Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LYRIANA

I woke the next morning with every map of Numeria, of the Palace, and the Nutavian Katurium racing through my mind. I dreamt of the images I’d studied like I was swallowed into the scrolls themselves. As I prepared for training, I imagined myself walking down the waterways, entering the Palace’s throne room, and counting my steps across the field of the arena. It helped that I had a detailed mental picture of the layout, thanks to the vision I’d taken from Meera.

With the nahashim visions Imperator Hart had given to me of Jules, and Ereshya’s shard, I felt confident in my knowledge of the Palace. How much space we had, how many people could fit inside the hall. Places to hide and blend into the crowd. And just exactly, what moment I’d need to make my move and take the shard.

Kane wasn’t present to run morning exercises. A small miracle. Word had reached him of new akadim patterns being tracked in the west. Most likely sent by Morgana and Aemon.

As I ran in the Glemarian Katurium, I closed my eyes and saw the arena in Numeria. I went over the maps again and again. As I sat through classes, as I trained with Rhyan, I kept going. I replayed everything in my mind over and over. And when night came, and we reentered the library, I was ready to mark out our plan. I gave Aiden and Meera their orders. From there, we began focusing on the schedule, and then on the Emperor’s guest list—understanding each person’s exact rank and where they’d be, how close to Theotis and the shield they might get. We also discussed who would be allies and therefore standing together, as well as who might be enemies, and thus, be standing even closer. Then we cross-referenced that with each guard who’d been paid off by Rhyan’s father.

Rhyan sat across from me, his leathers shining under the golden glow of the citrine lights. Our eyes continued to meet every few minutes from our opposite corners of the room. He was hunched over the table, his jaw clenched as he planned his moves with Dario. Every so often he stopped to confer with me, and then I’d move over to them, working on the alternate plan. As we ran into snags, or realized complications, the plans began to shift, and new ideas were thrown in and just as quickly tossed out.

In the end, we had gathered what we needed to know. There were three times that seemed primed for our theft. In the dead of night before the Valabellum, at the changing of the guard; in the morning in the Throne Room, just as the shield was taken down for its presentation; and right before it was paraded outside.

But the rescue of Jules, that had my mind occupied. We’d have to take the shield to Imperator Hart at his specified location. And then we’d have the task of getting Jules safely past the walls. Imperator Hart swore no one would know she was missing at first, but if she was seen by the wrong person, she’d be taken back immediately. And no matter how well we prepared to steal the shield, getting Jules out of Numeria felt completely unpredictable. Rhyan would most likely need to use his vorakh immediately. He’d be unable to use it in the Palace with their wards up, but outside it was of the utmost importance that he was ready.

What we didn’t have was a way to escape Imperator Hart and Seathorne when it was all over.

My contract was going to be invoked the moment we had Jules. The moment we had the shard I’d be commanded to return to his side. And that in turn would force Meera, and Rhyan to comply as well, if he didn’t attempt a last-minute blood oath by then.

And as we delved deeper into our plans, we realized something we should have from the start.

The promised mercenaries weren’t there to help us. But to attack and capture us if we made any attempt to escape.

There was no plan for such a thing. I never got a chance to speak to Rhyan in private. Dario was my shadow from sunrise to midnight. Then I was locked into my room every night with the nahashim slipping through the door. The only time Rhyan and I were together, away from Dario, was in the training room. And then we had the snakes for company, hissing and undulating as they watched our every move, their black eyes wide, reporting everything back to Imperator Hart.

The way we had structured things, Dario and Aiden were absolutely integral to our success. And yet, they were exactly what would keep us from being free in the end.

My only hope of getting to Rhyan alone, or getting word to Meera, was to go through Kenna, and I wouldn’t see her until the weekend—not until we were dragged to our first series of engagement events in Glemaria. But I was dreading each one. Imperator Hart had made it clear through further messages, that I was not only to continue holding Kane’s hand, and kissing his cheek like an idiotic, besotted bride, but we were to dance together at each event at least twice.

Rhyan’s eyes met mine from across the room. It was nearly midnight, our last night of prep before we switched into engagement mode. He was scratching his palm again, the silver of his ring glinting in the citrine light.

I’d almost forgotten about his betrothed. About Lady Amalthea.

“You okay?” he mouthed, his one eyebrow raised.

