C HAP TER TWENTY-TWO
wake to an overwhelming sense of sadness. It’s a heavy, suffocating blanket that turns the world gray, making it almostI impossible for me to drag myself out of bed.
It’s only when both Leon and Albion are missing from training that the realization hits me like a fist to the gut.
Today marks six years since Kassia took her last breath.
My chest hollows out, and I stagger from the training hall.
I forgot. Somehow, I woke up in this place, in this life, and I forgot.
The thought claws at me, and I pull in deep, jagged breaths.
Leon didn’t say a word last night.
Somehow, I make it to his room. When he doesn’t answer, I unashamedly pick his lock with the technique he taught me. The click is too loud in the silent corridor, and I push the door open. The sight of his neatly made bed makes my stomach drop.
Empty.
Did he … leave? Or is he barely making it through the day?
I stand in his open doorway, my chest burning with each breath. I’m the last person he’ll want to see today. But I can’t stop myself. I need to know he’s not unconscious after drinking himself into a stupor.
I need to know he hasn’t left me here. Alone.
But no. Albion is with him. He has to be. And Albion is the only other person here who understands what it’s like to lose a child to this place.
“Arvelle?” Jorah holds out his hand, and I flinch back. When did he get here?
“Wh-what?”
“You’re crying.”
I wipe at my face, the motion jerky, my mind sharpening. I’m still standing in Leon’s doorway, my eyes leaking. Brenin’s guardant raises his brow at me as he walks past, and I turn toward Jorah.
“Have you seen Leon?”
His face twists in sympathy. “I know where he is. Do you want me to take you to him?”
I nod, unable to speak, and he reaches out, gently closing Leon’s door. “Follow me.”
Jorah leads me back toward the entrance of the ludus, retracing the steps from my first day here until I can almost feel the sun on my face. When we get to the statue of Anoxian, he gestures toward a door I’ve overlooked every other time I’ve walked this way.
The vast room is almost half the size of the training hall. But its stillness makes it feel even larger. Pale marble columns are etched with gold that flickers beneath the aether lamps, while statues of the gods line the walls, each painstakingly carved, expressions frozen in divine disapproval. Offerings have been laid at their feet, and I watch as a guardant places a throwing knife in front of Anoxian, lowering his head in a bow. The air smells faintly of stone and dust, mixed with dried flowers.
A few other novices and guardants are wandering the space, pausing at each statue. Each god. Calena stands near the statue of Anoxian, her eyes dark as she sweeps her gaze over his form.
“What is this?”
Jorah steps into the room, his voice little more than a whisper. “The vampires have a temple for Umbros in the ludus.
Sigilkeeper Melus became displeased that the sigilmarked had nowhere to worship our own gods, so the emperor agreed to this space. They call it the Hall of the Gods.”
From what I know of the arrogant, imperious gods, they would hate this. One space to share, while Umbros has a dedicated temple? Blasphemy.
Still, I suppose it gives sigilmarked a place to worship.
Jorah squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome. I need to go finish my tasks.” He gives me his sweet smile before ducking back into the corridor.
Leon kneels at the far end of the hall before a breathtakingly lifelike statue of Thalunia, Albion at his side.
Leon has worshipped the goddess of the hunt since before Kassia was born. I still remember clutching her hand as he begged Thalunia to bestow her gifts upon us. And she did.
I’m faster than I should be, even now after so many years without training. Kassia was even faster, occasionally moving with such blazing speed, I would have bet on her against any newly turned vampire.
What was the point, Thalunia? What was the point of your blessing if Kassia was going to die anyway?
Leon rises, moving to the statue of Viderux—the god of the afterlife.
My throat burns like I’ve swallowed flames.
This is it, Velle. It’s all going to be different after this.
Some days, I can find it in me to be proud that I managed to keep my brothers alive after everything I lost. Most days, though, I’m sure of one thing: If Kassia met me now, she wouldn’t like me. And she sure wouldn’t understand me.
