Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LYRIANA

The pine trees and the horizons of Glemaria were still cloaked in the black shadows of night, but the snow tipped mountain caps were just beginning to glow beneath the red-orange light of sunrise. I looked over Gryphon’s Mount, my entire body sore and aching. We were still flying. I’d spent the entire night awake.

Rhyan’s still head lay in my lap, his breathing labored and loud through his twice broken nose. Both of his eyes were blue and purple with bruising, and an inflamed cut above his left eye had begun to scab. I ran my fingers through his hair. His curls were soft, but had elongated into waves from my stroking them all night. I’d been hoping some of the Valalumir’s magic would escape my binds, but my magic had been stuck inside of me.

Beside us Meera sat, her bound body stiff while one of Aiden’s conjured fires floated between us. It had kept us from freezing all night. Not long after we’d escaped the cave, we’d landed at an outpost. Three sentries surrounded the gryphon, their swords pointed at us as Aiden and Dario went inside to relieve themselves and make their reports.

But once we were airborne again, we hadn’t stopped. I expected we would have arrived hours earlier. But the akadim attack had left the gryphon’s wings injured, and our flight had been slow and laborious.

A sudden drop of my stomach told me we were descending, and sure enough, the gray towers of Seathorne came into view, rising above the mountain. I shifted my hand to Rhyan’s chest, my fingers grasping at the strap of his sword belt, desperately trying to keep him close. And to keep myself from panicking. With the appearance of the turrets protruding from Imperator Hart’s fortress, all lingering hopes of escape were dashed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the wind blowing snow into my face, until the gryphon’s paws hit the courtyard, offering a clear view of the stone promenade of Seathorne.

Rhyan stirred from the impact.

“Lyr?” he murmured, one eye barely opened.

“Hey,” I said, trying to smile.

He struggled to sit up, and forced both eyes open. He looked awful, and I knew he was in far more pain than he was willing to admit. His fingers wiggled at his sides beneath the crisscross of ropes around his arms, as his jaw set, his expression fully alert.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes already scanning the scene before us.

I shook my head. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said gruffly, then stilled, taking in the towers before us. His mouth tightened, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he watched Dario and Aiden. They were huddled together by the gryphon’s shoulders, staring cautiously back at us. Aiden’s hand was on his stave, the point aimed in our direction. But they were too far to hear our whispers.

“Fuck. We don’t have time,” he said urgently. “Listen carefully. You cannot trust my father. Whatever he wants from you, you must refuse. Whatever kind of deal he tries to make, Lyr swear to me, you will not accept.”

I bit my lip. The last time I’d seen his father he’d tried to force a bargain. In exchange for the key to Asherah’s tomb, the key to my magic power, he’d wanted me to come to him here, to bring Rhyan back under his authority. And he’d wanted me to marry Arkturion Kane. When I’d refused Imperator Hart’s offer, he’d nearly crushed my hand.

Now we were here, exactly as he’d wanted.

Fighting wouldn’t be an option. Not a fair one, anyway. The battle would be political, and steeped in legalities. I was still a noblewoman of Ka Batavia. But that was worth less than it ever had been while my father’s murderer sat on his Seat. My only other political advantage came from my forced engagement to Viktor Kormac—Imperator Kormac’s Heir Apparent. I was only a ceremony away from becoming the grand-niece by law to the Emperor. Imperator Hart couldn’t interfere with that. But the only way I could use it in my favor would be to surrender myself to Imperator Kormac.

Then I’d be married to Viktor.

Over my dead body.

“Lyr, please,” Rhyan begged. “Swear to me. A bargain with my father is worse than one with the Afeya. You don’t …” His throat bobbed. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. He’ll separate us, and he’ll hurt you. It won’t just be physical. He’ll come after you with any ammunition he can find.” He sighed. “He’ll use me and Meera against you.”

I shook my head. I already knew that. “I might have no other option. What am I supposed to do if your life’s at stake?”

