Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LYRIANA

I stared at the crackling flames in the fireplace. A green wool shawl was wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I was still in my formal Glemarian dress—the dress Imperator Hart had selected. The dress Kenna had laced up. It was tight, and constricting, with far too much material. Everything about it, the boning in the bodice, the thick layers of skirts, felt as much like a prison as Seathorne itself.

The fires rose higher, the heat wafting toward me in thick, warm waves. But I couldn’t stop shivering. Couldn’t stop replaying everything Imperator Hart had said, couldn’t stop feeling the nahashim sliding against my skin, crawling over me. Under me.

Threatening to go inside me.

The wind howled and a nearby gryphon squawked angrily as snow fell against the frosted pane of my window. Beyond the glass, small torches lit the mountains on the horizon.

Suddenly, there was a violent knock on the door, but I remained still, unwilling to answer it. Unwilling to respond, or move. I’d been promised a meeting with Rhyan hours ago. Promised a respite after being tortured, after being forced to sign Imperator Hart’s contract. But instead, I’d suffered a visit from Lord Dario who wanted to be sure I hadn’t climbed out the window, or some other inane escape attempt. Then a short while later, I entertained another visit from him in which he shoved half a dozen soturi inside to stare at me and learn the details of my face. The same thing happened a quarter of an hour later. And then a half hour after that.

I was tired of being ogled and stared at, all so I could make a better prisoner, all so the features and the shape of my body could be memorized. Noticed. And if need be, captured.

But the worst part of it all, the most humiliating, and the hardest to bear, was when they took turns lifting the sleeve of my dress so that they might recognize my tattoo. I knew it was just my arm. Nothing intimate. But I couldn’t stand to be naked after Vrukshire. Could barely stand to be seen. Even by Rhyan. At least, at first. It wasn’t the nudity that bothered me, it was the touching and manipulation of my clothes—the feeling of being powerless, and out of control, even over my own garments. The fear of being exposed and helpless. I’d nearly panicked several times, forcing my gaze out the window, pointedly watching the snowfall as I breathed deeply.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, Dario tried to see if the fire would turn my hair red. He’d seen the effect of the sun on me when we’d landed at Seathorne that morning. He’d been quiet about it, but the rumors of my hair’s solar transformation were all over Glemaria, and he wanted to make sure the soturi knew damned well if they saw someone in the daylight with my likeness, only with bright red hair instead of brown, that it was still me. And if they saw me with either hair color, I was to be watched, and reported on. And if attempting to escape, restrained.

The knock came again, rougher this time, more urgent. “Lady Lyriana,” Dario yelled gruffly.

The door swung open. I squeezed my eyes shut. No. No. No more. My shoulders shook, and I pinched the edge of my sleeve, tightening the closure of material around my hand …

“Lyr!”

I froze.

Rhyan’s anguished voice had called out. Not Dario’s.

“Lyr,” he said again. “It’s me.”

The door closed, and I turned slowly, barely daring to believe what I’d heard. Barely daring to hope that Imperator Hart had kept his word. That I’d actually had one thing go my way since we’d been captured.

Then I saw Rhyan standing in his old bedroom. We were alone.

“Rhyan,” I practically gasped his name, tears in my eyes.

“Lyr,” he cried.

And then we were both rushing for each other, running, racing, desperate to cancel the space between us, needing to find each other’s embrace.

“Partner,” he said, his hands on my back, pulling me into him. He buried his face in the crook of my shoulder, and breathed me in, one hand sliding up my spine to cradle the nape of my neck, fingers twisting in my hair. “Are you hurt?” he asked, with deep gasping breaths.

I let out some unintelligible sound as I wrapped my arms around his back, hugging him against me as tightly as I could. Then I sobbed in relief. “You’re here.”

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he said, his voice hushed and desperate. “Gods, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry we’re here, I’m sorry I put you through this.” The guilt had been gnawing at me for hours. “I should have been faster at the cave, thought quicker—”

“Lyr, no. Shhh, no,” he murmured. “That’s not your fault. None of this is. All right? We’re alive. That’s all that matters. Have you seen Meera?”

“No. But, I heard she’s in a room nearby, being watched by Aiden.”

“Okay. Okay,” he said again, almost as if reassured, one hand rubbing up and down my back, before gripping the nape of my neck again.

I let the shawl fall from my shoulders, content to bask in the warmth of Rhyan’s hug. I squeezed him even tighter, trying to meld his body to mine. I wanted no space between us, no end and no beginning to our bodies, no distinction. I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to find the soft curls I loved, but his hair had been cut since I’d last seen him.

