We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 30

I stare at Tiernon, and a thick fog settles over my brain.

“I don’t understand.”

He continues walking, practically dragging me from the training hall.

“Leon was found in his room. Someone cut into him, Arvelle.”

“That’s not possible. I was just … I just saw him earlier. He was fine. Grumpy and irritated and fine .”

Tiernon’s eyes are dark with sympathy and my heart thunders. “Is he alive?”

“Barely.” His jaw clenches. “They tried to go for his heart.”

“Just like the others. But … the murders stopped …” I pull my hands free. “I need to see him.”

“I’ll take you to the healers. But they’re trying to save his life. Velle … he’s the only person who has survived this kind of attack.”

“You don’t think he’s going to live.”

Tiernon pulls me close. “He’s tough. And he’s hardheaded. If anyone can survive this, it’s him.”

I nod, my face turning numb. I’m barely aware of my footsteps as I follow Tiernon toward the healers’ quarters.

Not Leon.

Please.

Albion lingers outside the door, his expression devastated. My eyes burn as he paces back and forth. I wonder if this is bringing back memories of his son’s death.

Axia approaches the moment we step inside, her lips turned down.

“He’s dead,” I say, my voice flat.

“No. No, Arvelle, he’s not dead. He made it through the first stage of healing.”

My knees weaken as relief washes through me. “Can I see him?”

“Not yet. They’re still working on him.” Axia’s voice turns gentle. “We know the killer uses a particular kind of poison that paralyzes the victim.”

That explains why they’re able to kill some of the fastest, strongest people in this ludus.

“For some reason, the poison took longer to work on Leon. Or it didn’t quite work as well as it should have. That allowed him to fight back. Enough that whoever did this was forced to flee.”

“When he wakes up, he’ll tell us who did this to him,” I say.

Something flickers in Axia’s eyes. Something I attempt to ignore. She doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

She doesn’t know Leon.

“You should rest, and we’ll let you know when he’s stable enough for you to see him.”

“I’ll wait here.”

Axia sends me an exasperated look, but she gestures for us to sit in the plush armchairs near the door.

Please , I beg Thalunia, picturing her temple all those years ago. Leon has worshipped you for his whole life. He taught his daughter to worship you …

Eventually I switch from begging to bribery.

All of you gods need worshippers. You’re losing power every day as people turn from the old ways. And as more and more mundanes turn to Umbros in the hopes of being turned themselves. You would be careless to allow yourself to lose a worshipper such as Leon.

Eventually, Axia returns. She takes one look at me and shakes her head. “I suppose if you made it through the Sundering, you likely have a strong stomach.” The words are a warning, but I’m already jumping to my feet, waiting for her to lead me to Leon.

Axia’s gaze meets Tiernon’s, and he gives her a nod.

“Your guardant was lucky, Arvelle,” she says. “He fought for long enough that he managed to stay alive. Several of his ribs were broken and removed, but his sternum wasn’t severed. Since his chest cavity wasn’t fully exposed, he stayed alive long enough for us to treat him.”

Axia opens the door. Several healers remain in the room, but I fix my gaze on Leon.

The covers are pulled down to his waist, revealing tight, bloodstained bandages.

“You … He’s not fully healed.”

“No.” Axia’s voice is quiet. “Humans can only take so much healing before the body needs time to … catch up, I suppose you could say. His lung had collapsed, so we treated that first, before stabilizing the chest to prevent further movement. One of our healers specializes in bone regrowth, and she has been working on his ribs.”

I can hear what she’s not saying. The damage was so extensive, there’s still a chance he won’t wake up.

“Thank you. For everything you’re doing.”

Axia gives me a small smile and points at a chair by his side. “Why don’t you sit and talk to him? Primus, may I have a word?”

Tiernon glances at me, as if debating whether he should leave me alone. I give him a nod and he follows Axia out of the room.

“He’ll be giving us his blood, he will,” one of the healers says. “Not many vampires do it, despite the need for it. But the Primus has donated it for years.”

Of course he has. The moment he began turning and his blood became useful, Tiernon helped anyone he could in the Thorn. I’d forgotten about that.

One by one, the healers finish what they’re doing and leave.

Guilt and anguish roil within my chest, until all I can do is stare at Leon’s pale, slack face.

My own self-importance led him here.

I watched him laughing with Albion, talking to the other guardants, eating and training and living, and I felt a sense of smug satisfaction. I dragged him from his home and forced him to reenter the world. Then I congratulated myself for my manipulation.

And now he’s dying.

“I’m so sorry, Kas,” I murmur. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She never would have risked the people I love. Never.

My sword digs into my back, and I remove my sheath, leaning it against Leon’s bed.

“Arvelle.” Tiernon’s voice is low, cajoling.

“Thank you for giving him your blood.”

