Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

TRISTAN

Galen had killed the Emperor. Galen had killed the Godsdamned Emperor.

Fuck. FUCK! I was trying to save him, to protect him. What the hell had he been thinking?

I paced back and forth across my room, replaying it over and over in my mind. Why was he so fucking stubborn? So sure that this was the right thing to do? It was just going to get him killed, like I’d known it would. I didn’t think he’d succeed. I never imagined.

But I should have. There was a reason he’d kept winning the trials, kept moving through to the next level.

I wasn’t surprised he’d made it to the Valabellum. That he’d gotten a role. But Moriel—Moriel always died. And no matter what happened now, whether they went through with the games, and placed him in there to seal his fate, or they tried him for murder, he’d die. And not just die, he’d be tortured.

My best fucking friend in the world, and he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let me save him.

I had to figure something out. Find a way to help him. But how? Fuck. How could he fucking do this?

There was a loud banging on my door. And then another that came with so much force, my room shook.

Eric and Bellamy were at the door at once. They’d been allowed to remain and guard me, but they were weaponless, their staves gone since we were sent into lockdown. Our true guards now were the Emperor’s, or Numeria’s I supposed. We had no Emperor now.

“Who’s there?” Bellamy asked.

“By Order of the Senate, and Emperor, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia, you will open this door at once.”

I paled. I knew that voice. The Bastardmaker.

Throat constricting, I nodded, and straightened, pushing my hair back, willing my breath to even.

The Bastardmaker strolled in, his black beady eyes surveying my room. “The Emperor has called for your assistance at once,” he said.

“The–The Emperor?” I asked. “But … the bells.”

“Theotis is gone,” he confirmed.

“A new one’s already been elected?” I asked.

“Of course. We had to act fast with assassins in the Palace.”

“But the bells only just rung. He just—”

“Are you an idiot?” the Bastardmaker asked. “You think the bells ring the moment he stops breathing? That they’re some marking of the exact time of death? They’re a Godsdamned announcement. We ring them when we’re ready. When we already have a new Emperor to take control, to bring order to this mess. And he wants to see you now. Alone.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed with worry, and he stood holding his ground. He was supposed to come with me. But nothing about tonight had been protocol. An Emperor had been assassinated. And we all knew if the Bastardmaker wanted to, he could end Bellamy’s life in a matter of minutes, legal or not.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll come.”

The Bastardmaker turned on his heels, his red Arkturion cloak flying behind him, and he walked out the door. As I followed, I reached automatically for my belt, my fingers itching to wrap around my stave. It was instinct, something I did whenever I faced an enemy. Whenever I felt threatened. I wasn’t stupid enough to try and fight the Bastardmaker, but the security I felt in having it on me was reassuring. Even if the reassurance was thin.

The walk through the Palace felt endless, and for a moment, I feared he was taking me to the dungeons, to imprison me on some technical offense.

He could. He fucking could. They’d been watching me all along. And maybe I’d been wrong that I’d been safe, wrong that my secrets had remained hidden. Maybe they knew I was vorakh. Maybe it was because I’d failed to bring them Lyr and Rhyan.

Maybe, it was because I was friends with Galen. Friends with the Emperor’s killer.

But then we abruptly turned direction, and headed up the stairs to the Throne Room. I watched as the tiles on the ground shifted from purple to a mix of black and white.

More guards than I’d ever seen were at attention before the entrance, while inside there were hushed, angry voices deep in conversation.

“Let us pass,” the Bastardmaker demanded.

All at once the rows of soturi parted, and we were permitted inside. All of the Arkasvim, and all of their Arkturi were present. Standing on the dais beside the throne was the Blade, his face stoic.

I found Arianna’s face in the crowd. But she looked disinterested in me. Slowly, I began to do a headcount, quickly spotting every Arkasva I could find. The North were easily spotted and accounted for. Ka Kether of Sindhuvine, Ka Lumerin of Aravia, Ka Sephiron of Eretzia, Ka Taria of Hartavia, and Ka Valyan of Payunmar. And there, standing at the head, his beard neatly trimmed, was Imperator Hart of Glemaria. They all stood before the dais, all wore their golden Laurels of the Arkasva.

So Hart hadn’t been named Emperor after all.

