Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LYRIANA

The Seating Room of Imperator Hart was cold, sterile, and plainly decorated, with little more than rows of benches made of simple wood to fill the space. It reminded me of the hall. Not adorned with jewels, or anything ornate. It was not befitting of the fortress of an Imperator, save for the fact that it was large and expansive. The gryphons, both real and carved, had been the emphasis in the fortress entrance, the symbol of Ka Hart’s power. I thought this room meant to convey the same. With the exception of green tapestries, each adorned with the silver sigil of Ka Hart, the walls were bare. The layout and simplicity of the room forced my attention ahead—and that’s when I realized the true aim of the decor. To make the one point of interest the dais and the Seat, to force everyone’s attention onto its occupant.

Imperator Hart.

His dark beard was neatly trimmed, his eyes amused, dancing with the vicious cruelty I’d come to expect from him. He wore his golden Laurel of the Arkasva, and the black cloak with the golden border that marked him as Imperator. The hilt of his sword gleamed as did the Valalumirs on the straps of his soturion belt. The sun remained faint as it began to snow again outside, but the torchlights made him glow, highlighting every ornament of his power.

Only one thing was missing from his array of adornments—the red key to Asherah’s tomb. The key Rhyan had stolen.

The closer we got to the Imperator, the harder my pulse thrummed. Beyond the lack of decor, the room was unnaturally empty. No nobility. Not even Imperator Hart’s personal guards were present. Which meant only one thing—he didn’t want witnesses.

My heart beat harder, my rage and fear beginning to boil and fester in my gut.

Rhyan had been walking beside me, his steps keeping pace, but as we made our way to the foot of the dais, and the air thickened with his father’s power, he pushed ahead of our guard. His hands clenched at his sides, his body angled protectively in front of me and Meera. A movement his father’s eyes clocked, but immediately ignored as he nodded to Aiden and Dario who both bowed low.

“Lord Aiden.” Imperator Hart’s voice was deep. “Lord Dario. Rise.” Then with a flick of his eyes, he disdainfully added, “I understand bindings make bowing and curtseying difficult. But it does not excuse you from such formalities.” He coughed, leaning forward, his eyes narrowed as Meera and I made attempts to curtsey. Rhyan however remained standing upright. But the Imperator ignored Rhyan. Instead, he gestured for Aiden and Dario to join him at the base of the dais.

They stepped forward with straight backs, and in unison uttered, “Your Highness.”

Imperator Hart’s lips lifted into an unamused smile. “I did not expect the capturing of a reckless, weak forsworn, and a powerless girl would require such effort. Nonetheless, you two shall be rewarded for your services.” He leaned forward even further, his hateful eyes finding mine before raking me up and down. “Welcome to Seathorne, Lady Lyriana. I am pleased to see you have found your way here. It seems you’ve taken up my offer to host you after all. A good thing. I didn’t spend as much time with you as I would have liked in Bamaria. I believe we had more important things to discuss. But our dance, if I remember,” his glare fell to Rhyan, “was quite rudely interrupted. You are blocking my view, Rhyan. Move aside.”

Rhyan shifted his weight between his feet, the only sign of his agitation, but he remained standing before me. The Imperator snapped his fingers. Suddenly Dario appeared next to Rhyan, and with a grunt, shoved him, leaving me directly in Imperator Hart’s eyeline.

I sucked in a breath, watching as Rhyan’s hands fisted, his knuckles white with tension.

“Now my lady,” Imperator Hart continued, “as I was saying, I desired more time with you. Something we can now achieve.”

“I thought we’d spent more than enough time together,” I said, infusing as much sweetness as I could into my voice, but even I could hear the undertone of my hatred. “I had no idea I left you wanting.”