I glanced quickly at Dario, poring over a map, and then at Aiden, debating a passageway with Meera. “I need to talk to you,” I mouthed back. “Alone.”

He nodded, his lips tight. “We’ll find a way,” he said.

Our guards came, moving us from the room, conducting their daily search and marching us back through the library towers, onto each bridge, and back to the lift.

There, Rhyan stepped aside again, the movement quick, as he spoke in a hushed voice to the librarian. He looked back at me, his eyes filled with concern, then back to the librarian, who he thanked before rushing to the lift as it arrived.

I watched him carefully as we went down, a question in my eyes, one I knew he could read. He sighed and nodded, the most he could do while being watched. But I understood. He’d fill me in. When we could actually talk.

I woke Saturday morning to an offensively loud knock on my door. Throwing off my covers, I stalked across the cold floor and slung the door open, ready to curse at Dario. But Kenna was waiting for me instead.

“Your Grace,” I gasped. “It is wonderful to see you.” And I meant it.

“As it is you, my lady. Today should be exciting. You’ll get to see more of Glemaria, and in turn they shall get to see more of you. Something our people are very excited for.” She motioned to a trio of mages behind her. They floated in two racks full of gowns with their staves. At a quick glance, they appeared mostly green, cut from satin and velvet, but there were a few white numbers thrown in alongside velvet and furred soturion cloaks. At least I wouldn’t freeze.

“Thank you. You may go,” Kenna dismissed them. Dario started to move into my room, but she held up her hand. “I don’t think so. You’ll wait out here.”

“I’m under orders, Ken.”

“To guard her—out there. Now move aside, Dario. We have dresses to try on.”

“You hurt me, Ken,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “Assuming I don’t want to try dresses on, too.”

Kenna laughed, taking his hand in hers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He winked. “I’ll be right out here. Not trying on dresses, and trying not to cry.”

“The difficulty of your life,” Kenna said, gliding into my room.

“You’re awfully close,” I said, once we were alone. Dario was so different from the standard sort of Glemarian stoicism I’d seen in Rhyan and Aiden. Even in my few interactions with Rhyan’s uncle Sean, there was a seriousness to their auras, to the way they stood, that Dario seemed to lack. And yet, he was as harsh and cruel as any other soldier I’d encountered.

Kenna shrugged. “Dario’s been one of my best friends for years. And … well, for a time, we were … more.”

“Dario was your lover?” I had so many questions.

“It was quite a while ago. And you can clearly see, he’s just as torn up and heartbroken about it as I am.” She pulled a green dress out, and laid it over the chaise.

“How? Why?” I asked.

Kenna glanced around the room. “Something to do. At our rank and stations, our choices can be limited. Sometimes it’s nice to just be with someone you at least care about, even if they’re not … exactly what you want.” She shrugged. “What about this one?” she asked, her voice loud. “A perfect example of Glemarian green, but it would look lovely with your complexion. I think our people would—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You can speak freely. No nahashim.”

Relief spread over her face as she walked to me. “You’re sure?” Her eyes flicked back and forth across the room, her body still.

“Positive,” I said. Though my ears were strained, fully ready to catch the exact moment things changed.

“Good. Now tell me, how are you doing?” she asked urgently, her voice low. “How’s Rhyan?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. We never get to really talk. I see him every day, but we’re never alone. We never have anything remotely like privacy. No ways to really communicate.”

“You need to talk,” Kenna said decisively.

I folded my hands together. “I was hoping you could arrange that. We’re running out of time and we need to figure out our escape. Or at least, begin to discuss the possibility. But I can’t get word to Rhyan or Meera about anything, not even to see how they’re feeling without Dario and Aiden seeing.”

“You’re not meant to. But I’m going to look for any openings I can find, any sort of time slot I can bring you two together. Without the nahashim or your guards seeing.”

“It’s tricky. I can’t disobey any direct orders.” Every day, I was sent a note, reminding me to follow his command, to continue doing what I was doing. If there wasn’t a note, I’d see him in person. He’d pass me in the hall, greet me, and whisper his commands. I never went more than a full day without orders. And each time they came, I felt that same pull in my blood, the same need to follow. To obey, no matter how much my mind or body seemed to rebel.