Still, on the dais, the throne remained empty, and above it that shield I’d seen earlier seemed to glow, the color of the stone in the center haunting. I’d been drawn to it since the moment I’d laid my eyes on it, and felt almost as if I were falling into a trance. I’d been terrified of a vision coming on me, especially after I’d brought a vorakh to justice, but that shield was something else.

I quickly glanced at the other side of the room, where the southern Kavim had gathered beside Arianna. There was Ka Maras of Lethea, Ka Zarine of Cretanya, Ka Daquataine of Damara, and Ka Elys of Elyria.

A door opened from behind the throne, and our new Emperor emerged.

Imperator Kormac.

He stepped out onto the dais and sat down on his throne, his black Imperator robes now replaced with the purple of the Emperor.

“Bow,” shouted the Blade. “Bow before your sovereign, His Majesty, Emperor Avery, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia.”

No. No.

The Bastardmaker slapped my back and immediately I sank to the ground, my knees hitting the floor with a bruising speed.

Everyone around me, all the Arkasvim, and all the Akrturi followed suit. Only the Blade and rest of the soturi on guard remained upright, their weapons in their hands.

I didn’t know if an election had taken place, or what decisions had been made here, but I knew one thing. No one, except those few who were loyal to Ka Kormac, was happy about this.

“Rise,” Emperor Avery said. “We shall commence with my anointing at once to secure the safety of this Empire, just as my predecessor advised me to do in the south when I ruled as Imperator. I made safe our borders, I ended the akadim threat, and I swear to you all, I will end this one as well. Now, as is customary, you will all remain here until morning.”

I looked around, all the Empire’s rulers looked miserable, and though they had their Arkturi beside them, their eyes were moving warily to the armed guard that surrounded them. They were just as much prisoners here as we were. For once, it was good not to be Arkasva. At least I’d gotten some privacy in my room.

At least, I had. Now I was a prisoner as well.

“Lord Tristan,” Emperor Avery said. “Thank you for coming. I require your assistance in a most urgent matter. Follow me.” He rose from his throne and again walked behind the dais through a door that appeared suddenly.

The Bastardmaker urged me ahead. I looked back at everyone else, sweat beading at the back of my neck. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust any of this. Elections couldn’t happen this fast, transitions of power took time. The Emperor’s Second should have been installed as the ruler until a proper election could be held. At least a month should have passed first, a true transition.

But he’d done the same thing months ago in Bamaria. He’d removed Lord Eathan, the rightful replacement of Harren Batavia, and placed Arianna in the Seat of Power. And as I glanced at her, at my country’s Arkasva and High Lady, at my future mother-in-law, I pleaded with her through my eyes. Begged for protection, for safety and amnesty.

But her expression was cold as she stared ahead, acting as if she barely knew me.

We vanished into a long hall that fed back outside the Throne Room. I watched carefully as the Imper—, the Emperor led me around a corner. Before us stood a simple black door.

“Pay attention,” Emperor Avery commanded. “Very few have permission to enter here.”

I nodded, not sure what else to do. He knocked on the door, but not with a normal knock. This had a very specific rhythm. A series of beats.

“It’s the opening beats to the Voladarim. Do you know it?” he asked.

My throat was dried out. “Of course.”

“Musically inclined?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” What in Godsdamned Lumeria was happening right now?

“Just a question. It’s code to enter back into this room. Do you know it?”

Numbly I nodded. “Yes.”

The black door opened, and a soturion stuck their head out. “Your Majesty.” A middle-aged man, completely bald, poked his head out. “Are you ready?”

“One moment. Close the door. I’m having Lord Tristan learn the code. Answer the door, if he gets it right.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The door slammed shut and the Emperor pushed me forward.

“Well?” he demanded. “Knock.”

I did, playing the song on the black door.

The Emperor scoffed and I stepped back, terrified I’d done it wrong. But the door opened and the same bald soturion gestured for us to enter.

I walked into another hallway, nearly black with darkness save for only a few lamps lit at the end. The further we walked, the narrower the hall grew, and I was forced to walk behind the newly made Emperor.

“We’re doing an interrogation,” he announced. “Obviously, we’ve apprehended my uncle’s killer.”

Galen.

“Of course,” I said neutrally. “Protocol.”

Emperor Avery laughed. “Yes. Protocol.”

He stepped aside, revealing a large, dimly lit room. There were no windows. No furniture. Several mages appeared to be huddled together in a corner. Something about them was strange. They were all thin and wearing blue cloaks with hoods over their heads. Their faces were downcast, and they remained shockingly still. The Emperor reached for a torch and lit a series of lamps that brightened the room at once.

