smile.
A leaden chill seeps into my bones, anchoring me to the spot.
Hester leans close. “You killed my cousin. You left her to bleed out in the Sands.”
This again. My skin turns hot and prickly. “I didn’t kill her. But I wish I had. She killed my best friend.”
“Well, now it’s my turn.” Hester stares at me as if waiting for me to understand.
A group of novices walk past, their laughter loud, grating.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to meet Hester’s eyes. “I’m sure we’ll face each other in the arena soon enough.”
She smiles, but her eyes are dead. “You misunderstand. For my brother, this is all about the way you humiliated him with that griffon. But for me, it’s about blood. You and your friend took someone from me. And now it’s my turn to take someone from you.”
Take someone from—
Maeva.
A slow smile spreads over Hester’s face.
I’m already moving, sprinting down the corridor. Behind me, Hester lets out a mocking laugh. “You’re too late.”