He made a noise low in his throat—something between amusement and disdain. “Your courtly charms are just as I remember, my lady. However,” he drummed his fingers against the Seat, “let me also remind you that as much as you do not wish to be here, plainly evident by the dour look on your face, I do not care. It will help your cause greatly by remembering that you’re in Seathorne now, not Bamaria. Such impudence may have been tolerated by your dead father, but you will address me as ‘Your Highness.’ Every time you speak.”

I glanced around the room, eying the tapestries. “Trust me, the … decor alone is enough reminder of where I am. Your Highness,” I practically spat.

“May I ask, how your grip is?” His voice was unsettling in its casualness. He was holding his hand up and stretching his fingers as if to demonstrate his meaning—as if I couldn’t understand his words—or recall what he referenced. “Improved since last time?” he asked.

My fingers flexed uncomfortably, viscerally remembering the pain he caused at Arianna’s ball. Fucking bastard. He had no idea the strength I possessed now. I could throttle him right then.

But Rhyan turned to me, a swift warning in his expression, his head shaking.

I relaxed my hands at my sides.

“Perhaps not?” his father asked.

I lowered my chin, my insides boiling. But he had already moved his attention to Meera.

“Now, I did not expect to see you, Lady Meera. I have prayed for your safe return. A miracle that you stand before me now. May I ask?” His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “How is it you stole away from your captors alive? And … with your soul still intact?” He stroked his beard. “It’s been my understanding that if akadim take prisoners, those taken do not remain prisoners for long. And not because they find freedom.”

I tensed, and felt Rhyan’s body still beside me. We were getting into dangerous territory.

“I thank you for your prayers, Your Highness.” Meera smiled, speaking in a voice I’d heard her use a thousand times before in Bamaria—the practiced, calm voice of the Heir Apparent. But now there was a force behind her words, as if she were Arkasva. “They proved most effective by evidence of my being here. To answer your question, I admit, I was not conscious for most of my captivity. A miracle in and of itself to spare me of the many horrors I could have witnessed. I believe there was a plan in place for me, one that created a delay, and fortunately did not come to fruition. I was rescued first.”

“A plan. I see. And were you spared of all their … violence ?” His lips curled around the question.

Meera’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Your Highness.” She looked down at her body as if that were proof. “I sustained cuts and bruises. I was underfed, and left in horrid conditions and squalor for days. But no lasting physical harm. Thank the Gods.”

“Truly? They did nothing else to you?” His eyes sparkled. “Nothing more intimately violent?”

“Your Highness?” Meera asked, her voice suddenly high.

“Did they rape you?” he asked bluntly.

Meera’s mouth fell open. I felt like I’d been punched. The fact that he would ask so crudely with so much obvious excitement eking off his aura. Even Dario looked offended.

“Well?” Imperator Hart asked, now impatient.

“They did not,” Meera said, her voice shaking with anger.

He tilted his head to the side, not even bothering to feign his disappointment at her response. “A relief. And your sister? Lady Morgana? I see she is not here with you. Am I to assume that she remains in captivity? Or … worse?”

I took a deep breath, at least I tried to. Meera, however, seemed to be keeping her composure under Imperator Hart’s glare.

Meera nodded. “When I last saw my sister, she had suffered no more than myself. We were kept apart, though in similar conditions.” Her voice hardened. “Soturion Rhyan and Lady Lyriana did all they could in their rescue, and they deserve all of the honor afforded them for saving me. But despite their efforts we could not rescue her. Not yet. Morgana was held under greater security. I pray her situation remains stable, and I pray even more deeply for her rescue as soon as possible.”

“I pray to the Gods as well.” He smirked. “Fortunate that you found their favor. Who can say why a God, or Goddess may save one life, but not the other.” His eyes bore into me. “Surely, Imperator Kormac’s soturi, and the legions under the Ready’s command will soon find success. At least, I pray so. But for now, you are quite a long way from home. Correct me if I am wrong, my lady, but your abduction was from Cresthaven, was it not? How is it that you came to be in Glemaria?” He sat back, his fingers steepled below his chin. “You see, a crime was committed in these lands by my son, and your sister. And I must know, were you also present for it? For their theft on my property? Or was your entire kidnapping some sort of elaborate ruse? An excuse for them to come and steal from me?”