I gasped. It was painted bright yellow.

Too much yellow. Too much yellow.

You’ve birthed evil. You’ll regret it when he grows. When you see inside his soul like I have. When you learn what he is!

My heart began to pound, the emotion of fear a palpable sensation.

But with the brighter lights on, my gaze fell on the one person in the room who was not in a robe. He wore almost nothing at all. His clothes had been torn off, his hands chained above his head. Only his short-pants remained, but they’d been ripped up, and looked like they would fall soon. Across his back was blood, so much blood, dripping and oozing from over a dozen cuts made from a whip—the kind used on soturi. The kind that had been used on Lyr.

I was ready to avert my eyes. My stomach turned, threatening to bring everything I’d eaten back up. I couldn’t stand the sight of blood. Couldn’t look. It was too familiar, too close to what I’d seen that night. The night the vorakh tore my parents apart.

But as I started forward, I stopped just as quickly. I had no idea what to do. I had a stave, but no allies, and a soturion blocked the only exit. I might fight my way free, but then what? I didn’t know how to escape the Palace.

“Your friend isn’t being too cooperative,” Emperor Avery said.

“Not answering questions, Your Majesty?” I asked.

“No. He’s answered. We simply don’t agree with his answers.”

He stalked forward, pulling a key from his belt. And before I could react, he punched Galen in the head.

He groaned again, spitting blood at his feet before Emperor Avery freed his right arm.

“Turn,” he commanded, and dragged his arm around, chaining him once more against the wall, but now he faced out. His eyes were bloodshot. His nose was broken, his body covered in sweat.

Our eyes met.

Galen shook his head. “Tristan had no idea. No part,” he said wearily, like every word he said hurt.

“Let’s see for sure.” The Emperor then crossed the room again, coming before the mages in robes.

They all seemed to shrink in his presence, remaining still and silent.

Then he pointed at one, a woman, barely out of her teenage years from the looks of it. She stepped forward and walked to Galen, standing right before him.

“Remove your hood,” Emperor Avery commanded.

She did, glancing back at once. Something pricked the back of my mind. I’d seen her before.

“Go on,” the Emperor said.

The mage nodded, her eyes on me, before she turned back to Galen. “Did Lord Tristan work with you?” she asked. She practically spat my name.

Galen sniffled. “No.”

The mage didn’t react to his answer, she simply watched him, staring with intent.

“Again,” Emperor Avery commanded.

“Did Lord Tristan work with you? Assist you in any way?” asked the mage. And once again, I could feel the vitriol in her voice as she said Tristan.

“He had no idea,” Galen said, sounding exhausted. His head drooped forward, and he coughed in pain. “He tried to keep me out of the games.”

The mage continued to stare.

“Well?” Emperor Avery asked. “Truth?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the mage said.

“And all of you?” he asked, pointing back at those who remained huddled together.

“We hear the same,” said one voice, small and almost childlike.

I looked back and forth between them in bewilderment.

Emperor Avery came to stand by my side as the female mage asked Galen another question.

“Mind reader,” the Emperor said, pointing at her.

“What?” I nearly jumped. “But that’s—they’re … vorakh,” I hissed.

He nodded. “Yes. They are. I think we almost came to an agreement before, you and I. Your friend’s life for Lyriana’s and that bastard son of Hart’s.”

I shook my head. “But … but you saw him, saw him kill—” I cut myself off. This wasn’t going to help Galen. But how could it hurt him? He had killed the Emperor, and everyone had been a witness.

“Everyone knows it was the soturion playing Moriel.” He shrugged. “He was masked. Only a few know his true identity. A little asking around will tell me how big a problem it is. Perhaps the killer switched clothing with him at the last moment. Who’s to say? He could still walk free.”

My heart pounded. “He could?”

“If he can offer more information, someone else who might have helped him. I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. I lost my uncle. But I’ve gained an Empire.”

I shivered. His uncle had been murdered right in front of him. But he felt no remorse. No guilt. Not even a hint of sadness. Fuck. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost bet he put the knife in Galen’s hand. Told him the moment to strike. He’d wanted this outcome. And he hadn’t cared how it came about. And the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how Galen had gotten his chance. Kormac had chosen him to be Moriel—to get back at me. But how had he managed to get to the Emperor? To get so close. Surely Theotis had more protection to guard against such a thing—didn’t he?

