I leap over the cracked remnants of the next bench, sweeping the crossbow from my shoulder. Higher. I have to get just a little higher.
The smartest thing for the guards to do would be to wait for reinforcements.
But this could just be the first wave of a series of attacks.
If they wait much longer, they could get pinned down.
I have to get as high as possible, so I can escape from one of the exits at the top level.
If I get caught anywhere else in the arena after killing the emperor, I'm dead.
An explosion sounds from outside the arena, and the stands lurch, shoving me off-balance. I trip, catching myself on one hand. Sharp pain shoots through my wrist as my hand takes the brunt of my fall.
The edge of the crossbow hits the stone floor. Terror punches into me and I brace, sucking in a breath. But either the aether bombs are less fragile than they look, or it's blind luck that I'm still breathing.
My entire body trembles, and I wrestle with the fear.
Move. Don't you dare miss this chance.
The stands stretch out in front of me, and I climb higher and higher, forced to scramble over and under rubble, around bodies and the remnants of bodies.
I'm almost at the top when I see a tiny hand, sticking out from a huge block of concrete. My eyes burn, the unfairness of it choking me, and I move faster, driving forward, fresh rage powering my every lunge.
By the time I reach the highest level, I'm dizzy with fatigue, panting, twisting, lifting the crossbow and aiming it at the guards circling the emperor. Two of them are barely on their feet. Calena has been keeping them occupied.
If I live through this, perhaps one day I'll thank her.
"Come on …"
I see the moment the guard in the front decides to move.
My finger caresses the trigger, and I wait, holding my breath.
The first guards make it to the halfway point. Two more join him, their swords out, eyes wild.
The emperor steps farther into the arena, giving me a clear shot.
My finger tightens on the trigger. Pure, unadulterated triumph fills my veins.
Neris reaches the emperor's side, sword in her hand. Her black curls have escaped her braid, and they explode around her face as she marches next to him, her eyes narrowed, intent.
Neris, who makes Maeva blush. Makes her eyes shine. Neris, who came with me to save Leon. Neris, who silently cried next to me when Lucius died, but still took the time to make me feel better.
The urge to fire becomes all-encompassing.
But I know this need. This impulse. I've been fighting it since I first made my deal with Bran.
My hand shakes, and my finger twitches. I pant, sweat, shudder … and slowly place the crossbow on the ground.
No. No, I would never kill Neris. Not even if it meant killing Vallius Corvus. This place hasn't twisted me that much. Not yet.
The emperor disappears into the smoke, and I lose my chance to kill him.
"How is it that you still defy me?"
Bran's voice slices through my ears, burrowing into my brain. My neck burns like fire, and I clasp my hand against it, dropping to my knees with a choked groan.
Of course he's behind this. I should have been watching for him the moment I realized the attackers were the vampire rebels.
Fighting the agony, I manage to raise my head. Slowly, Bran skulks toward me, his eyes slitted. He does something to twist the pain, making it burn even deeper, and I gasp through it, falling to my back.
"Wh-what are you doing, Bran? You said you wanted to give your people the sun. You think anyone will feel sympathy for the rebels after you've killed so many? Why risk this?"
His expression turns sly. "Because as soon as the emperor is dead, his son will take the throne."
I writhe, skin scraping against the stone beneath me. Gods, it hurts. "How does that help?" I gasp. "Rorrik is unhinged."
A smug smile. "Not that son."
"Tiernon doesn't want to rule."
"Not him either." The words are dripping with satisfaction.
The worst of the pain eases, but my mind is slow, sluggish, as if a fog has descended, smothering my thoughts before they form.
"Y-you?"
Bran lifts his head, chest puffing out. "A bastard son Vallius never acknowledged, forced to take my place through desperate schemes, instead of receiving what I'm owed. An heir who is sacrificing everything to fight for his people."
I stare at his face, but for the life of me, I can't see any hint of resemblance to Tiernon and Rorrik.
"In what world would you be the one who became emperor?"
The Bran I met all those months ago would have looked down his nose at me, slashing out with his words. This Bran turns with a growl, kicking out at the stone wall behind him. The impact cracks the stone.
