Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

LYRIANA

I was fully dressed in my soturion uniform, minus my actual weapons. I had on my Bamarian armor, but I was still missing Asherah’s chest plate. And my stave. Those were all stored with Imperator Hart’s personal items.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my entire body tense. Rhyan lay his hand on my shoulder, squeezing the back of my neck, his thumb and forefinger kneading my muscles. My heart was pounding. I had a strange feeling. Something was wrong.

“I can stay,” Rhyan said, cupping my cheeks. He’d been dressed since the bells rang, ready to return to his room. Only he hadn’t.

I bit my lip. “What if you’re seen?”

“I can climb back out the window. The second we hear anything at the door, I’ll be gone.”

I nodded.

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It felt like the time we had together was going far too quickly.

But then there was a commotion and yelling outside my door. I opened the window.

“Wait,” Rhyan said, his entire body alert. “Something’s not right.”

“I will go in by myself,” shouted a voice outside. “I am the Emperor’s lawful messenger, and you are to obey.”

“And I,” roared Dario, “am the lady’s personal escort! You go in, and I go with you.”

“Guards,” said the first voice. “Seize him.”

“Dario!” Rhyan hissed. He looked ready to bolt through the door and fight for his friend.

My door swung open and Tristan entered. Alone.

“Lady Lyriana,” he said, his voice overly loud. “I come on behalf of His Majesty, Emperor Avery, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia.” He slammed the door shut behind him, his stave pointed at me.

Several things happened at once.

First, I realized what he’d said. Emperor Avery. Not Emperor Theotis. There was only one ruler with that name. Which meant Imperator Kormac was no longer Imperator. He was Emperor. Like Rhyan’s father feared. Like I’d always feared.

A sinking feeling washed over me. A sense of absolute dread.

And then Tristan realized I wasn’t alone in my room.

Just as Rhyan lunged for him.

The two seemed to growl simultaneously and crashed into each other, tumbling to the floor, wrestling, and punching.

“You touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Rhyan hissed.

“Godsdamnit!” Tristan punched. He started reaching for his stave but Rhyan knocked it from his hand. “Forsworn bastard.” Tristan rolled out of Rhyan’s hold, grabbed the stave, and started to chant. Black ropes began to form.

“No!” I was across the room in seconds, diving for the stave and wrestling it from Tristan.

I shook off the spell, and pointed it at both of them, still tangled up and fighting. Tristan threw a punch, catching Rhyan’s ear, just as Rhyan kneed him in the stomach.

“Get up,” I snarled. “Both of you.”

Rhyan glared, his chest heaving, his aura full of fury. He slammed Tristan on his back, pinning him to the floor.

Surprisingly, Tristan surrendered. “Been a minute,” he said casually, sucking on his lower lip. It was bleeding. “I know we used to joke about being happy to see each other, but I didn’t expect you to throw yourself on top of me so easily.”

“Shut your mouth,” Rhyan said.

Tristan coughed. “I’m pretty sure Lyr wanted you to get up.” He let his hands fall open, making it clear he was no longer fighting.

“She wants you to get up, Lord Grey, and I’d be careful trying to tell me what you think she needs.”

“Auriel’s bane,” I said. Rhyan snapped his head toward me, and I knew it was for more than my use of the expression. “Sorry,” I said quickly, then I lowered my voice. “I want you both to get up.”

Rhyan’s mouth tightened, accepting my decision. But instead of moving, he forced Tristan’s hands up over his head, holding them in place with one hand.

“What in Lumeria?” Tristan shouted.

Rhyan told him to shut up, then to me, he said, “Keep the stave pointed at him.”

“I’m not armed,” Tristan said, but now he was speaking more urgently, losing all of his bravado. “Other than the stave. That’s it. You’re wasting time. She can’t even use it.”

“That’s what you think,” Rhyan said. “We know you’re the Imperator’s little pet. You always have been. Now tell me who else is coming, and she won’t hurt you.”