I pulled out a dress, pretending to look at it, but there was nothing in me that gave a damn. I shook my head in exasperation. “If the Imperator thinks I’m trying to meet with Rhyan, he’ll tell me directly I can’t. And then there’ll be nothing else I can do. I’ll be compelled to listen.”

Kenna tapped her chin. “He’s probably anticipating that. What about writing? I could try to deliver messages back and forth between you.”

I shook my head. “Too risky. How can I trust they won’t be intercepted?”

“You’d have to trust they wouldn’t, and … take every precaution, assuming they do.”

I groaned. “I could write to him in High Lumerian, but that seems pointless. It’s too easily translated. If only I could speak to him directly—” My eyes widened. “The vadati stones. We could use those, and they’d be easier to hide. Can you get them for me?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. It’s dangerous, and it would take some time. I know where he’s keeping them, but I’d need Devon to be away to gain access.”

“Of course.” I sighed. “And I’m assuming he’s not leaving Seathorne anytime soon? At least not before the Valabellum?”

“No.” Kenna grimaced. “He’s made sure of that. But you’ll have more room to move about this weekend. All eyes will be on you, but everyone will also be drinking. A lot. If I find a window, I’ll bring you two together and offer as much cover as I can. In the meantime, you may need to simply tell me what it is you wish for him to know. That may be the only safe option.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted him to know that we needed to plot our escape. That I had no intentions of remaining a prisoner here, or as Kane’s wife. I wouldn’t subject myself to that fate, nor him.

I’d told Rhyan the plan had to change, that we couldn’t just run away. But maybe it was time to leave the Empire. But only if we could take Meera and Jules with us. I loved him enough to do it. To sacrifice everything. If we had to. If it came down to it. At least, until it was safe enough to fight our way back.

But that seemed too big a thing to express through Kenna. I needed to talk to him face-to-face, to touch him, to hold him.

“Just let me know as soon as you find a window,” I said.

Kenna nodded. “And Meera?”

“Yes, for her, too.” I still had to tell her so much. Who Kane was. Who she was. And of course, what it was we were truly stealing.

“Shall we pick out your dresses?” Kenna asked. She’d added several more choices to the chaise.

I stared at the gowns and my body felt suddenly hollow. Kane was back in the fortress. His arrival had been announced the night before. He would be by my side all day. By my side while I was forced to wear what was before me. “I guess I have no choice.” I eyed the dresses warily. “He didn’t send any armor my way, did he?”

Kenna shook her head. “I don’t think you’ll get that back. Nor your stave. Not before the Valabellum.”

I took a deep breath, nodding in defeat and Kenna went to work, turning me into the perfect Glemarian bride.

Just for the wrong man.

And the wrong God.

A few hours later, after being served a private breakfast in my room, and having several of Kenna’s maids arrive to pin back my hair and paint my face, I was flown to our first event. A luncheon at the private mansion of Senator Oryyan, followed by a parade through the City of Harton, the only major city in Glemaria. The Library of Glemaria sat on its edge and loomed over the buildings around us.

I stepped down from the gryphon, surrounded by a series of stone buildings and streets. The sounds of a river rushing nearby added to the chatter. Senator Oryyan’s mansion seemed to be made up of more window than wall. Green curtains hung before all of them. Dario led me inside, taking me down what felt like an endless hallway lit by silver lamps. At the end of the hall was a dressing room where I’d wait until I was announced. I stood before a mirror assessing my gown. It was made of satin with a velvet corset threaded with silver. Long flowing green sleeves ran past my wrists, and the skirt puffed out so dramatically at my hips, they looked twice their size.

“Your dress needs to be fixed,” Imperator Hart said suddenly. He’d entered the room without any warning, his eyes watching me in the mirror. Slowly, he walked behind me, his eyes roving up and down my body as I realized I’d yet to receive his commands for the day. “You look like you fell off a gryphon.’’

“Your Highness,” I said, turning to curtsey. “I’ll be sure to fix it.”

“Allow me,” he said, reaching for my waist and spinning me around to face the mirror. His front pressed to my back. Before I could catch my balance, his hands lifted, gripping the top of my corset.

I sucked in a breath, my heart beating too quickly. His wrists brushed against the tops of my breasts, his fingers pressing into the boning, as he lifted the corset higher, tugging it violently.

My vision blurred.

“Brockton,” I cried. “Please. Please. Don’t do this. Don’t.”

