When I turn back to Rorrik, he’s still watching me with a strange intensity.
“What is it?”
“You don’t like killing.”
“No.”
“Even when those people deserve to be dead.”
Is this why he’s here? He still can’t comprehend why I didn’t want to watch Hester’s brutal death?
I sigh. How do I explain my own ethics to someone like Rorrik?
“It’s not the people I kill that I’m thinking about in their last moments. It’s their families. Their friends. The people who love them. The people who will wake up every day without them. I know how that feels. I know how it rips you apart and makes you regret each of your own breaths. And I loathe making other people feel that way.” My throat constricts. “If I have to kill, I will. But knowing I’m leaving that hole in someone else’s life … it’s not something I want to do. It’s not someone I want to be.”
He frowns and I try another angle. “Isn’t there anyone you care about? Someone you wouldn’t want to die?”
A muscle ticks in Rorrik’s jaw.
The muscles in my chest clench. Perhaps he really doesn’t have anyone.
His eyes turn feral, and a hint of his power slips free. The air between us turns so cold, my breath turns to fog. “Don’t youdarepity me,” he hisses.
“I don’t. You chose to live your life this way.”
His face is tight with cold fury as he lets out a low, humorless laugh. Despite the menace in his body language, I’m not afraid.
Maybe I’m becoming numb to the threat he represents.
And yet … he could have killed me today. Instead, he was excruciatingly careful not to hurt me.
Slowly, his expression clears, turning blank and disinterested once more. “You were right to defend your friend. That same impulse makes you lethal when you let your instincts take over. When you let your body respond without thinking about it.”
“Was that a compliment?”
He ignores me and I can’t help but smile. His gaze drops to my mouth and immediately flicks away.
I study his profile. I’m not sure why he’s here, but since he is …
“Can I ask something?”
A sharp nod. He keeps his attention on Maeva, and I relax back into my chair.
“Tiberius Cotta …”
Resignation flickers in his eyes when they meet mine. “Yes?”
“I just … I don’t understand him. He was my sponsor simply because he noticed I needed someone. The parma he gave me saved my life when I fought Maximus. Tiberius was fighting for sigilmarked and mundanes—trying to make life better …” I swallow, closing my eyes as his choking gasps rattle through my head.
Warm fingers grip my chin.
My eyes fly open. Rorrik stares down at me, his expression tight. “Do you truly believe people are just one thing? Entirely good or entirely evil? Is it really that simple for you?”
I suck in a sharp breath. Rorrik leans closer, eyes intent, as if my answer is of utmost importance to him.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t … it’s not.”
His hand tightens on my chin, and the moment stretches until it feels as if it might snap.