“It’s just me,” Tristan said, now struggling to get up. His mouth was twitching, and his eyes darted back and forth between us, wild and scared. “For now, at least. And he’s not the Imperator anymore. He’s Emperor, and a lot more dangerous. If I’m not back in front of him within the hour, more soturi will come for you. You’re both in grave danger. I’m here to warn you.” He swallowed. “And to ask for your help. Please. Otherwise, Galen is dead.”

“Galen?” I asked. “What do you mean? Isn’t he in Bamaria?” My stomach turned.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Rhyan asked.

“Emperor Avery sent me personally to bring you both before him. In exchange for Galen.” Tristan glared. “Are you enjoying yourself, Hart? Or can I get up?”

Rhyan snarled, but sat back on his knees and stood, freeing Tristan.

He got to his feet, keeping his hands apart, to show he had no weapons and wouldn’t fight. But his eyes were on his stave still in my hand. He frowned, looking quizzically at me. “You can use that?”

I stepped forward. “A lot has changed since we last saw each other.” I flicked his stave at a torch, and blew out the light. “Threaten either of us, and that’s you.” My grip tightened, and I lifted my arm, the point aimed at his heart.

Tristan cocked his head to the side, his neck red. “Things have changed.” His eyes narrowed on Rhyan. “Though it looks like some things remain the same.”

My heart pounded.

“Listen,” Tristan said, holding both of his hands up higher in surrender. “I don’t want to hurt either of you. I swear. I’m here because the Emperor sent me. And if it’s not me, someone else will come. I’m asking for a truce. For your help, because the soturion who killed the Emperor tonight was Galen.”

I gasped. “Galen! Galen was Moriel?”

Tristan’s chest heaved and he nodded grimly. “He entered the trials to try and get close to the Emperor. He … He wanted revenge for Haleika. I was working to get him out, or at least have him cast in some lowly role so he’d be safe. But when I never found either of you, Kormac ensured he became Moriel—as revenge. He’s promised to keep Galen’s identity a secret and to free him, but only if Lyr breaks her engagement to Arkturion Kane. And Rhyan is brought before the Emperor on charges of being vorakh.”

“NO!” I yelled.

“Fuck!” Rhyan spat. “Fuck!” He ran his hands through his hair. “No. Absolutely the fuck not. I’m sorry about Galen. I am. I always liked him. But I am not sending Lyr to Kormac.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t want to do that either. I wouldn’t endanger her, but this is happening, and it’s better if I bring her in, than someone else does.”

“Fuck you,” Rhyan said. “I’ve already seen you do that, and I know exactly how this game plays out.”

“Like last time?” I shivered. “When you were the one to bind me?”

I’ll do it.

Tristan’s words the night of my Revelation Ceremony still haunted me.

“No,” Tristan said, but his voice had softened.

“What is this?” Rhyan asked. “You try to get our sympathy over Galen, bring Lyr in on the pretense it will hurt less if it’s you? Gryphon-shit! I’m not giving her up to Kormac. You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Then I’ll die beside you,” Tristan said.

“What?” Rhyan looked truly startled.

“Just fucking listen to me. Please!” Tristan took a deep breath, looking like he was desperately trying to regain his composure. “I have no intention of handing her over, or you, Rhyan.”

I blinked. I couldn’t remember ever hearing Tristan refer to Rhyan by his first name.

“I was sent here for you two, and given three guards, loyal to the Emperor. They’re waiting outside right now to escort us back. Help me. Help me fight them. Then we can retrieve my escorts. They’re loyal to me. We’ll all go back to where they’re keeping Galen. And we can fight. There’s only one soturion at the door, and a code to get in. And I have it. We could do this.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rhyan asked. “You expect me to believe this? We go in with you, and fight to what? Free Galen? And then end up prisoners of the Emperor? This whole thing sounds like a poorly planned trap.”