“Sorry, Asherah.” He slid his blade down my chest, and the thin material which remained—all that covered me—was shredded in half, leaving me exposed. Naked.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe.

“She looks beautiful, Your Highness,” Dario said, his voice too loud for the room. “Her corset is perfectly placed. You truly have an eye for such things.”

Imperator Hart stilled, his hands remained on my dress as he watched me in the mirror, watched my chest heave, watched my breath come in short, labored gasps. His hands slid up to my collarbone, his fingers dancing against my skin as they moved to my shoulders. He pulled me back against him and whispered in my ear.

“Be convincing today, little slayer.” He kissed my cheek and it was all I could do not to recoil. “I’ve received word from Imperator Kormac concerning your canceled engagement to his son.”

“Have you?” I asked, my voice high, my body far too aware of every place he touched me. A slimy feeling was starting to run down my neck.

“He is most displeased.” He smiled widely in the mirror.

“As we expected,” I said carefully.

“Exactly as we expected. You’ll be happy to know he has renounced his claim on you. But he will take you back, despite the insult, quite willingly. He said specifically to let him know if you decided you don’t prefer the company of Arkturion Kane in your bed.”

I stared ahead, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I know we’ve told everyone how chaste and pure you remain—how untouched by my son you are. But you are free to test out your betrothed’s bed anytime you want. Or mine.”

“I’m rather traditional,” I said.

“Hmmm. Of course. You remain the model of virtue. In that case, to keep Kormac from beginning any legal claims, we may have to move your wedding up.”

“Oh?” was all I could manage, but my stomach was twisting and turning, my mind too able to imagine the horrors Kane would unleash on me. Please, please. Not before the Valabellum. Not before I found a way out. “Surely, such an event will take time to plan?”

His eyes narrowed. “Not in a hurry to wed?”

“A girl dreams of this day for years.” I forced a smile. “I would want such an event to be done right. And, I would be honored if the Emperor attended. I believe you would, too. That would surely end all other claims.”

I watched the Imperator’s eyes narrow. “He’ll be there,” he said.

“That’s wonderful. I know his schedule is full and will require careful, advanced planning.” My heart pounded. “For now, we still have a few weeks of engagement events to attend. The Valabellum right after. It would have to wait until then.”

Imperator Hart smirked. “You’d let it wait forever, wouldn’t you?” His breath on my neck was too hot, too close. And somehow still, his aura was too cold. “Do not give Kormac a reason to claim you,” he commanded. “Because he still very much wants to get inside your … country.” He tilted his head. “You look upset. This little thing you’re doing, the way your pulse is racing, your breath catching—is that worry for Bamaria? Or,” he whispered, “is that a parting gift from Brockton? Is it my hands on you? Or is it when I …” he pushed my corset forward, exposing the top of my breasts, “adjust your clothing?”

I felt faint. Could feel the brush of tears against the back of my eyes, hot and burning, pushing forward. No matter how hard I fought against it, I was so fucking close to crying. But I couldn’t. I knew if I started, if I let one tear fall, I’d never stop.

I took a deep breath, my skin crawling, and lifted my chin. “Imperator Kormac will have no reason to claim me—not by any action I take.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And to ensure that we keep him away, do remember your part in all of this.” He gritted his teeth, his mouth even closer to my ear. “Stop watching my son when you think no one’s looking.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I nodded.

“And while I have you here,” he squeezed my shoulders again, hard at first, and then he was crushing them between his fingers, his bones digging into mine.

I bit back a cry, Dario watching us. He’d taken a sudden step forward. His hand on his sword. His aura blaring with something that felt almost protective. His fingers curled around the hilt, the tip of his starfire steel blade glinting in the fire, and then just as quickly, he let his hands fall to his sides as he stepped back. Dario’s eyes moved pointedly beyond us to an old painting of a gryphon.

Imperator Hart squeezed me harder and harder until I winced. Another bruise would form there, right in the spot that had just healed from Kane.

“I’m telling you now,” he said. “I have given you everything you need. Warrior training. Access to secret materials—maps, and schedules that only Imperators have ever been allowed to see. And I’ve given you a team to assist you. There’s nothing more you need other than to do as you were told.”

I nodded again, my face pale from the pain, beads of sweat forming at the nape of my neck. “You’ve been most generous, Your Highness.”