Meera’s lips tightened. “I was not present, nor am I aware, of any crimes having been committed. As for your accusation of my kidnapping being a ruse?” She scoffed, expressing her offense, and somehow conveying the ridiculousness of his question. “I can assure you it was not. I was brutally taken from Cresthaven, our escorts fell defending us. I know they’ll bear witness. I was brought to Glemaria by my captors.”

Imperator Hart nodded. “And yet, you survived long travel with the akadim. With no lasting harm, nor more intimate forms of violence. Forgive me, but this is most unusual behavior for the demons. Your story is … well … almost unbelievable.”

“It’s the truth,” Meera said.

“Of course. But I must ask these questions so I can present your case to my Council. Now your rescue, what day was that?”

“I …” Meera balked. She knew Godsdamned well that her rescue had occurred only hours after the “crime” he was referring to. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. What day was I rescued? It’s been only a few days,” she said, and I knew she wasn’t sure how to play this. “Forgive me. I’ve been disoriented from my ordeal.”

“Perhaps I can help you remember,” he said gently. “You were rescued a week ago. Exactly a week and a day ago.”

I stiffened. He’d known. He’d known this whole fucking time. The nahashim had been spying all along. Gods. Was it a miracle we’d spent so many days evading capture, or had he been baiting us this entire time? He’d had hundreds of soturi searching for us. Why, if he knew where we were? Unless they weren’t supposed to find us.

“Did that help, Lady Meera?” His nose crinkled, his expression full of derision. “Do you remember now?”

“Y-yes. It’s been a week and a day.”

Imperator Hart stroked his beard. “So, after your kidnapping, and your ordeal of terror and hunger, and the knowledge of some murky akadim plan that had not yet come to pass—one that involves your dear sister who is still in captivity—you …?” He shrugged, frowning. “Help me understand, my lady. Because if I were in your shoes, I’d have come straight here, come straight to an Imperator with legions at his beck and call. I would have asked for soturi to aid in my sister’s rescue and return. I would have alerted my country and Ka to the fact that I was alive and safe. After being hurt and starved, I would have sought shelter, medical attention, and nutrition. All things I can provide here. All things that you as a noblewoman would have been entitled to. And yet …” He eyed her up and down. “You did none of those things.”

“I was weak,” Meera said. I could see her flailing as she tried to remain composed. “As I said, I was starved. I needed time to recover. And to—”

“To hide with your criminal sister and my forsworn son?”

“To rest. They saved me,” Meera said defiantly. “It is thanks to them that I am alive. They’ve been nursing me back to health.”

“In caves? With stolen food? Stolen clothing?” His eyes moved up and down Meera’s soturion cloak with disgust. “Sounds more like they were keeping you hostage.”

“No,” Meera cried.

Imperator Hart scoffed. “Then you were aiding them. Helping two criminals evade my soturi. Which is it, Lady Meera? Are you in league with them, or are you still in some form of captivity that requires my intervention?”

“Neither.” Meera lifted her chin. “I am a noble of Ka Batavia. Niece to the Arkasva and High Lady. Thousands of soturi are looking for me right now, all under Imperator Kormac’s orders in the South.”

“But you are in the North, my lady. Not the South.” Imperator Hart narrowed his eyes, peering down his nose. “I am surprised you have allowed for such precious resources to go to waste as you hid. Resources that could have been used to rescue Lady Morgana. Unless you don’t want her to be rescued for some reason?”

My chest tightened.

“How could you say such a thing?” Meera asked, her voice shaking with anger.

Imperator Hart shook his head. “I’m simply trying to understand these most unusual circumstances. Congratulations, by the way, on your aunt’s ascension to power. A pity you missed her consecration.”

