The hilt of my dagger is slippery in my slick palm. So slippery, I’m forced to switch hands and wipe both the dagger and my hand on my gown. I’m trembling so hard, my teeth almost chatter with it.
Run.My body screams at me.Don’t be a fool! Leave before you die!
I force myself to think of Kassia, killed in the emperor’s arena. I picture the centaur, slaughtered in front of me. Antigrus, asking me for the only kind of mercy I could offer. The emperor’s enemies cut down for entertainment. Leira’s pleading expression as she bowed her head to the emperor, right before Titus ran her through.
And my brothers, waiting for me to find them again.
My heart slows. My vision sharpens. My hand steadies.
Striking fast, I bury my hand in the emperor’s hair, lifting his head to expose a pale throat, gleaming in the dim light.
It’s ironic, really. A man so protected from power can still die in his own bed.
With one slash, I slice my blade across his throat. I angle my own head back as far as I can, but blood sprays over my chest.
The emperor gurgles and chokes, slumping back onto his pillow. Blood pools beneath him, dark as ink in the dim light.
But it’s not enough. A vampire as old and powerful as the emperor can easily heal a slit throat. The sharp, coppery scent of fresh blood assaults my senses, and I suppress a gag, aiming my blade between his ribs, slightly left of the center of his chest.
Distantly, I analyze the cold, practical way I stab between the fourth and fifth ribs, the knife sliding neatly between bone.
Silver directly to the heart. Even the oldest vampire can’t heal that. And yet, I’m still tempted to remove his head, just in case.
With what? Your knife? The maids will arrive while you’re still attempting to saw through bone.
Trembling, I place my fingers at his pulse.
Gone.
I slump to my knees next to the bed, my lungs seizing. A low droning fills my ears as I shiver, suddenly chilled to the bone.
It’s done. It’s over now.
Forcing myself to get to my feet, I stagger back toward the closet. I’m covered in blood, and my hands shake as I search for something to hide my gown. I can’t risk using a lamp—a servant might see the light under the door and attempt to enter—so it takes me longer than I’d like to find a long cloak.
Something about the material itches at the back of my mind, but I don’t have time to examine the thought. I need to be ready for Rorrik’s signal.
I slink toward the window, opening the curtain the barest inch. The sun burns into my eyes and I wince, squinting. Closing the curtain, I slump against the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs.
The world turns dim. Blood roars in my ears. I suddenly feel like I’m floating above my body, watching as I huddle into a ball and rock back and forth with a low whimper.
Slowly, something else begins to push through the dread and fear. Something that feels a lot like elation.
I’ve done it. I’ve completed Bran’s deal. Not only did I survive the Sundering, but I killed the emperor. Which means I can travel to my brothers.
Evren is healed. Together, all three of us can begin a new life. A life in the north, where the constant chill won’t burrow into our bones.
I feel lighter than I have in months. Perhaps … perhaps I can try to convince Leon to come with me. I’ll tell him he doesn’t need to stay with me, but Kassia always wanted him to go north too. Maybe it could be a fresh start for him as well.
I’ve won more than enough money during my challenges. Not only will we have enough to find a nice cottage somewhere near the sea, but I can hire a private tutor.
I can learn about more than the best place to stab someone to ensure they die quickly. I can learn about history and magic and literature.
I could buy some shelves and create a smalllibrary.
Maybe … maybe Rorrik won’t become emperor. Maybe the sigilmarked and Vampire Council will contest his right to rule.
I’m practically vibrating with excitement. But I can’t celebratefully yet. I’m still waiting for Rorrik’s distraction. If he doesn’t come through, I’m worse than dead.