“It brings me great joy to hear you say that you agree. And that you feel the same, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

His eyes assessed me through the mirror. “Then stop fucking around trying to arrange private meetings behind my back.”

My breath caught. I’d only mentioned that to Kenna this morning. And I’d checked—I’d double checked the room for nahashim. I’d been sure none were in there. How the fuck had he known? Had Dario overheard and reported it? Another guard? Had Kenna been forced to betray me? Fuck. Fuck!

Either way, I couldn’t go to her now. Ally or not, she’d been compromised. And even if I dared risk it, I wouldn’t be able to form the words to her. I wouldn’t be able to disobey Imperator Hart’s direct command. Not without immense pain. The blood contract I’d signed made sure of it.

“The lady is a beauty, Dario. She’s finally fit to be seen,” Imperator Hart said then, stepping back, his voice now jovial and light. Like he hadn’t just threatened the shit out of me. He chuckled and winked at Dario, before stepping out of the room. The door closed, and I stumbled forward.

Dario was by my side in an instant. “Are you all right, Lyriana?” he asked, his hands reaching for me, but not quite touching me. “Fuck.” His dark eyes scanned back and forth across my shoulders in the mirror. He let his hands fall, his fingers twitching. “Did he hurt you?” He shook his head. “Of course, he did. I–I can get a mage in here, get some ice magic for your shoulders.”

Swallowing, I turned around, staring directly at him. “You’re being nice to me?”

He scoffed. “Don’t look so surprised. Wait here.”

I wrapped my arms around my chest, shivering with the remnants of fear and Imperator Hart’s aura.

But for the first time, I began to see why Rhyan and Dario had been friends. He was more like Rhyan than I’d realized. He had the same protective streak. I’d been so quick to write him off—to distrust him because of the cave incident. Because he’d captured us. But I was slowly beginning to understand that no one became a part of Imperator Hart’s inner circle unless the Imperator could guarantee his control over them. The night Dario and Aiden caught us, they might have had no choice but to tie us up and bring us back. And all at once, I felt sympathetic to Dario. But still wary. If he was under orders, under a blood oath or a contract like mine, he’d always betray us in the end. It was entirely possible he’d overheard me and Kenna this morning and had no choice but to report his findings.

He returned a moment later, a mage at his side, her stave glowing with a bluish white light.

“Can she see your shoulders, my lady?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Just your shoulders, nothing else.”

Our eyes met and I realized he’d noticed my anxiety. He was more observant than I gave him credit for.

I nodded at the mage. “It’s fine.”

“Do you need help moving your sleeves?” Dario asked.

“I can do it.” I slid the material down to my biceps, wincing as I did so.

Dario nodded for the mage to approach.

“This will feel a bit cold,” the mage warned. “But it shouldn’t hurt, and will soften any soreness you feel.”

I sucked in a breath as the ice pierced my skin. “Dario.” I found his gaze, needing it as an anchor as the ice continued to burn. “Thank you.”

His eyes softened, but then he turned away, his body language that of someone on guard. “You won’t have long before they call for you.”

I swallowed roughly, my shoulder beginning to numb. “Can I ask you a question?”

His eyes remained on me, still soft, but wary.

“Is Aiden—” my throat caught, “Is he as protective of Meera as you are of me?”

“He is.” Dario looked toward the door. “Please, don’t ask me again. It’s time.”

I closed my eyes, praying she wasn’t suffering. At least, I knew that Dario wouldn’t hurt me, even if he couldn’t yet be trusted. But at the very least, if I couldn’t be at Meera’s side, Aiden was. And for the first time since our capture, that seemed a comforting thought.

I lifted my sleeves back over my shoulders with Dario’s help and walked out into a dining hall full of Glemarians. Immediately, I was given to Kane, who I couldn’t help but stare at and hug, and kiss on his cheek. Thank the Gods, Imperator Hart hadn’t asked me for anything more.

Kane gripped my hand, his fingers bruising mine as everyone cheered. I swallowed back the bile in my throat as I continued staring at him, unable to take my eyes off his, even when I knew Rhyan had entered the room. I’d always know. I could feel his aura. Feel his soul. But only in my peripheral vision could I catch a glimpse of him, his hand in Amalthea’s, his jaw tight and his emerald eyes blazing on me.

