We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 14

M y mouth tastes like sand as we walk down the corridor toward the arena. Baldric’s guardant is waiting next to Leon, both of them studiously ignoring each other.

Leon grabs my shoulders, leaning close, his eyes narrowed with intent. “I need you to do something for me.”

I swallow. It has been six years since Leon has asked me for anything more important than to pass him a practice sword.

“What?”

His voice lowers further, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “I need you to remember why you’re here,” he bites out. “Think about your brothers. And think about how you want to make sure they’re free. You want to make sure they grow up.”

Sweat forms along the back of my neck. Whatever is in that arena is going to horrify me.

“Leon—”

“You know what will happen if you die and Bran still has your brothers? That vampire bitch Elva will eat them, Arvelle. They’ll be a snack for her. When she’s drained them dry, she’ll bury them in an unmarked grave. That’s if they’re lucky. If they’re not lucky, she’ll use them as entertainment for her vampire friends.”

My head swims, my stomach roiling. “Why are you saying this? Stop it.”

He shakes me. “I’ve seen things in this place that would make you curl into a ball and whimper. You think you’re tough, but your heart is still too soft, and you don’t have the luxury of a soft heart anymore. So go out there and fight for your brothers.”

I nod, my mouth so dry I can’t find the words to reply. Without another word, Leon releases me, stalking away.

An enforcer announces Baldric’s name, and he sends me a wide grin before sauntering into the arena.

“Arvelle Dacien.”

For a moment, Baldric’s shoulders block the view. When he stiffens, my lungs constrict.

If I don’t pull myself together, I’m dead. And I refuse to let Baldric’s face be the last thing I see.

Baldric steps aside, and something flutters to my left.

Wings.

Wings chained down, with no hope of flight.

Wings attached to a … griffon?

“Once thought to be almost impossible to trap, but no longer,” the emperor says, his voice booming through the arena.

Fuck.

Despite the chains binding the griffon, he still somehow manages to look both majestic and formidable—his powerful, feline form cloaked in sleek, gray fur that ripples as he jostles the heavy silver-laced iron confining his wings. Gray feathers tipped in white shimmer beneath the harsh light of the arena, while his long, tufted tail sweeps slow arcs across the sand. He turns his eagle-like head, and piercing gold eyes lock onto mine, glittering with intelligence.

Even I’ve heard the legends of the griffons, and how their viciousness in battle combined with the colder weather so far south prevented the emperor from getting a foothold in Torvellen.

The emperor’s gaze falls on me, before shifting to Baldric. “My Praesidium guards must cooperate daily to complete their tasks across my empire. Today, you will work together to kill this beast as a reminder of what happens to those who choose not to embrace progress.”

My lips are numb, my knees weak.

I … can’t do it.

I can fight anyone who volunteers for this. Who understands what they’re getting into. I’ll fight viciously and desperately to stay alive.

But this?

Killing this beautiful, majestic creature for no reason other than the emperor wants a show?

I don’t have it in me.

That vampire bitch Elva will eat them, Arvelle.

Leon’s words echo in my head. This was why he cornered me. Not because he knows I can’t kill a trapped griffon. But because he knows I won’t .

Baldric doesn’t hesitate. He dances forward, his sword already in his hand, his eyes filled with a dark glee.

Most of the chains encompassing the griffon disappear. But not those wrapped around his wings, pinning them to his sides.

Baldric slashes out, and the griffon turns, but the creature is too slow, and a deep cut opens up across its powerful chest.

The crowd roars, and a slimy surge of nausea roils in the pit of my stomach.

Like mine, Baldric’s power is unrestrained. He could kill the griffon instantly if he wanted. But he’s putting on a show for the emperor, as expected. I could almost understand it, if he wasn’t also enjoying himself.

“Fight!” an enforcer screams, cracking his aetherwhip. And this time it’s my skin that rips open, blood pouring from a thick slice down my left shoulder.

At least it’s not my sword arm.

Baldric slices again, and this time the griffon manages to dodge to the side. But it’s limping, and when it moves, I catch a glimpse of a shredded paw, blood pooling in the sand beneath it.

