Axia gives me a small smile and points at a chair by his side. “Why don’t you sit and talk to him? Primus, may I have a word?”
Tiernon glances at me, as if debating whether he should leave me alone. I give him a nod and he follows Axia out of the room.
“He’ll be giving us his blood, he will,” one of the healers says. “Not many vampires do it, despite the need for it. But the Primus has donated it for years.”
Of course he has. The moment he began turning and his blood became useful, Tiernon helped anyone he could in the Thorn. I’d forgotten about that.
One by one, the healers finish what they’re doing and leave.
Guilt and anguish roil within my chest, until all I can do is stare at Leon’s pale, slack face.
My own self-importance led him here.
I watched him laughing with Albion, talking to the other guardants, eating and training and living, and I felt a sense of smug satisfaction. I dragged him from his home and forced him to reenter the world. Then I congratulated myself for my manipulation.
And now he’s dying.
“I’m so sorry, Kas,” I murmur. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She never would have risked the people I love. Never.
My sword digs into my back, and I remove my sheath, leaning it against Leon’s bed.
“Arvelle.” Tiernon’s voice is low, cajoling.
“Thank you for giving him your blood.”
“Of course.” He sighs. “I’ve been summoned by the emperor.”
“It’s fine. You should go.” I want to be alone anyway.
“Hopefully I’ll be back in a few hours. If I’m not, I’ll send one of the imperiums to check on you.”
I nod and feel him hesitate behind me. Leaning down, he kisses the top of my head and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
I watch Leon’s breaths, panicking when it seems like they’re slowingdown, and getting to my feet to pace when they turn shallow and quick. The healers check on him every so often, and at one point I’m sent away while they do something to his ribs. From their grim expressions, I’m glad he’s unconscious for it.
“Arvelle.” Albion’s voice is low, hoarse. He steps closer to Leon, his expression almost … lost. When he pats Leon’s hand, his own hand trembles.
The lines on Albion’s face look deeper, his blond curls in disarray. He looks thinner, as if he’s been skipping meals.
I get to my feet, offering my chair. “Sit.”
He waves me away. “I won’t stay long.” When his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Arvelle.”
“He’s still alive.” My voice is sharp, and his eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “Leon … Leon would hate for people to be seeing him this way.”
He nods, his gaze lingering on Leon like he’s saying goodbye.
“You should eat,” he says. “Leon would want you to keep your strength up.”
I shrug, sliding into the chair once more. My eyes sting, and Albion crosses to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
My throat aches. “Do you … do you think the dead can see us? Hear us?”
His smile is achingly sad. “I believe the dead are closer than we can imagine.”
When he leaves, I stare into the distance. If the dead can see how we’re going about our lives, then Kassia can see exactly what I’ve done to her father.
