We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 11

I hold Maximus’s life in my hands.

If I wanted to, I could slice my blade across his throat and leave him bleeding out, just a few feet from the spot where Kassia died.

After the way he taunted me with her death, some part of me would enjoy it very much.

The spectators would love it. They’d chant and scream and cheer as this man choked on his own blood.

But I won’t let this place turn me into a monster. One day soon, I’ll look my brothers in the eyes as they stand in front of me. And when that moment arrives, my hands will be as clean as this place will allow.

Maximus’s pulse thunders against my hand. I can’t see his face, but slowly, his shoulders slump as the realization sinks in.

The crowd screams.

My name. They’re screaming my name. I want to flinch away from it, but I know better.

Slowly, the emperor stands, walking to the front of his pulvinar. He leans over the gilded railing, staring down at us as if he is a god deciding our worth.

A man prowls toward him. Rorrik.

My hands begin to shake, and I move the blade farther from Maximus’s jugular.

This would be an easy way for Rorrik to get rid of me. One word in his father’s ear, and that thumb will turn down for both Maximus and me.

Rorrik smiles wickedly, his eyes meeting mine. And then he steps back, leaving the emperor to his decision.

“You didn’t finish the kill,” the emperor addresses me, his voice echoing through the arena.

An enforcer waves his hand toward me, and when I speak my voice is just as loud.

“No, Dominus.” I swallow, bowing my head. “When it comes to the lives of your loyal subjects, I leave such decisions up to you.”

Maximus stiffens. I still can’t see his face, but from his slow exhale, he knows what I’m doing.

Reminding the emperor of Maximus’s loyalty in the hopes that he allows him to live.

The emperor watches us for a long moment. A baby wails, the sound abruptly cut off.

Slowly, he lifts his hand. I barely breathe.

His thumb points to the sky, and Maximus’s shoulders slump. I remove my blade, and he slowly gets to his good foot, bowing his head to the emperor.

The arena seems to tilt around me, but I inhale deeply, lifting my head as we walk toward the exit.

Leon is the first person I see, his face white, lips thinned. I know that expression.

Pure, unfiltered rage.

Maximus’s limp slows, and I can’t blame him. Leon is already striding toward us, and even unarmed, he looks like he wants to kill us both.

“What. Was. That.”

I hunch my shoulders. He’s not talking about the win. Or sparing Maximus’s life. He’s talking about the way I was lost in the past. Lost enough that I almost bled out right next to …

Shame floods over me, and when I don’t speak, Leon turns and stalks away.

Maximus lets out a low whistle behind us. “That was …”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Your back is covered with blood,” he points out.

I cut my eyes to him. “You don’t say.”

One side of his mouth kicks up. “You could have killed me, but you didn’t.”

And clearly he thinks that now makes us friends. Either that, or he’s basking in the fact that he’s still breathing.

“Would you have killed me?” I’m genuinely curious, and Maximus turns to face me.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

I nod, stumbling as my own blood loss begins to take effect. “And what will you do now?”

“Return home in disgrace. Train some more. Try again.”

I gape at him, and he laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulders. Since he can barely walk, and his thigh is pouring blood, I allow it.

He’s lucky I didn’t sever his femoral. I know exactly where it is.

I’ve known where it is since I was five years old and watched my aunt bleed out in front of me.

“This is what I want,” he says, his voice tight with pain. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. You don’t want it as much. But when you’re out there in the sand, you want to live , and that’s enough. Maybe I’ll see you next season and you can give me tips on how to make it through.”

I frown. “You don’t think I’m going to make it through.”

“I didn’t ,” he admits. “But you’re vicious and clever. Every now and then, courage and brains will beat raw strength.”

Healers rush toward us, but an enforcer calls a name, and I turn, stumbling back toward the arena.

“What are you doing?” Maximus asks as the healers reach for him.

“Maeva. It’s Maeva.”

She steps into the arena like she owns it, head high. But her expression screams fear—her mouth tight, eyes huge.

She’s up against Norin—a breathtakingly fast sigilmarked from the region of Valerim—known for breeding warriors.

The size difference between them is almost comical, but the crowd seems to like it, screaming and jeering.

Maeva swings her sword, warming up her wrist, and Norin lumbers toward her.

“Fight!” the guard calls.

Kassia’s eyes, turning blank, lifeless.

I stagger, turning from the arena. When one of the healers takes my arm, I let them lead me away.

