But the Primus is watching closely. His armor seems to suck in the light as he steps away from his position by the door. Bran notices where my attention has turned and drops my hand.
“Bran,” the Primus says in his husky voice.
Bran’s smile widens. “Primus.”
People are beginning to pay attention, and I attempt to melt back into the crowd.
Maeva gives me a wide-eyed look and I shrug. Her gaze widens at something behind me, her head lowering.
The room goes silent.
Rorrik appears, two novice guards walking in step behind him.
Bran elbows me. “Bow.”
I lower my head. But I keep my eyes on Rorrik, the same way I’d keep my eyes on a venomous snake.
I’d hoped the emperor’s son would have already moved on from our little interaction, but his gaze immediately finds mine. And I see my death in his eyes.
“You’re late.” The emperor’s voice carries across the room. Rorrik waves a hand and everyone straightens. I slowly melt through the other gladians, moving back toward the wall, but I can still feel his attention on my every movement.
“It couldn’t be helped.” Rorrik’s voice is a low croon. But that same dark thread winds through it—the vicious promise of a painful end.
Father and son stare at each other. Finally, the emperor nods, gesturing for one of the gold-crowned to approach Rorrik.
My knees quake, my lungs tightening.
“Arvelle? Are you …?” Maeva appears at my side, her brow creased with concern.
“I’m fine. Just … just wondering where the Vampire Council is.”
She gives me a faint smile. “They don’t concern themselves with gladians. At least not in public. The vampires prefer to do their dealings in secret. This is also a way for the emperor to show hisappreciationof the Syndicate and a chance to counter any accusations of favoritism toward the vampires.”
I stare at her. “You seem to know a lot about high-level politics.”
Maeva turns her attention to the Sigilmarked Syndicate once more, her gaze lingering on the stern-faced gold-crowned speaking with the emperor.
“I guess I come by it naturally. That blond gold-crowned with the scar along his cheek is my father. Sigilkeeper Alaric Virnia.”
And suddenly, Maeva has my full attention.
It’s almost unheard of for those related to the Sigilmarked Syndicate to join the Sundering. In fact, most of them are able to petition the emperor and avoid fighting in the Sands. A sigilkeeper has no need to sacrifice a child to the republic in order to receive the emperor’s favor.
Maeva gives me an awkward smile. “He wasn’t pleased with havinga bronze sigilmarked for a daughter. Both he and my mother are gold-crowned, as are their parents. As their firstborn, I should have been too. I’m a … disappointment to him.”
Rorrik is slowly moving toward us, stopping to listen briefly to sigilmarked and vampires as they approach him. I pull Maeva closer to the wall, angling us toward the doors.
“I don’t understand,” I say, keeping one eye on the vampire. “You’re still powerful. And your father is a member of the Syndicate. You could have been a magistrate. Or at the very least, taken a position as an emissary.”
Since vampires are forced to stay out of the sun during the day, most of them rely on sigilmarked emissaries to handle the kinds of tasks that require daytime interaction, like negotiating trade deals, resolving local disputes, and attending court sessions.
Maeva shakes her head. “My sigil … disappoints him. He made it clear this was my only real choice. If I can’t be worthy of protection, then I can be the one who will lay down my life to protect those who actually have power.”
“And so you wore bronze tonight.”
She smirks down at her gown. “And so I did.”
I can’t help but grin back. But …