“Of course.” He sighs. “I’ve been summoned by the emperor.”

“It’s fine. You should go.” I want to be alone anyway.

“Hopefully I’ll be back in a few hours. If I’m not, I’ll send one of the imperiums to check on you.”

I nod and feel him hesitate behind me. Leaning down, he kisses the top of my head and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

I watch Leon’s breaths, panicking when it seems like they’re slowing down, and getting to my feet to pace when they turn shallow and quick. The healers check on him every so often, and at one point I’m sent away while they do something to his ribs. From their grim expressions, I’m glad he’s unconscious for it.

“Arvelle.” Albion’s voice is low, hoarse. He steps closer to Leon, his expression almost … lost. When he pats Leon’s hand, his own hand trembles.

The lines on Albion’s face look deeper, his blond curls in disarray. He looks thinner, as if he’s been skipping meals.

I get to my feet, offering my chair. “Sit.”

He waves me away. “I won’t stay long.” When his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Arvelle.”

“He’s still alive.” My voice is sharp, and his eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “Leon … Leon would hate for people to be seeing him this way.”

He nods, his gaze lingering on Leon like he’s saying goodbye.

“You should eat,” he says. “Leon would want you to keep your strength up.”

I shrug, sliding into the chair once more. My eyes sting, and Albion crosses to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

My throat aches. “Do you … do you think the dead can see us? Hear us?”

His smile is achingly sad. “I believe the dead are closer than we can imagine.”

When he leaves, I stare into the distance. If the dead can see how we’re going about our lives, then Kassia can see exactly what I’ve done to her father.

Hours later, Maeva walks in. She hesitates when she sees me, before edging closer, eyes wet as she looks down at Leon.

“I’m sorry, Arvelle.” Her gaze doesn’t leave his mangled body. “He’s a good man.”

“He is.” Leon is a complicated man, but a good one. My voice is hoarse. Rough. She doesn’t speak again, and neither do I.

When she walks out the door without another word, I tell myself it’s relief that makes my chest ache. Nothing good happens to the people I care about. If they’re smart, they leave. If they’re not, they end up dead, kidnapped, or fighting for their lives.

“If you think you can hide from me, you’re wrong.” Bran’s voice is a dark, unwelcome intrusion.

Slowly, I turn. “How did you get in here?”

He gives me a bored look. When he attempts to move closer to the bed, I scramble to my feet.

“I want to see my brothers.”

“Worried I might have killed them after your failure?” He casts a dismissive look my way. “I haven’t. Yet.”

“Elva swore to keep them alive, unharmed, and as happy as they can possibly be without me by their sides.” I memorized my words carefully.

Bran sniffs. “And so she has. The clever one is healed, and the mouthy one is learning how to use his new power. Meanwhile, you still haven’t held up your end of the deal.” His expression turns terrible. Dread punches me, and I take a step back, but it’s too late.

An invisible fire spreads from my neck, down to my chest, burning like acid.

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Make it stop !

I must pass out, because when I open my eyes, I’m on the floor, with Bran looming over me. “We have a deal. I did my part. Now it’s time to do yours.” Pain explodes in my neck once more and I writhe on the marble.

Finally, the agony ends, but the shadow of it remains and I tremble, my body aching.

I let out a low, pained groan. “Why me, Bran? I know you’re working with the vampire rebels. Why not use them to target the emperor?”

Bran raises his eyebrow. I tense, expecting more pain, but he leans casually against the door. “Clever Arvelle. The rebels are busy fighting for a cause close to my own heart.”

“Sun madness.”

He gives a slight nod “Perhaps living in the darkness would be tolerable if vampires had never experienced basking in it before. But instead, we gradually lose its comfort, day by day, until even moments beneath it would turn us to ash. I have known many who have succumbed, losing their lives in their desperation to feel nature’s heat on their skin.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “You’re concerned about sun madness? This might surprise you, but your sun tonics are also maddening you.”

“The tonics are a temporary measure,” he snaps. “Soon, none of us will need them.”

“And then what?”

“And then the sigilmarked will pay . While we’re forced to hide from the sun, the sigilmarked bask in it. They’ve had this power the entire time and have kept it from us, making us scurry around in the darkness like rats. It’s the one thing they hold over vampires.”

My heart stutters. Tiernon told me any help the sigilmarked can offer is temporary. Was he wrong? Or is Bran delusional? I’m leaning toward the second option.

“Does the emperor know the sigilmarked can help you?”

“Yes. He refuses to negotiate. Refuses to give up any political ground to the sigilmarked. He believes we should all welcome the darkness and shun the sun. He sees our longing as weakness. But I will return the sun to our people.”

My heart thunders against my ribs. I have no idea how he thinks he’ll achieve that . But it’s obvious he’s committed to his cause.

