We Who Will Die by Stacia Stark - 39

“ T here he is!”

A group of rebel vampires climb the broken slabs of marble in our section, aiming for us. They’re blindingly fast, scuttling toward us with faces twisted with rage.

Rorrik throws the aether bomb.

The resulting explosion makes my teeth rattle, and I cough as dust and smoke fill the air. When I look down once more, the vampires are little more than body parts strewn across what is left of the marble.

Rorrik’s eyes are feral, his hands trembling as he pulls the red book out from beneath his cloak. He crouches next to the vampire’s body. When his eyes meet mine, I freeze, my instincts screaming at me.

“Why did you kill him?”

“I—” I swallow, my throat dry as dust. “He was going to …” My cheeks blaze. “You’re welcome.”

Shock flickers through his eyes. “You thought you were saving my life?”

“An impulse I already regret, believe me.”

He lets out a hiss. “You’re not helping your case.” Turning away, he begins to pace. “The rabbit thought she was saving the wolf,” he mutters.

What was I thinking? “Was Bran telling the truth? Did you see me first? Did I know you when I was younger?”

Rorrik faces me, his eyes flat. “Irrelevant.” His expression turns considering, and my palms go damp. “Do you know how many plans I put in place to ensure that vampire came to me?”

I swallow. “No.”

“Umbros blessed him, giving him the ability to speak and read the language of the gods.”

Understanding floods through me. “And you want that power. You were planning to, what … capture him and make him translate for you?”

A languid shrug. “It was you who gave me the idea with your power thievery.” His eyes turn to slits. “Months of waiting for him to get close enough for me to take him. Gone.”

I drop my gaze to the book in Rorrik’s hand. The red cover is faded, the pages yellow, the spine cracked. It’s even older than I’d imagined.

In my mind’s eye, I see another stack of books next to a cracked stone wall that has recently taken a punch.

Realization slams into me. Rorrik schemed and plotted to get close to the vampire who could read those books. And the one in his hand.

Something I could already do.

Rorrik’s expression turns predatory as he clutches the book. The way he looks at me makes my stomach twist.

“I wonder,” he murmurs, half to himself, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book. “You are, after all, such a curiosity.”

Opening the book, he holds it out to me, just close enough to reveal its strange, curling script. My gaze flicks to it before I can stop myself, and the letters shimmer, twisting into familiar shapes, burning their meaning into my mind.

“Are you able to read this text? If you lie to me,” he warns silkily, “I will know.”

“No.”

He laughs, and it’s a bright, exultant sound I never could have imagined him making. “Try again,” he purrs.

Just like last time, my eyes fill, and I know the tear rolling down my cheek is mostly blood.

And just like last time, the words begin to arrange themselves before my eyes, sending shards of pain into my head. I slap my hand against my temple in a useless attempt at some relief.

“No.”

“I’ve had plenty of experience watching you lie, Arvelle Dacien. I know exactly how the pulse pounds in your neck, the way your eyes widen just the tiniest amount. The way your teeth brush your lower lip as if wishing you could hold the words back.” His voice turns frigid. “Now read.”

My voice trembles. “In the beginning, the gods were—”

“ You ,” Rorrik marvels. “I spent so much time cornering this vampire, planning to imprison him. And yet you’ve just taken the power I need.” He snaps the book shut, tucking it beneath his cloak. “Congratulations, your value to me has greatly increased.”

I wince, wiping at my eyes. Something tells me being valuable to Rorrik is not a good thing. Although the two dead vampires sprawled at our feet warn me exactly how things go for people who Rorrik doesn’t value.

Rorrik is still coldly furious, but he’s also watching me carefully. “You will work for me.”

My laugh is high-pitched, bordering on hysterical. “Absolutely not.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

My heart stutters. I just tried to save his life, and he’s silently threatening mine. Betrayal is bitter on my tongue. If he thinks I’m going to cooperate with him, he is dreaming.

Rorrik doesn’t know that I could already read that horrifying, painful language before this moment. And that’s something I will make sure he never learns.

“Don’t do this.” I’m not too proud to beg. “I just want to take my brothers and go.”

“Your brothers aren’t part of this. Unlike Bran, I’m not a complete monster …”

His voice trails off suddenly, and he gives me a look.

“What are you doing?” I ask Rorrik quietly.

He gives me a surprisingly warm smile. “Waiting.”

A body slams into me, and I swipe out with my knife, but he’s already dodging, thrusting me behind him.

Tiernon.