Of course, his father would have had him cleaned up. I buried my face against his neck.

A moment passed, our hearts pounding together as if in their own conversation, our stifled gasps the only sound in the room as we simply held each other.

And much as I was content to stay there holding him, and being held by him until I lost consciousness, until I forgot the day we’d had, forgot where we were, forgot we were prisoners, I opened my eyes. Time was a luxury we were not afforded. Kenna had already warned me. Imperator Hart would use nahashim to watch me inside these walls. I could only truly speak to Rhyan before they came. After that, nothing would be private. Not unless we escaped.

And that … that was no longer an option.

I pulled back, and stared into his eyes, reddened and damp with unshed tears. He smelled clean, like himself, like pine and musk. The scruff across his chin and cheeks had been shaved, his nose no longer broken. At least … it appeared healed. His skin was smooth, and the overall color of his light complexion looked even, and healthy, though the skin under his eyes was still dark.

Rhyan slid his hands down my arms, his eyes searching me over, frantic with worry. “He hurt you,” he said, his accent so thick his words ran together. He tugged my dress off my shoulders, his fingers pushing and prodding my skin.

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

“Lyr.” His eyes blazed into mine. He didn’t believe me. “I’ve been so fucking worried.” He pushed my dress down even farther. “What did he do to you?”

Shaking my head, I said, “I’m not the one who had a broken nose.”

“But Kane—” he said urgently.

“I broke his nose,” I said.

“And after?” he asked. “After using your power like that?”

“I’m fine. I promise. It was like the other times. I passed out.” I gently stroked the scar up from Rhyan’s left cheek to his eyebrow. He leaned into my touch, sighing in relief as I let my finger slide down the bridge of his nose. I watched for any signs of pain or discomfort. “It’s healed,” I whispered, half expecting to be fooled by another of Aiden’s glamours. “Truly?”

He closed his eyes, his nostrils flared, his jaw tightening as his hands found my hips and squeezed. “It’s healed.”

“Did they hurt you?” I asked.

Rhyan was silent for a moment, the wind howling at the windows, before at last he said, his voice dull, “Mending broken bones … always hurts. And happens slowly when you’re bound.” He released a long breath. “This is the same place I was in the last time that had to happen.” Eyeing his bedroom warily, he swallowed. “Gods. I hate it here.”

“I know.” I pulled his face down, kissing his forehead, then pressing it to mine, stroking his cheeks. “Did they do anything else to you? Your father?”

His chest rose and fell heavily for a moment. Then instead of answering, his lips found mine and we were kissing, his tongue already seeking mine, his hands on my ass, pulling me against him.

“Rhyan,” I gasped.

Before I knew what was happening, he was walking me backward, back to his bed.

“I’ll kill him,” he muttered, his lips skimming across my cheek to my ear. “Kill him for touching you. For hurting you.”

I felt the same way. The same rage was burning inside of me. We didn’t have time for this. We needed to talk. But the frenzy of touching him again, of feeling him so solid and hard against me, of feeling him healed, and alive, I couldn’t stop. I knew we were about to be separated and I didn’t know for how long. I pulled him closer.

I reached for his belt, tugging at the buckle, and sliding my hands beneath the leather of his armor, inside his tunic, my fingers grazing his belly. His skin was cold. I pushed my hands deeper, exploring more of his torso.

His abs tightened, as he let out a cry of pain.

I stepped back. “What the fuck? You are hurt!” I was already reaching for the buckles of his armor beneath the freshly pressed material of his new soturion cloak. I realized then that everything he was wearing was brand new. Black leather over metal, the material shining. No sign of wear or battle.

It was traditional Glemarian armor, the sigil of Ka Hart carved into the torso. No seraphim or moon for Ka Batavia. No sigil representing our kashonim. Our connection. I hated it. I wanted it off, and I needed it off so I could see what had happened. So I could fix it.

Already my palm was heating, the light of the Valalumir glowing from inside my heart. I welcomed the fire, the burn, if it meant he’d be all right.

“Fuck! No!” Rhyan suddenly stepped back, alarm in his eyes. “Lyr, please. Don’t!”

My voice darkened, and I could feel my aura flaring in anger, little embers sparking around me. “Rhyan, what happened? You have to tell me.”

He stepped back into me, and took my hands in his, keeping me from reaching for him again. “My father …” his mouth opened, like he was going to be sick as his chest heaved, “he … stabbed me.”