More pain. I clench my teeth together, suppressing a desperate scream. Bran leans over me, his eyes wild. There’s no sign of the cold, apathetic vampire I met on my doorstep.

He’s desperate. And the more desperate someone is, the more dangerous they are.

“It’s only going to get worse, Arvelle,” Bran hisses. “The itch beneath your skin. The need . The pain. If you fail to fulfill your end of the bargain, it will turn you insane.”

My entire body twitches, my lungs so tight I can barely breathe. When I open my eyes again, he’s gone.

I lie on the cool marble floor for long moments, panting, my entire body bruised and aching. Eventually, I haul myself up, just as a healer steps inside.

Bran has left two dark red marks on her neck and fingerprints on her throat. But she bustles around as if nothing has happened, checking Leon’s breathing and murmuring a few words of a chant. Leon’s sigil flares in response, and she gives a short, satisfied nod before stepping back out of the room.

Bran took her memories.

Nausea swamps me, just as it does each time I’m forced to face the vampire’s most threatening powers.

At some point, Neris arrives with a plate of food. I eat it numbly, and she steps toward Leon’s bed, lowering her head and murmuring something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

A tiny hint of color enters Leon’s cheeks, and I stare at her.

“My mother was from Nesonias,” she says. “I received a spark of her gift.”

My eyes burn, and I press the heels of my hands against them, suddenly unable to speak. Neris doesn’t even like me. I think she’s spoken to Leon once.

She pats my shoulder. “I know,” she says. “My talents know no bounds. I would be speechless too.”

A hoarse laugh leaves my throat and I wipe at my wet cheeks. Neris gives me a hard stare.

“I know a little about what you’re facing. And I know many people would give up right about now. But you’re not one of them. Your guardant was hurt. But you’ve wallowed enough. So what are you going to do about it?”

With that, she walks out the door.

I get to my feet to pace.

What am I going to do about it?

This isn’t like when Kassia died. Then, I was entirely alone, with no one to rely on but myself.

Now … now I could have people. If I let them in.

I saw that look on Maeva’s face when she visited earlier. It was a look I recognize. A look that told me she wanted to bridge the distance between us but didn’t want to let herself get hurt.

Pushing people away hasn’t helped me. It hasn’t made anything easier. Those same people made it through my defenses regardless.

So what am I going to do about it?

I’m going to find Maeva. And I’m going to find out who did this to Leon and kill them. Then I’m going to find a way to get my brothers back and break the bond with Bran.

And then I’m going to kill him.

My plan needs work. But I can at least complete the first step.

I move to Leon’s side. “I’ll be back. Fight , Leon.”

The healers’ quarters are quiet, and it’s not until I make it into the corridors that I realize it’s early in the morning. I’ve stayed with Leon all night. Which means Tiernon never returned.

My stomach twists, but I don’t have time to linger on it.

“Arvelle,” Brenin calls. “How’s Leon?”

“Alive, but barely. Have you seen Maeva?”

“No, sorry. I overslept.”

That explains the mussed hair.

“I guess I’ll see her at training.”

“Training is postponed for a few hours. The emperor has ordered a few novices to fight in the arena first.”

I sigh, and Brenin’s gaze sweeps over my face. “Maeva told me what happened. Is everything …”

“I’m fine.”

He shakes his head at me and turns to go.

And I’m doing it again.

I catch his arm and suck in a shaky breath. “Leon’s really hurt, Brenin. I’m scared.”

Warmth reenters Brenin’s eyes. “You’d be stupid not to be scared. But Leon’s a tough old goat. You know he once told me his dead grandmother could swing a sword faster than me?”

My laugh bubbles from my chest. “That sounds like him. Thanks.”

Brenin lets out a low, annoyed sound. Hester saunters down the corridor toward us, wearing a wide grin. “Shouldn’t you be spreading your legs for the Primus?”

“My inner thighs are chafed. I needed a break.”

Brenin snorts a laugh, and fury flickers across Hester’s face. But it’s immediately replaced by that same smug smile.

A leaden chill seeps into my bones, anchoring me to the spot.

Hester leans close. “You killed my cousin. You left her to bleed out in the Sands.”

This again. My skin turns hot and prickly. “I didn’t kill her. But I wish I had . She killed my best friend.”

“Well, now it’s my turn.” Hester stares at me as if waiting for me to understand.

A group of novices walk past, their laughter loud, grating.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to meet Hester’s eyes. “I’m sure we’ll face each other in the arena soon enough.”

She smiles, but her eyes are dead. “You misunderstand. For my brother, this is all about the way you humiliated him with that griffon. But for me, it’s about blood. You and your friend took someone from me. And now it’s my turn to take someone from you.”

Take someone from—

Maeva.

A slow smile spreads over Hester’s face.

I’m already moving, sprinting down the corridor. Behind me, Hester lets out a mocking laugh. “You’re too late.”