“Yes, but you acted wholly without thought for your own life.” Rorrik waves a hand. “Of course you’re becoming well known for your heroics, ‘Kelindra’s daughter.’” He gives me a wicked grin and I want to punch him. “But you were about to throw your life away.”
We fall into silence. The carriage bumps over cobblestones, and I fight to keep my eyes open.
“Arvelle.”
I open my eyes and find Rorrik watching me. The glow from the aether lamps casts shadows across his coldly beautiful face, and I can’t read his expression.
“You shouldn’t fall asleep in front of predators.”
“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already.”
The air between us turns frigid. “If only that were true.”
Well, I’m wide awake now.
My nap must have been longer than I thought, because the carriage is turning toward the ludus. Unease trickles down my spine. How could I have fallen asleep so close toRorrik?
“Tonight … that vampire Darinth. The one who was sired …”
Rorrik arches one dark eyebrow and I swallow.
“Never mind.”
“Ask your question.”
I grind my teeth at the order, but I can’t get the vampire out of my mind. Can’t forget the way he crawled, the way he lunged like a ravenous animal. I’m not even sure what my questionis.
“Have you done that? Have you … sired someone?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Do you believe I am someone who would enjoy coddling a baby vampire?”
“I didn’t see much coddling tonight.”
Rorrik leans back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Emala has long had an obsession with siring vampires. It’s why she will never achieve true power within the council. My father considers her little addiction to be unseemly.”
“How many has she sired?”
“Forty-one.”
So many. “Are they all like Darinth?”
“No. The turned vampires rely on their sires to slake their thirst. Emala enjoys seeing how far they will go for her. How desperate they will become.”
I snort. “I’m surprised you haven’t been siring vampires.” It seems like the kind of power games Rorrik would revel in.
The temperature in the carriage plummets, and a predatory gleam enters Rorrik’s eyes. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to.
I shiver. But I’m reluctantly fascinated with vampire power dynamics. “I would have thought siring more vampires would mean more power.”
“The more a vampire sires, the weaker those vampires will be.”
“What do you mean?”
Rorrik gives me an indulgent smirk. “I suppose it’s similar to the sigilmarked and the way the likelihood of a strong sigil decreases with each child. Some quirk of this world ensures neither vampires nor sigilmarked will outnumber the mundanes. Not when power is so important.”