“Let me protect you. And protect Meera. Let me be the one to keep you safe. Remember, I escaped before. I will do it again, and I will make sure you’re both with me. I will get you both out, I swear I will, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“No,” I said. “Don’t talk like that. We stay together. We leave together.”

Rhyan nodded, his fingers dancing against my palm. “We stay together.”

Dario and Aiden stopped talking, and began descending from the gryphon, motioning to the growing presence of the soturi who surrounded us.

“Do not admit anything to him, okay? He knows we were on Gryphon’s Mount—he knows we were at the tomb—Dario will have reported us. But everything else that has happened since—including that you have magic now and that you can—” His eyes dipped to my heart, his mouth tight. “He can’t know.”

I nodded, my eyes darting to Dario.

“He …” Rhyan looked pained over what he had to say next. “He won’t just hurt you. He’ll find pleasure in it. Don’t show strength. Be meek. The more of a threat he sees, the harder he’ll work to break you.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t he already know that I’m Asherah?”

Rhyan’s eyes closed slowly, and he winced. His father had never said the words directly, but he’d told Rhyan once I’d have a dangerous power that needed to be controlled. If he knew that, what were the odds that he also knew Rhyan was Auriel? I suspected that was the true reason he’d kept him alive all these years, the real reason he wanted him back.

“We can’t help what he knows,” Rhyan said. “But we certainly won’t offer confirmation. Nor will we give him anything more.”

I nodded.

“Hey!” Dario yelled. “Enough.”

I made a point of snapping my mouth shut as I glared at Dario.

He sneered, pulling his dark curls off his face and tying them back with a leather strap. The echo of boots marching across the courtyard sounded, and I braced myself.

But instead of the violent hands of a soturion hauling me to the ground, a rough, elderly voice, thick with a Glemarian accent shouted. “Rhyan? L-Lord Rhyan? Is it you?”

Rhyan stilled, his face even paler than before as he turned to look at the elderly man. He wore dirty gray coveralls, and had marched straight through the wall of soturi standing guard. He carried a large bucket with the distinct scent of raw meat clinging to it.

“Artem,” Rhyan rasped.

“The hell happened?” Artem shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to come back,” he said quietly.

“Artem,” Dario reprimanded. “We sent for you to attend to the gryphon, not make small talk. It’s too fucking early.”

“Aye, well, maybe choose a different time of arrival,” he snapped. “Lord Dario.” He lowered his chin and slapped his knee. Moving toward the gryphon’s head, he cooed, calling him a good boy before he laid down his bucket. “Poor beast,” he muttered, his hand gentle on one of the injured wings. But his eyes were on Rhyan as he asked softly, “What happened to him?”

The gryphon flattened himself to the ground and eagerly attacked his breakfast.

“Akadim,” Dario said, securing the gryphon’s rope to an anchor.

“He’s hurt,” Artem said, his eyes still on Rhyan, and full of sympathy.

“The gryphon is,” Dario said pointedly. “Hence why you were sent for.”

Rhyan’s breath came out ragged, watching the old man.

“You know him?” I asked Rhyan quietly.

His throat bobbed and he nodded. “Stables master,” he muttered. “Taught me how to work with gryphons—with all the animals.”

Artem returned to the gryphon’s face, running a soothing hand over his beak. A wave of sadness washed over me as I realized everything Rhyan had lost. His home, his family and Ka, his friends, his teachers.

I squashed the thoughts as the sentries began pulling us off the gryphon to the ground.

“Hey,” Rhyan shouted. “She’s bound, she’s no threat to you.”

“Fuck off.” The soturion gripping me squeezed my arm even tighter.

My eyes burned, but I kept my head up straight.

“Inside,” Aiden ordered.

Soturi in black leathered armor, all bearing the silver gryphon across their torso flanked us. We were quickly separated from each other, and marched from the promenade through the front hall of Seathorne.