I thought of how Galen told me that he wasn’t the only one who wanted the Emperor gone. And Kormac had been spying on me. What would have prevented him from spying on the soturi, from uncovering any assassination plots. And then not stopping them?

But that would mean … No. No.

Was I farther than Lethea? Had Kormac set Galen up?

Swallowing, I stared back at Kormac. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why bring me here?” I looked uneasily at the mages. The vorakh. “What is their purpose?”

All at once their attention was on me, their auras full of hatred.

And they should hate me, I realized. I was one of them, and the biggest traitor of all.

Emperor Avery grinned. “Them? They’re all here because of you. This is what becomes of them. Lethea is for testing. To better understand the depth and scope of their talent. If strong enough, they come here to serve at the Emperor’s pleasure. At my pleasure now. They’re known as the chayatim, the cloaked ones.”

I shook my head, not believing him. Sure that this was some sort of trick, or nightmare. “They’re not stripped?” I asked. “Not locked up?”

“No. Some are, but most are useful. And we hate to throw away valuable resources.” He smirked, his face more wolfish than I’d ever seen. “I sent for these chayatim specifically. Just for you. Don’t you recognize them?”

“No, of course not,” I said quickly, fearing he was casting me as one, that this was all some big joke, his sick and twisted way of telling me that he knew my secret.

But then the mage before Galen turned around again, looking me full in the face, and then I did recognize her.

It was two years ago. I caught her in the fall. I’d recognized the look of pain on her face, the migraine she had, and the way her eyes had darted so carefully from person to person in the city. She was aware of who I was—what I did. And the moment her eyes caught mine, she ran. I knew instantly, and chased. She was bound barely moments later.

And now she was here. A servant. Not stripped. Not imprisoned. At least, not in the prison I’d imagined.

She was thinner than when I’d last seen her. So much thinner, and as she looked back again, I realized more details I hadn’t noticed before. The sallowness of her skin, a bruise on her right cheek, just beneath the golden Valalumir tattoo marking her as one of the Emperor’s.

You’ll regret it when he grows. When you see inside his soul like I have. When you learn what he is!

She was here because of me. My fault. I did this. I’d sentenced her to this fate. And the others. All the others.

The bile rose in my throat again.

I heard the door open and the bald soturion marched down the hall, his hand on another mage’s shoulder. A chayatim. A cloaked one.

Not one of mine. Please, Gods, I couldn’t face another.

“Here it is,” said the soturion, slapping the mage across the face, throwing her onto the floor. She landed right before me and the Emperor.

I stepped back in disbelief. This was what we were doing? This was where we were sending all the vorakh? To the Godsdamned Palace, to be beaten and perform mental interrogations—all while the rest of the Empire believed them dead?

The mage grunted, her hood falling off her head revealing long brown waves. Thin arms and legs protruded from the cloak, all bruised and full of small cuts in various stages of healing.

Her chest heaved as she pulled herself up to her knees.

Then she turned, wiping the blood from her mouth. She seethed. “I heard you were promoted tonight. Tovayah maischa. ” She spat.

The Emperor chuckled. “Do you think I brought you in here for that?”

“You tell me,” she said, her voice shaking.

There was something familiar about her, but my mind was blank.

“Tell you? Tell you! Your Godsdamned job is to see. To know. And you didn’t see this!” the Emperor yelled. He was suddenly gripping her chin, and dragging her across the floor. He slapped her hard across the cheek, and her head snapped toward me.

Her eyes flashed, revealing a familiar hazel color. And then all at once, I saw the recognition in them. She knew me.

And I knew her. She was someone I’d believed to be dead the last two years.

Jules. Julianna. Lady Julianna Batavia.

By the fucking Gods.

She looked away at once, pretending the exchange hadn’t happened.

“What do you want?” she asked. “Not my congratulations. My sympathies?”

“I want you to do your job. And if you can’t do that one, then we’ll settle for the other.”

She shuddered visibly, but only for a second. It happened so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. Because now there was a firm, yet resigned look on her face. “I told you I saw his death coming this year. I can’t help it if I didn’t know it was tonight. That’s not how this fucking works.”

“Language, pet.”

He dragged her to her feet, his eyes boring into hers, his mouth curled back. I’d always thought he had a wolfish energy, a match for his sigil, for the beast on all of Ka Kormac’s armor. But it wasn’t until this moment I saw the animal he truly was. The monster.

