I wipe at my face, the motion jerky, my mind sharpening. I’m still standing in Leon’s doorway, my eyes leaking. Brenin’s guardant raises his brow at me as he walks past, and I turn toward Jorah.
“Have you seen Leon?”
His face twists in sympathy. “I know where he is. Do you want me to take you to him?”
I nod, unable to speak, and he reaches out, gently closing Leon’s door. “Follow me.”
Jorah leads me back toward the entrance of the ludus, retracing the steps from my first day here until I can almost feel the sun on my face. When we get to the statue of Anoxian, he gestures toward a door I’ve overlooked every other time I’ve walked this way.
The vast room is almost half the size of the training hall. But its stillness makes it feel even larger. Pale marble columns are etched with gold that flickers beneath the aether lamps, while statues of the gods line the walls, each painstakingly carved, expressions frozen in divine disapproval. Offerings have been laid at their feet, and I watch as a guardant places a throwing knife in front of Anoxian, lowering his head in a bow. The air smells faintly of stone and dust, mixed with dried flowers.
A few other novices and guardants are wandering the space, pausing at each statue. Eachgod. Calena stands near the statue of Anoxian, her eyes dark as she sweeps her gaze over his form.
“What is this?”
Jorah steps into the room, his voice little more than a whisper. “The vampires have a temple for Umbros in the ludus. Sigilkeeper Melus became displeased that the sigilmarked had nowhere to worship our own gods, so the emperor agreed to this space. They call it the Hall of the Gods.”
From what I know of the arrogant, imperious gods, they would hate this. One space to share, while Umbros has a dedicated temple? Blasphemy.
Still, I suppose it gives sigilmarked a place to worship.
Jorah squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome. I need to go finish my tasks.” He gives me his sweet smile before ducking back into the corridor.
Leon kneels at the far end of the hall before a breathtakingly lifelike statue of Thalunia, Albion at his side.
Leon has worshipped the goddess of the hunt since before Kassia was born. I still remember clutching her hand as he begged Thalunia to bestow her gifts upon us. And she did.
I’m faster than I should be, even now after so many years without training. Kassia was even faster, occasionally moving with such blazing speed, I would have bet on her against any newly turned vampire.
What was the point, Thalunia? What was the point of your blessing if Kassia was going to die anyway?
Leon rises, moving to the statue of Viderux—the god of the afterlife.
My throat burns like I’ve swallowed flames.
This is it, Velle. It’s all going to be different after this.
Some days, I can find it in me to be proud that I managed to keep my brothers alive after everything I lost. Most days, though, I’m sure of one thing: If Kassia met me now, she wouldn’t like me. And she sure wouldn’t understand me.
If I’d died that day … Gods, I used to play this game all the time. If I’d died that day, and Kassia had lived, she would have taken my brothers and made a better life for them. She would have mourned me, but she wouldn’t have let grief make her hard and cold and bitter. Of the two of us, she was always the strongest. In all the ways that matter.
“Arvelle.”
I blink. Albion’s standing in front of me, his eyes dark with sorrow. “Would you like me to take you to him?”
My cheeks heat. I’m still lingering by the doorway, a few guardants gazing curiously at me.
“No.” I clear my throat. “No. I, ah, I shouldn’t have come here.”
What was I thinking? Leon doesn’t need me. He hasn’t needed me for six years. I’m a constant reminder of the worst day in his life. When he looks at me, he sees the woman who failed to do the one thing he trusted me to do: keep his daughter alive.
Albion studies my face. “I don’t think that’s true.” He turns, his gaze sweeping the hall, landing briefly on the statue of Kelindra. “I lost my wife long before I lost my son.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