The inner walls were just as plain and modest-looking as the outside. The hall was grand only in scale, with ceilings several stories high, intimidating in their structural height, possibly originally sized for gryphons.

As we were ushered deeper into the hall, I found more paintings of gryphons and sculptures lining the walls of Seathorne. The soturi pushed us between two silver statues–both life-sized and grandiose.

“Against the wall,” sneered a soturion, shoving Meera back. Three men guarded each of us—all flanked by a dozen more soturi of Ka Hart, poised and ready, their daggers out.

“My name is Lady Meera Batavia,” Meera said, her voice full of the affect of an Heir Apparent. “I have done nothing to deserve this ill treatment. I demand an audience with His Highness at once.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” her captor snorted.

“Then unhand me,” Meera said. “He’ll be displeased to see me like this.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Dario said. “All three are wanted by His Highness.”

Meera opened her mouth again, but was quickly silenced as her soturion grabbed her shoulders.

“Now no trouble from you,” said the man before me, and before I could muster a response, he slammed my cheek into the stone wall.

“Get your hands off her!” Rhyan growled. He was instinctively moving toward me, but his guard slammed his entire body back.

“No! He’s hurt,” I said. “Can’t you see his face? He’s bound! You don’t have to shove.”

“I’m about to shove myself into you just to shut you up.” A rough hand gripped my neck, turning me around and pushing my face against the wall. The stone scraped against my cheek. Another hand ran over my body, and I tensed, my heart thumping. I could hear the unclicking of my belt buckle, and the sudden lightness around my chest and shoulders as my armor was unclasped between my bindings.

No. No.

I squeezed my eyes shut hearing the snap of every buckle, and each subsequent closure come undone. Each one seemed to echo. Piece by piece, my armor, my belt, sword, dagger, and knives hit the ground.

Powerless, I pressed my cheek to the cold stone, trying to keep my entire body from shaking. But I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop remembering Vrukshire. I strained against the ropes, desperate to claw my way out.

Then my captor clapped his hand against my hip, and I froze, my eyes watering. There was nothing more he could remove from my body beyond my clothing. He’d already threatened me. Heart pounding, I waited. He moved closer and closer. Suddenly, my hip warmed beneath his touch, his fingers squeezing me with propriety.

My breath came short.

We’re going to fuck your girl. We’re going to do it until you get here.

No! No! No!

“Partner.”

I opened my eyes and found Rhyan’s face a few inches from mine, also smashed against the wall, his swords strewn at his feet. I wasn’t in Vrukshire. I wasn’t trapped by Brockton, or Brett, or Geoffrey, or Trey. There were no wolves here.

But we weren’t free. Not even close.

“Breathe,” Rhyan mouthed. “Breathe.”

I did, meeting his eyes. I sucked in a breath just as I was hauled backward. Weaponless and relieved of my armor, I was dragged beside Rhyan and Meera down the halls of Seathorne.

To Imperator Hart’s Seating Room.

Dread built in the pit of my stomach when we finally stopped before a set of looming double doors. A gryphon with his wings outstretched had been carved into the wood. A sentry, the herald I supposed, stood in the center and stepped aside upon our arrival, speaking quietly with Dario who shared our names and titles. The herald’s eyes swept across Rhyan’s beaten face, his lips lifting into a smug smile that I wanted to punch.

But Rhyan hadn’t noticed. He looked lost, his eyes haunted like he was imagining the last time he’d been in there. Then he snapped to attention, his gaze focused on me.

A soturion I hadn’t noticed before moved suddenly out of the shadows, smirking at Rhyan. “Welcome back, Your Grace,” he jeered.

Rhyan growled low in his throat, his jaw tightening, then suddenly, he paled and turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed. “Lyr, I’m sorry.”

I shook my head.

The doors opened, and the herald announced our names as an aura powered with a hurricane-like force flowed into the hall. And then, we entered Imperator Hart’s Seating Room.