“No.”
She raises a brow and I realize my voice was sharper than I intended.I sigh. “It takes strength to mourn. It’s … it’s easier to wrap yourself in numb apathy and refuse to think of the people you’ve lost, but that does them a disservice. The pain doesn’t go away, it just lingers, waiting until you have no choice but to acknowledge it. But by then, it’s grown teeth and claws. And it will shred your entire life apart if you let it.”
Neris stares at me.
I offer her a grim smile. “Ask me how I know.”
She lets out a watery laugh, wiping at another tear. “The emperor does this all the time, you know. Makes the brothers turn on each other. Rorrik did Tiernon a favor by killing Lucius. He knew Ti wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was forced to kill one of his own imperiums. But now, every time Tiernon thinks of Lucius, he’ll remember Rorrik killing him. One day, Tiernon will make Rorrik pay for it. Even thoughhewas the one ordered to kill him. Tiernon will take something important from him. Rorrik will retaliate. And so it will go on and on and on.”
Rorrik killed LuciusforTiernon? The thought seems ludicrous.
Allow me, Father. You know I enjoy such things.
Look away, Arvelle.
Neris clears her throat. “Tiernon … Tiernon was supposed to kill Cargyn as well. He was caught spying and passing information on to the same vampires who tried to kill the emperor today.”
I shake my head in an attempt to clear my confusion.
The first time I saw Rorrik, he was committing murder—and enjoying it. And Neris is saying that was supposed to beTiernon?
When we were younger, Tiernon would occasionally talk about his brother in a way that made me think they were friends. But as he grew up, he spoke of him less and less, until it was easy to forget he even had a family.
I blow out a long breath. Rorrik is vicious and ruthless. He’s morally reprehensible and only interested in his own goals—whatever they are. But … he knows Tiernon well enough to understand how he would suffer if forced to kill his own people. And for reasons I don’t think I’ll ever understand, he spared him that.
“What happened between them?” I ask.
“Believe it or not, when they were children, Rorrik was overprotective of his brother.”
I remember that much. Often, Tiernon would roll his eyes, hismouth curving as he relayed some decree his brother had made. It was only as they grew that Tiernon stopped mentioning him at all, his eyes strained whenever I asked about his family.
Neris shrugs, pulling her knees closer. “I guess their relationship had no chance once the emperor began using them against each other. I was a child in the court, too—my father is one of the emperor’s generals. But I remember how the emperor twisted his sons until they could barely be in the same room together. When Tiernon finally returned from the front lines, it became even worse.”
“Because then he became Primus.”
Neris sighs. “Tiernon never wanted to become Primus. He doesn’t want to lead. He shoulders the blame for all our failures, taking the emperor’s punishments in our places. He’ll never understand how much it hurts us to see how he suffers for us.”
“Except today, the emperor punished Lucius instead.”
“Killing Lucius was still a punishment for Tiernon. It’s the emperor’s favorite way to keep his sons in line. Don’t ever let the emperor see that Tiernon truly cares for you, Arvelle. If you do,you’llbe the punishment the next time Tiernon infuriates his father.”
Something itches at the edge of my mind. And a strange sensation crashes over me.
Iwouldbe his punishment. If Tiernon was forced to watch me die … the guilt would ruin him. He would never recover.
“Neris.” Tiernon’s voice is dark and filled with warning as he stands in the doorway, his words biting into the air. “Tell the others if they ever attempt to sacrifice for me the way Lucius did today, I will make them regret it.”
Neris shakes her head.See, she mouths at me as Tiernon turns and stalks away.
I’m up and moving instantly, following him toward his rooms.
Something about the hopelessness in his eyes makes me unable to let him grieve alone. When I look at him, I don’t see the Primus. All I see is the boy who wrapped his arms around me too many times to count, selflessly offering the kind of love and support I’d never known before.
Tiernon glances over his shoulder. “Not now, Arvelle. I’m tired. Leave me alone.”
He’s not tired. He’s grief-stricken. I can see it in the dark shadowslurking within his eyes. In his shoulders, hunched ever so slightly, as if the weight of this world is resting entirely on them.
“Didn’t you hear me? Leave.”