My entire body breaks out in a cold sweat, a deep, painful ache spreading between my ribs.

Baldric lunges once more, and this time, his sword slides through one of the griffon’s muscular legs. The griffon snaps its beak at him with a screech, and Baldric stumbles back.

The crowd jeers.

“Fight!” The same enforcer is watching me, and with the crack of his aetherwhip, another gash opens, this time along my chest, right below my throat.

I hiss out a curse. The emperor is watching Baldric, a pleased smile on his face. Next to him, Rorrik sits, watching me . I meet Tiernon’s eyes. He stands behind the emperor. He’s not wearing his helmet, and his eyes burn into me. I can practically hear him urging me to swing my sword.

“Excuse me.” The words are tentative, the voice unmistakably male.

My throat thickens. This is it. The horrors of this place have already driven me mad.

“Over here.” The griffon’s eyes meet mine. “I find myself in the unique position where I must ask you to show mercy.”

My eyes burn.

“I don’t expect you not to kill me,” he assures me. “I have accepted my fate and made this sacrifice for my people. I would, however, ask that you do it quickly. I do not wish to die like this, slice by slice, as entertainment for your emperor so far from my home.”

I want to tell the griffon that he’s not my emperor. But I choke on that excuse. I’m fighting in the man’s arena.

“I don’t want to kill you.” My words come instantly, and it’s not until the griffon’s eyes meet mine again that I realize he heard me. He must have somehow opened up a bridge between our minds, allowing me to reply.

Baldric dances closer to the griffon and feints with his sword, laughing as the griffon flinches back.

“I know,” he says. “And I thank you for that. It is both easier and harder to ask you, knowing you would spare me if you could. But I too have my pride, and I do not want to be slaughtered by one such as him.” The griffon turns his birdlike head and pins Baldric with a hard glare.

Baldric simply lunges forward, slashing once more. Only this time, the griffon moves smoothly across the sand, beyond Baldric’s reach.

When the griffon looks back at me, my eyes fill.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

“What is your name?” he asks gently.

“Arvelle. And you?”

I can somehow sense his surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting me to return the question. As if he wasn’t expecting me to care. And I know then that this creature has been treated awfully by every human and vampire he has come into contact with.

“My name is Antigrus.”

When I glance up at the emperor, he’s frowning down at me.

“Will you help me?”

“I …”

There has to be another way. Another option. Anything.

The enforcer cracks his aetherwhip once more, and pain explodes across the back of my neck. Dizziness swamps me, blood dripping down my spine.

“There is no need for you to suffer any longer, Arvelle. There is no need for me to suffer any longer either.”

“I know.”

I’ll do this. I’ll be the one person who will give Antigrus what he wants. A dignified death. I’ll live with the knowledge that my blade put an end to this incredible, proud creature.

And at the very least, I can take pleasure in the fact that Baldric will be furious.

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

I can hear the pain in his words. And I focus on the rage clawing at me, instead of the hopelessness I want to drown in.

When I step forward, the crowd goes wild. I stalk resolutely toward Antigrus, ignoring Baldric as he slashes at him.

Antigrus’s eyes meet mine, and this time, I see hope. Hope and relief and gratitude.

It’s the hope that allows me to dodge around Baldric, slamming my shoulder into his and pushing him off-balance.

It’s the relief that allows me to ignore the agony shooting through my ankle as Baldric kicks out at me in retaliation.

And it’s the gratitude that allows me to shove my sword through Antigrus’s powerful pectoral muscles, between his ribs, and into his heart.

Blood sprays, and I barely suppress a heave, nausea choking me.

“Thank you,” Antigrus tells me once more. His face seems to glow gold, and his gaze finds my sigil, his eyes widening suddenly. “Use it well.”

Use what well?

The light in his eyes goes dim, and Antigrus slumps to the sand. I know he’s not there anymore, but I want to dust off his body, take it with me, and give him a proper burial.

Something that can never happen in this place.

Baldric lets out a roar, launching toward me. I dodge to the side and almost throw up, the pain in my ankle unrelenting.

