I don’t allow the threat of his huge body to make me rethink my words. “I did you a favor. I killed someone you needed killed. Essentially, you hired me as an assassin and yet you haven’t paid me. So you owe me.”
“You attempted to kill my father and killed one of his most popular advisers instead. I haven’t told the emperor of your transgressions. Yet. There’s your payment.” He sweeps me with a final glance, his eyes lingering on my slumped shoulders.
“I like to break people. In fact, it might be my favorite thing to do. But you? You were broken before you even walked in here, hiding your shattered shards from the world with the tattered cloak of your pride. Honestly, it’s a little boring.”
He sweeps out of the door, disappearing down the hall. Leaning over, I splash more water on my face, lifting my gaze to the mirror.
For the first time since Kassia died, I can no longer look myself in the eyes.
Gold glitters across my forehead. Numbly, I stare at my sigil.
Once more, it has grown.
Exhausted, and heartsick, I make my way back to the gladian quarters. There are only two people I want to talk to. Two people who will remind me why I’m in this place.
Climbing up to my bunk, I reach beneath the woolen blanket for my mirror.
Glass shreds my palm and I hiss, yanking the blanket away from my mattress and revealing the broken shards of my whispering mirror.
Who would have done this?
Bitterness floods my mouth. Oh, there are plenty of suspects. Rorrik could have ordered it done just to make my life more difficult. One of the others could have decided they were tired of my so-called relationship with the Primus. Hester and Baldric clearly want me to pay, and they have friends in this room.
Regardless of who did it, the outcome is the same. I can no longer talk to my brothers. Which means I can no longer ensure they’re safe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Iwake to an overwhelming sense of sadness. It’s a heavy, suffocating blanket that turns the world gray, making it almost impossible for me to drag myself out of bed.
It’s only when both Leon and Albion are missing from training that the realization hits me like a fist to the gut.
Today marks six years since Kassia took her last breath.
My chest hollows out, and I stagger from the training hall.
I forgot. Somehow, I woke up in this place, in this life, and I forgot.
The thought claws at me, and I pull in deep, jagged breaths.
Leon didn’t say a word last night.
Somehow, I make it to his room. When he doesn’t answer, I unashamedly pick his lock with the technique he taught me. The click is too loud in the silent corridor, and I push the door open. The sight of his neatly made bed makes my stomach drop.
Empty.
Did he … leave? Or is he barely making it through the day?
I stand in his open doorway, my chest burning with each breath. I’m the last person he’ll want to see today. But I can’t stop myself. I need to know he’s not unconscious after drinking himself into a stupor.
I need to know he hasn’t left me here. Alone.
But no. Albion is with him. He has to be. And Albion is the only other person here who understands what it’s like to lose a child to this place.
“Arvelle?” Jorah holds out his hand, and I flinch back. When did he get here?
“Wh-what?”
“You’re crying.”
