C HAP TER TWENTY-F OUR
ardens storm across the Circus, targeting groups of mundanes and sigilmarked. For a long moment, all I can do is stare.W The scent of burnt flesh is suddenly so heavy in the air, it coats my tongue, and I lean over and gag. To our left, high in the stands, three wardens stalk toward a group of mundanes and low-level sigilmarked. Some still chant furiously, while others attempt to shove their way out of the group. Those with enough power raise shields to protect themselves and their families.
Others begin to beg for their lives, their voices high-pitched and terrified.
The wardens kill and kill.
“Why aren’t their shields protecting them?” I choke out.
“The wardens have harnessed aether,” Maeva chokes out. “It eats through basic shields.”
We need to get out of here. I grab Maeva’s arm, preparing to pull her with me.
“Wait, Arvelle, look!”
More wardens are storming toward the people just rows from us. Toward the sigilmarked family. The mundane farmers.
The overtaxed, underfed, discontent citizens who stupidly voiced that discontent.
And the children in their arms.
I stumble over Maeva’s foot, both of us instantly changing directions. We don’t have to communicate. I’m already moving, jumping over the stone bench below us. And the one below that.
Maeva gets into position, standing with her feet spread, leaning down. “Go,” she says. “Throw them up to us!”
She turns to yell something at Kaeso and Garet. Garet immediately shakes his head, backing toward the aisle. Disgust claws into me but I’m already moving.
Chants turn to screams. The people below us have realized what is about to happen. The woman with the red hair begins
shrieking as the warden approaches.
“Give her to me!” I scream.
Her eyes meet mine and she doesn’t hesitate. With one kiss to her daughter’s head, she throws her toward me. I lean so far forward over the stone bench below me, I almost unbalance. But I catch the girl with the tips of my fingers, hauling her close.
She’s so small in my arms. But she’s also surprisingly strong, and she squirms, crying out for her mother. I twist, handing her up to Maeva, who immediately passes her up to Kaeso.
The woman reaches for her son. He must be five or six—old enough to understand something is very wrong. But he’s shaking his head, backing away.
Suddenly, Leon is at my side. “Why are you always in the middle of the chaos?”
The woman pushes the boy toward us, but he’s fighting to stay with his father. The man next to him picks him up and throws him into the air toward us, scrambling onto the seat in an attempt to follow him.
Leon’s sigil flares, and his wind pulls the boy closer. The boy lets out a defiant scream, but Leon keeps pushing until he falls into Maeva’s arms.
“Go, Arvelle,” Leon orders through his teeth. “Move. Now.”
I can’t. The man is reaching for his wife, hauling her up onto the seat. The movement costs him, and I see the moment he realizes he’s not going to make it. Already, the wardens are shouting the group’s sentences.
The man shoves his wife, and she launches herself toward us, aiming for her children. For safety.
I reach out an arm, grasping for her. Heat sears my skin, and Leon slams into me. I hit the stone with a thud, bones
screaming. Flames sweep over our heads.
The flames disappear.
It’s suddenly eerily quiet. In the distance, I can hear hooves on the track, the charioteers still competing.
Leon lifts himself off me, coughing. I peer over the stone bench, looking for any sign of life.
The bodies are little more than blackened flesh clinging to bone.
“Mama!”
Behind me, Kaeso and Maeva each hold a child. Garet stares at us, his face pale. I stare back. You fucking coward, I mouth.
“You can’t be seen with them,” Leon mutters, flicking a haunted glance toward the pulvinar. “Give the children to us.”
Behind Leon, Albion stands, his face ashen.
I nod to Maeva, who pulls the boy in her arms closer. He’s quiet, still, staring unseeingly at the charred remains of his parents.
Screams and sobs echo throughout the Circus.
Several rows to our right, people begin laughing. The sound cuts through the horror, offensive and shocking.
Baldric and Hester.
Maeva’s sigil flares, and the stone bench crumbles to dust beneath them. They land with enraged screams, immediately searching for the culprit.
Leon leans close. “Hand them over. Now. You’re novices. If you’re seen with these children …”
He’s right. “Maeva. Let him go.”
She hesitates, finally handing the boy to Leon, who passes him off to Albion. “You’ll make sure—”
“We’ll search for family members. If they don’t have any, we’ll find them good homes,” Leon says.
Kaeso looks tortured as he gives the little girl to Leon, and she holds out her arms, screaming for him. She’s too young to understand what just happened, but she somehow equates the vampire with safety.
“You can trust Leon,” I murmur to Kaeso. “He would never allow a child to be harmed.”
Leon disappears, and I stare past Kaeso to Garet. Just yesterday, none of the sigilmarked gladians would speak to any of the vampires after the emperor ordered Tiberius’s guard turned for leaving his post. It was so easy for them to turn on Kaeso.
