We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 33

H ester’s death is long, and slow, and agonizing.

The emperor uses his lions.

When I attempt to look away, a strong, invisible grip holds my head, forcing it in place.

If I could take it back, I would. If there was a way for me to stay alive and still save Maeva, I would never have turned Hester in.

If that’s a sign of weakness, so be it.

Kassia killed Hester’s cousin … right before I beheaded her.

Hester tried to kill Maeva.

I killed Baldric.

And now Hester is dying in front of me, her screams burning into my ears. I’d give anything to be able to walk over to her and end it.

So much death. For nothing.

When it’s done, and Hester is little more than a pile of meat, Rorrik releases his invisible hold on me. I whirl, stalking toward the edge of the arena. But Tiernon is nowhere to be seen.

Rorrik follows me, his steps unhurried, and yet he’s suddenly breathing down my neck.

I whirl on him, ignoring the healers waiting at the arena gate. “Why did you make me watch?”

He raises one dark brow. “When someone gives you a gift, it’s polite to appreciate it.”

“You think that was a gift ?”

Rorrik’s eyes are cold and feral. “She almost killed you and your friend. Show some fucking gratitude.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t pretend like you did me a favor. You love killing. That little scene was probably the most fun you’ve had in days. And I know you enjoyed throwing me around on the sand.”

Menace radiates from the vampire. Rorrik was playing with me in the arena, but all I see now is his potential for instant, lethal violence. Behind me, the gate is suddenly empty of both guards and healers. I can’t blame them for making themselves scarce.

A predatory gleam lights Rorrik’s eyes. “Is that why you made me beg?”

“I made you beg because you’re the emperor’s son. And seeing you on your knees might give one person in this empire a glimmer of hope.”

It’s not entirely true. But the thought is one I enjoy.

He gives me a knowing look. I loathe how easily he can get into my mind. How he seems to know my thoughts before I think them.

Shaking my head, I move toward the gate, but his hand whips out and catches mine, his long fingers stroking the sensitive skin along my wrist. I barely contain a shiver. “What do you want, Rorrik?”

His icy eyes fix on something over my shoulder. “The silver blade was unnecessary, brother.”

Relief makes my heart flutter, and Rorrik curls his lip at me, releasing my hand. I back away, toward Tiernon.

I don’t know why I would expect any humanity from Rorrik. This is the same man who was brutally murdering someone the first time I saw him.

Tiernon pulls me into his chest, and I slump into him, basking in the feel of his strong arms around me. When I look up again, Rorrik is gone.

“Nice throw.” It took an incredible amount of precision for him to hit Rorrik from the pulvinar.

“Are you hurt?” Tiernon trembles, his eyes glittering with rage.

My entire body aches, and my head throbs with each heartbeat. “Yeah,” I admit. “Baldric did some damage before Rorrik threw me around.”

“Healers or my blood?”

I sigh. “Your blood.”

Surprise flashes through his eyes and I attempt a smile. “I have a concussion. And the healers will take too long. I want to see Maeva.”

He uses his fangs to rip through the skin of his wrist, holding it out to me. I lower my head to take what he’s offering, and his blood spreads warmth through my body, as comforting as a warm blanket on a cold night.

The absence of pain is almost shocking. My vision is no longer blurred, and I can suddenly think properly. I force myself to push his arm away, ignoring my urge to continue drinking.

“Thank you.”

With a nod, Tiernon leads me toward the healers.

I swallow. “Are you … angry?”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m beyond angry. Did you even think before you jumped in there?”

“Yes.”

“And you did it anyway?”

I don’t reply, refusing to defend myself for something I will never regret. Fresh rage combines with useless frustration, sweeping through every inch of my body, until my hands are shaking with it.

Tiernon sighs. “This is what my brother wants. He knew what seeing him taking your blood would do to me.”

“Rorrik called me a tool he’s using to hurt you.”

“You’re not a tool. One thing you should know about my brother is that he enjoys getting under people’s skin. And he seems to enjoy provoking you more than anyone else. You’ve captured his interest, and his interest is often lethal.” Turning, he opens the door to the healers’ quarters.

The air is thick with dried herbs, blood, and incense. It’s cooler in here, and a hollow ache pulses in my gut as Axia’s gaze meets mine.

“You’re here for your friend.”

I nod, suddenly unable to speak. Tiernon takes my hand.

“I heard what you did.” Axia smiles. “Everyone is talking about it. You were very brave.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s unconscious,” Axia murmurs, gesturing for us to follow her into the corridor.

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Will she wake up?”

Axia nods, and my breath explodes out of my lungs in a relieved sob. Tiernon wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I sink again into the familiar comfort.

“Another healer is working on her now. Roisin has purged the drug from her system, but it did a lot of damage. We healed most of her cuts and bruises, along with the nasty blow she took to the head.”

Axia opens a door. Maeva looks as white as the sheets on the bed, and one of the healers nods at Axia, returning to her chanting as she spreads a thick paste over Maeva’s forehead.

“This is Roisin,” Axia murmurs. “She’s one of our best healers. Maeva is in good hands.”

“You can give her my blood,” Tiernon says.

Axia smiles. “That would be most appreciated, Primus.”