When we’d heard enough congratulations, when he’d emptied enough wine glasses followed by toasts, and after I’d danced with Kane for three whole songs, we were led away to the engagement parade and carried through Harton on litters. I managed through the change in venue to catch sight of Meera, dressed to perfection as a noble. Aiden stood by her side, his hand on his stave, his dark eyes looking every bit as eagle-like as his nose. He was guarding her. Her hazel eyes met mine. And for a brief moment, she smiled, a reassuring one. One that only a sister could read. It said both “I’m okay,” and asked if I was. I couldn’t smile back though, because I was pulled away.

I stopped paying attention after that. Barely noticed the shouts of congratulations from the crowd. I didn’t even flinch when we got back on the gryphon and flew to another town. I didn’t move when another set of servants arrived in another back room to freshen my hair and makeup and help me dress in a new gown. Identical to the first, but white.

I didn’t feel it when Kane took my hand at the next event. Or when Rhyan entered. I refused to give Imperator Hart any other reason to give me orders, or question me.

I had one goal. Prepare for the Valabellum. Get the shield. Get Jules. And so while I was twirled in circles, while Kane’s fingers dug into my hip, or when the scent of Rhyan, of musk and pine and something that felt like home, flew past me, I didn’t react. I went over maps in my mind. I mentally reviewed schedules. I did the very thing Rhyan taught me to do when I first started training. I imagined the end. I saw the outcome I wanted.

And I rehearsed it again and again.

Ereshya’s shard in my hands.

Jules in my arms.

The two of us with Rhyan, and Meera, escaping Numeria. Escaping Glemaria. Free.

And before I knew it, the engagement events for the weekend had ended. A snake slid into my bed, a scroll in its mouth.

“Miss me already?” I snarled, swiping the scroll from its jaws.

My lady,

I stared dully at Imperator Hart’s now familiar writing.

You’ve done well. If you can do it again this week, I may allow you to see your sister outside of your busy schedule. As a further precaution, Rhyan will be bound at all future events. His power is only needed for training during the week after all.

Prove your loyalty, and I may give him more freedom.

H.H.I.H.

P.S. Make sure your gowns are properly fitted moving forward. You don’t want to cause men to have an imagination now, do you?

I threw the scroll into the fire, seething. Everything I’d done, everything I’d bargained for Rhyan. All for him to be fucking bound again.

I realized quickly as the days and then weeks passed inside Seathorne’s gates, there was nothing else I could do but follow Imperator Hart’s orders.

So, I did. I trained, I ran, I didn’t show my power. I kept my eyes away from Rhyan’s, avoided his touch when he reached a concerned hand for my shoulder after having heard about my latest “discussion” with his father. I pulled my hand from his in the rare moments we had privacy because I was told to, and watched his face fall as we grew further and further apart. I missed him every night, and during the day, even though I always saw him. It was a unique form of torture, being so close like this.

I took small comforts alone in Rhyan’s room. Looking at his old things, reading through his old scrolls to help me fall asleep while smelling the lingering scent of him in his blankets. Until the snakes reported that, too. Rhyan’s scent had been meant to torture me. The moment it wasn’t, it was gone. While I was in training, I came home to new linens, the scent of pine and musk completely replaced with lemon.

Every day I did as I was commanded. I was a loyal Glemarian subject to the Imperator, a puppet on his strings following through on his every written and verbal request to smile and dance and look besotted and turn my attention from those I loved.

And every night, I focused on our prep in the library. In the mornings, I stood guard at the crack of dawn inside our training room, while Rhyan practiced traveling with Dario in his arms, making sure he was strong enough for whatever came at him in the capital. Rhyan practiced jumping back and forth between our room and Dario’s, until he was a sweating mess, sinking onto the mat. But he was getting stronger, lasting through more jumps each time.

When the next set of engagement events arrived, I was dressed again in fancy Glemarian-style gowns and paraded through the different towns and into the private homes of select nobility. By then, my third weekend of events, I was used to being forced to dance with Kane, being forced to feel his hands on my waist, on my back and my shoulders, his rough cheek hair against my lips. At least, that was all I’d had to feel.

And when the weekend came to an end, I was left with another note.

I am not yet convinced of your affections for your betrothed.

Try again.

Convince me.

