“I’ve got it,” I choked out.
Naro settled back into bed. I pulled the covers up around him. Even asleep, the tremors racked his hands and arms, even the small muscles of his face.
Pythoraseed. A horrible drug. It was worse to see the way it had consumed and destroyed his threads than it was to see it in his body alone.
Seconds ticked by as I stood beside him. Atrius watched silently.
Then, he said, “Come.”
“I’ll stay here.”
“Staring at him won’t do anything.”
There was something in his voice, something tender and a little painful, that made Erekkus’s words float through my mind:
We know what this feels like.
“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Business.”
I swallowed thickly. Turned. “Fine.”
26
Atrius led me to his bedchamber. Unlike in Alka, he didn’t take the warlord’s room this time—mostly because Tarkan’s was covered in blood and guts. Instead, he’d chosen a more private, smaller apartment on the top floor of the castle. It was separate from the rooms of his closest advisors and guards. A good example of his arrogance—he was totally unconcerned by potential threats.
When I first met him, I would’ve seen this as a weakness, nothing more than hubris. Now… I had to admit, it seemed like it would take a truly incredible assassin to end Atrius.
This thought floated through my mind before I remembered that I was supposed to be this assassin.
The heavy curtains were drawn in Atrius’s room, leaving the chamber dim, lit only by a fire and several lanterns.
After Naro’s explosively emotional presence, Atrius’s wall seemed even thicker than ever.
“You need healing,” I said. “I’m sorry, I—”
But Atrius just shook his head. He gestured to one of the armchairs by the fire, and I sat.
He went to the table and retrieved a ceramic cup. He held it out to me, and when I just stared at it, he took my wrist, lifted it, and pressed the warm mug into my hands.
“Tea,” he said. “Apparently expensive. Tarkan liked it.”
He didn’t let go of the cup, his hands over mine.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m tired.”
He did not believe me. But he let me go and took a seat on the other armchair, anyway.
For a very long, very awkward moment, neither of us spoke.
“Drink it,” he said. “You’ve barely eaten or drank in two days.”
I laughed flatly. “You’re keeping track.”
“It’s impossible not to notice everything, with you.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him. But it was not that.
I took a sip of the tea because I didn’t know what else to do. It was a little bitter and a little sweet, and just the right amount of hot.
It was, I had to admit, nice.
“A brother,” Atrius said. “Yes?”
Weaver, how did he know?
“He looks like you,” he said, answering my unasked question. “And he called you that name. Vivi.”
The corner of my mouth twitched with a sad smile. Odd to hear Atrius say it, his accent rolling over those two sharp syllables.
“That was my name before the Arachessen,” I said. “Long time ago.”
“It suits you.”
“I didn’t—I didn’t know he was alive.”
The words slipped out without my permission. Maybe I meant them more for myself than for Atrius.
It’s not your fault he ended up this way.
You didn’t know he was alive.
Atrius picked up another mug, but he didn’t drink from it, just held it in his lap. “I’ve heard,” he said, “that the Arachessen take their recruits as young children.”
“I was… older than most. They almost didn’t take me because of it. Ten.”
“That is still very young for humans,” he murmured. “Isn’t it?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
The last day—days? Had it been days?—had been a blur. For the first time since the attack—since finding Naro—I allowed myself to think back to it. Funny how two days ago, the idea of seeing Tarkan dead was so exhilarating. In reality, I’d barely glanced at his body. And I’d paid no attention at all to the rest of Atrius’s takeover. Totally abandoned the role I was supposed to play.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been present—”
Atrius just raised his hand.
“You knew Tarkan,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. Atrius, I’d come to realize, did not ask questions. He made demands or statements. In between, he’d quietly gather information.
Sometimes too much of it.
I hesitated with the tea halfway to my lips. Then took a sip.
The more I showed him, the more he would trust me. I told myself this and ignored the tiny part of myself who found an odd comfort in sharing these things with him.
“I grew up in Vasai,” I said. “I never met Tarkan personally. But… I was a child during the Pythora Wars. I saw him make his takeover.”
I thought back to our attack. To the moment Atrius had Tarkan’s throat, and he still hesitated, giving me that shot.
“You were going to let me be the one to kill him,” I said. “Why?”
His eyes slipped to the fire. “I could see that you wanted it. And you deserved it.”
He said it simply, like it was fact. And I hated that this flooded me with—with—what, affection? Gratefulness?
It shouldn’t have. Yes, he was right, I desired revenge. But that was a vice. It was no great kindness that he had offered me.
Still… it meant something, even if I wished it didn’t.
Atrius set the cup aside and leaned forward, his forearms on his knees.
“You may have gathered by now,” he said, “that my people have had a… fraught history.”
“You mean the House of Blood’s curse.”
Perhaps he flinched at that. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight.
He hesitated before saying, “That was the start. Nyaxia’s spiteful curse, two thousand years ago. But… my people have endured far more than my kingdom’s suffering.” His face hardened briefly, then his gaze fell back to me. “Humans may believe that vampires don’t understand what powerlessness feels like. And for many, maybe that’s true. But those that follow me do. We understand loss. And we know that it is the worst kind of powerlessness.”
The words were stilted. But the meaning behind them was softer than I knew what to do with.
I cleared my throat.
“You said you wanted to talk business,” I said. “How long do you intend to stay in Vasai?”
Atrius blinked, as if caught off guard by the change of subject.
“Not long,” he replied. “A week or two. Then we will move on to Karisine.”
It stood to reason that Atrius would want to move quickly. We were getting closer now to the Pythora King—his ultimate goal. And Karisine was the next major city-state standing between us and the north.