Immediately, I was struggling against him, trying to free my hands, to touch him, to examine him. To undo and fix whatever had happened.

But he tightened his hold on me, fervently shaking his head. “It’s healed. I’m fine, I swear to you. He’s done it before, remember? I’m just … sore.”

“If you’re just sore, then why can’t I touch you? Why won’t you let me?”

“Because …” His chest was rising and falling quickly, as his jaw tightened. “Because, I’m still healing, and I don’t want you taking it on! Because it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Rhyan, he stabbed you!”

“I know!” he roared. “I was fucking there when he did it! I’ll be healed by morning. I heal fast. It’s only taking longer because of the binds—that’s it—I promise. I don’t want you feeling this—don’t want you weakened anymore. Okay?” His voice cracked, his eyes watering. “Partner, I won’t budge on that. Now what about you? Tell me the truth. What happened?”

I sniffled. “We negotiated.”

He exhaled sharply. Rhyan had told me he’d negotiated with his father many times. It was never a simple conversation. He took my hand and our fingers intertwined.

“He showed me your name in blood. That gryphon-shit-Moriel-fucking-bastard. I swear on the Gods. I’m going to get us out of here as soon as possible. Whatever you agreed to, whatever he forced you to sign, I don’t care. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m taking you away from here as soon as I’m strong enough. You and Meera. I swear it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “You can’t.” I rubbed my thumb over his palm. “You can’t take us anywhere. You’re bound. And the only way he’ll remove the binds is if you agree to everything I agreed to. That’s the deal. You have to prove your obedience to him. Make him believe it, or he’ll keep punishing you.”

His lips twisted, and I could almost see his thoughts, hear him say that he didn’t care if he was punished.

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to see you bound. You can’t be if you’re going to heal. And neither of us will ever have a chance at freedom. You have to play along.”

“Fine. Done. I’ll agree,” he said quickly. “I’ll play the game, I’ll follow his orders. I’ll be the perfect Heir, perfect soturion, perfect—” he swallowed roughly. “Whatever it takes. And once the binds are off, we’re gone!”

“No!” I shouted. “We can’t go.”

His eyes searched mine, his mouth a tight line. “What do you mean, no? Lyr, we can’t stay here! Seathorne, as long as my father breathes, is a death trap.”

“I mean no. We’re not leaving. We’re not escaping,” I said. “Not until the Valabellum.”

“The Valabellum? That’s in a month! Do you know what kind of damage he can do to you by then? Do to us?” Rhyan’s breath came quickly, his chest rising and falling in rapidly as his face contorted with a mix of anger and confusion, one eyebrow lowered. “Lyr. If we stay here, you marry Kane! Do you get that? Do you know who he is? Did you see? Because when he touched you, when the Valalumir lit up again, I had another memory. I saw him, and I remembered. He’s fucking Shiviel!”

I shuddered, even though I’d already known the truth of it. “I thought so. I felt it.”

He shook his head, the movement frantic. “I can’t. Can’t let him hurt you. He was bad enough when he was just Kane. He’s always been a nightmare. But—fuck.” His knees bent suddenly, his fingers violently pushing through his hair before he straightened. “Gods! I spent years trying to prevent this. To stop this. To protect you—” His voice shook.

“I know. I know you did, but you can’t now. Not yet. It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” he gritted. “Whatever oath you swore, we’ll find a way to break it.”

Shaking my head in defeat, I said, “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“What?” He sounded defeated.

I took a deep breath, pulled him back to the bed and sat beside him. Then I told him everything that had happened in his father’s tower. Told him about Vrukshire and the interviews Imperator Kormac conducted. Told him that they knew we were there that night—that they knew we’d killed Brockton and the others. That the sole reason they weren’t calling for my public arrest was to use me to make a claim on Bamaria. That his father threatened to use the nahashim to go through me and turn us both in for what the Empire would consider far worse crimes. And that the only way to stop my wedding to Viktor Kormac, the only way to keep Imperator Kormac from showing up here with a legion to claim me, was my marriage to another.

Rhyan nodded, his jaw muscles working. I could see he knew some of the details I shared already, or that he’d been close to piecing them together with the way his eyes darkened.

“Okay,” he said, when I finished explaining the role Kormac had in this. “But, partner, these are Imperator games. Not ours. We don’t have to be his servants to get what we want. We’ll run away,” he said urgently. “I’ll protect you from Kormac, and from my father, I swear. I’ve been ready to leave with you since Valyati. The plan hasn’t changed ...”