The arena goes silent. All I can hear is the panting of my own breaths and Baldric’s violent curses.

His sigil flares, and flames pour out of him.

I dart left. Right into his trap. His boot slams into my bad ankle once more.

My body goes one way.

My foot stays in place.

CRACK.

The offensive scent of my own blood fills my nostrils and I collapse, agony radiating up my leg.

Baldric looms over me, too consumed with hatred to notice the emperor getting to his feet. An enforcer steps forward and cracks his aetherwhip. Thick ropes wrap around Baldric, pinning his hands to his sides.

I take a single moment to appreciate the irony.

And then I meet the emperor’s eyes.

He’s not happy. If our second challenge was supposed to prove that we can work together while giving his people a long, drawn-out show, I failed.

The emperor’s lips curve, and it hits me then.

He’s going to make an example out of me. My death will be a warning to the others.

His hand begins to turn down, and I catch movement behind the emperor’s shoulder.

Rorrik steps forward, his eyes on me as he whispers something in the emperor’s ear.

The entire arena seems to hold its breath. I don’t look at Tiernon. For some reason, I can’t bear to see the look on his face when he learns I’m about to die.

The emperor’s thumb turns up.

I don’t know why, but Rorrik just made sure I was spared.

At least for now.

I MUST HAVE passed out, because when I open my eyes, strong arms are hoisting me up.

“What—”

Tiernon lifts me higher. The movement is careful, but I have to sink my teeth into my bottom lip to suppress a yelp.

“You’re out of the arena,” he says. “The enforcer dragged you out by your arm.”

The same way Leira’s dead body was dragged away just days ago. My head spins.

“Where are the healers?”

“I’m taking you,” he says testily. “What were you thinking out there?”

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the emperor?”

He ignores that. “ You shouldn’t even be here. But since you are, you have one job: keep your head down and don’t draw any attention. Instead, you seem committed to making enemies wherever you go.”

I don’t tell him about Antigrus asking me for mercy. As far as I’m concerned, Tiernon lost the right to any answers the day he left me.

But I deserve answers.

“Why did Rorrik stop the emperor from having me killed?”

Tiernon grimaces. “I don’t know. He was careful to keep his voice quiet so I couldn’t hear what he said. Why don’t you tell me why Rorrik might have taken an interest in you?”

“Once again, my life has nothing to do with you.”

“If only that were true. I’ve been invested in your life since the day we met.”

“Put me down.”

“I can’t,” Tiernon says. “Your bone is currently pushed through your skin.”

Tiny dots appear in front of my eyes at the thought. I’ve been refusing to look at my ankle, as if that will make it hurt less.

“The others—”

“I’m using my power to hide the injury. No one can see how bad it is.”

He walks past the door leading to the healers’ quarters beneath the arena and I stiffen. “Where are you taking me?”

“We have our own healers’ quarters within the imperius’s quarters,” Tiernon rumbles. “Axia will meet us there.”

Tears suddenly prick my eyes. He knows I trust Axia, so he arranged for her to be the one to heal me somewhere private, away from the other gladians. It’s the kind of thing he used to do without thinking—instinctively protecting me any way he could.

I focus on the pain in my ankle instead of the pain in my heart, ruthlessly squashing the part of me that wants to savor the sight of him being the Tiernon I knew, and not the Primus who is a stranger to me.

Since the agony has turned unrelenting, and I’ve begun breathing raggedly, the distraction is more than sufficient.

Tiernon carries me through the long tunnel to the ludus and past the gladians’ barracks to an unassuming door, which he pushes open.

The room is large and rectangular—at least twice the size of the gladians’ common room. The walls are a pale blue, which perfectly complement four priceless Myrestornian rugs. Tiernon walks past plush armchairs and overstuffed sofas, which have been carefully ar ranged to encircle walnut coffee tables. The tables hold vases of fresh flowers, and I take a deep inhale, sucking the floral scent into my lungs.