“It does,” I said, slowly. “But it doesn’t need to be. None of this is new information for us. Well, Galen. But we’ve known the rest. We knew he wanted us, knew Tristan was sent to hunt us on his behalf. He could have tricked us with some other reason to go with him. Or just simply demanded it. There’s no reason to tell us this. Why else would he leave the guards outside?”

“Exactly. Lyr, trust me. Please,” Tristan begged. “We don’t have much time.”

“Where’s the room?” Rhyan asked, his mouth tight.

“It’s off this hallway, behind the Throne Room,” he said nervously. “I’ve never seen it before. It’s not open to the public, or even most nobles. Some kind of interrogation room.”

My eyes met Rhyan’s, and I thought of all the maps we’d studied all month.

“Is it to the west?” I asked.

Tristan’s mouth fell open. “Yes.”

“We’ve seen it,” I told Rhyan. “It has a long corridor leading into some open space that wasn’t identified. The one with no windows and only one door. It isn’t marked on the public maps. But on the Imperator’s, it is.”

Rhyan’s eyes widened. “Shit. You’re right, Lyr.”

“And the Throne Room? I asked. “Will it still be full with all the Arkasvim?”

“All but our new Emperor,” Tristan said.

“The Emperor’s in this interrogation room? Alone? Anyone else in there?” Rhyan asked. “Any other guards?”

“There’s vorakh,” Tristan said. “Mind readers. He called them … called them the chayatim.”

I stilled. “The chayatim? You’ve seen them?” I started forward. “Tristan, tell me everything.”

But he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes had grown distant, afraid. His aura flared. I’d felt his aura a thousand times before when he mentioned vorakh. It was always accompanied by anger, by hatred, something ugly and full of grief.

His aura now, though? It held none of that. It was sadness. Guilt. And fear. A nauseating level of it.

“The vorakh—the chayatim, they’re … they’re the ones I caught and arrested,” he said, his voice breaking. “I never knew. They don’t end up in Lethea. They’re not stripped of their vorakh. Nothing is what they told me, nothing is what they promised.” He wrung his hands, sounding hysterical. “They’re all here. Serving the Emperor. Suffering. Because of me.”

There was a scuffle outside, and a distant shout.

But Rhyan shook his head, focusing on Tristan. “I’m sure you feel real fucking guilty about that, Bamaria’s great vorakh hunter.”

Tristan’s eyes had reddened, and I remembered the way he looked the last time I saw him. It was his first acknowledgement of my pain over Jules, the first time he’d seemed to understand it.

“Rhyan,” I said, and shook my head.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Tristan said, almost in a trance. “I truly did. But my whole fucking life is a lie. I know what I am. What I’ve become. What’s inside my soul.” He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “Turns out I’m the thing I always fucking feared. I’m the monster. And I am sorry. If I can free them all, if they’ll even accept my help, I’ll do it. Please. Do you believe me, Lyr?” Tristan asked suddenly, sounding desperate.

My heart pounded as his words sunk in. I felt his aura, saw the truth in his eyes. The unbridled pain. “I believe you,” I said.

“For the record, I don’t trust you,” Rhyan added.

Tristan looked like he was going to be sick. “I get it. But there’s something else. You’re ... you’re probably going to think I’m farther than Lethea, I feel like I am after what I just saw, but there was someone else in there. Someone I wouldn’t have believed I was seeing if it wasn’t for the other chayatim. I didn’t even recognize her at first.”

Someone else? Her? My heart stopped. “Who? Tristan! Who did you see?”

“Jules,” he said.

“You saw Jules?” My voice shook, my pulse pounding. I could swear I heard my blood flowing in my ears, and everything in my body was heating up. I needed to know everything. Know he was telling the truth beyond a shadow of doubt. “With the Emperor? She’s in there now?”