The plan to run away. To forget all of this and leave the Empire behind. Rhyan had first promised to take me from danger if I didn’t survive the Emperor’s test in the arena. And then again when he learned Arianna was my enemy.

“The plan has to change,” I said. “You know that. You know I won’t leave. Especially because there’s more to the bargain.” Tears fell down my face. “It’s about Jules.”

Rhyan’s eyes widened, watching me warily. “Jules?”

“He knows she’s alive. He told me.”

“Of course, he fucking did.” Rhyan shook his head in disgust. “All this fucking time and he kept it to himself.”

“He promised to help us get her back.”

“Help? Help! My father! Do you hear yourself?” Rhyan leapt off the bed, and began pacing back and forth. “For fuck’s sake, Lyriana! That’s what this is really about? Jules!” One eyebrow lowered, the muscles in his jaw working. Then he came before me, falling to his knees. He took my hands into his. “He’s not going to help you save her. He’s not going to rescue her! He’s incapable. I swore to you we’d get her back, and I meant it. Look at me. I’ve never broken an oath to you. Not once! Lyr, please. Tell me you still trust me.”

I squeezed his hands. “Of course, I do.”

“Then trust me when I say my father was fucking with you, just like Brockton was.”

“But Brockton wasn’t,” I yelled. “That’s the thing! He was telling the truth in the end. He was right about Jules. And your father showed me proof—he knows exactly where she is. He was able to get to her. His nahashim saw her in the Palace.”

“So?” he roared. “Auriel’s fucking bane! It doesn’t matter what his snakes have seen. It’s nothing we don’t already know, that we didn’t figure out on our own. All it does is bind us to him, and put us in danger! Showing that to you was nothing more than manipulation.”

“Manipulation?” My voice was ice cold. “You think I don’t know that? That I’m new to this game? I knew exactly what he was doing! And I know exactly what he is. It doesn’t change the facts. Doesn’t change that she’s in grave danger.”

“Yes, it does, it changes everything. Because binding yourself to him puts you in danger. And I need you safe!” he said.

“I need Jules safe,” I sobbed.

He released my hands, moving back to the bed. The mattress dipped as he took a seat beside me. But he was distant now. His body no longer touched mine as he stared toward the fireplace. “Let me guess. He said he’d kill Jules if you didn’t agree to everything he wanted.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face turned away. “He was bluffing. He’s powerful—too fucking powerful for his own good. But,” he growled, “he’s second to Imperator Kormac. He always has been. If Emperor Theotis has Jules, that makes her a Kormac pawn, and I can tell you this much: Kormac doesn’t share outside the pack. My father does not have access to her.”

“Just like Brockton didn’t have access to her?” I cried out. “Just like Brockton didn’t rape her? Because he wasn’t important enough? Only he did. And your father does have access to her. He knows exactly where she is. I saw it with my own eyes. His snakes can reach her. And you know Godsdamned-well what they’re capable of doing under orders. He has spies in there, guards he’s paid off. You know it’s true. And he can disguise her after—disguise himself going in using Aiden.”

A long moment passed, the muscles in his jaw ticking, before he nodded. “Okay, fine,” he said, his voice low. “Say he can get to her. Say he has all the access he claims. Why wait? Why hasn’t he taken her before now? And why in Lumeria would he offer to help you?” He lifted his hands, his palms raised as if in question. “Threaten her to gain your submission? That I understand. But why offer you anything else beyond keeping you safe from Kormac?”

“Because he needed another angle. You told me so yourself, he escalates his threats—he finds new ways when his authority fails, or when pain isn’t enough. He knew he had to do something more than just blackmail us. He knows he can’t fight you unbound, not unless you’re behind bars.” I looked uneasily at his stomach. “And he saw what I could do downstairs, he saw the power I can invoke—the kashonim I possess with Asherah.”

Rhyan stiffened. “I wish he’d never seen that.”

“But he has. There’s nothing we can do except use it to our advantage. He knows deep down inside that I have power he can’t compete with. Power that he wants to control. He told you he knew years ago. He needs me on his side, needs me to have a reason to want to be here. I almost escaped the Seating Room. I almost had you freed. And he knew that, too.”

“He knew,” he said quietly. “Lyr, he knew exactly what to offer you.”

“Because his fucking snake had been spying on us in the caves. He knew we were going after Jules, knew we needed to infiltrate the Palace.”

“Then he should know exactly where the indigo shard is and who possesses it. That was his goal, wasn’t it? Take possession, harness its power. It doesn’t make sense that it’s not his priority beyond controlling us.” He sighed, his voice despondent. “Fuck, Lyr! Every move we make can’t just be about rescuing Jules!”

