Gods, I loathe these dark halls.
The Primus lowers his head, and I sense his attention on my palms.
Mybloodypalms.
My heart trips in my chest, my senses sharpening. Even the oldest vampires can occasionally falter. Even those with the most self-control can snap and drain a sigilmarked or mundane dry.
When they do, restitutions are usually made to the family—as long as that family has enough power to demand such a thing.
Would my brothers be paid for my life?
“Get that look off your face.” The Primus’s words are a soft threat.
I swallow. “What look?”
“You know what look. You should know better than to put your fear on display here.” He gestures at the gladians walking toward us, several of them watching curiously.
He’s right.
“Primus,” someone says, and he turns. I use the opportunity to back away a few steps—and even while he’s wearing that helmet, I can somehow feel his amusement.
Fury flashes through me. Of course he’s amused. If he wanted, he could reach out a hand and snap my neck.
“What is it, Neris?”
The woman prowls from the shadows, her black hair braided tight. It’s the woman who called me incompetent yesterday, and she rakes me with a dismissive look.
“You’re needed.”
The Primus doesn’t glance at me again, and I let out a breath as they both stalk away. Next to me, a lamp flickers, and I lean against the wall—
I fall backward with a yelp, stumbling. The wall disappears, and I’m suddenly staring at a small man with a bronze sigil who gapes at me wide-eyed.
An involuntary hiss of pain escapes me as I fumble for my dagger. My hands have swollen to the point that I can barely use them.
“Wait.” The man raises his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who are you?” I snap.
“My name is Jorah.”
“And why were you spying on me, Jorah?”
His eyes suddenly widen even more, until they’re huge in his pale face. His cheeks are full and round—giving him an almost childlike appearance. But I keep my hand on the hilt of my dagger all the same.
“I wasn’t spying. I swear.” He turns his attention to the wall behind me.
It’s not me he’s scared of. It’s the Primus. And I can’t blame him.
“The Primus, hmm?”
Jorah shakes his head frantically, taking a step closer. “I’m allowed back here. It’s myjob.”
“What do you mean?”
He waves a hand and the lights brighten. And I realize where we are.
We’rebehindthe main corridor.
