“I don’t tell you this for sympathy, Arvelle, but to share something I learned.” He gives me a faint smile. “Neara was a beautiful woman. Beautiful and clever. But she was a mundane. It wasn’t something I ever thought about. She was simply Neara. A woman with the most entrancing smile who loved to dance more than almost anything.
“But to her, being mundane was everything. She considered it to be the worst blow fate could have possibly dealt her. When our son was born with only a tiny bronze sigil, it broke her in ways I didn’t see at the time. She stayed out late, dancing in the kinds of taverns she knew made me worry for her safety. And one night she didn’t come home.”
I stare at him, and he shakes his head. “She met a vampire, you see.” His tone is clipped, and it’s not just sadness in his eyes. Now they hold a dull rage. “One who promised to turn her. For years I blamed myself. If I’d known what to say, if I’d understood how badly she was hurting, if I’d hauled her out of that tavern … maybe my son would have had a mother. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost her to her sire. To the one who forced her to service his friends in exchange for the blood she so desperately needed.”
“You have to know that wasn’t your fault.”
Albion arches a single, pale eyebrow. “Do I?”
I know where he’s going with this. “It’s different.” The words come out sharper than I’d intended, and I lower my voice. “You know it’s different.”
“All I know is you were busy fighting for your own life that day. Were you supposed to fly across the arena to save your friend?”
I let out a choked laugh, and his lips curve. Albion’s expression softens, and he nods, moving back to Leon’s side.
When I scan the room again, only a few guardants and gladians remain. But one person doesn’t belong.
Bran.
Vampires don’t worship sigilmarked gods. I’ve personally witnessed Bran’s disdain. And yet here he is, his tall frame leaning toward Calena as he murmurs something into her ear.
She gives him a sharp nod, turning to place something down at Anoxian’s feet.
I eye Bran, waiting for him to approach me and hiss his usual threats. But he doesn’t. Instead, he smirks, his expression smug, and sweeps past me, disappearing into the corridor.
What is he up to?
Calena moves away from the statue, and I intercept her.
“Arvelle.”
“Uh. Hello. Uh … do you visit this place often?”
She smirks. “No. But if I’m going to be expected to protect Vallius Corvus, I’d better pray for the strength not to kill him and his murderous sons.”
Craning my neck, I scan the room for anyone within earshot. Calena turns to go.
“Wait.”
She gives me a cool look, and I clench my teeth. “You should stay away from Bran.”
Her gaze turns icy. “Excuse me?”
“He’s dangerous. Vicious. Whatever he offers you, it will ruin your life.”
“Speaking from experience?” Interest lights her eyes. When I shrug, she shakes her head.
“Something tells me you have more than enough to worry about without warning me away from vampires.” She strides away.
Fine. I tried.
Turning, I find Leon giving me a narrowed-eyed stare. Albion stands beside him, murmuring something too low for me to hear.
Leon … smiles.
It’s something I never could have imagined he would do today.
My breath hitches, eyes blurring, until I have to restrain myself from doing something strange likehuggingAlbion.