If I’d died that day … Gods, I used to play this game all the time. If I’d died that day, and Kassia had lived, she would have taken my brothers and made a better life for them. She would have mourned me, but she wouldn’t have let grief make her hard and cold and bitter. Of the two of us, she was always the strongest. In all the ways that matter.
“Arvelle.”
I blink. Albion’s standing in front of me, his eyes dark with sorrow. “Would you like me to take you to him?”
My cheeks heat. I’m still lingering by the doorway, a few guardants gazing curiously at me.
“No.” I clear my throat. “No. I, ah, I shouldn’t have come here.”
What was I thinking? Leon doesn’t need me. He hasn’t needed me for six years. I’m a constant reminder of the worst day in his life. When he looks at me, he sees the woman who failed to do the one thing he trusted me to do: keep his daughter alive.
Albion studies my face. “I don’t think that’s true.” He turns, his gaze sweeping the hall, landing briefly on the statue of Kelindra. “I lost my wife long before I lost my son.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t tell you this for sympathy, Arvelle, but to share something I learned.” He gives me a faint smile. “Neara was a beautiful woman. Beautiful and clever. But she was a mundane. It wasn’t something I ever thought about. She was simply Neara. A woman with the most entrancing smile who loved to dance more than almost anything.
“But to her, being mundane was everything. She considered it to be the worst blow fate could have possibly dealt her.
When our son was born with only a tiny bronze sigil, it broke her in ways I didn’t see at the time. She stayed out late, dancing in the kinds of taverns she knew made me worry for her safety. And one night she didn’t come home.”
I stare at him, and he shakes his head. “She met a vampire, you see.” His tone is clipped, and it’s not just sadness in his eyes. Now they hold a dull rage. “One who promised to turn her. For years I blamed myself. If I’d known what to say, if I’d understood how badly she was hurting, if I’d hauled her out of that tavern … maybe my son would have had a mother. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost her to her sire. To the one who forced her to service his friends in exchange for the blood she so desperately needed.”
“You have to know that wasn’t your fault.”
Albion arches a single, pale eyebrow. “Do I?”
I know where he’s going with this. “It’s different.” The words come out sharper than I’d intended, and I lower my voice.
“You know it’s different.”
“All I know is you were busy fighting for your own life that day. Were you supposed to fly across the arena to save your friend?”
I let out a choked laugh, and his lips curve. Albion’s expression softens, and he nods, moving back to Leon’s side.
When I scan the room again, only a few guardants and gladians remain. But one person doesn’t belong.
Bran.
Vampires don’t worship sigilmarked gods. I’ve personally witnessed Bran’s disdain. And yet here he is, his tall frame leaning toward Calena as he murmurs something into her ear.
She gives him a sharp nod, turning to place something down at Anoxian’s feet.
I eye Bran, waiting for him to approach me and hiss his usual threats. But he doesn’t. Instead, he smirks, his expression smug, and sweeps past me, disappearing into the corridor.
What is he up to?
Calena moves away from the statue, and I intercept her.
“Arvelle.”
“Uh. Hello. Uh … do you visit this place often?”
She smirks. “No. But if I’m going to be expected to protect Vallius Corvus, I’d better pray for the strength not to kill him and his murderous sons.”
Craning my neck, I scan the room for anyone within earshot. Calena turns to go.
“Wait.”
She gives me a cool look, and I clench my teeth. “You should stay away from Bran.”
Her gaze turns icy. “Excuse me?”
“He’s dangerous. Vicious. Whatever he offers you, it will ruin your life.”
“Speaking from experience?” Interest lights her eyes. When I shrug, she shakes her head.
“Something tells me you have more than enough to worry about without warning me away from vampires.” She strides
away.
Fine. I tried.
Turning, I find Leon giving me a narrowed-eyed stare. Albion stands beside him, murmuring something too low for me to
hear.