He opens another door, and a hall stretches out in front of us. I begin counting rooms as we continue to walk toward the end of the hall. When I lose count after ten or twelve doors, my head thumps back against Tiernon’s shoulder.

His lips twitch. “I’ll give you a tour another time.” When he pushes open the next door, Axia gets to her feet.

“What hurts?”

My heart, my pride, my soul. “My ankle.”

Tiernon waves a hand, removing his power. Axia sucks in a sharp breath.

It’s never a good sign when the healers are horrified. My eyes stray toward my ankle and I force myself to stare at the wall instead.

Axia clears her throat. “This time, you’ve done significantly more damage.” Her words sound like an accusation.

“What are my options?”

“There are no options. This break will be mended, but the original bone also needs to be rebroken and healed in the right place. You can petition the emperor and ask to be given a separate challenge once you’ve healed.”

I snort. “He won’t allow it.” Bitter frustration wells up. I’ve got no choice but to limp back into the arena for the third challenge.

The healer clears her throat. “There is one way you can skip the worst of the healing.”

I push myself higher in the bed. “I’ll do it.”

She glances at Tiernon. When his eyes meet mine, understanding hits me.

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tiernon snaps. His face is bone white, his eyes dark, and I know he’s fighting his own hunger at the scent of my blood. But if there’s one thing Tiernon has, it’s self-control. “You take my blood or you die. And even your pride has limits.”

It does. I don’t want to die.

I’m not sure exactly which god hates me. Perhaps it’s all of them. There can be no other explanation for this.

“I’ll send you to sleep for the healing,” Tiernon says.

My mind immediately throws me back to all the times Tiernon snuck into my bedroom when my mother was nowhere to be found. When I was responsible for Gerith and Evren, and the constant worrying and planning would make it impossible to rest. Some nights, I’d beg him for sleep.

After Kassia died, there were many nights when I would have given anything for the relief of unconsciousness.

It’s a minor power for vampires. But dangerous for sigilmarked and mundanes. Powerful sigilmarked can block the effects, but I’ll never be able to.

“No,” Axia says.

“What do you mean no ?” Tiernon demands.

She gives him an apologetic look. “Your power will interfere with my own. I can send Arvelle to sleep myself, but I have been healing gladians all morning, so I need to reserve my power for her injury. It will take everything I have to ensure it heals correctly.” She reaches for a pain tonic and hands it to me. “This will help with the worst of the pain. But it will be agonizing.”

Nerves rattle through my stomach, but I drink the tonic. The sooner I do this, the sooner it’s over.

“Get another healer in here to send her to sleep,” Tiernon demands.

“No,” I say.

It’s bad enough that Axia knows my vulnerabilities, and I trust her to keep them quiet. I don’t need any other healers learning about my ankle or speculating about my past with the Primus.

“Just get this over with,” I mutter.

“No.” Tiernon holds up his hand as Axia leans toward my ankle. She goes still.

“Yes,” I say. The pain is unrelenting now, and Tiernon leans over, staring into my eyes.

“Stubborn woman.”

When I don’t reply, he takes my hand. I’m scared enough to clutch at it. This is going to hurt.

CRACK!

Pain explodes through me, a scream wrenched from my lungs. I cut it off, devolving into pained whimpers. I was an idiot. I take it all back. Someone needs to put me to sleep. Now.

“Shhh. It’ll be over soon.”

I hate that I can’t seem to stop the tiny suppressed screams from leaving my throat. Hate that even now, it feels natural to let Tiernon see my pain, when I would want to gut anyone else who was in the room.

Axia begins chanting, and whatever she does takes the edge off the worst of the pain.

Tiernon continues murmuring into my ear. “Most of the imperius watched your challenge. Neris said your instincts are some of the best she’s seen. Of course she also said walking around with an ankle injury showcased extreme stupidity.”

I let out another whine, and the scent of copper fills the room as Tiernon tears open his wrist. He never handled it well when I was in pain.

Axia clears her throat. “Not yet, Primus. If she heals now, this will need to be done again. I need to shift the bones into place.” Her voice lowers. “It’s not too late to—”

I open my eyes long enough to shoot her a glare. The room is spinning and I slump back, allowing Tiernon to take my weight. “Just do it.”

