“Rise,” the emperor says congenially, tucking away his power. If not for his entrance, I could have walked past him in the street without ever understanding what he was.
A chill slides down my spine. Low-level sigilmarked and mundanes rely on our instincts to know when we’re in danger. For vampires to be capable of such deception …
It’s just one more example of their predatory nature.
“Hands clasped behind your back,” someone hisses from farther down the line.
The emperor wanders down our row, the Primus following closely in his footsteps. Most of the gladians avoid looking at him, as if wary of drawing his attention.
“Welcome, honored guests,” the emperor says. “And welcome to my gladians.” He says the word possessively, his gaze lingering on Maximus’s bulging biceps before shifting to the scar along Garet’s cheek. “Perhaps not my greatest achievement, but definitely my most entertaining.”
A few of the sigilmarked chuckle. The vampires ignore the sigilmarked, and I catch a glimpse of Bran standing next to a vampire who stares at the emperor with barely disguised loathing. The vampire leans over to murmur something to Bran, and Bran gives him a sharp nod.
Interesting. Before Bran arrived with his assassination plot, I’d never considered thatvampiresmight despise the emperor. Yet here’s another one who clearly wants him dead. Bran isn’t alone in his loathing.
Compared to mundanes, and even most sigilmarked, vampires live blessed lives. What exactly do they have to complain about?
“There are many reasons this empire is the success that it is. I feel I can claim a large part of that success.” The emperor’s smile is sharp,and his gaze sweeps the room. “But our strength lies not just in the upper echelons of this empire, but in the strength of each of the men and women who fight at our borders, expanding our reach and bringing previously reluctant kingdoms under my flag.
“It lies in the imperius, protecting me from our enemies’ diabolical plots and schemes. And of course, it lies in my gladians, who fight for the chance to protect this empire, and, while fighting, provide our people with a spectacle that reinforces our strength. So tonight,” the emperor continues, “I invite you to speak with my gladians. Tomorrow, you will see their strengths and weaknesses, so you can judge accordingly. Fortunes have been made and lost in my arena.” The emperor’s eyes twinkle. “May Umbros bless you all with a calm mind.”
Vallius Corvus steps back, clearly finished. And the sigilmarked drift closer, beginning discussions with eager gladians. Baldric lunges forward, giving Sigilkeeper Pervu a toothy smile.
But I’m more interested in the vampires gathered together at the edge of the room. I’ve never seen so many predators in one place before. A few of them feel ancient and ageless, while others burn with power. Kaeso bumps his shoulder against mine. “Us vampires aren’t all bad. Sure, if you had children with us, they’d be ruthlessly murdered, but the blood play might be worth it.”
He runs his gaze over me. I’m leaning forward slightly, hands fisted, teeth clenched. Displaying any hint of fear in this place is the height of stupidity, and Kaeso has just given me a warning wrapped within a joke.
I clear my throat, forcing my expression into blank neutrality. “Thank you.”
Kaeso just gives me a wide grin and turns away to talk to Garet. But his grin is pasted on, his wide shoulders tense. Is he speaking from firsthand experience? He doesn’t feel old enough to have children, but he could have fallen in love with a sigilmarked, been forced to give them up.
Vampires often take sigilmarked lovers. Some of them even marry. But it’s forbidden for them to have children with us. It still happens, but those who break the law are forced to go into hiding for the rest of their lives—with their illegal children.
Those born from vampire and sigilmarked blood tend to have unpredictable powers. And the emperor doesn’t like unpredictability.
Maeva gives me a nod as she approaches. She’s wearing a long, silky tunic the same bronze color as her sigil. A silver belt encircles her waist, and she wears half her blond hair up, the rest of it curling down her back.
“We should probably attempt to talk to some of the sponsors before they choose others.”
“I already have a sponsor.”
Her eyes flash with surprise. “Who?”
I’m saved from replying when Bran strolls toward us. “Arvelle Dacien. And how is training going?”
“Fine, thank you.” My reply is stilted. More than anything, I want to punch Bran in the throat.
Maeva excuses herself to speak to a half-crowned silver.
One side of Bran’s mouth curves, and he leans closer. He smells like incense and old blood. “This event would usually be held at the imperial palace. The fact that it is here means the emperor is becoming even more paranoid than usual.”
“Is it paranoia if people really are trying to kill you?” I muse.
Bran smiles. His eyes meet mine. Lightning fast, he takes my hand and squeezes. My tender skin howls, pain exploding up my forearm, and I let out a choked gasp.
“How am I to believe you’ll achieve my goals when you can’t even make it through training without needing to visit the healers?” he mutters.
I swallow, my gaze darting behind his shoulder. But Bran has that placid smile stamped on his face, my hand held in his as if we’ve just met. He leans close, as if merely indulging in pleasant conversation. As if he’s just another potential sponsor introducing himself to a gladian.
