Not a mundane at all. A vampire.
“Why … why is he so … hungry?”
Rorrik sends me an amused glance.“He is freshly sired. Vampires can only drink from their sires for months before they can tolerate pure human blood. And he is being punished for some infraction.”
My stomach swims.“She’s starving him?”
“It’s not a punishment without a little suffering.”
Ugh.
I stare at Tiernon. It’s not Rorrik who I want to talk to. It’s the vampire doing his best to ignore me, even as his gaze continues to flick toward my spot near the wall.
He knows something is wrong. And if I was able to build a mindpathing bridge with Rorrik, I can do it with Tiernon.
“I’m sorry,”I think at him, as hard as I can. He doesn’t look at me.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Tiernon.”I’m not sure if it’s his name that does it, or the desperation as I throw my entire focus into communicating with him, but he looks at me.
His eyes can’t meet mine. I know he can’t see my face thanks to the helmet. But I’ve got his attention.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
I don’t answer. Tiernon returns his attention to his food.“I can guess. You’re going to try to kill my father here. In front of me. In front of every imperium in this room. What are you thinking, Arvelle?”
I’m not going to try to kill the emperor. I’m definitelygoingto kill him. My hand has begun to itch with the need to pull the knife in the sheath at my hip. My muscles practically vibrate with anticipation. My mind is turning foggy.
I block out Tiernon’s concerned frown, ignore Rorrik’s considering look, and focus on the vulnerable spot at the base of the emperor’s skull.
I visualize the exact movement I need to make. Two large steps toward the emperor. Drive the blade upward at an angle, just beneath the occipital bone. Silver meets brain stem. Instant death.
Time slows. The vampires’ voices become a low drone. My body begins trembling, and when the emperor reaches for his cup, the world sharpens. All I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears.
It’s as if I’m moving in slow motion, but I know it’s the fastest I’ve ever pulled a knife in my life. The hilt is cool in my hands, and I watch the spot beneath the emperor’s dark hair as he tips his head back to drink.
Now.
I jolt forward.
Invisible hands clamp around my wrist, twisting the knife in my grasp. Pain rips into me and I let out a shriek, staring down at my hand.
I’ve shoved the knife into my own thigh, the blade sharp enough to rip through the leather of my leggings and deep into flesh and muscle.
Agony erupts, and I stumble back against the wall.
As one, every vampire in the room turns to look at me, eyes flaring with hunger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The emperor twists in his seat to stare at me. “What. Was. That.”
Rorrik lets out a low, amused chuckle. “Forgive me, Father. You know how I grow bored at these meetings.”
Vallius sighs, rolls his eyes, and casts an exasperated look at Rorrik, as if he’s a small child who has thrown a handful of peas from his plate.
“This is an important dinner,” he says. “Can you not refrain from playing with your food for one night?”
Tiernon gets to his feet. “My imperiums are not his food.”