He sighed dramatically, shifting his head from side to side as if weighing his options. Rhyan’s nostrils flared, and I imagined he’d been forced to sit through such a decision-making process many times before.

Finally, Imperator Hart straightened, his eyes dancing with a decision I was sure he’d made long before we entered the room.

“All right, I have decided.” He gestured for Meera to step forward.

“Your Highness,” she said, following his orders.

“I shall take you at your word, Lady Meera. I shall believe that you are innocent of all suspected crimes. Clearly, you are too weak to have committed any. You also appear far too traumatized to travel. The choices you’ve made in the aftermath of your captivity tell me that you are not yet well. You cannot even seem to grasp what day it is. Or whether you are in the hands of criminals or not. You are in need of rest, medical attention, and care. I’ll send word to Imperator Kormac and Arkasva Batavia that you are here. Then you shall remain in Seathorne at my pleasure, as my most special guest.”

“I …” Meera started to protest, but Rhyan caught her eye, carefully shaking his head. “Your Highness,” she said carefully, “I thank you for providing a space for me to recover. When I am well, I shall return home with my escorts.”

“We shall have to assign you some first,” he said. “When the time is right.”

“May I ask, Your Highness,” I said, throat tight, “What happens if Imperator Kormac requires us at home? Or we are called back by Arkasva Batavia? After all, we are still the subjects of Bamaria, and remain under the jurisdiction of the South and Ka Kormac.”

“Worried about your future father-in-law?” Imperator Hart laughed. Then his eyes flashed. “You’re under the jurisdiction of the North when you’re in northern lands. I have every right to keep you. Never mind the charges of trespassing and theft. I have more than enough grounds to accuse you two of something far more severe. The breaking of your sacred soturion oath.”

My heart stopped.

“And before you try to claim Rhyan has any rights under Ka Kormac, you should know that while you hid in a cave, evading my justice, and stealing from my people, your aunt revoked his political immunity. He no longer has the right to seek asylum in your country. Further, he is now suspected of being in league with the akadim and kidnapping you.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! That’s—”

“My lady!” he snarled. “You forgot to say, Your Highness.”

I pressed my lips together, and stared back in defiance. Fucking bastard. I took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize you needed to hear your own title repeated back to you so many times.”

He tilted his head. “Careful now. While you do amuse me, my patience for you grows thin. You will not win my favor unless you can offer something sweet in return.”

Rhyan’s shoulders stiffened, his face pale.

“And believe me, girl,” his father continued. “You will need my favor before the end.”

My fingers clenched, but I remained silent. My body still.

“I know you think you want to leave here,” he said, “but I’d strongly reconsider. Your allies at home are not what you remember. Since the disappearance of the Ready, you have a new Arkturion in charge.”

“A new Arkturion?” I asked.

His eyes flashed. “Arkturion Waryn Kormac now leads the Bamarian legions.”

The Bastardmaker. The fucking Bastardmaker.

“And your former betrothed, or … companion as I hear it,” he smirked, “has been ordered to hunt you down and bring you before Kormac himself.”

Tristan? Tristan had been sent after us?

“Now, I have other matters to discuss. Lady Meera, you’re to be brought to the medical wing, to be checked properly for injury. Inspected. Inside and out. Particularly for any signs of a black mark. I must be sure you’re not forsaken. Lord Aiden, please escort the lady. Do not let her out of your sight.”

“No! Wherever she goes, I go!” I yelled in panic.

“Lyr,” Rhyan hissed.

“Please,” I said. “I’m her escort!”

“Suspected criminals may not be escorts for nobles.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

The backs of my eyes burned as Aiden took hold of her arm, his stave pointed at her.

“Meera!” I shouted.

She looked back at me, a determined look in her eyes, and nodded. “It’s okay,” she said, before she let Aiden lead her away from the dais.

But the doors opened before they could reach them. And the herald’s shadow filled the threshold as he shouted, “Presenting Lady Hart, wife of His Highness, Arkasva Hart, High Lord of Glemaria, Imperator to the North.”