My knees turn weak, and I bury my hands in the back of his shirt. He’s covered in blood, trembling with fury. But he’s here. He’s here, and relief is warming every inch of my body.

“Brother,” Rorrik says. “You took long enough to get here. We were just negotiating.”

“You’re negotiating nothing .”

Rorrik ignores him, his gaze meeting mine. “You will help me find what I’m looking for, and in return, I will train you to use your stolen power.”

I flinch, as I do each time he reminds me of the people I killed for that power.

Rorrik smiles, as he does each time I react to his little dig.

“I will train her,” Tiernon rumbles, reaching behind him to take my hand.

Rorrik gives him a condescending smile. “You’re being shortsighted. Our father is only going to become more paranoid and volatile after this little attack. The two of us can protect her better than you can alone.” His sigil briefly flashes across his forehead, his power leaking, and I tighten my hand on Tiernon’s shirt, bracing against the dizzying rush of all that cold power. “You forget, brother, that of the two of us, I also have more than one kind of power running through my veins.”

Tiernon goes still and I move out from behind him, immediately studying his face.

“You cannot be serious,” I hiss, and he gives me an apologetic look. I narrow my eyes. “I’m not staying here. Bran is dead, which means I can leave.”

“And how long do you think you’ll last before you accidentally use powers that shouldn’t belong to you? Powers like a griffon shield?” Rorrik’s voice is a caress. But it’s Tiernon’s expression that worries me. He’s actually considering it.

I gape at him. “ This is when you suddenly decide to work together?”

Tiernon’s gaze moves past me. The brothers stare at each other in silence, having a private mindpath conversation about me . My jaw clenches.

Rorrik’s eyes meet mine. “You’re going to want to help me. This just ensures you’ll also be protected.”

I curl my lip at him. “Why would I want to help you?”

He leans against the wall at his back again, his movements elegant. “Because Bran was the one who alerted me to Tiberius Cotta’s little activities in the Thorn. He knew I’d ensure Cotta died if that’s what it took to prevent Mortuus from rising. But your friend’s guardant was busy sacrificing to the god of ruin within the ludus. And others were also sacrificing to him elsewhere in this empire.”

My breath hitches, and Rorrik gives me a grave nod. “Mortuus is breaking out of his cage. For good this time. If we don’t find a way to prevent this from happening, he will enslave this world.”

My mind flashes to seven souls trapped in their corpses.

He wants us to return.

Rorrik lifts the book in his hand. “Reading this text is the first step to finding a way to prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Do not,” Tiernon snarls, “pretend you care about others being enslaved. Your only interest is the other information that might be held in that book.”

Rorrik gives him a humorless smile, but something flashes in his eyes. Something I can’t place. He turns back to me. “Regardless, I’m sure you don’t want to watch your brothers roam this world as corpses.”

Unbidden, the memory of Mortuus’s voice in my head makes my stomach spiral. I could never forgive myself if I left and he broke free of his cage.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Tiernon asks quietly, still watching Rorrik.

Rorrik smiles at his brother. “Do you expect me to feel sorry for the way your life has turned out?” He gestures at me with his free hand. “You should have run with them all those years ago.”

I turn to look at Tiernon. “What is he talking about?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw, but he doesn’t reply.

Unsurprisingly, Rorrik twists the knife. “With your resources, brother, your little family might never have been found. You should have taken them and disappeared.” Rorrik paces around me, his warm breath caressing the shell of my ear. “I would’ve.”

I meet Rorrik’s eyes. He’s a monster, but he’s not lying. He would never have allowed his father to threaten anything he considered his.

Old wounds are being opened in me, and my eyes fill—the agony of abandonment suddenly as fresh as the day Tiernon left.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice thick.

Rorrik smiles, leaning so close, his lips almost brush mine. Behind us, Tiernon lets out a rough growl. But he doesn’t move. “It’s simple,” Rorrik whispers. “You don’t see each other in the present. He’s still trying to save you, and you’re still trying to be his escape.”

He turns his attention to Tiernon, who looks shaken. Our eyes meet, and my heart cracks right down the center.

No. No, I won’t allow Rorrik to play his games with us. I won’t allow anyone to put that distraught look in Tiernon’s eyes.

I move to Tiernon’s side, taking his hand and squeezing while Rorrik watches us with dark eyes.

“I help you with the book, you help me with my powers, we all make sure Mortuus stays caged, and then Tiernon, my brothers, and I leave this empire. And you leave us alone.”

Rorrik gives me a malevolent smile.

“You have yourself a deal.”