Leon raises an eyebrow. “You look like a fish with your mouth hanging open like that. I’m staying. We’ll figure it out together.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to. Tiernon also didn’t know if killing Bran would harm you, and he’s going to look into it. But we know one way to finish this. And since you so thoroughly failed at killing the emperor tonight, you’ll still be training with the guard as a novice, which means you still need my help.”
Shaking my head, I snap my mouth closed. Nothing will change Leon’s mind once he’s made a decision. And he has so many reasons to want Vallius Corvus dead.
“So what do you suggest?”
“The imperiums have plenty of opportunity to kill the emperor. You know they pick one gladian to join them each Sundering. That could be you.”
“It’ll never happen.”
“You’re already training with them.”
“And they loathe me.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “If there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s making people like you despite your best efforts to push them away. All you need is one shot. One moment where you’re trusted with the emperor’s safety. Or we kill Bran.”
“And how, exactly, do I convince them to pick me? If they choose anyone, it’s going to be someone like Brenin.”
“I’ll find a way. Leave it to me.”
“Fine.” Doubt is heavy in my voice, but I know that expression on Leon’s face. He’ll throw everything he has into making this happen.
“Give me that cloak,” he says. “It’s too fine for a novice to be wearing it without suspicion.”
I scoop the bracelet from the cloak pocket and hand the cloak over, my skin prickling in the sudden cold.
Leon stares at the blood soaked into my dress. I can feel it, sticky against my skin.
“You walk out of here like that, and you’ll attract every vampire in this ludus. We’re lucky no one sensed it when we came in.” Striding to his closet, he hands me a pair of wide-legged pants and a tunic, jerking his head toward his bathing room.
I strip, using a damp cloth to remove the blood from my skin. The blood from someone who could be entirely innocent.
“Arvelle.”
I startle. I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the bloody cloth. “Almost done.” My voice is hoarse.
When I step into Leon’s room, he takes the gown from me, exchanging it for one of his cloaks. “I’ll handle this. It’s late. We’ll talk about the plan tomorrow.”
I leave him standing in his bedroom, a dark scowl on his face.
I’m so sorry, Kassia.
A cold sweat breaks out on my neck as I walk toward the gladians’ quarters. All I can hear are the choking sounds of the man I killed, the wet gush of blood. Who was he?
The question claws at my thoughts, rolling through my mind over and over again.
A jarring stillness seizes me. My entire body freezes, my instincts shrieking a warning. I spin, pressing my back to the cold stone wall. Shallow breaths explode from my lungs, and I scan the corridor.
It stretches out, empty before me, shadows swallowing the weak light from the aether lamps. No footsteps. No voices. Just a hollow, oppressive silence.
But the sensation crawls over my skin. It’s a creeping, invasive awareness. A dull, suffocating certainty that someone is watching me.
“Jorah?” My voice is a cracked whisper.
Nothing. I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to focus. Jorah wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t try to scare me.