The stave suddenly wasn’t enough for me. Not for this. I closed the window behind me, and turned around, pulling my arm forward. I slid up one of my leather cuffs. And then, I slammed my arm back. My elbow smashed through the glass. I grabbed the nearest shard before they all fell from the window. It was a thick one. Nice and sharp. Then I sprinted across the room for Tristan, locking his arms behind his back. I pressed the glass to his neck, putting just enough pressure behind it to let him know that I was deadly serious. “You’re going to tell me everything you know right now. Where is she?”

Rhyan’s eyes widened, and if he was shocked at my sudden violent shift in this interrogation, he didn’t say. He just took a step back, giving us some space.

“Godsdamnit, Lyr!” Tristan eyed the glass nervously from his peripheral vision, and his breath caught. “I’m telling you the truth. She was in there. I saw her. One of the vorakh is questioning Galen now, reading his mind. They’re torturing him, trying to get as much information as they can,” he spoke quickly, his words rushed. “And when Jules was brought in, the Emperor was furious. Her visions weren’t detailed enough, or accurate enough for him, or something. I’m trying to remember. She said she knew the Emperor would die this year, but not when.”

I gasped, “What else?”

“He was mad Jules hadn’t known it was today that he’d die, I think, or mad she hadn’t seen more, or knew more? I don’t fucking know. But he … he hurt her. And I don’t think it was the first time.” He froze. “He looked like he was going to …” Tristan looked green. “But he pushed her in front of Galen with the mind reader questioning him. She was supposed to use her vorakh, I guess to see what else would happen.”

I tried to listen, to understand everything he was saying, and everything he wasn’t saying. But all I could think about was the fact Tristan had seen Jules. He had actually seen her. And that Kormac had hurt her. He fucking hurt her. I already knew he had. He’d hinted as much over the years. Brockton had confirmed it. So had my visions of her. But hearing it from Tristan, hearing it was happening now, in the Palace, in the fucking building I was in at this very moment—my decision was made.

“Lyr,” Rhyan said, a warning note in his voice. “Lyr. Wait. We need to think this through first. We need more details.”

“Rhyan, no.” My entire body went still. Even my heart felt like it had stopped beating. “We’re not doing this again. Jules is here. Right now! And for the first time, we have a way to get to her. We know exactly where she is.”

“What about—?” His jaw tensed. “What we originally came here to do?”

Steal Ereshya’s shard. And hand it over to his father.

I shook my head. “Fuck it.”

Rhyan’s lips quirked, and he nodded.

“Does this mean you’ll help me?” Tristan asked. “Get Galen and Jules? And the others, if they’re willing?”

“You have my word. Because of Lyr. I swear to you, I’ll do all I can to get Galen out. And the others,” Rhyan said. “But you need to know right now, our priority is Jules. And Jules alone. And mine? It’s Lyriana. If anything happens to her, or this turns into a trick at any point, I will kill you. We do this, and then your men better be fucking ready to cover our backs.”

“They will,” Tristan said.

“Now you swear,” Rhyan said, one eyebrow furrowed in concentration. “Convince me we’re on the same side.”

Tristan groaned. “Be fucking serious, Hart. What the hell else can I give you now? It’s not like I have time to convince you, or anything I can hand over.”

“Then think very fucking fast,” Rhyan snarled.

“Rhyan!” I warned. I didn’t care if he fully trusted Tristan or not. I did. I could see the change in him. I could feel it. He was telling the truth.

“Partner, just … wait,” Rhyan ordered. “Let him prove himself to me.”

A minute passed, and Tristan began to grow more agitated. Finally, he shook his head, like he’d given up. “Fine. You want proof. Proof I’m on your side. That I’m with you? That I’m one of you? I’m …” He slammed his mouth shut, and almost looked like he was swallowing bile. Then his nostrils flared, his face filled with determination. “I’m vorakh,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m vorakh, Rhyan. Like you.” He took a deep breath. “Okay? Me, too. And you ... You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

Rhyan blinked rapidly, just as I yelled out.