And yet the vampire didn’t even hesitate to save sigilmarked children today, while Garet stewed in his own cowardice.
The same cowardice that got Tolva killed during the third challenge. Garet’s eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head, dropping his gaze. I won’t forget this.
A hand slams down onto my shoulder. Neris.
“You’re lucky the emperor didn’t see that,” she mutters. “You need to come with me.”
Maeva is still staring at the chariots, her eyes blank.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I murmur.
Exhaustion pulls at me and I follow Neris back toward the other imperiums. The wardens have melted away now, leaving death and despair behind. “When can we leave?”
“When the emperor does.” Neris’s expression is flat, but rage burns in her eyes.
Vallius shows no sign of boredom. No, he’s watching the chariots, his eyes intent as he leans forward, as if nothing has happened.
Sigilkeeper Drugov Nistor stands near the emperor, his expression carefully blank, his face white. Next to him, Maeva’s father places a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something.
“The emperor used the city wardens for this,” I murmur. “Instead of the Guard.”
“The Guard is under the emperor’s authority,” Neris says.
“Everything is under the emperor’s authority.”
“Yes, but Nistor is in charge of the wardens. It may be the emperor who gave the order, but the populace will only have seen Nistor’s wardens striking them down. He will be the one they blame.”
Micah stands with his feet spread, arms crossed, eyebrows lowered. But he’s shaking with fury. He spares me a single glance before returning his attention to the chariots. “Two laps to go.”
I stare unseeingly at the track, my mind replaying the moment I reached for the woman’s hand. If I’d just leaned a little farther. If I’d been a little faster. If I’d understood sooner … Those children would at least have one parent.
No one speaks. Micah and Neris flank me, while several other imperiums slowly begin moving from where they were positioned in the crowd. None of them seem burned, although all are powerful enough to protect themselves from the wardens.
Did they protect anyone else?
I’m not sure I want to know.
The chariot race continues. The white team is in the lead. I’m sure people cheer, although I can’t hear them. I sweep my gaze over the crowd. People have moved, filled in the gaps where those who were killed had been standing. They’ve removed the bodies.
But they haven’t removed the black stains on the stone. The dark, greasy residue remains, and even the least empathetic avoid those seats.
“Why,” Tiernon grits out behind me, “am I hearing about Kelindra’s daughter saving sigilmarked children?”
Slowly, I turn. He runs his gaze over me and shakes his head. “We’ll discuss this later.” His gaze flicks to Neris. “We have a problem.”
I sidle back toward Maeva. “I’ll just …”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Tiernon doesn’t even look at me. He’s not Tiernon now. He’s the Primus. And whatever the emperor has ordered him to do has made him grim.
He jerks his head, and Neris and Micah follow him. After a single moment of hesitation, so do I.
Deitra, Lucius, and Orna meet us below the Circus, close to the entrance to the stairs leading to the emperor’s pulvinar.
Most of the other imperiums remain either at the emperor’s side or scattered among the crowd.
“Vampire rebels were sighted here,” Tiernon says. “Along with several other well-known, dangerous sigilmarked and a collection of soldiers from Myrestorn. They’re attempting to hide their origin but our spies heard one of them speak in a Myre accent.”
Micah snorts. “The vampires may hate the sigilmarked, but they’re willing to ally with them to get the job done.”
“The enemy of my enemy …” Tiernon murmurs.
“They’re going to target the emperor,” Neris says.
“Yes. They’ve positioned themselves here somewhere. We’ve put out an alert, but the vampires are … powerful.”
Which means they’ll be excellent at hiding in plain sight.
“Why didn’t the wardens arrest them?” I ask.
Orna snorts, and I feel my cheeks heat.
Tiernon flicks me a glance. “They’re too dangerous for the wardens.”
“Yeah,” Neris mutters bitterly. “The wardens are only good for murdering Sentharan citizens.”
Tiernon gives her a sharp look before returning his attention to the rest of the group. “Arvelle, Micah, and Neris, we’re taking the east side of the Circus. Lucius, Orna, and Deitra, you take the west side. The remaining imperiums will stay stationed and alert in each section. They’ll tell us if they see any of the rebels.”
No one argues. I follow Tiernon and the rest of our group back up the stairs. He jerks his head to the right. “Arvelle and I will search this section. The rest of you split up.”
I wait until they’re gone before following Tiernon into our section. Spectators continue to watch the chariots, although several are staring blankly ahead, tears pouring down their faces.
Did they lose loved ones? Or are they merely traumatized because the violence was so close to them, and not down on rough sand, happening to people they’ve never met?
Tiernon meets my gaze before turning away to scan our section. He’s still furious that I manipulated my way into the imperius. “The vampires have found a way to shoot aether grenades with crossbows,” he says. “They’re going to aim for the emperor.”
