Tiernon.
My knees turn weak, and I bury my hands in the back of his shirt. He’s covered in blood, trembling with fury. But he’s here. He’s here, and relief is warming every inch of my body.
“Brother,” Rorrik says. “You took long enough to get here. We were just negotiating.”
“You’re negotiatingnothing.”
Rorrik ignores him, his gaze meeting mine. “You will help me find what I’m looking for, and in return, I will train you to use your stolen power.”
I flinch, as I do each time he reminds me of the people I killed for that power.
Rorrik smiles, ashedoes each time I react to his little dig.
“I will train her,” Tiernon rumbles, reaching behind him to take my hand.
Rorrik gives him a condescending smile. “You’re being shortsighted. Our father is only going to become more paranoid and volatileafter this little attack. The two of us can protect her better than you can alone.” His sigil briefly flashes across his forehead, his power leaking, and I tighten my hand on Tiernon’s shirt, bracing against the dizzying rush of all that cold power. “You forget, brother, that of the two of us,Ialso have more than one kind of power running through my veins.”
Tiernon goes still and I move out from behind him, immediately studying his face.
“You cannot be serious,” I hiss, and he gives me an apologetic look. I narrow my eyes. “I’m not staying here. Bran is dead, which means I can leave.”
“And how long do you think you’ll last before you accidentally use powers that shouldn’t belong to you? Powers like a griffon shield?” Rorrik’s voice is a caress. But it’s Tiernon’s expression that worries me. He’s actually considering it.
I gape at him. “Thisis when you suddenly decide to work together?”
Tiernon’s gaze moves past me. The brothers stare at each other in silence, having a private mindpath conversation aboutme. My jaw clenches.
Rorrik’s eyes meet mine. “You’re going to want to help me. This just ensures you’ll also be protected.”
I curl my lip at him. “Why would I want to help you?”
He leans against the wall at his back again, his movements elegant. “Because Bran was the one who alerted me to Tiberius Cotta’s little activities in the Thorn. He knew I’d ensure Cotta died if that’s what it took to prevent Mortuus from rising. But your friend’s guardant was busy sacrificing to the god of ruin within the ludus. And others were also sacrificing to him elsewhere in this empire.”
My breath hitches, and Rorrik gives me a grave nod. “Mortuus is breaking out of his cage. For good this time. If we don’t find a way to prevent this from happening, he will enslave this world.”
My mind flashes to seven souls trapped in their corpses.
He wants us to return.
Rorrik lifts the book in his hand. “Reading this text is the first step to finding a way to prevent such a thing from happening.”
“Do not,” Tiernon snarls, “pretend youcareabout others being enslaved. Your only interest is the other information that might be held in that book.”
Rorrik gives him a humorless smile, but something flashes in hiseyes. Something I can’t place. He turns back to me. “Regardless, I’m sure you don’t want to watch your brothers roam this world as corpses.”
Unbidden, the memory of Mortuus’s voice in my head makes my stomach spiral. I could never forgive myself if I left and he broke free of his cage.
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Tiernon asks quietly, still watching Rorrik.
Rorrik smiles at his brother. “Do you expect me to feelsorryfor the way your life has turned out?” He gestures at me with his free hand. “You should have run with them all those years ago.”
I turn to look at Tiernon. “What is he talking about?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, but he doesn’t reply.
Unsurprisingly, Rorrik twists the knife. “With your resources, brother, your little family might never have been found. You should have taken them and disappeared.” Rorrik paces around me, his warm breath caressing the shell of my ear. “I would’ve.”
I meet Rorrik’s eyes. He’s a monster, but he’s not lying. He would never have allowed his father to threaten anything he considered his.