“What?” I looked Tristan up and down as if I’d see physical proof. “No. But you …? Which one? Since when?”

He looked absolutely miserable, his shoulders slouched forward into the most un-Tristan-like posture I’d ever seen. “The worst of the three.” His voice was hushed. “The worst for me.”

Because his parents had been murdered, torn apart. By a vorakh. By one in particular. “Visions?” I asked.

Tristan nodded. “It started a few weeks after you left. I don’t know. It just happened. And I can’t make it stop. And now, Gods, Lyr, I’ve seen what I’ve done. And I … we need to get Galen out. And Jules, and everyone else we can. But now! We’re running out of time.”

“I believe him, Rhyan,” I said. “We know all we can. Enough of this. We know the room, we know the blueprint. We’re going.”

Rhyan nodded slowly, his nostrils flaring. “Partner. Do me one more favor first?”

I eyed him carefully, on edge. He was my soulmate, and he had just asked me to marry him, and I wanted to say yes, as impossible as it seemed. But I hadn’t forgotten our argument that first night in Seathorne—at his suspicions of our enemies manipulating me with Jules. I knew he was still considering that idea, wondering if Tristan was doing the same.

Rhyan stepped forward, slowly looking me up and down. “I want you to pick up that glass again for me. And hand him back his stave. I assume we’ll need to appear bound for this plan? To come as captives to the Emperor? Go ahead.” He held up his hands. “Use a glamour and fashion some ropes for me.” He snarled, “You dare to bind me for real, and she cuts you.”

“Deal,” Tristan said without hesitation.

I nodded to Rhyan and handed Tristan his stave, holding the glass shard to his neck.

He cast the ropes, covering Rhyan’s body in them.

“Well?” I asked.

“Perfect,” Rhyan said. “I don’t feel a thing. Now bring me the shard, and he can do yours.”

A moment later, we were both glamoured with ropes.

Rhyan still clutched the glass in his hand.

“Lord Grey,” Rhyan said. “I meant what I said. Anything happens to Lyr, anything at all, it’s over.”

But before Tristan could answer, the scuffle I’d heard earlier had returned. Louder. There was a fight happening outside. Soturi were yelling. Someone smacked against the wall, and I could hear the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh. And bone.

“Wait for my signal,” Tristan hissed, and opened my door.

Dario was in the middle of a Five. He’d broken free of whatever hold they’d had on him. And now he looked like he was fighting every single soturion in our hall.

Already there were three knocked out unconscious. He didn’t even have his weapons. Just his own pure, brute force.

He swung a punch at his opponent and another kick. “You boys have been away from the arena too long,” he growled.

“Told you he was dangerous,” Rhyan said, and sprung forward, no longer needing Tristan’s signal. I was next, flinging myself at the first soturion I saw. He was so startled, he never noticed my fist.

He went down, and immediately, I went in with another punch. Breaking noses was apparently my specialty now.

Rhyan’s opponent fell, his head smacking against the wall. He turned, the false ropes flying off him and vanishing as he raced for two more soturi. Someone came up behind me, and I spun hitting before thinking.

From the corner of my eye, Dario kicked a tall soturion, who loomed over him, and suddenly something blue flashed in his hand. A vadati.

I dodged a hit, and then another, ducking under my opponent’s arm and running. I turned at the last second, and raced back for him, jumping and kicking him square in the chest. He stumbled back, and I used the opportunity to run behind him. Another jump and my arms were around his neck, choking him out.

A minute later, all of the Emperor’s soturi lay strewn across the floor, unconscious, some bleeding, some with broken bones. But by the looks of it—all alive. “What the fuck is going on?” Dario asked, retying his hair. He stood for one second, taking us in, and then he slammed Tristan against the wall, his hand around his throat. “What do you want with them?” He looked him up and down. “You’re Lord Tristan, aren’t you? Imperator’s lap dog.”

“Emperor’s now,” Tristan coughed.