Leon … smiles.
It’s something I never could have imagined he would do today.
My breath hitches, eyes blurring, until I have to restrain myself from doing something strange like hugging Albion.
I cross the hall, and Albion nods at me, stepping away to give us privacy.
Leon turns back to the statue of Viderux. “I figured I’d see you at some point today,” he says without looking at me.
Dropping a few coins into a collection at the statue’s feet, he heaves a sigh. “I always thought Kassia would be bored in the afterlife. I bet she’s stirring up trouble.”
I let out a wet laugh, and the corner of his mouth turns up. When he pins me with his steely gaze, I know he won’t talk to me about Kassia again. “Follow me.”
We leave the hall in silence, passing Albion, who kneels before Kelindra, grief etched into every line of his face.
Leon gestures for me to enter his room, closing the door behind us.
I wander his room, suddenly restless. Gods, I wish we could look out a window. “Can I ask you something?”
A stiff nod.
“Why did you never register Thalunia’s blessings?”
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—”
“Sit. Down.” Rorrik flicks his gaze toward Micah before returning it to my face. “Be careful, novice.” When he glances at the others, the threat is clear. It won’t be me who suffers his wrath.
Tiernon gives him a warning look, which Rorrik ignores, his gaze returning to me.
I curl my lip at him. “The only thing you find fun is murder. Oh, and ruining people’s lives.”
I’m not sure why it’s so easy for me to mindpath with Rorrik—or why I do it so instinctively. Maybe it’s because he was the first person I ever mindpathed with. Maybe that’s why the connection is easier.
He gives me a wink, strolling over to sit next to his brother. He leans over the table and dips his fingers into the Scent Shroud, swiping it beneath his own nose. “Murder and life-ruining aren’t the only things I find fun.” His gaze drops suggestively to my neck before lingering on my lips. “Maybe you’ll learn all about the other things that amuse me, little rabbit.”
I ignore that, returning my attention to the cards in my hand. I’m not sure what put Rorrik in such a good mood, but if he’s happy, there’s a relatively good chance someone else is cursing the day they were born.
The only other time I’ve seen Rorrik in this part of the ludus was the day my ankle was healed—when he sensed my blood and pain. From the wide-eyed look Deitra sends Neris—and the thin-lipped nod she gives back—they’re not used to seeing him here either.
Tiernon clears his throat, holding my gaze for a long moment, and his steady stare is all I need to pull myself together. I refuse to let his conniving brother get under my skin.
Rorrik sprawls elegantly in the seat next to Tiernon, and I’m suddenly struck by their similarities. When I danced with Rorrik at the ball, I’d had an aching sense of familiarity, and now that I know they’re brothers, it seems glaringly obvious.
Tiernon is shockingly handsome—with the kind of masculine features and rugged charm that make a woman look twice. If not for his reputation as Primus—and if his dimple appeared a little more frequently—he might even be … approachable.
Rorrik is so coldly beautiful, it’s almost as if he were touched by the gods. Tiernon’s presence invites you to look again, to take a step closer. Rorrik’s presence warns you to freeze in place, and then slowly creep toward the nearest exit—some part of you wishing he would notice you, even as your instincts warn you to flee.
And yet, despite their differences, I can see their resemblance in the broad planes of their jaws, the hard lines of their brows, the curve of their lower lips.
This explains my reluctant fascination with Rorrik, and my strange obsession with understanding why he is the way he is.
My instincts were simply screaming at me that he was related to Tiernon.
“Arvelle?” My distraction has cost me, and Tiernon takes the round with a grin. I pluck another coin from my purse, and my fingers brush the gold button I found on my pillow this morning. A button he must have asked one of the sigilmarked to leave for me. I placed it in my coin purse to keep safe, but the reminder sweeps me back to hundreds of gold buttons dropped in my eager palm until I finally accepted Tiernon’s friendship.