I crumpled the note, too tired to even take it to the fireplace.

The weather warmed in Glemaria the following week—our final week before the Valabellum. Kenna came by my room more often during those mornings, but I didn’t dare speak to her out of turn—I didn’t ask about Rhyan. I didn’t ask about Meera. I talked to her about dresses, and rings, and wearing a lighter coat without fur that weekend, since we were on the verge of spring.

We’d been flown past the border to Hartavia, to a manor owned by one of Rhyan’s relatives on his mother’s side. His aunt, Lady Sheera was his mother’s sister, and her husband, Rhyan’s uncle through marriage was Lord Marcus of Ka Telor, a prominent Ka in the North.

At the start of the ball, we went through the traditional protocol of being announced one by one and presented to the nobles. As guests and members of the Ka ruled by the northern Imperator, we entered the ball last. But I was on edge, focused on finding one man in particular. The Senator from Hartavia. Rhyan’s childhood abuser.

The first dance of the night was a group number, a traditional Hartavian dance that involved holding hands in large circles, commonly known as the “Dance of the Laurels.” I’d ended up in a circle of all women, holding hands with Kenna, as I anxiously looked over my shoulder for Rhyan. But he was sandwiched between Aiden and Dario. As the circle broke apart, the musical notes playing faster, I linked arms with Kenna. The next part of the dance had us skipping in a circle, twirling around each other. But with Kenna so far along in her pregnancy, we performed more of a walk.

I leaned in toward her, noting the Imperator distractedly dancing with Lady Sheera. Kenna looked radiant, her brown hair shining and thick down her back. She’d traded her traditional green gowns for a flowy yellow dress that looked far more comfortable for her condition.

Talking to Kenna about Rhyan, about escaping, about anything not related to dresses and parties had been taken off the table. But Imperator Hart had never forbidden me from this line of questioning.

“The Senator from Hartavia,” I hissed in Kenna’s ear.

Her brown eyes widened, searching the room. “Where?” she asked.

I shook my head. The music changed and we released each other’s arms, turning to link hands, our circular walk moving counterclockwise now. “No. I don’t know what he looks like. Is he here?”

Her brows furrowed, but her walk slowed, her free hand going to her belly as if in preparation for anyone asking her why she wasn’t dancing harder. Quietly she scanned the room, her eyes searching through the different couples across the dance floor.

At last, she gave me a satisfied shake of her head, relief clear in her relaxed expression. “No. No sign of him.”

I exhaled sharply. “Good.” Because if he was here …

The notes changed again, returning to the song’s start signaling it was time to remake the laurels. This time the circles were mixed and my hand was seized by Kane. He pulled me into the smaller dance when it came again, while Kenna had found a noble woman I thought I’d seen with her a few times before.

When the song ended, the instruments slowed and Kane dragged me against him.

Bile rose in my throat, but I was suddenly dancing close to him, our bodies pressed together, his hand sliding down the curve of my ass. I leaned into the touch, unable to stop myself, even as tears burned behind my eyes. Even as across the room Rhyan’s face paled. If I tried to pull away, my stomach hurt, my blood heated.

Soon, the formal dancing ended, and the Hartavian Arkturion pulled Kane aside for some drinks. The night had disintegrated into something more casual, something I used to see at the clubs in the city, when Jules and I would sneak out. It made my heart pang, missing her, wishing I could simply be in the moment, enjoy the music and the dancing. Things I used to love. And I wasn’t the only one affected by the festivities. The soturi on guard even seemed to relax, some lowering their weapons, or abandoning their posts as the wine, mead and beer flowed freely.

As I looked around, I realized there was no sign of Imperator Hart. No sign of Kenna. And no nahashim. Dario was even distracted, momentarily talking to a mage he’d danced with earlier. Meera was dancing, still rather formally, with Aiden. And Rhyan? He was dancing with Amalthea.