My pulse races. Maybe they’ll succeed. Maybe this can all be over.
Tiernon shakes his head at whatever he sees on my face. “The loss of life would be catastrophic. My father knows the
attack is coming but refuses to leave.”
“Why?”
“Pride. Besides, Sigilkeeper Nistor is the best shielder in this empire. The vampires won’t kill the emperor. They’ll just murder more innocent people.”
We search section after section, attempting to not draw attention to ourselves as we walk by each row, scanning faces.
“Tell me something,” I murmur as Tiernon stands at the top of one section, eyes narrowed on a group of vampires. But they’re focused solely on the chariots, money changing hands as they place their bets. “Why would vampires want the emperor dead?”
He gives me an amused look. “You truly think every vampire in this empire is pleased with my father’s rule?”
I know they’re not. But what I don’t understand is why.
“Forgive me for my ignorance. I’m just a lowly sigilmarked from the Thorn.”
His eyes flicker, and I know he regrets his patronizing tone. “Some vampires believe the sigilmarked could give us access to the sun if they chose to.”
We move to the next section, and I lean close to him. “But it was Mortuus who took the sun from you.”
Tiernon sighs. “The—”
His eyes narrow, becoming glazed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Lucius says one of the vampires was spotted downstairs in the lower exit.”
Lucius is currently high in the stands on the other side of the Circus, which means he’s capable of mindpathing over a substantial distance.
Tiernon’s expression hardens. “Lucius will notify the others and they’ll approach from that side. We need to take the vampire quickly and quietly. The emperor doesn’t want the public to learn that the rebels have gotten this close.”
His hold on his power lessens, and for the barest moment, it swamps me until he regains control, frustration written all over his face. Tiernon seethes with more than enough power to make this problem go away in the blink of an eye. The emperor is happy to create a scene when his citizens are being burned alive, but gods forbid people know his enemies are here under his nose.
“We’ll split up,” I say. “You approach from that direction, and I’ll go this way.”
Tiernon snorts. “Absolutely not.”
“How badly do you need to capture these vampires?” I hiss, and Tiernon lets out a low growl.
“Fine. Go.”
I sprint down the stairs while Tiernon moves toward the other aisle. We’ll both arrive through separate doors downstairs, hopefully distracting the vampire.
Neris hurtles past me, blazingly fast, and I follow in her footsteps. To our right, I spot Micah doing the same.
By the time we get through the exit beneath the stands, the vampire is cornered, his back to the wall, Tiernon prowling toward him. On his right, Micah and Lucius stand, blocking any chance for him to flee.
The vampire is delicately built, his eyes darting to each of the imperiums surrounding him. Thin lips pull back from his fangs, but I can see the panic in the hands fisting at his sides.
“It’s over,” Micah says.
“It will never be over. Not until Vallius Corvus is dead.”
I can get behind that. If only these vampires weren’t so willing to take out innocents to get what they want.
The vampire’s satchel is at his feet. He has no chance to get to his weapons. But his gaze flicks to Tiernon, and suddenly, I don’t see a vampire at all. I see Loyd Gatlin, and the desperate, hunted look in his eyes three years ago. Right before he killed himself and eight innocent people.
Resignation flickers over the vampire’s face, followed immediately by determination.
He reaches into his pocket.
“Get down!” I scream.
I’ll give the imperiums some credit. They don’t hesitate. All of them hit the ground. All of them except Tiernon, who whirls, eyes filled with horror as he launches himself toward me.
We’re all going to die.
No. My brothers need me.
The vampire lifts his hand. The aether grenade is gold and white. How strange that something so deadly has been crafted with so much care.
The grenade drops in slow motion. Tiernon is still in the air. He’s going to be blown to pieces.
I raise my arm, instinctively shielding my face as I duck.
The ground bucks beneath me. Heat sears my face as I brace for the flames to engulf me.
Tiernon slams into me with a thud. I’m fighting him instantly, attempting to throw him off me, to see how badly he’s hurt.
“Healer!” I’m screaming the word over and over.
“Arvelle.” Tiernon grips my chin, his eyes burning into mine. “I’m fine.”
Tears roll down my cheeks and all I can do is stare at him.
His expression turns strangely tender. “You do care.”
I hiccup. “Of course I care, you idiot.”
His mouth covers mine, and I bury my hands in his hair, holding him close. He’s alive. We’re both alive. I don’t know how many of the others are dead. I’m too scared to look.
Tiernon lifts his head, and I make myself peer around his shoulder. A rainbow of shields have been raised between the imperius and the vampire rebel. Micah and Neris slowly get to their feet, and the purple and green shields disappear.
The last shield—a glimmering silvery blue—stays in place.
Impossible.
“It’s a griffon ward,” Micah breathes.
I crane my head, but of course there’s no griffon to be seen. “I don’t understand.”