I’d sold my soul to a demon, and I’d never known.

Too much yellow. Too much yellow.

Suddenly the Emperor was reaching for Jules’s breast, squeezing hard.

But she remained still, unmoved, almost as if nothing was happening. Emperor Avery’s eyes raked down her body, pulling her cloak aside to reveal a bare shoulder, and then another. A loose black gown covered her underneath, but just barely.

By the Gods—what the fuck was happening? Was he about to—was he going to—No. No. No.

I couldn’t process this, couldn’t be seeing this.

“It works,” he roared, “how I say it works.” Then he shoved her back on the ground and pointed at Galen. “Now get over there, and start telling me what you see next.” He pointed at the rest of the group, still in their place, still, and silent. “And you lot. You tell me if she’s telling the truth.”

Somehow, despite all of that, Jules rose gracefully to her feet, and lifted her chin. Her shoulders rolled back as she carefully walked to Galen.

“Now, Lord Tristan,” Emperor Avery said, “Here’s the deal. I need more information. I’ll probably need to suck him dry. Wear him out until I learn everything. Who he spoke to. Where he got the idea. All of it. But since it seems you require greater motivation, and because I’m bringing you in to serve me here in the Palace, I’ll release him. As a favor. But only if you do what the fuck I asked for.”

I was still watching Jules. Still in shock. Slowly, I looked back to the Emperor and nodded.

“I understand why you failed before. Devon Hart has been a thorn in my side for decades. But we have a unique opportunity here. He and his oaf of an Arkturion remain in the Throne Room. His quarters are locked. But as Emperor, I possess the key. I will give it to you, and this.” He produced a scroll made of solid gold, the Emperor’s sigil engraved on the side. He handed both items to me.

I stared down, feeling their weight in my hands.

“This marks you as my messenger. Any request you make to any servant of the Palace must be obeyed so long as you hold this. It must happen tonight. I want Lyriana and I want Rhyan. You should be motivated to get him. It’s a unique chance. Do you know how he escaped with Lyriana from the Shadow Stronghold all those months ago?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

He chuckled again. “Well, this should please you. It was vorakh.”

I frowned at once, my nostrils flaring. “Then he’s a danger to all of us.”

“Except here,” Emperor Avery said. “The Palace is warded against that. Now that I’m above Devon, and Rhyan cannot escape, this is our chance.”

“Bring Rhyan and Lyriana,” I said. “In exchange for Galen.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you mind my asking?” I said quickly. “Why haven’t you sent for them yourself?”

“I can,” he said. “Easily. But when one works for the Emperor, a certain level of trust must be maintained. Let’s call this your initiation.”

Something told me he was lying. That he couldn’t just get them. Devon Hart might be in the Throne Room, but politics didn’t just end overnight with brute force. He knew that. I was still his pawn. But I considered his words as my eyes took in Galen’s bruised and bloodied body.

“Galen will be free. And I’ll have a position in the Palace?”

You’ve birthed evil. You’ll regret it when he grows. When you see inside his soul like I have. When you learn what he is!

“You will. I’ve found your skillset very valuable. We’ll be needing to add to our ranks. I spoke with Lyriana earlier.”

From the corner of my eye, Jules looked back, her body stiff. Then she turned back to Galen.

“Lyriana knows that we’re aware of her forsworn lover’s secret. Go to him first, and bind him. Show her. Tell her my offer stands. If she comes to me willingly, we’ll release Hart back to his father.”

“And if she refuses?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what she agrees to. You will bring them both to me.”

Jules looked back again, her eye catching mine, a small shake of her head. She was asking me not to bring in Lyr.

Emperor Avery growled in his throat, impatient for me to agree.

I placed the golden scroll in my belt.

“Am I to go alone?” I asked casually. “Hart may not be able to travel within the walls, but he remains a formidable soturion. As is Lyriana. Might I bring my own escorts?”

The Emperor scoffed. “My men will back you up.” He pulled a vadati from his robes and ordered three soturi to meet me at the door.

My jaw clenched, but I nodded.

“You have an hour,” he said. “Don’t be late.”

“It will be done,” I said, staring at the vorakh I’d helped capture. I thought of all the times Lyr had lied to me, the hatred I bore for Rhyan fucking Hart. The way I was fucking certain now that they’d betrayed me, humiliated me. And I smiled at the Emperor. “When I return, I’ll have them both.”