“Do it, Elias!” she says. “Before Marcus comes to!”
Then she sees that I’m guarding the girl instead of killing her, and she makes a strange, choked sound. The crowd is silent, holding its breath.
“Don’t do this, Elias,” she says. “Not now. We’re almost there. You’ll be Emperor. Foretold. Please, Elias, think of what you could do for—for the Empire—”
“I told you there’s a line I’m not crossing.” I feel strangely calm as I say it, calmer than I’ve felt in weeks. Laia’s eyes shift from Helene to me rapidly.
“This is that line. I won’t kill her.”
Helene picks up the scim. “Then step aside,” she says. “I’ll do it. I’ll make it quick.” She moves toward me slowly, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Elias,” she says. “She’s going to die no matter what you do. The Empire’s decreed it. If you or I don’t do it, Marcus will—he’ll wake up eventually. We can end this before he does. If she has to die, at least something good will come of it. I’ll be Empress. You’ll be Blood Shrike.” She takes another step.
“I know you don’t want rulership,” she says softly. “Or lordship over the Black Guard. I didn’t understand before. But I—I do now. So if you let me take care of this, I vow, by blood and by bone, that the second I’m named Empress, I’ll release you from your oaths to the Empire. You can go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. You’ll be beholden to no one. You’ll be free.”
I’ve been watching her body, waiting for her muscles to tense in preparation for the attack, but now my eyes snap to hers. You’ll be free. The only thing I’ve ever wanted and she’s handing it to me on a silver platter with a vow I know she’d never break.
For a brief, terrible moment, I consider it. I want it more than anything I’ve wanted in my life. I see myself sailing out of port at Navium, leaving for the southern kingdoms, where no one and nothing have a claim over my body or my soul.
Well, my body, anyway. Because if I allow Helene to kill Laia, I won’t have a soul.
“If you want to kill her,” I say to Helene, “you’ll have to kill me first.”
A tear snakes down her face, and for a second, I see through her eyes. She wants this so badly, and it’s no enemy keeping it from her. It’s me.
We are everything to each other. And I’m betraying her. Again.
Then I hear a thud—the unmistakable sound of steel sinking into flesh.
Behind me, Laia pitches forward so suddenly that the Augur falls with her, her hands still pinning the girl’s limp arms. Laia’s hair is a storm around her, but I can’t see her face, her eyes.
“No! Laia!” I’m down beside her, shaking her, trying to turn her over. But I can’t get the damned Augur off her, because the woman is shaking in terror, her robes tangled with Laia’s skirts. Laia is silent, her body limp as a rag doll’s.
I spot the hilt of a dagger that’s fallen to the dais, the rapidly widening pool of blood spilling out of her. No one can lose that much blood and live.
Marcus.
Too late I see him standing at the back of the stage. Too late I realize that Helene and I should have killed him, that we shouldn’t have risked him waking up.
The explosion of sound that follows Laia’s death staggers me. Thousands of voices yell at once. Grandfather bellows louder than a gored bull.
Marcus jumps onto the dais, and I know he’s coming for me. I want him to come. I want to crush the life out of him for what he’s done.
I feel Cain’s hand on my arm, restraining me. Then the gates to the amphitheater burst open. Marcus jerks his head around, shocked into stillness as a foam-coated stallion gallops through the doors of the stadium. The legionnaire riding him slides to the ground, landing on his feet as the beast rears beside him.
“The Emperor,” the legionnaire says. “The Emperor is dead! Gens Taia has fallen!”
“When?” The Commandant cuts in. There’s not an ounce of shock on her face. “How?”
“A Resistance attack, sir. He was killed en route to Serra, only a day from the city. He and all who were with him. Even—even children.”
Waiting vines circle and strangle the oak. The way is made clear, just before the end. That was the foretelling the Commandant spoke of in her office weeks ago, and now it suddenly makes sense. The vines are the Resistance.
The oak is the Emperor.