My hands begin to tremble. He's losing control. Slowly, I stumble to my feet, the world swaying as I battle vertigo.
The pieces begin to fall into place in my mind. "That's why you made me wait to target the emperor until the Sundering Ball. Not because of the Sundering itself, but because that was the day the emperor removed Rorrik as his appointed successor."
Bran smirks. I take a shaky step back, toward the crossbow. The mark on my neck flares as if rebelling at the mere suggestion of doing Bran harm. I can't kill him while I'm still bonded to him.
I'm all alone. Trapped with a vampire insane enough to work with rebels to attack the emperor's arena. A vampire sane enough to create plans within plans—all of which have led to this moment.
My only chance is to buy time. "Tiernon!" I call, pushing everything I have into my silent scream. "Tiernon! I need you!"
Can he even reach me in time? The arena is little more than rubble, the seats below us almost impossible to climb.
"I don't understand," I tell Bran.
Keep him talking. Keep him talking. Keep him talking.
"Anyone!" I roar, attempting to keep my expression blank.
Bran leans against the wall at his back. "Vallius is furious with his sons. One of them wants him dead so he can take his place, while the other wants him dead so he can be free to live as he wishes. Neither of them shows the gratitude and respect he believes he deserves."
"And the new law would make it possible for you to take the throne. But I still don't understand why the emperor would change the rules of succession."
Behind me, something explodes in the arena.
I flinch, but Bran doesn't react, his gaze still on mine.
"He's considering breeding with his mistress.
He understands the mistakes he made by creating one son who rivals him for power, and one who is far too popular among both the imperius and Praesidium Guard.
If his sons ever worked together, this empire would be theirs.
Thankfully, they hate each other even more than they hate their father. So it will be mine instead."
"What makes you believe you could hold the throne?"
Bran stalks closer and I skitter away. He swipes my crossbow from the ground, waving it teasingly. "Because unlike my father, I will give the vampires the sun. And in gratitude, they will give me an empire."
If not for his descent into madness, I might believe Bran could actually do it.
Looking at him now … he could never take and keep the throne.
His skin no longer has the flawless quality typical of vampires.
His veins are visible beneath the surface of his pallid skin, pulsing with a sickly, blue-gray hue, while his cheeks have sunk in, until his cheekbones cast harsh shadows over his face.
His eyes once made me shiver when he looked at me with that cold, predatory intensity.
Now, they're bloodshot, encircled with dark bruises.
Bran snarls at my silence. "You doubt me?"
Agony blazes through my body, unrelenting, stealing the breath from my lungs, the strength from my muscles. Dimly, I'm aware of hitting the ground, my head meeting stone with a dull thunk.
He stalks toward me, and the world darkens at the edges, until his face is all I can see. Panic and pain merge, twisting my insides. I can feel the remaining minutes of my life counting down. But Bran has always loved the sound of his own voice.
Just keep him talking.
"Why me?" My voice is little more than a groan, my nerves on fire. "Why choose me to kill your father?"
"I knew Tiernon wouldn't be able to stay away from you. Not after he spent years sneaking into the Thorn to be with you."
The worst of the agony recedes, and I swipe at the wetness beneath my nose. Blood. Whatever Bran is doing with our bond … it's slowly killing me.
Wait.
Sneaking into the Thorn.
Bran's words make it through the fog in my mind. The day we met, he told me he'd watched me fight. It was one of the first things he said to me all those months ago, and yet I didn't pay attention, too focused on refusing his deal.
The last time I'd fought before the Sundering was during the Sands. Bran watched me fight. Watched Kassia die.
"You were stalking me before I ever stepped into the arena."
"No one paid attention to me," Bran snaps.
"But the emperor's sons? The ones he acknowledged?
They ignored me as if I didn't even exist. So I followed Tiernon to the Thorn.
I watched and waited. For years. Then, when the time was right, I made sure the emperor learned just where his son was disappearing to.
And that Tiernon was spending time with a sigilmarked whore who lived in the city's slum. "
A hollow ache spreads below my ribs. All that pain. The years I spent alone. Tiernon's torture. All of it, because of Bran.
"Why didn't you tell the emperor who I was?"