Tiernon’s gaze drops to my forehead and the muscles next to his eyes tense. “It’s you.”
“What?”
“Your sigil is glowing. The ward is yours.”
“It can’t be.” I’ve never had enough power to shield. The defensibility of a shield is directly related to power. To shield, a sigil has to have grown— Wait. It has. Twice now, I’ve noticed growth where there was previously nothing but smooth skin.
Slowly, hand trembling, I reach toward the shield. It’s a cool, calm caress against my fingertips. It is mine. I’m … I’m not broken. The mindpathing wasn’t an accident of fate. I have power. Real power.
Antigrus gave me this power. He wanted me to have it.
“Use it well.”
In the most private part of my soul, where I’ve tucked away the worst this world has offered me, something broken and scarred begins to heal.
Tiernon hauls me to my feet. “Drop the shield. Now. Before anyone else sees.”
Panic grows inside my chest. “How?”
“Close your eyes.” His voice turns soothing. “That’s right, relax. Now picture a pond so still, not even a ripple disturbs the surface.”
Tiernon talks me through it, until the ward disappears. Distantly, I’m aware of Neris and the others murmuring quietly.
“No blood. The vampire escaped.”
“Lucius and the others are on that exit. They’ll capture him.”
I manage to drop the shield, already mourning its loss, and Tiernon takes my hand, turning to the others. “You didn’t see that
shield.” His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument, and they both nod. “Let’s go.”
Neris steps close. “Don’t ever let anyone see you use that power. It will cost you your life.”
Lucius, Deitra, and Orna stand next to the exit, all of them expressionless. Orna takes one look at my hand clasped in Tiernon’s and sneers. “Glad you had time to flirt while the rest of us were trying to stay alive.”
I start to wriggle my fingers free. Tiernon squeezes once and releases my hand, sending Orna an impatient look. “Where is the vampire?”
“He got past us,” Lucius growls, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I don’t know how, but—”
“Excuses,” the emperor hisses. A sense of foreboding washes over me, as he stalks toward us, Drugov Nistor on one side, Rorrik on the other. A group of Praesidium guards surround them, hands on their weapons. More guards stand near the exit, blocking any who might attempt to use it.
Rorrik’s eyes meet mine. “Already working with the imperius? You’re about to see what that truly means.”
A ball of dread expands beneath my ribs, as Rorrik turns his attention to Tiernon.
Tiernon cuts his eyes to Micah, who steps in front of me, until I’m neatly hidden within the group of imperiums.
“Did you miss the part where I demanded discretion?” the emperor asks, and I peer around Micah’s shoulder.
Tiernon shakes his head. “There were extenuating circumstances.”
“And yet you still don’t have him.” The emperor studies Tiernon as if considering how much his son’s death will truly impact him. My entire body begins to tremble.
“That was my fault, Dominus,” Lucius says. “He got past me.”
“Silence,” Tiernon orders, his eyes wild.
But it’s too late. The emperor pins Tiernon with a frigid look. “Take care of this.”
“Dominus …” The word is a low rasp, and horror flickers in Tiernon’s eyes. “Please. I beg of you to show mercy.”
The emperor gives a single slice of his head, pointing at Lucius.
A muscle twitches in Tiernon’s cheek, and his lips thin. The emperor’s eyes light with cold fury.
“Allow me, Father,” Rorrik purrs. “You know I enjoy such things.”
Lucius meets Rorrik’s eyes, and I know they’re having a private conversation. Lucius gives Rorrik a grim nod.
“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. It’s little more than a croak of protest, but Rorrik sends a single burning glance my way, and my throat clamps shut.
Tiernon stiffens. Micah takes a step closer to me.
I stare Rorrik in the eyes. “No. No, no, no. Please. Please, don’t do it.”
His mouth goes rigid. “Look away, Arvelle.”
It’s the first time Rorrik has said my name, and it’s enough to make me lose my grip on the mindpath between us. A heavy wall appears in my mind.
No, it’s not my mind. It’s Rorrik’s. He’s blocked me out.
I claw at it, slamming into it again and again.
On my left, Tiernon trembles with suppressed rage.
Rorrik gives his brother a look I can’t decipher, but it reminds me of the look he gave me the day after I killed Tiberius Cotta. “You’re going to have to fight harder than this if you’re going to survive here.”
Tiernon doesn’t move. Lucius’s gaze flicks between Rorrik and Tiernon. “It’s not your—”
In a movement so fast his arm is a blur, Rorrik rips out Lucius’s heart.
I stare, uncomprehending, as Lucius slumps to the ground.
Dead. He’s really dead.
Just hours ago he was sitting in front of me, his brow lowered as he examined his cards.
I open my mouth in a silent scream. Rorrik drops Lucius’s heart on the ground and stalks away.
I shriek soundlessly again and again and again.