“Why the fuck not? You gave me your word! You swore. You swore you never broke an oath!”

“I’m not breaking one now!” he yelled, standing up. He began pacing again, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “Gods. Look, Lyr, please. You’re a fucking warrior, and you’re smart as hell—that’s not in doubt. But I also need you to listen now. Because I know my father better than anyone. You want to rescue Jules so badly that you’re making it easy for anyone who can see it, anyone who can sense it, to manipulate you.”

“Oh.” I stood up, too, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m so easily manipulated? I just caved and bent the knee over one fucking image? After all I’ve done, all we’ve been through? That’s what you think? This is just about Jules, and not every other fucking thing I told you tonight?” I walked away, standing before the fireplace again, cold all over again.

A moment later, there was warmth against my back. Rhyan had wrapped his arms around me from behind. I didn’t move, didn’t soften as he hugged me to him, his hands hot against my stomach. I could feel his breath on my neck, his chest rising and falling against me.

“Partner. I’m sorry. ”

I didn’t answer.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did,” I hissed.

“Lyr. Lyr, just talk to me. Please.” He ran his hands up and down my arms, as the fire spat and crackled. “Partner?”

The wind howled and I could feel tears pricking my eyes. Suddenly I was reminded of the other thing between us. I was aware of his bed. Aware of who he had shared it with. I looked back, unable to help myself, then trained my gaze back on the fire.

“Gods,” he said. “I used to dream about you being here with me. So many times over the years. But not like this.”

“Please,” I said, my voice breaking. “Don’t.”

“Are you trying to punish me?” Rhyan asked, he was so quiet, I wasn’t sure I heard him at first. “For Kenna.”

My breath came short. “How can you ask me that?” But some small part of me wondered if I was, if that was why I was letting this go on for so long. It felt complicated, like it required a lot of explanation. But maybe some part of me was fighting with him to ease the pain of knowing what was about to come. A month of imprisonment. Of separation. A chance we would fail, a chance we’d lose everything. A chance we’d lose each other.

“Should I punish you?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“You can if you want,” he said. “Punish me if you need to. Do what you will. I never should have let him blindside you like that. I should have told you about her.”

“You should have,” I said, the backs of my eyes burning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed. “Because, then I’d have to tell you everything else that happened. What I did to Garrett. What happened to my mother. To Bowen. Dario’s father. The way I failed everyone. It was— still is—so painful. Lyr, I have secrets. Secrets I’ve never told anyone. Except you. Just … not all of them—not yet. But I swear to you, I will tell you everything. Because you’re the only person I ever trusted to see all of me. Even if I’m still scared shitless of showing you.” He pressed me to him, his hands firm against my belly, his nose grazing my neck.

I softened. “You don’t have to be scared. Not because of me.” And much as I wanted to hear everything from him, and knew he needed to tell his story, tonight wasn’t the time. We had bigger problems to face.

As if sensing that, too, Rhyan sighed. “I know. But, when the time’s right, I swear it. No more secrets between us.” He kissed my neck. “Please. Mekara. You’re the last person I want to fight with. Especially here, especially now. I’m on your side. But I am scared. Being back here …” His chest rose and fell against me. “It’s hell. It’s where I lost everything, where I was most powerless to fight back. And the only thing worse is knowing you’re trapped here, too. I just—” His lips moved against my skin. “I don’t see a way to safety for us by working with my father.”

I leaned back against him. “As crazy as it sounds, I truly believe we have to do it this way. Rhyan, I need you to trust me. Trust my plan. Trust my reasons.”

There was an old timepiece on his desk that suddenly seemed too loud. Every second, a pebble dropped inside the glass, falling with a clang. Again and again. Each one eating away at my last chance to figure this out with him. At the time that remained between us.

“There’s one more thing,” I said, reaching back, my hand resting against his cheek. “I’m sorry—it’s a lot to cover in one night. But we’re running out of time. Your father’s nahashim will be here soon.”

He held me closer. “Lyriana, I trust your instincts. It’s his I’m trying to understand. If he’s helping you to rescue Jules, it’s not for you. It’s because he has his own reasons, he wants her for himself.”

I shook my head. “She’s the bonus—and the collateral. The carrot to dangle in my face while I go after what he really wants. He wants something from the Palace, and he’s going to give us everything we need—the blueprints, schedules of the guards, access to their keys. He’s offering mercenaries to fight on our behalf. And if we can bring the item to him, he’ll get Jules.”