I saw my opening. I rushed from the room down to a spare hall, my chest heaving. I didn’t care if I was punished. I didn’t care if disobeying the Imperator’s commands caused me physical pain. My stomach lurched the second I stepped foot outside, there was a sharp sting shooting through my guts, and out to my arms. But I couldn’t take another second back there—couldn’t stand to see Rhyan with someone else. Couldn’t stand to feel my own skin knowing it had been touched by Kane’s disgusting hands all night. Finally, the emotional and psychological pain of it all hurt worse than Imperator Hart’s commands.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, coming closer and closer. I ran without thinking, dashing behind a corner, desperately trying to control my breathing, to silence my emotions, and pull back my aura. The person kept coming, walking faster. From the echo of their gait, I knew they were wearing soturion boots. Probably Dario, realizing I’d left. But I wasn’t ready to face him, to face anyone. I needed a moment to be alone, to fall apart. To breathe. I turned around, moving deeper into the corner I’d found, leaning against the wall.

Then all at once, pine and musk filled my senses.

“Lyr? I saw you run out. You okay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach twisting. “You shouldn’t be here. Your father—”

“You think I fucking care? Tell me. What’s wrong?”

I turned, coming face to face with Rhyan. And despite all of my orders, despite the pain reverberating inside of me, I didn’t think. I stepped forward, wrapping him in my arms.

He made a muffled noise of surprise, his body still. I pressed my fingers into his back, feeling the sturdy muscles, savoring the feel of this part of him I’d been denied. My hands slid up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. We were both still, just breathing, just holding each other after being denied doing so for weeks.

And then, without warning, something was unleashed. With a growl low in his throat, his hips pressed against mine, pushing me back into the wall. He hardened against me. A gasp escaped my lips. My chest began to heave, my breaths coming short. After so much deprivation, being unable to talk to him, to look at him, to feel him like this, all of him against me, it was almost too much.

Too dangerous.

His father was down the hall. Arkturion Kane. Lady Amalthea.

Rhyan cupped the nape of my neck, as his other hand slid down my back. It was such an innocent touch, and still I moaned, wanting to cry at how starved and untouched I’d been by him. His eyes flashed, desperate, and filled with hunger. His hand moved even lower, squeezing my waist, and hip, until his palm settled against my ass, pulling me closer, lifting me toward him.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” He rolled his hips, pushing against me. “But I can’t stop.”

I was already seeking out his length, trying to pull him closer even as my stomach twisted, even as I cried out, “We have to. We have to stop.”

Rhyan hissed through his teeth practically panting. But he stilled at once, his neck red. “Did Kane do anything to you?”

I closed my eyes, squeezing his arms, trying to pull him closer. “Nothing you didn’t see. I just—” I winced. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get away. Just for a minute.”

“Partner,” he breathed against my neck, his voice shaking with emotion.

The backs of my eyes burned. Gods. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me that.

His grip on me tightened then, possessive, claiming. “I fucking miss you,” he growled. I could feel his breath hot against my skin, leaving shivers low in my belly as he grazed his nose against my jaw, finding the crook of my shoulder on my other side. He pulled me closer, inhaling again.

“Rhyan,” I panted. “I miss you, too. So fucking much.”

His forehead pressed against mine, his lips just inches from my own. I could smell the honey of the mead he’d drunk on his breath. His eyes were screwed shut as he kissed the corner of my mouth.

“You say the word, Lyr, you give the command, the order, and I’ll take you from here. I’ll take you away. Nothing has changed. I’m still sworn to protect you, to follow you.”

My lips trembled, every part of me wanting to melt into his touch, to say yes, to scream it. “You know we can’t,” I said, blinking back tears. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said sadly, and kissed my forehead. “Fuck.”

“Rhyan?”

“It’s okay, Lyr. It’s okay. But I had to say it. Had to ask. At least, once more.”

My eyes watered. “I hate this,” I cried. “I hate not talking to you. Not holding you.”

“I know.” He sucked in a shaky breath, and smoothed my hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing the curve of my lobe. “I feel like … like I lost you, even though you’re right in front of me.”

I shuddered, hating to know he felt that way.

His jaw worked as he composed himself. “We’ll find a way,” he said. “We leave in a day for the capital. It’s almost over. Then we’ll figure it out. We’ll find our way back to each other.”

Another set of footsteps echoed in the hall and Rhyan pulled back. I felt the loss of his touch everywhere, like I’d been stripped of my clothes and left out in the cold.

“Promise?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.

He lifted the cloak of his soturion hood over his head, his face vanishing into the darkness as he stepped into the shadows. A torch flickered overhead, suddenly weakening. It was my aura—my emotions causing it to blink out.

“I swear,” he said. Then he was gone.