The look of bemused awe he’d given me that day was worth it. And yet … the entire time, he was lying to me about who and what he is.
No. I need to focus.
I study my cards for a long moment. And then I watch each of the others from beneath my lashes.
A muscle twitches in Micah’s jaw, and I almost shake my head at him. A bad hand, and still, he stubbornly stays in, refusing to fold once again.
Deitra curses and throws her cards onto the table. One of them flips up, and I make a mental note as Lucius swaps one of his own cards out. Neris adds a coin, her gaze pinned to her cards.
But one of her fingers has begun a slow, rhythmic tap on her thigh.
Rorrik’s expression is as coolly neutral as ever—in fact, I’m relatively sure I’ve seen him wear the same expression while contemplating murder.
I turn my attention to Tiernon. He’s already watching me, and I take a long, slow breath. He knows my tells. Just as I know his.
“Ah, what would you like to bet, Your Imperial Highness?” Deitra asks Rorrik, the muscles around her eyes tightening.
“Hmm. I know you like to bet favors.” Rorrik pulls out a piece of parchment, along with a strange pen I’ve never seen before. He presses the pen to his forearm, then scrawls on the parchment, the ink crimson.
My heart thrums in my chest. As much as I resent Rorrik’s presence, I can’t deny I’m pleased that he’s moving the game along.
I clear my throat, feigning confusion. “What are the limits to that favor?”
His eyes meet mine. “I won’t murder anyone I don’t already want dead. I am, however, prepared to be mildly inconvenienced for the sake of whoever wins my favor.”
I catch a few considering looks across the table. I’m not the only one who would like a favor from the emperor’s son.
“The ink is charmed,” Tiernon tells me. “The favors can’t involve anything that could risk the loser’s safety in any way.”
“Well,” Micah says after a moment. “I’m in.”
Neris snorts. “Shocking.”
Micah’s jaw juts out, and he gestures to Rorrik for the pen. Rorrik’s mouth twitches, and he hands it over.
One by one, we write out our favors. The pen presses into my skin with a slight sting, and a sour taste clings to the back of my throat as I watch my blood form words on the parchment. But this is exactly what I wanted. And now it’s time to truly play.
As usual, we begin with gold coins. The favors are used to increase the stakes. I win the round, and a favor from Deitra, who looks like she has tasted something bitter.
I take the next round, too, winning favors from both Micah and Lucius.
Micah gives me a mock glower. “You can’t be that lucky.”
“It’s luck and logic,” I murmur, already sweeping up my next hand. “When I lived in the Thorn, I spent hours playing these games.”
Years later, when I was bodyguarding, I’d watch hand after hand, standing silent as I fought off boredom so mind-numbing, if I hadn’t had my brothers to think about, I almost would have wished for the excitement of the arena.
“Don’t be a poor sport,” Neris tells him.
Tiernon winks at me, and I hide my smile behind my cards. I’m not at all surprised when he takes the next round, winning a favor from Rorrik, who takes the round after that.
“My brother taught you this game, didn’t he?” Rorrik’s voice is a low taunt.
I stiffen, ignoring him.
The corner of his mouth curves, revealing a hint of fang. “You play just like him. I know, because I used to play him too.”
I can’t imagine them as children. Can’t imagine them ever playing together or even cooperating in any capacity.
“I know what you want,” Rorrik says when I don’t reply. “You’re hoping to bargain your way into the imperius.”
I startle, my hand clutching my cards. When I meet his gaze, his eyes are steel.
“When you’ve lived the kind of life I have, you’ll find most people—and their motivations—are entirely predictable.
You’re hoping to beat Tiernon. I wouldn’t recommend using his favor in such a way. If he’s seen skirting the rules for you, things will go badly for him.”
I raise one eyebrow. “As if you care.” Silence. I chew on my lower lip, gazing sightlessly down at my cards. “I don’t have a choice.”
“I can also get you a spot on the imperius.”