Tiernon’s face is an unreadable mask. But he allows the wounds in his wrist to heal.

Axia does something that makes me scream again and I sink my teeth into my lower lip.

“Almost done,” Tiernon soothes. My gaze meets his, and he cups my cheek. “You’re being so brave.”

I let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. I’ve never felt less brave.

“You are,” he insists. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

The reminder of that day makes me stiffen, and I turn my face away. I can’t afford to forget the way he left me. The way I pined for him day after day. The way life grew bleak and colorless and stayed that way for six years.

Tiernon lets out a hum and brushes a strand of my hair from my damp forehead. And despite myself, I lean into his touch.

Axia maneuvers my foot and I cry out again, close to begging now.

“End this,” Tiernon orders, his eyes filled with frustration.

“Almost finished, Primus.”

But she’s not almost finished. The pain goes on and on, until I’m sure she’s secretly a sadist. Finally, when I’m opening my mouth to beg for another healer to send me to sleep, she clears her throat.

“The bone is set in place. It is time.”

“Good. Thank you.”

I open my eyes, blinking tears from my lashes. Tiernon’s tone is harsh, his expectation clear.

With a bow, Axia backs out of the room. She looks pale and drawn. Exhausted. Healing me has drained her.

“Thank you,” I choke out.

“You’re welcome.” With a smile, she closes the door behind her.

“Drink,” Tiernon demands. “Now.” His expression is hard, his face white. I can see his pulse pounding in his temple.

I’d like to be able to say I play hard to get. Or even that I protest. Instead, I wrap my hands around his forearm and allow him to press his wrist to my mouth.

My body is instantly engulfed in a warm cocoon.

No one talks about the addictive qualities of vampire blood. Because for sigilmarked and mundanes to fall prey to such a weakness is intolerable. Vampires already have more than enough power over the rest of us.

And yet there are those among us who would sell their souls for just one more taste. For the buzzing in their veins, the sudden rush of pleasure, the healing of wounds both large and small.

I knew the first time I took Tiernon’s blood all those years ago that I could easily follow in my mother’s footsteps. Addiction thrives in the dark places. The places we want to escape. And my life has always been filled with dark places.

As soon as I feel the pain in my ankle subside, I force myself to lift my head.

Drinking someone’s blood is intimate. Before Bran, the only other blood I’d ever tasted was Tiernon’s. And the memories itch at the back of my mind.

I hit the ground hard and roll, pain slicing across my forearm. When I make it to my knees, Leon is giving me a hard look.

“What did I tell you, Arvelle?”

“Expect the unexpected.” I narrow my eyes at Kassia. “Just how long did you practice that?”

She gives me a grin. “Hours. Since it obviously works, I’ll teach you.”

Leon’s lips twitch, and he shakes his head at us. “We’re done.” A glance at Kassia. “Be home for dinner.”

Slinging her sword into her sheath, she crosses over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I have things to do. See you both later.”

She winks at me and saunters off. I roll my eyes. I know exactly where she’s going, and who she’s seeing.

When I turn, Tiernon is leaning against the wall in the shade surrounding the training arena. Our eyes meet, but his gaze immediately drops to my arm.

“You’re hurt.” His voice is sharp—as if my pain has caused him personal offense.

“I’m fine. My fault for not expecting the unexpected.” I grin at him. Blood drips from my forearm, and I pull a bandage from the wad in my pocket. “You shouldn’t be out in the sun. I know it hurts you.”

Tiernon ignores that. Despite the pain, he refuses to allow his transition to take the sun from him until the moment he can no longer tolerate it. Until it becomes deadly. My heart twists at the thought.

His eyes are dark, and I bite my lower lip as his gaze drops to my mouth, but it’s not that craving I’m worried about.

“Do you need a moment?”

His lips curve. “Are you asking me if I can control myself around the scent of your blood?”

“Well … yes.”

He takes a single step closer, and I blow out a shaky breath. “I won’t lie,” he murmurs. “You smell delectable. But I just fed. I’m more concerned with the depth of that cut.”

