“Please … please!” The guard’s voice is high and thready. Bruises cover his ashen face, a streak of old blood below his nose.
The emperor merely speaks over him. “The punishment isturning.”
Murmurs break out. I lean closer to Brenin, who looks suddenly sick. “What does he mean?”
Surprisingly, he answers me. “Sigilmarked can’t turn into vampires.”
I give him a look. Everyone knowsthat. “So why …”
He frowns at me. “It’s a death sentence. A particularly painful one. A sigilmarked body will begin to rip itself apart, unable to complete the turning.” He nods toward the Sigilmarked Syndicate. They stand stone-faced, watching the emperor with carefully neutral expressions. But I can practically feel their rage.
Not only was one of their own killed, but this punishment …
“It’s one more way for vampires to taunt the sigilmarked,” Brenin says, fury and disgust dripping from his voice. A few rows in front of us, I see Kaeso stiffen. “Dying through a turning is undignified and agonizing,” Brenin continues, “but the punishment doesn’t end there.Many believe Viderux will not take one who has lost pieces of their humanity, while Umbros won’t even deign to show himself to anyone who is not a vampire.”
So this man will be lost even after death, with nowhere to go, and no chance to find his loved ones in the afterlife.
“Please,” the man begs. “Not that. I have children!”
I’m going to vomit.
The emperor nods, and the guards drag the man away. With a wave of the emperor’s hand, we’re allowed to disperse.
“Brenin,” Kaeso says. Brenin ignores him. Several other sigilmarked give Kaeso and the other novice vampires dark looks as they leave. I can’t find it in me to have any sympathy for vampires at this moment. Even someone as warm as Kaeso.
Jorah steps toward me, and I attempt a smile. “Jorah.”
“Tiberius Cotta is dead.” Jorah’s words are heavy, his shoulders slumped. There’s no blame or suspicion in his voice, but I wince anyway.
“Did you know him?”
“He was my friend.”
My mouth turns dry. “Your friend?”
“I wanted to be a gladian. I tried nine times but couldn’t make it through training. Everyone laughed at me, but Tiberius told me I could still work here. He helped me get my position in the ludus. No one else would give me a chance.” Jorah sighs.
My entire body turns hot, and an icy sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I took that kind, thoughtful man from this world. I left him choking in his own blood.
No. I didn’t leave him.
I coldly waited to make sure he was dead.
Jorah continues to speak, but I can’t hear him over the sound of blood pounding in my ears. Did Tiberius have a family? Probably. At the very least, he had friends. Friends who now have a hole in their lives thanks to me.
I never got a chance to thank him for the weapons he gave me. For his sponsorship. The only thanks he got from me was a slit throat.
Maeva casts me a concerned look as she approaches, and I nod to Jorah. “This is Jorah. Jorah, this is Maeva. I’m so sorry, I have to … go.”
I stumble through the crowd, muttering apologies as I sprint toward the closest bathroom. I barely make it, slamming the door behind meand retching up what little I ate yesterday. When I’m finally done, I lean over the sink, splashing water on my face.
“Coward,” I mutter. “Failure.”
“You forgot to add one more,” a low voice says behind me and I whirl. Rorrik lounges in the doorway. Slowly, he steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Fool.”
I wipe at the water dripping from my face. “Why did you do it? Why me?”
When he moves toward me, any pretense of civility is gone. This is the man who disemboweled his enemy the first time I saw him.