“Bring him what?” Rhyan asked, his voice low.

“A shield hanging above the Emperor’s Throne.” My eyes searched his. “Rhyan, it’s the same one I saw in Meera’s vision. There was an orange crystal in the center—and when I saw it through the nahashim,” I placed my hand over my heart, “the Valalumir lit up again.”

His eyes widened. “Ereshya’s shard!”

I nodded. “I guess he decided not to go up against Aemon and Morgana—at least not yet. But, since he lost the indigo, he wants the orange in return. He doesn’t know that I recognize it, so I think promising Jules was a way to ensure I’d take the theft seriously.”

“And if we don’t steal it first, Aemon and Morgana will claim a second shard of the Valalumir,” Rhyan said dully. “And who knows how quickly they’ll find the others. Moriel will return to power. Fuck. Fuck!” He grimaced. “Fucking bastard could have mentioned that!”

“Your father?” I asked.

Rhyan’s mouth tightened. “Mercurial. Our old friend came to visit me in the prisons. Nothing useful to say. He went on about you finding the red shard, but said nothing of the orange.”

“Did he say anything else?” I asked.

His eyes flew to my heart, then back to my face. “In my memory of Kane as Shiviel, we fought him together. I don’t quite know what we did. I mean, what Asherah and Auriel did. It was some kind of ancient magic. Powerful. Whatever it was, it broke Shiviel somehow. Broke his soul, I think. And Kane is weakened from it,” he said. “It left him debilitated, permanently. He’s not as powerful as he could be, even in this life.”

I frowned. “That shouldn’t be possible. What kind of magic does that?” I asked.

Rhyan shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. Mercurial also told me Meera’s identity. She’s Cassarya,” he said. “So that leaves us with only Hava to find.”

“Cassarya?” I closed my eyes. Of course. The observant one. Goddess of the Blue. I could see her suddenly, her silvery white hair, and large blue eyes, hypnotic, and commanding. Something Meera had always quietly been. “I’ll have to tell her. If I’m ever allowed to see her.”

“You’ll see her,” he said. “I promise you.”

I gripped his shoulders. “I’m sure Mercurial didn’t offer any clues as to who Hava is.”

“Hava? No,” Rhyan said quickly. “No, he didn’t.” He ran his hands up and down my arms, and kissed the crook of my shoulder. Then he stilled, like he’d realized something. “Lyr,” he breathed, his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him. “Are you sure this is the way? If you say it is, I’ll do as you command. But by the Gods. Every instinct inside me is shouting to take you away from here.”

There was a hiss at the door, and something black slithering in my peripheral vision.

“Your father’s nahashim. They’re coming,” I said.

“Not yet,” he groaned. “Not yet.”

I shook my head. The hissing was louder now, the snake sliding across the carpet. “It’s too late, they can see us.”

“So?” he practically growled. “Does it fucking matter? My father already knows about us. Nothing we do will placate him—nothing we do will convince him we feel otherwise.”

“We have to try. He has to see our effort.” Even if it was just for his own sadistic satisfaction. “He needs to see us jumping through his hoops. Playing along. Or he’ll do worse, you know he will. We can do this. We have to. To get your binds off.”

He gripped the nape of my neck, pulling me back toward him. “I’d wear them forever and burn with a smile if it meant I could be near you. But I will do as you wish. As always.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his finger twirling around mine. Then he stepped back, releasing his hold on me. A long moment passed as he stared at me. Then he bowed, the movement formal. When he rose, he looked ready to vomit. “ Tovayah maischa on your engagement tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes hot with fresh tears.

His mouth tightened. “We shall have a day of celebrations. You’re not the only one who will become betrothed,” he said, his voice choked. “Did he tell you?”

My chest tightened. “What? You? No! To whom?”

He shrugged sadly. “Does it matter? When it’s not you?” He turned around abruptly as the snakes undulated and hissed across the carpet. “You know, I’ve been forsworn for a long time. But tonight, it’s the first time I feel like I’m truly breaking an oath. The one that was most important. Protecting you.”

A sobbed welled in my chest, my heart feeling like it was splitting in two.

“Partner.” He looked over his shoulder at me. His jaw muscles working, his eyes red, his hands clenched so tightly I could see his veins popping out. Shoulders shaking, he gave me one final blazing look, like he was trying to memorize me. Then he turned, and walked out the door.

I stood before the fire, my eyes glazing over as the flames glowed. A snake slid up behind me. And I kicked it.