I stare at him blankly and his lips peel back from his fangs—already so much longer and sharper than ever before. He rips into his own wrist with those teeth, and the movement is so sudden, so unapologetically vampiric, that I stumble backward.

Tiernon freezes, and his eyes darken. “I can hear your heart racing. Don’t fear me, Arvelle. I’m … I’m a predator now. And it excites me.”

If he thinks those words will help calm my fear, he’s crazy. I slice a glance over my shoulder, but he’s instantly standing in front of me.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he says. “Deep down you know. Now drink.”

My breath hitches. It’s rare that Tiernon lets me see a glimpse of his true self. Ever since he began transitioning, he’s been careful to suppress his increased speed, his incredible strength. It’s felt as if he was just a sigilmarked or mundane … one who can no longer visit me during the day.

I study his face. I’ve traced every inch of it with my fingertips, know it almost as well as I know my own. And I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes.

He hasn’t been pretending nothing has changed for himself. No, he was doing it for me. His wrist—still dripping blood and held so close to my lips … it’s an offering. A question. Will I accept him as he is? Will I accept who he is becoming ?

With a shaky breath, I drop my head, pulling his wrist to my mouth. Ti lets out a soft groan, burying his free hand in my hair.

The taste of him explodes through my mouth.

Tiernon must be remembering, too, because he strokes my hair back behind my ear. “All this time I thought leaving you had smashed my heart into pieces, and I’d be picking shards from my chest until the day I died. But my heart wasn’t smashed. I left it with you, and you’ve held it hostage ever since.”

There’s a faint ringing in my ears, a hollowness in my chest, a numbness overtaking the euphoria from his blood.

I’ve wanted to hear those words since the day he left. But I don’t understand him.

“Why? Why did you leave me?”

I hate how small my voice sounds. How … vulnerable.

Tiernon’s expression twists, but he raises his wrist to my mouth. “Drink more,” he urges.

“Yes, continue,” Rorrik purrs. “I do love to watch.”

I lift my head and meet his eyes. He lounges against the doorway, his body half hidden in shadow. I didn’t hear him open the door. And if Tiernon didn’t either, Rorrik must have used his power to conceal his movements.

Rorrik takes in the tears still fresh on my face, his gaze slowly traveling down to my fingernails, practically embedded in Tiernon’s arm, and my ankle, covered with blood.

“What are you doing in here?” Tiernon snaps.

I shove my elbow into Tiernon’s ribs. Even with the power he wields here, annoying the emperor’s son seems like a stupid idea.

“I sensed pain and blood,” Rorrik says. “And you know those are two of my favorite things, Primus .”

His gaze returns to me once more, dark consideration in his eyes.

“Fine,” Tiernon says. “Leave.”

Rorrik drags his gaze from mine and they have another of their weird silent standoffs.

Pushing Tiernon’s arm away, I sit up. He reaches for me, but I’m already rolling off the bed, stepping onto my freshly healed ankle.

For the first time since I can remember, the step I take is completely free of pain.

A stunned laugh bubbles from me. A sound filled with shocked joy. One I haven’t made for years.

Both vampires stare at me.

I can’t deny this is a gift.

“Thank you.”

Tiernon meets my eyes. “You’re welcome.”

When I turn back toward the door, the emperor’s son is gone.

I T ’ S LATE WHEN Axia checks my other cuts and bruises, before finally allowing me to leave the healers. I now feel better than I have in years.

Physically, at least.

“Arvelle.” Tiernon’s voice is soft, almost pleading. Slowly, I turn, taking him in.

He leans against the doorway leading to the healers, his helmet nowhere to be seen.

He looks … tired. When he shoves his hand through his hair, the movement is so familiar, I have to look away.

“You’re always doing that,” he says softly. “You can’t even look at me.”

I sigh, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Looking at you hurts.” The words are honest, blunt, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as he nods.

“Looking at you hurts me too.” He pushes himself off the doorway and steps toward me. “I thought you were going to die today.”