I stilled. Lady Hart? Imperator Hart had remarried? When?

My gaze immediately fell on him, my heart pounding. Rhyan’s eyes had reddened, and there was an expression on his face I couldn’t quite read.

“Did you know?” I mouthed.

His jaw clenched, and he nodded, his eyes downcast, his hands trembling at his sides.

“My son didn’t tell you he had a new stepmother?” Imperator Hart asked, closely watching our exchange.

“Lyr,” Rhyan whispered, still barely looking at me. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice so quiet I could only just hear. “I’m so sorry.”

I frowned, and looked over my shoulder. Just as Meera and Aiden vanished, Lady Hart appeared in the doorframe, gracefully stepping forward.

Three things became clear at once. First, Lady Hart was far too young for the Imperator. Rhyan’s stepmother appeared hardly older than me.

Second, she was incredibly beautiful. She had large dark eyes, and shining brown hair pulled back by a silver diadem. Her skin was pale in the way of most northerners, but with distinctly pink cheeks and lips. She had the kind of beauty that conveyed a sense of warmth and intelligence.

And third, she was incredibly far along in her pregnancy. She entered the Seating Room, walking slowly, almost painfully slow, wincing every so often, her hand wrapped protectively around her swollen belly.

Rhyan’s shoulders shook, and a small gasp escaped his lips as he watched. When she finally reached the dais, Rhyan’s father stood and helped her up. She was out of breath, drained from the long walk down the aisle. But instead of offering her a chair, or even something to lean against, he left her standing alone, and returned to his Seat, settling back, his legs spread wide.

Dario, the only soturion who remained in the room with us, started forward, as if he meant to help her. But then he stilled, stepping back as if he’d remembered himself.

Lady Hart’s eyes went to Rhyan’s almost at once, staring at him for a long time. A wave of emotions I couldn’t read flashed across his face. Something unspoken passed between them.

Who had she been to Rhyan? A friend? A classmate? Based on her age it seemed likely. From the look she’d given him, they’d been more than just acquaintances. It was also clear that he’d known that she’d married his father. But he’d never told me. Why? And why did he keep apologizing?

Imperator Hart grinned. “Please present yourself to my wife, Lady Kenna.”

I swallowed, not recognizing the name, my heart thumping. “Lady Lyriana Batavia,” I said. “I would curtsey, Your Grace, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

Kenna’s eyes lit up, looking between me and Rhyan, like she saw what lay between us. She smiled. It was a smile that felt oddly genuine, but then her face bore the neutral expression of nobility. “It’s good to meet you, Lady Lyriana.” Unlike her husband, she spoke with a soft Glemarian lilt. So, she’d been born here.

“My wife,” he said, “is the eldest daughter of Arkturion Kane of Ka Gadayyan. A warlord that many argue is more powerful than the Ready. She comes from a very ancient bloodline. Like you, my lady.”

“How fitting,” I said, “For an Imperator.”

I looked at her again more carefully. Kane’s daughter. Shit. Was she dangerous? Was that why Rhyan was upset? Was this why he’d never mentioned her?

“More fitting than you know, Lyriana,” Imperator Hart continued, his voice rolling over the informal use of my name. “Lady Kenna was marked for Ka Hart for quite some time. Didn’t my son tell you? She was once nearly betrothed to another member of my immediate family.”

“Your immediate family?” I asked, frowning.

A red stain crept up Lady Kenna’s neck, but she stared at me with an almost daring boldness as my mind tried to sort out the Imperator’s meaning. He had no immediate family beyond his deceased wife. And Rhyan.

And Rhyan …

My heart sank. Kenna looked past me as Rhyan’s face paled.

“You didn’t know?” Imperator Hart asked, his eyes now sparkling with delight. “Until he was forsworn, Lady Kenna was Rhyan’s lover.”