“Dario, let him go,” I said. “We’re going with him.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Dario,” Rhyan said. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done. For what’s between us. More than you know. But—” He cracked his knuckles, preparing to fight.

Dario shoved Tristan aside. “For fuck’s sake, Rhyan! I’m not in your Godsdamned way. Whatever the fuck you’re doing now, I’m coming with you.” He held the vadati to his mouth. “Aiden,” he said. “Get to Lyr’s room. Bring Meera.”

I froze. “Why do you want Meera?”

“You don’t want to leave your sister behind, do you?” he asked. “I mean, she’s part of the plan. Isn’t that what’s happening? I figured we have to accelerate our timeline. And then … it’s not like we’ll be able to come back here for our things, or anyone. We need to be together, and stick together.”

“We’re not doing the plan,” Rhyan said. “It’s off. This is something else.”

“Fine, then I’ll come as Lyriana’s escort.”

“Dario, enough. Stop. We need to go,” Rhyan said. “And I don’t want to fight you on this. Tell Aiden to protect Meera, and that I’m sorry.”

“Fucking hell,” Dario said. “You can tell him yourself.”

Aiden appeared, rushing down the hall with Meera right behind him. He was carrying a large leather satchel that looked almost too heavy for him.

“Courtesy of Lady Kenna,” he said, tossing the satchel on the ground.

Our weapons were inside. Our blades, our daggers. Asherah’s chest plate. Even my stave.

“Are you going after the shield now?” Aiden asked.

“Change of plans,” I said, still stunned.

“Okay, well grab your weapons everyone, and someone tell me what the fuck we’re doing.” Aiden looked terrified, the way he’d looked when the akadim attacked, but his face was full of resolve.

“We’re leaving,” Rhyan said.

“Wait, ” Dario said suddenly, looking exasperated. “Rhyan, before you try to argue with us again, we know. We know fucking everything. About Garrett, about your mother …”

Rhyan paled. “You do?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Fucking hell. Of course, we know. How could we not? We know you. Okay? Look, the contract your father made Lyriana sign,” Dario said. “We have one, too. We can’t disobey direct orders, unless more than a day has passed. That’s why we couldn’t say anything. But he messed up. Forgot to give us our orders today with everything going on.”

Rhyan’s breath caught. “You … you don’t blame me for Garrett? Or … my mother? Your father?”

Dario’s jaw clenched. “No. We don’t. I mean, look, I’m pissed as hell at you. And you deserved those punches. It was your hand. And then right after, you left and never came back, never even fucking wrote. We’ll talk it out later, when we have time. Okay? But we’re with you now. Me sha, me ka. On my life.” He pressed his hand to his heart.

“And mine, too,” Aiden said quietly. “I swear. We’re ready. Whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, we’re at your command.”

Suddenly Rhyan was moving toward Aiden and Dario and all three were hugging.

“Heartwarming. Really,” Tristan said. “But we’re on the clock right now and that clock is running the fuck out of time.”

Rhyan’s eyes were red, but he stepped back, nodding in agreement.

While everyone gathered their weapons and I clasped Asherah’s chest plate around my neck, I filled them in. Told them we were going after Jules, which room it was on the maps, and that after we were escaping to our original rendezvous point. We were abandoning the shield completely. And to get close to Jules and Galen, Rhyan and I were going to pretend to be bound and allow ourselves to be handed over.

“You had three guards,” Aiden said quickly. I could see his mind racing, tracking all the details we’d just fired at him.

Tristan nodded.

Aiden pushed his auburn hair back, and his eyes turned to slits, his face showing an expression of deep concentration. “I can’t hold this for too long. But long enough to get us inside the interrogation room. Long enough to take them by surprise.”

He pointed his stave at his chest, and his features distorted until he looked like an older, paler version of himself, with darker hair, and a beard. His blue mage robes were replaced with a green cloak, and the pale golden armor of the soturi who served the Emperor. A golden Valalumir tattoo appeared on his cheek.