E VERYTHING HURTS .

I suck in a sharp breath, the medicinal scent of salves and balms mingling with the fresh linen of the sheet beneath my face.

I’m lying in the healers’ quarters, my tunic raised up to my neck while Axia works on the deep slice in my back. When she’s finally done, she pushes a tonic into my hand and chants over the rest of my cuts and bruises.

I gulp down the tonic, thankful she gave it a faint citrus taste.

“Your body will prioritize your larger wounds, which means you’ll likely still hurt for a couple of days,” she says. “Now let me look at your ankle.” Her voice trails off and she bows her head as Tiernon steps into the room.

I bristle. “What are you doing here?”

He gives me a dismissive look. The kind of look he knows will infuriate me.

“What’s wrong with her ankle?” he asks Axia.

Axia merely raises an eyebrow at him, although her hand trembles. She’s refusing to be intimidated by the looming Primus. I knew I liked her.

He turns his attention to me. “What happened to it?”

I glance pointedly at the two novices standing at attention behind him. Tiernon follows my gaze. “You’re dismissed.”

They bow, stepping back into the corridor and closing the door behind them.

“Tell me,” Tiernon says.

“I liked it better when you were ignoring me.”

“I liked it better when you weren’t here.”

For some reason, his words make my chest ache.

Axia tuts. “Quiet, children. Let’s have a look at it.”

Her hands glow faintly as she holds them above my ankle. “This is an old injury. I felt it before the challenge.”

“Yes.”

“When did it originally occur?”

I attempt to ignore Tiernon looming over me like a shadow.

“Six years ago. When I fought in the Sands.”

She gives me a look. “The Syndicate ensures those who fight have access to healers immediately after. Why didn’t you get this seen to?”

“I had … other things on my mind.”

She shakes her head as if I had planned to sign myself up for a lifetime of pain.

“The break never healed correctly. These two bones are grinding together, and when that happens, the swelling also inflames this tendon. I can take care of the worst of the swelling from today, but it needs to be rebroken and healed.”

“How long would it take for it to be fully healed after it was rebroken?”

“A week or longer. You’ve done continual damage, which means it will take time.”

“And it would be weak while it healed.”

“Yes. Weak and tender.”

“Do what you can do now. I can’t rebreak it.” I don’t have the time. And I can’t afford for my ankle to become more of a liability than it already is—at least until after the third challenge. By then, I’ll be leaving to meet up with my brothers anyway, and I have no intention of ever fighting again.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Tiernon’s disapproval is thick in the air. I ignore it, and Axia gets to work. The pain turns agonizing, and Tiernon places his hand on my shoulder.

I shake him off, and he lets out a low growl, but I don’t want or need his comfort.

An eternity later, Axia finally finishes and I slide off the bed. The pain has dulled to an ache, although it still hurts to walk as I thank her and leave, blocking out the Primus’s presence as he stalks behind me.

I can’t ignore him for long. With one of his vampire-fast movements, he’s suddenly in front of me, studying my face.

“I’m sorry for the part I played in making you like this. But the girl I knew deserved better than the lonely, cold woman you’ve become. You’re going to have a short, unhappy life if you don’t learn how to trust people again.”

His words hang in the air between us, and it suddenly hurts to breathe.

Making me like this .

Like I’m deficient in too many ways to count.

“You don’t get to tell me to trust people when you’re the one who incinerated any trust I had left.” Turning, I limp back toward my room.

T HERE ’ S NO REAL time to rest and recover after the first challenge. Because the next is in Lunius, just three weeks away.

Since I know Tiernon—the Primus —was serious about his threat, I force myself out of bed early the next morning, suppressing my quiet whimpers as I make my way toward the training hall.

Axia warned me.

I’m so wrapped up in pain and fatigue, I don’t hear the sound of footsteps behind me.

The scent of ice and damp earth hits me, and my back slams against the wall. My head hits stone with a thump and stars explode in front of my eyes.

Rorrik frowns down at me, cupping my face in his huge hand. He tilts my head, studying the place of impact.

“So fragile,” he murmurs. “So fearful. I can hear your heart racing like a tiny, frightened rabbit.”

I swallow, but it doesn’t help my dry throat. I’d hoped the emperor’s sadistic son had forgotten about me. I flick my gaze to the right, but we’re alone—except for a novice standing ten feet from Rorrik, his gaze carefully averted.

