“He’s not sponsoring you?”
“No. My father believes I should have an authentic experience here without favoritism. Most of the other sigilkeepers are unaware I’m his daughter.” She nods toward one of the sigilkeepers. “I’m hoping he will sponsor me.” When I frown, she leans closer. “Tiberius Cotta. I’ve known him since I was a child. He often represents the interests of the mundanes during Syndicate sessions. It’s thanks to him that the emperor pledged more aether for public services last year.”
The name is familiar, and it hits me. He’s the man Jorah mentioned. The one who helped him.
Tiberius has a narrow face, strong jaw, and surprisingly kind eyes. When he glances our way, he smiles, and Maeva beams back.
“What about your parents?” Maeva asks.
I stiffen, but I’m saved by the dark-haired, barefoot woman who drifts past us, as if sleepwalking.
“Umbros’s High Priestess. The emperor keeps her at his side in a bid to court his god’s favor.”
“And who do we have here?” Tiberius Cotta’s voice is light, jovial. And still, every muscle in my body tenses.
Maeva lets out a breathless laugh. “Sigilkeeper Cotta. This is Arvelle Dacien.”
I bow my head, as expected, and Sigilkeeper Cotta tuts. “I’m not one for formality.” His smile reveals one crooked tooth, and he leans close. “I’m also not the type to forget where I came from.”
I frown, and he explains, “I’m also from the Thorn.”
Maeva’s mouth drops open. “I didn’t know that.”
He winks at her. “Most people don’t. But I can recognize Harriston’s work anywhere.” His gaze drops to my boots and my cheeks flush. They’ve been repaired multiple times, the leather resewn, holes patched with mismatched scraps. The stitches are rough and uneven, but while Harriston’s handiwork may not be elegant, it’s functional. And that’s all we need in the Thorn.
Warmth settles in my chest, comforting and unexpected. I clear my throat and smile. “Harriston’s eyes have begun failing him, but he has been training his son to take over, Sigilkeeper.”
Unnecessary information, but Cotta smiles. “I’m glad. And, Arvelle, you may call me Tiberius.”
With a nod he wanders away, and Maeva sends me a grin. “I told you.”
She did. And yet it’s still difficult to believe a member of the Syndicate could be so … kind.
My skin prickles, my body turns cold, and my heart skips in my chest. Rorrik’s malevolent gaze clings to me like mold.
There’s only one entrance and exit to this room, and I doubt the emperor would allow me to leave.
Don’t show him your fear. He’ll enjoy it and toy with you further.
My jaw aches as I clench my teeth harder. Slowly, I lift my head, my gaze unerringly finding him.
The vampire is just steps away now, and I suck in a deep breath, body trembling.
Rorrik gives me a slow, dark smile.
Screams cut through the murmur of conversation. Rorrik keeps his gaze on me for a long moment before turning his head.
I’m covered in a sheen of fear-sweat, but I stumble closer to the screams, suddenly desperate to—
Someone has reopened the doors to the room, revealing a body. The corpse is bloated, the stench of decay thick and noxious. Several people gag, which does nothing to help me keep control of my own bodily functions.
“How …”
“Someone left it in the hall,” Maximus says, his eyes wide as he stares at the body.
The corpse is a man, I can see that much. And while it’s impossible to know what truly killed him, the gaping hole in his chest and missing heart would have finished the job if he wasn’t already dead.
Carrick’s words drift through my head.“Another body turned up. Heart missing, just like the others. It’s not just mundanes, either.”