Tiernon squeezes my hand, and Roisin nods to a chair next to the bed. “You can sit with her for a little while. She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

A friend like me.

The ringing in my ears drowns out whatever else Axia says, and with another squeeze, she walks away with Tiernon to collect his blood.

Roisin follows after them and I sit. Maeva looks small, fragile. The first time I saw her, I thought she was a walking victim. But she has an unshakable core of inner strength.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

I sit in silence for a long moment, reliving every second of the last hour in my mind.

Baldric and Hester went after Maeva because, despite my best efforts, Maeva managed to become something close to a friend. And I threw that friendship back in her face. I told myself I was keeping her safe, when really I was protecting myself from the thought of losing another person I cared about.

Tiernon reenters the room, leaning down to nuzzle at my neck. I sigh against him, and he presses his mouth to mine. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I’ll meet you back at the imperius’s quarters. I just want to spend some time here first. And I want to see how Leon is doing too.”

He presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Very well.”

H OURS LATER , I jolt awake, heart thundering as I peer into the dim light. The room is cold, and the shadows stir, pushing my heart into my throat.

Rorrik slips from those shadows, staring thoughtfully down at me.

If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it in the arena. Or just seconds ago when I was sleeping.

“What time is it?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Late. All the good little novices are already in bed.”

I roll my eyes and check on Maeva. Some of the swelling has gone down around her jaw, the bruises turning a sickly green.

When I turn back to Rorrik, he’s still watching me with a strange intensity.

“What is it?”

“You don’t like killing.”

“No.”

“Even when those people deserve to be dead.”

Is this why he’s here? He still can’t comprehend why I didn’t want to watch Hester’s brutal death?

I sigh. How do I explain my own ethics to someone like Rorrik?

“It’s not the people I kill that I’m thinking about in their last moments. It’s their families. Their friends. The people who love them. The people who will wake up every day without them. I know how that feels. I know how it rips you apart and makes you regret each of your own breaths. And I loathe making other people feel that way.” My throat constricts. “If I have to kill, I will. But knowing I’m leaving that hole in someone else’s life … it’s not something I want to do. It’s not someone I want to be.”

He frowns and I try another angle. “Isn’t there anyone you care about? Someone you wouldn’t want to die?”

A muscle ticks in Rorrik’s jaw.

The muscles in my chest clench. Perhaps he really doesn’t have anyone.

His eyes turn feral, and a hint of his power slips free. The air between us turns so cold, my breath turns to fog. “Don’t you dare pity me,” he hisses.

“I don’t. You chose to live your life this way.”

His face is tight with cold fury as he lets out a low, humorless laugh. Despite the menace in his body language, I’m not afraid.

Maybe I’m becoming numb to the threat he represents.

And yet … he could have killed me today. Instead, he was excruciatingly careful not to hurt me.

Slowly, his expression clears, turning blank and disinterested once more. “You were right to defend your friend. That same impulse makes you lethal when you let your instincts take over. When you let your body respond without thinking about it.”

“Was that a compliment?”

He ignores me and I can’t help but smile. His gaze drops to my mouth and immediately flicks away.

I study his profile. I’m not sure why he’s here, but since he is …

“Can I ask something?”

A sharp nod. He keeps his attention on Maeva, and I relax back into my chair.

“Tiberius Cotta …”

Resignation flickers in his eyes when they meet mine. “Yes?”

“I just … I don’t understand him. He was my sponsor simply because he noticed I needed someone. The parma he gave me saved my life when I fought Maximus. Tiberius was fighting for sigilmarked and mundanes—trying to make life better …” I swallow, closing my eyes as his choking gasps rattle through my head.

Warm fingers grip my chin.

My eyes fly open. Rorrik stares down at me, his expression tight. “Do you truly believe people are just one thing? Entirely good or entirely evil? Is it really that simple for you?”

I suck in a sharp breath. Rorrik leans closer, eyes intent, as if my answer is of utmost importance to him.

“No,” I admit. “I don’t … it’s not.”

His hand tightens on my chin, and the moment stretches until it feels as if it might snap.

He releases me, taking a step back. “I’m leaving tonight. I have something I need to do.” His expression is neutral once more. “Don’t run blindly into the arena again while I’m gone.”

I curl my lip at him, and something that might be amusement flickers through his eyes. He steps into the shadows and disappears. I don’t know if it’s one of his powers, or if he did one of his too-fast-to-see movements, but it makes my muscles tense.

I close my eyes—planning to rest for a few minutes before I drag myself to bed. But when I next open them, the clock on the wall tells me I’ve been asleep for hours, and my body is stiff and sore from my awkward position in the chair. Rubbing at my eyes, I check in on Leon, and then corner Axia, asking for a detailed prognosis for both him and Maeva.

Maeva should wake soon.

Leon will defy expectations if he wakes at all. The damage was unfathomable.

When I ask Axia if Maeva’s father has arranged to visit, the sorrow in Axia’s eyes makes me want to put my fist through a wall.

“Arvelle,” a low voice murmurs, and I turn quickly. Tiernon puts his hand in mine. I can’t place the look on his face, but there’s something about it that makes my heart stutter.

“There’s something you need to see.”