“Leave,” Rorrik says, and the novice doesn’t hesitate. A moment later, he’s gone.

When I open my mouth, Rorrik’s hand encircles my throat, cutting off my words.

“You always seem to be where you shouldn’t be,” he muses. “Shhh,” he says when I shiver, terror swamping me.

All I can see is the moment he disemboweled the man he called a spy.

“Where is the warrior I watched in my father’s arena?” He loosens his hand, making it clear he expects a response.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

His eyes light up with a kind of savage malice. “Kill you? Now where would the fun be in that? No”—he leans closer, his breath warm on my face—“I’m not going to kill you. That would be far too easy. Almost … boring. I’m going to take everything you love, everything you remotely care about, and I’m going to ruin it.”

My eyes sting, my mind immediately providing me with an image of my brothers’ crumpled forms.

No. No, they’re safe. I made sure of it.

“Why?” I ask, and Rorrik’s eyes glint with amusement.

“Because I can.”

I study his face. Is this because I saw him with his wyvern? He has to know I’ll keep my mouth shut.

Or … is it because I caught him in a moment of vulnerability. A moment where he wasn’t wearing his usual mask? And yet …

This animosity feels strangely personal. It’s as if I’ve wronged him on a deep, unforgivable level.

Ah. But this is the emperor’s son. A vampire descended from one of the Firsts . A vampire who is likely unused to experiencing even mild irritation. I’d bet he finds even the smallest slight unforgivable.

Rorrik slips his hand from my throat, cupping my cheek gently. So gently. The threat is unmistakable, and I close my eyes, blocking out the sight of his face.

“Who have you told about your little spying session, darling?”

My heart thrashes against my ribs, and I suddenly can’t catch my breath. I’m panting too fast, and it feels like there’s a heavy weight on my chest.

It’s the weight of my impending death.

The endearment coming from Rorrik’s lips reminds me of the time I watched my mother’s cat gently lick a trapped mouse … right before she sunk her teeth into its neck.

But it’s the word spying that almost makes me lose control of my bladder. I know what happens to spies here. I know what Rorrik does to them.

I force my eyes open. “I w-wasn’t spying.”

He gives me an enigmatic smile as he releases me. A lock of black hair slips over his forehead, and when he touches a tongue to one pointed fang, my heart somehow beats even faster.

“See you soon, little rabbit.”

He turns and disappears down the dim corridor, likely slipping into one of the secret tunnels. My head spins and I slump against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

I jolt, practically jumping out of my skin. Tiernon stands at the end of the corridor, hands on his hips. He’s not wearing his helmet. I suppose now that I know who he is, he doesn’t feel the need to hide his face. Lingering terror is replaced by fury and I peel myself off the wall.

“Nothing.”

He curls his lip at me. “Then why do you stink of fear?”

Something about being scared out of my mind, anticipating Rorrik ripping out my throat … and the sheer relief that I’m still alive … it makes me reckless. Volatile.

I give Tiernon a nasty smile. “You made it clear that we are nothing to each other. So you’re not entitled to answers from me. You’re not entitled to anything.”

His gaze studies my face. If I thought I’d find hurt in those bright blue eyes, I’m delusional. He merely stares at me as if I’m wasting his time. I move to leave, but Tiernon catches my wrist.

“Did you fuck Carrick after I left?”

The question is like a blow, and I jerk back, but his hand tightens around my wrist.

All the questions he should be asking, and he’s focusing on Carrick?

Territorial bastard.

“Your vampire blood is showing.”

“Answer me.”

Fury blazes through me, incinerating all logic and good sense. “I fucked plenty of men. Too many to count.”

His lips twitch, but something I don’t understand flickers across his face. Something that burrows between my ribs and stays there.

“I know you,” he replies, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. “And that’s not your style. You choose your lovers carefully. Each time you fucked someone who wasn’t me? It meant something. It mattered. And that makes it a thousand times worse.”

“ You left me ,” I hiss.

When he doesn’t say anything, I yank my arm from his hold. I loathe the fact that I’m only free because he chose to let me go.

“I have to get ready for training.”

“Don’t bother.” His eyes are flat, and he’s looking at me as if I’m a stranger once more.

I prefer it this way.

“What do you mean?”

He’s already grabbing his helmet and walking away. “The emperor has decided you’ll all join him at the arena,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Training is canceled.”

My stomach twists. Something tells me I’m not going to like this.