I go still. “The imperius is Tiernon’s.”
Rorrik lifts his gaze from his cards. “If I want to add a novice to the pool of imperiums willing to put their lives on the
line for my father, I can do so.”
“And will you?”
“Perhaps. If you manage to beat me.”
There’s a spark of something in his eyes. An invitation to … play.
Ah. Rorrik is bored.
And he’s also likely enjoying the strained glances Tiernon is sending our way. He knows I’m deep in conversation with his brother.
Which is, of course, why Rorrik is taking this public game and making it a private competition between him and me.
“I don’t trust you.”
His eyes glitter with displeasure. But his words from the bathroom are still echoing in my head. I can still see him at my lowest moment, twisting the knife as he watched me hungrily, enjoying my pain.
He quirks one eyebrow and I stare him down. “Let me be perfectly clear, Rorrik. You succeeded. I don’t trust you. And I will never trust you.”
Rorrik places a card down, taking another. But a muscle jumps in his jaw, and I don’t miss the predatory gleam in his eyes.
My hand is strong, but Rorrik has successfully distracted me, and I have no idea what the others have. I’m forced to fold, and Tiernon sweeps up my favor with a smirk.
I write another, and his smirk widens to a grin, his dimple flashing. Something wrenches in my chest. Gods, I missed that grin.
I’m still so, so angry at him. But I know exactly how fragile joy is. I know how happiness can be snatched from you without warning. And seeing him here, relaxed and enjoying himself … it’s a brutal reminder of the years we shared.
His gaze turns tender. I know that look. I used to see it right before he dragged me into his arms.
“Primus,” someone calls. Orna stands at the door to the common room, her face pale. An expressionless mask slams onto Tiernon’s face, and he gets to his feet, following her into the hall.
Lifting my new hand, I survey my own cards.
My hand is good. Really good.
I swallow, conscious of Rorrik’s attention on me. I have no doubt he’ll notice the slightest change of my breathing, the barest flicker of my eyes.
Neris folds with a scowl. Lucius pulls another card, and I study him beneath my lashes. He licks his lips when he has a particularly good hand, as if hungry for victory.
He’s not licking his lips now, though. No, his lips are pressed tightly together, even as he keeps his gaze carefully away from his cards.
Micah takes a card. His eyes turn mournful, and he taps the edge of his card with one finger, glancing toward the cards on the table, as if wishing he could swap his card for another. Despite my fury, I almost smile. He’s even worse at this than Gaius was.
Next to me, Neris sighs, shaking her head at Micah. Rorrik watches Micah with a hint of amusement in his eyes. It’s the first time he’s looked almost … human.
His eyes meet mine, and the glimpse of warmth in his eyes is so startling, I almost drop my hand. When he pulls his card, I study him carefully. But his fingers don’t twitch, his eyes don’t wander, his mouth doesn’t curve or scowl.
Deitra’s eyes brighten, and she plucks another card from the pile. When her eyes dim, I watch Lucius, who trades out a card, his face expressionless as he scans his new hand.
Steeling myself, I place a card down, swapping it for another. My heart leaps, and I shift in my seat, casually allowing my loose hair to slide over my shoulder to hide the pulse point pounding below my ear.
Rorrik’s gaze slides over my throat. Playing against vampires doesn’t seem fair. Even with their sense of smell dampened, their other senses are so heightened, they notice even the smallest tells.
But Tiernon taught me this too. I pull a breath into my lungs, forcing my heart to slow.
With a sigh, Micah folds, leaning back in his chair.
Deitra folds with a pout. From what I’ve seen so far, she must be young for a vampire. Not only is she terrible at hiding her emotions, but I can’t sense her age pressing on me like I do with Nyrant or Bran. And I don’t get the sense of a vast power hidden away like I do with Tiernon and Rorrik.
I study all their cards, attempting some quick calculations.
