His eyes lighten, and he nods. “In that case, come with me.”
THE IMPERIUS QUARTERSare quiet, but Tiernon doesn’t linger in the common room. Instead, he leads me down the long hall, opening a door on the left.
“Wow.” We’re standing in a separate living area complete with a fire—I have no idea howthatworks so far underground—and a kitchen I doubt he’s ever used. Vampires need to eat to maintain their ideal strength, but they’ll only truly starve if they lack enough blood.
Curiosity wars with annoyance, and curiosity wins. I let myself wander, taking in three separate bedrooms and …
“Outside.”
Like Rorrik, Tiernon has access to his own outdoor space. While Rorrik’s space is a forest that shouldn’t be able to exist given this ludus is in the middle of the city, Tiernon’s space is a well-maintained garden, the flowers planted in neat rows.
Tiernon opens the glass door. It’s still sunny outside, but the same thick, aether-protected tiles from the arena arch over his door, casting a long shadow that protects the room from the sun.
I’d give anything to feel the sun on my face. And I’ve only been without it for weeks. What must it be like for Tiernon?
“Go,” he says softly. “I’ll wait here.”
He’s looking at me the same way he used to when we were young, before we ever kissed. With a mixture of fondness and longing.
I don’t hesitate. Despite the frost still melting on the ground, the sun is warm on my cheeks. Senthara will never provide the true warmth I crave—it’s too far south for that—but even in the middle of Lunius, the sky is a clear, vivid blue.
I inhale a greedy lungful of greenery.
“You always loved the sun,” Tiernon says from the shadows behind me.
I turn. “So did you.”
He gives a languid shrug. But I remember the horror he lived with when he could no longer sit on the highest branches of our tree. When he could no longer turn his face up to the warmth of the sun. The knowledge of what he was losing had made the sacrifice worse.
“We need to talk,” Tiernon says, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs behind the glass door. He leaves it open, so we can at least enjoy the cool, fresh air.
I sit. May as well get this over with. “I can … mindpath.”
Tiernon’s brows dip. “Impossible.”
“Nope.”
“Go on then.” His voice is laced with challenge—just as it was so many times when we spurred each other on as children, each of our dares more audacious than the last.
I focus. How did I do this with Rorrik? It wasn’t intentional. It was as if I was attempting to drill a hole through his skull and into his thoughts with my own mind.
I strain, but all I do is give myself a headache. Tiernon’s expression flickers. Is that … disappointment?
“I can do it. I swear. I did it with Rorrik.”
His eyes turn cool. “You mindpathed withRorrik.”
I frown at him. He can’t possibly be jealous of the emperor’s ruthless son. Can he?
Tiernon leans back in his chair. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I think … I think maybe Antigrus gave me this power? I don’t know why. And I don’t know how. Have you ever heard of maginari giving sigilmarked their powers?”
A shake of his head. “Never. I’ll look into it, but in the meantime …”
“Keep it to myself. Believe me, I know.”
We’re both quiet, and I feel suddenly awkward. Perhaps I should go …