He’d glamoured himself into a Palace guard.

Tristan’s jaw dropped, but Dario clapped. “Yes! Yes, this is perfect. Do me now!”

Dario was changed next, his features following a similar distortion, though Aiden turned his hair blond at the last second, and he moved onto Meera. She looked a bit unsettled, taking on the appearance of a man, while Tristan seemed simply shocked by the whole thing. He clearly had never seen Glemaria’s Apprentice to the Master of Spies at work. I was just glad this time that he wasn’t using his glamour magic against me.

Finally, Rhyan and I were changed. We still looked like ourselves, but instead of armor, it looked like I was in a sleeping gown, my hair mussed as if I’d been pulled from bed. Rhyan was in a simple tunic and pants. And most importantly, we appeared bound. Aiden brushed sweat from his forehead, his entire body tensed.

“Follow me,” Tristan said.

We exited our quarters and entered a long hall with soturi standing every few feet. I sucked in a breath with each one we passed. Finally we came to an empty hall I recognized from earlier.

“How did no one hear the fight back there?” I hissed.

“I cast a silencing spell,” Tristan said. “I didn’t want any other soturi to be alerted, and I didn’t really know how this was going to go. Particularly with Hart.”

I glanced at Rhyan, but he only shrugged. “I mean, he’s right.” Then Rhyan slid closer to me as we rounded a corner. “Lyr, when we get in there. I need you to do me one more favor,” he said, his voice low.

“You’re calling in an awful lot of these,” I teased, willing my stomach to stop turning.

But then Rhyan’s good eyebrow furrowed, his face serious. “You can’t touch Jules. At all. You can’t be the one to rescue her, no matter how much you want to be, and you can’t heal her. Not until we’re outside the Palace.

I shook my head. “But—”

“Hava,” he whispered. “She could be Hava. I don’t know for sure, but if I’m right, you know what will happen to you.” His eyes dipped to my chest.

I sighed. If Jules was Hava, the Valalumir would activate. I’d be incapacitated. And we might not escape.

“Swear,” Rhyan said. “Swear you’ll let me do it. You’ll wait.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding, every inch of my body rebelling. But he was right. “I swear.”

“Good girl,” he said, and reached out to squeeze my hand.

I stared down at the floor, at the purple tiles, their color darker and more jewel-toned in the night. I focused on taking deep breaths, on the weight of the invisible weapons at my hip. I imagined the maps, seeing my visualizations for the past month match the layout of the floor and rooms around me.

My heart started to pound harder when the tiles changed, turning to their black and white pattern. We neared the Throne Room, just as before, and I could feel the sudden warmth in my chest. The recognition of another piece of the light, of the Valalumir.

“It’s down this hall,” Tristan said quietly, but I already knew that. “And around the corner. We have to get inside first. There’s a long hall leading to where they are. No one makes a move until we’re there.”

“Only one guard?” Dario asked. “You’re sure that’s it?” He sounded suspicious.

“That’s all there was when I was there, half an hour ago,” Tristan confirmed.

Rhyan looked skeptical, but we had no way of knowing if that was still true. I didn’t think Tristan would lie. But Kormac could have easily shifted how many guards were on duty.

Unless what he was doing was truly meant to be kept secret. I knew the room. It was in the blueprints Rhyan’s father had shown us. And only those. Which meant most nobles didn’t know it existed. And if he was Emperor now, he’d want to keep it that way. Unless … unless it was simply because something horrible was happening in there. Something he didn’t want the others to see.

“Ready, partner?” Rhyan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The door Tristan had described, that I’d seen pictures of, was now in view. And behind it was Jules.

“I’m ready,” I said, a fire burning inside me. It wasn’t my power, it wasn’t Rakashonim , or the Valalumir, or my contract with Mercurial. It was the anger that had been burning inside me since I’d heard those two simple words.