Lucius swaps out another card. His face is almost as difficult to read as Rorrik’s, but he spends so much time pasting on his carefully neutral expression, he fails to control his hands. One hand is fisted on the table, clenched so hard his knuckles are white.
“Clearly Lucius isn’t going to win.” For once, Rorrik’s words are empty of scorn and threat. Instead, he sounds almost …
teasing.
My jaw clenches. “Get out of my head.”
“You opened the pathway between us when you ripped through my shields. And it seems you have no shields of your
own.”
My heart trips. If I have no shields … Rorrik takes a card. I watch him so, so carefully, but I have absolutely no idea what kind of hand he has.
“Ask me to teach you.” His eyes meet mine.
“No.” I place a card down and pick up a replacement, chest tight. Slowly, conscious of the eyes on me, I study my hand.
A bolt of pure victory flashes through me. I have no doubt Rorrik has seen it.
But it’s too late for him. Lucius puts his cards down, cursing as Rorrik places his on the table.
I’ve won.
My hands shake as I spread my cards out face up. No one speaks. I barely even breathe.
All of us are waiting for Rorrik’s reaction. With a slow smile, he pushes his favor toward me.
“Victory goes to the novice,” he says.
Micah’s mouth drops open, as if Rorrik is a god who has granted me a wish.
“And I suppose you want to use your favor now?” He arches one eyebrow.
He knows I do.
This is not going to go well. I roll my shoulders.
“I want the novice spot on the imperius.”
Neris’s eyes bulge, and Deitra sneers at me, displaying her fangs in an obvious threat. Lucius just shakes his head. “No.”
Rorrik points at him. “Overruled.” When he turns his attention to me, the others seethe. “Congratulations, novice. You’re officially one of the imperius.”
“She’s what?” Tiernon’s voice is a low growl.
His gaze is heavy with betrayal as he glances between me and Rorrik. He thinks I planned this.
“No,” I want to explain to Tiernon. “I’d planned to beat you!”
Rorrik and Tiernon have one of their wordless conversations. Although now I know about mindpathing, I’m sure they’re not so wordless after all.
Tiernon’s jaw tightens, and he returns his attention to me. “Fine.” He turns away, and a lump forms in my throat.
Neris’s eyes narrow on me, and they’re filled with … disappointment. “You want the spot? It looks like you got it. But you should know we’d already chosen the novice we wanted for the imperius. It was your friend Maeva.”
Shame swamps me.
Maeva is desperate for respect from her parents. For … acknowledgment. She tries to hide it, but I can see it every time she catches a glimpse of her father. A spot on the imperius would have gone a long way toward that respect. And I just stole it from her.
Closing my eyes, I make a silent vow. As soon as I leave this place, the spot will be free again. And I’m going to make sure Maeva gets what is rightfully hers.
When I open my eyes, Rorrik is gone, and Deitra is leaning close. “Working with Rorrik to get what you want? Beyond stupid. If he just cooperated with you, it’s because he wanted something. And you were dumb enough to give it to him.” She stalks away, and Micah shakes his head at me.
“Don’t listen to Deitra. She should know enough about Rorrik by now to know that no one can control him.”
“Why is he … the way he is?”
He shrugs, glancing around the room as if to ensure no one is hiding. “Some say he doesn’t feel emotion like you and I do.
There’s a … lack in him.”
The wyvern flashes into my mind, the tender way Rorrik had stroked his snout.
Tiernon returns, this time with his helmet tucked beneath his arm. “We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“The Circus. The emperor told Orna to make sure we attend.”
I’d forgotten. Today is one hundred days before the Umbrae Dies—the Day of Shadows, when the vampires honor Umbros —and the emperor is beginning celebrations with chariot races. At least I might be able to find Leon to talk about our plans.
I get to my feet. “I’ll go find the other novices.”
Tiernon leans against the doorway, his expression still tight. “No. You wanted to join the imperius? You’re coming with us.”
