“Orna!” Lucius snaps.
Orna ignores him.
She’s going to kill me.
“Orna, stop!” Lucius orders, and I can hear his feet pounding toward us. He’s too far away.
Flicking a throwing knife out of the sheath at my hip, I slam it into Orna’s gut.
Yes, that’s a silver blade, bitch.
Her mouth makes anO, and she releases me instantly, plucking the knife from her stomach and throwing it to the ground.
Claws extend from her fingertips, and her mouth pulls back, revealing sharp fangs. Her hiss sends a chill down my spine. I back up, mapping out the nearest exit. There’s no intelligent life in her eyes.
“Enough!”
Lucius steps in front of Orna and slams his hands against her chest. She lets out another hiss and he bares his teeth. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Slowly, her eyes lighten. She sweeps her gaze around us, and her claws retract.
“What were you thinking?” Neris snaps at her.
Orna looks suddenly lost, and despite the fact that she almost killed me, some part of me feels sorry for her. With a muttered apology, she turns and walks away.
Lucius lets out a breath, turning to me. He doesn’t look happy. “I’ll walk you to lunch.”
“I don’t—”
He’s already heading toward the door, and I swipe my throwing knife from the mat, wiping the blood on my tunic and shoving it back into its sheath. I’ll need to clean it properly later.
Lucius waits for me by the door, and we walk toward the dining hall. It’s quieter than usual, with most of the other gladians likely enjoying a rare sleep in.
We walk in silence for a few moments, before Lucius clears his throat.
“I know a little something about growing up in the Thorn,” he says. “I know you have no choice but to answer a challenge, and that to appear weak in any way is to invite death. But here, you need to be smart. Fighting Orna was stupid. She wants you dead.”
“I know. But why? Is this all because Tiernon is making me train with the imperius?”
Dark eyebrows draw together. “I think that’s between the three of you. What’s important is how you respond to her goading. One of our tenets may be courage, but another is strategy. I know you can scheme—I’ve seen and heard it.”
“Very inspirational,” an amused voice says, and Lucius goes still. Behind his shoulder, Rorrik leans against the stone wall, a predatory light in his eyes.
What is he even doing here? For someone with so many responsibilities, he spends a suspicious amount of time skulking around the ludus.
Lucius turns, bowing low. Rorrik gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to do the same, and I lower my head, secretly cussing him.
“Die, die, die, die, die,”I chant, wishing my thoughts alone could make his head explode.
“No.”Rorrik’s voice is soft and silky. It’s the stroke of a hand across fur, the nuzzle of lips against warm skin.
My entire body turns blazingly hot and then icy cold.
He’s in my head. The emperor’s son is in my head.
I recoil, slamming my back against the wall. Rorrik gives me a wicked smile, while Lucius slowly rises with a frown.
“Still here.”