“I thought I was too.”

He raises one hand, cupping my cheek. “You’re so damned stubborn. You think you’re some kind of heartless monster, but the moment I knew you’d be forced to kill that griffon was the moment I thought you were going to die. But you did it. So you can stay alive for your brothers. I just wanted to let you know I know how hard it was for you.”

The backs of my eyes burn and I let the wall take my weight. Tiernon smooths his thumb over my chin, and I want to lean into his warmth and forget the rest of the world exists.

“It … it wasn’t just for my brothers,” I whisper.

Tiernon frowns at me and lifts a hand. I feel his power slide into place, ensuring no one can listen.

“Tell me.”

“The griffon … his name was Antigrus. He asked me for mercy, Ti. He didn’t want Baldric to cut him up piece by piece.”

Tiernon’s eyes darken, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve called him by his nickname.

My heart hurts, and I’m all out of fight. Which is why I let Tiernon move his hand to the back of my head, winding his fingers through my hair. It’s why I let him lower his head, slowly brushing his mouth over mine.

And it’s why I let him gently coax my lips apart, teasing my tongue with his own.

Tiernon tastes different and familiar all at once. He tastes like lost dreams and a thousand sleepless nights. He tastes like young love and bitter heartbreak.

He tastes like salt.

“Shhh.” Tiernon brushes tears from my cheeks. I sniff, hiccup, and attempt to push him away. But he doesn’t let go. “Just let me hold you, Velle. Just for a few moments more.”

I allow it. No, I do more than allow it. I take his comfort and soak in it, bask in it. Drinking his blood once more … it’s cracked open that door between us again—the one I’d wedged closed. I lean my head against his chest and breathe him in. His arms encircle me and his chin rests on my head, the position so achingly familiar, I choke on a sob.

Tomorrow, I’ll shore up my defenses once more. Today, I’ll take the comfort he offers.

But we can’t stand here all night. I’m not sure how long I allow myself to rest against him. But my sobs turn to sniffles, my sniffles turn to long, even breaths. I’m perilously close to falling asleep standing up, and Tiernon’s arms lock around me as I sway against him.

“Time for bed,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as his chin moves against the top of my head.

I want to ask him what happened to his voice. As much as I’ve pretended not to care, I’m almost desperate to know why he sounds so different. Why he no longer sounds like my Ti.

That thought cuts through me, and I wriggle until Ti—no, Tiernon —releases me.

He’s not my Ti any longer. My Ti would never have left me without an explanation. And he sure as hell would never have gone this long without telling me why he abandoned me.

“I need to sleep.”

He nods, releasing me. Dark blue eyes study my face, turning bleak, and then empty.

“Good night.”

He turns and walks away without another word.

Letting out a long, shaky breath, I do the same, making my way back toward the gladian barracks. It’s late enough that there’s no one else around. Late enough that I could climb into bed and pretend I’m just a woman with complicated feelings for a man.

But I’m not. I’m a gladian who was helpless today. A gladian who was forced to hope for the emperor’s thumb to turn upward. The only reason I’m alive is because Rorrik likely wants to play with me before he kills me. Wants me to squirm and scream before I meet my end.

My life hung in the balance, dependent solely on the emperor’s thumb. It all could have been over within seconds. And my brothers would have died shortly after.

Soft snores greet me as I crack open the door to our barracks. I close it behind me, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Letting myself into the small bathing room attached to the bedroom, I take a quick shower. At least the aether stones here never run out.

I rub at the condensation on the mirror. For the first time in days, I force myself to meet my own eyes. My face is pale beneath the few freckles scattered across my nose and cheeks, the skin beneath my green eyes dark and sunken. But—

I wipe at a drop of water dripping from my hairline, and my breath catches in my throat, my hand trembling as I stare at my sigil.

I know the elegant gold mark like I know the back of my hand. I spent years staring at it in the mirror, willing it to grow. Begging for power that could make me strong. Could keep me and my brothers safe.

All I wanted was for the gold to spread. For my sigil to show some signs of growth.

And for the first time in my life, it has.