“You can also do it with one vote from Tiernon.” He frowns at whatever he sees on my face. “What is it?”
“He’s the emperor’s son, Leon.”
Leon stares at me. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “All those years, and you never …”
“No,” I grind out. “I knew he was a noble. That’s it. He never wanted to talk about his family, and I respected that, because it wasn’t often I wanted to talk about my own. Besides, have you heard any of the gladians or guardants talking about the Primus’s birthright?”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “No. I suppose if he’s the youngest son, it would be irrelevant. At least until the consilium … if the emperor truly did remove Rorrik as his appointed successor.”
Rorrik’s face flashes in my mind’s eye—cold, cruel, calculating. There’s only one reason he’s continually skulking around the ludus. He’s intently focused on his end goal—whatever that goal truly is.
Would Rorrik kill his brother?
Yes. He would.
Rorrik will kill anyone who gets in his way.
But then … why didn’t he kill his father before the emperor removed him as his designated heir?
I sigh, pushing the emperor’s ruthless son from my mind. “When is the imperius playing next?”
Leon gives me a humorless smile. “Tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll … try.” Getting to my feet, I move toward the door. But I can’t help but ask …
“Why are you helping me?”
Leon’s eyes meet mine. “The same reason I came with you. It’s what Kassia would have wanted.”
Kassia would have screamed at me if she knew I’d ended up in this position.
Always biting off more than you can chew, Velle. Most people are content with a slice of the pie, but you always want the whole fucking pie.
Leon sighs at whatever he sees on my face. “Go rest while you can. You look exhausted.”
“HIT ME,” MICAHsays, and I bite my lip to hide my smirk. He’s overconfident, unskilled, and outmatched. But at least he’s enjoying himself.
The imperius common room has been turned into a gambling den. Deitra, Lucius, Micah, and Neris are currently playing, and the stack of weapons and money continues to grow on the table in front of them. From my quick calculation, Lucius will win this round, unless he happens to believe Neris’s bluff.
He studies her out of the corner of his eye. But since I can see Lucius’s cards and Deitra has already folded, I know Neris has nothing to justify the hint of a smirk on her face.
“Fold,” Lucius says, and I shake my head, leaning back in my chair as I continue sharpening one of my knives.
His sudden curse tells me they’ve shown their cards.
Neris lets out a whoop and sweeps everything on the table toward her.
“What about you, Arvelle?” Micah asks with a wink. “You want to play?”
He knows I do. I cornered him a few hours ago at dinner and made the easiest deal of my life: he invites me to play with the imperius, and I introduce him to Briona—a gladian I’ve only spoken to a few times.
“Hmm.” I feign disinterest. “It’s been a while since I played.”
Micah shrugs. “It’s just for fun.”
He grins at me and I get to my feet, strolling over to their corner, where couches and chairs have been wedged together around one of the circular tables.
I take a seat next to him, wincing as my bruises make themselves known. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my coin purse, which is currently heavier than it has ever been. “I’m in.”
