The presence doesn’t leave. I get the feeling it’s watching. Waiting.
The green light fades from Gradon’s eyes. I instantly feel the difference. He’s gone.
And so is the strange, dangerous, invisible force in this room.
Shaking, I force myself to do the same for each body. I don’t know the names of all the victims, but pushing my will into the command seems to work. One by one, the eerie green light leaves their eyes.
By the time I’m done, I’m freezing cold, on the verge of either laughter or tears—maybe both. The last murder was the day of the third challenge. I’d thought that meant it was over. But there are worse things than death.
Like being trapped in your own rotting corpse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Idon’t see Tiernon for the rest of the day. I’m unsure if he’s avoiding me, or if the emperor has tasked him with something outside the ludus.
I don’t make it to training. Distantly, I think I should be concerned about Nyrant’s reaction to this, but since I’m unlikely to live through the next two days, I can’t bring myself to care.
I pace for hours, racking my brain before falling into bed, exhausted. Surprisingly, I fall into a deep sleep.
Even more surprisingly, I don’t dream. I’d imagined my sleep would be haunted by the sight of seven corpses, their eyes glowing green.
When I wake, I stare at the ceiling. Shockingly, no sudden waves of brilliance form in my mind. No plan appears, fully formed and ready to implement.
I’ve watched Bran succumb to madness over the past months. His addiction to his sun tonics makes him unpredictable. And it’s difficult to outsmart someone when you can’t predict their next actions.
Until I find a way out of this, I have to play along. I also have to prepare for the fact that this may be my last sunrise. Even if I’m spending it beneath the earth.
Bitterness fills my mouth, and I force myself to get up, shower, and dress, going through the motions.
I take the sword Leon gave me all those years ago. Using the weapons Tiberius sponsored me with feels … wrong. And if I’m going to die, I’ll do it with my own sword in my hand.
“Why aren’t you at training?” Neris asks when I step into the common room. She’s sharpening her weapons, Deitra by her side.
“I’ve got something I need to do.”
Deitra shakes her head. “Annoying Nyrant is not a good idea.”
I shrug, unable to even pretend to care. I can feel her gaze on my back as I walk out into the main corridor.
Surprisingly, the wall allows me entry to Jorah’s domain. I peer into the dim light, but he’s nowhere to be found.
“Jorah.”
He doesn’t answer. I’m not expecting him to.
I don’tdeservehim to.
I find Jorah’s desk in its little nook. There’s a sense of movement in the air, as if he was just here and left before I arrived.
Placing the sword and shield on his desk, along with one of my own knives, I leave my note for him to see.
Jorah,
Micah would like to train you personally if you’re interested.
I’m sorry.
—Arvelle.
