My gut twists. I can’t imagine the betrayal that vampire felt.
A strange fluttering begins in my chest, and a hint of blue glow highlights my skin. Horror fills me, and the shield grows darker, slowly beginning to take form.
A chill ripples down my spine. “I need to go,” I mumble. “I need to do … something.”
Maeva raises an eyebrow, but I’m already turning away. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I hurry out of the training hall and lean against the stone wall, forcing myself to do the visualization exercise Tiernon taught me.
A pond. Still. No ripples.
Slowly, the blue fades away. My head swims, and I stagger, lurching away from the training hall.
Why did the shield begin forming now? I wasn’t under any kind of threat.
If anyone had noticed …
Feeling nauseated, I pick up my pace, my footsteps echoing on stone. The air suddenly feels heavy, pressing against my skin like a thick, humid blanket.
An unmistakable awareness flickers at the edge of my senses, and my breaths turn jagged, dread coiling low in my gut.
It’s the same sick sensation I felt in the corridor between Leon’s room and the gladian barracks the night I killed Tiberius.
My fingers twitch toward the hilt of my dagger, the prickle intolerable. It no longer feels like an icy caress along my skin. It’s a chill that soaks into my muscles, lodging in my bones.
Slowly, I turn. As expected, the corridor is empty. But I’m being watched. I know I am.
“Help me.”The voice is a plea and a demand all at once. It reverberates inside my head, as if someone is mindpathing to me. But I have enough experience with that power to know this is very, very different.
Frigid, invisible fingers skim the length of my spine, until my teeth ache, my fingers stiffening around my weapon. The presence feels closer—a weight in the air that presses suffocatingly close. It’s a strangepull, as if the presence is attempting to guide me somewhere. A whisper brushes my ear, the sound low and guttural.
“Help.”
And then it’s gone.
My entire body is taut, trembling with the remnants of terror.
Maybe this is Tiberius, refusing to move on. Maybe he’s enraged, determined to make me pay.
But that voice wasn’t familiar. And it asked forhelp.
Perhaps this is it. Perhaps I’m truly losing my mind.
It takes more willpower than I’d like to admit, but I shove aside the paralyzing dread and force myself to continue walking, until I’m standing at the spot where I first met Jorah.
Leaning my body against the familiar spot on the wall, I shove, cursing when it doesn’t move.
Pressing my fingers into the rough stone, I try again and again.
“Jorah!” I hiss.
No answer.
“Please. I need help.”
“Jorah.” I slump against the wall, head spinning dizzily.
But it’s not just my head spinning. I stumble with a yelp, the light dimming further as the wall gives way behind me.