She’s alive.

I thought I’d be more nervous. More afraid. But I wasn’t. I was furious. And I was getting Jules back no matter what.

We stopped in front of the door, and I turned around, seeking out Meera. I spotted her easily despite the disguise. I knew the way she held herself, the way she stood.

There was no need for communication. We both reached for each other’s hands. Her eyes watered—or rather, the tough, middle-aged soturion’s eyes watered. Then she nodded, her chin firm. I could feel her aura, watery and sharp. And full of vengeance.

“Wait,” Meera commanded. “Everyone listen to me now. If Kormac’s in there, he has more than just the safety of the room and the guard protecting him. He has chayatim. Mind readers. They may all be under a blood oath, or a blood contract. No matter what you see in there, ignore it. You need to think like your role, not just act your part. You need to think about it with every thought. You need to be the soturion loyal to him, following his orders, and happy to do so. If the vorakh sense otherwise, they’ll alert him. And he’ll call for backup before we’re ready.”

I gasped. She was right. And of course, after being around Morgana so much, this was second nature to Meera. This was what Arianna had done. How she’d evaded anyone learning the truth for years. That and the elixirs made of stolen power from the chayatim. Imperator Hart had ordered us all to drink before we arrived at the Palace, carefully hiding our plan regarding the shield. But we had no protection against our thoughts around what we planned to do now.

“Control what they see,” I said.

“Control what they think,” Meera murmured.

Everyone nodded, faces grim. We approached the door.

Tristan knocked with a swift combination of beats.

A minute seemed to pass, and then it opened. A bald soturion poked out his head, and eyed Tristan up and down. He wore the Emperor’s armor. But I knew a Kormac when I saw one. His eyes were beady, his mouth wolfish and cruel.

“Tell His Majesty, Lord Tristan said it’s done.”

The soldier nodded, and the door closed.

My heart started to pound. And then the door opened again.

The soturion nodded at Tristan before eyeing me up and down. His lip curled into a sneer. “This the one he wants?” he asked. “Batavia?”

Tristan stiffened. “Yes. Lady Lyriana.”

“Pretty,” said the soturion, reaching a dirty hand to touch my hair.

I immediately shifted back to evade his fingers.

Rhyan tensed, his aura flaring for a brief second, but he had enough sense to remain still. He was, after all, supposed to be bound. He shouldn’t even have an aura. But the guard was focused solely on me.

He reached again, this time touching my hair.

“Get off,” I said, willing myself not to fight back.

“You like to play, huh?” His hand began to trace lower, getting caught in my locks, and heading toward my shoulder.

“Do you mind?” Tristan asked coolly. “She’s for the Emperor. He’s waiting for me.”

“Go,” the soturion said, and ushered in Tristan with me and Rhyan behind him. Aiden and Dario followed, but Meera was stopped at the door. “You, soturion. Wait out here. Don’t need three inside for this.”

Meera’s eyes widened, and I looked to Tristan quickly. I didn’t want to leave her behind. Or alone. But I didn’t know what to do. If her glamour failed being too far from Aiden, or if the guard got suspicious of her in any way, it was over. But if Tristan fought him on this, on some random soturion that he didn’t know, that would raise alarm bells, too.

We had no choice. We had to keep going.

But Tristan’s stave was suddenly out, black glittering rope spilling from the top.

“What the fu—?” The soturion was screaming, his body bound, but I couldn’t hear a word he said.

“Silencing spell,” Tristan said. “Come on. We all go.”

Rhyan lifted one eyebrow, almost looking impressed with Tristan.

“One more thing,” Rhyan said, and his fist moved so fast, I barely saw. But it connected to the soturion’s throat. The soldier’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed, soundlessly to the floor in a heap of pale golden armor.

“Two more things, actually,” Aiden said. And the soturion’s body vanished, looking like it was simply part of the wall.

We all stopped, looking at each other nervously. We were all inside. And past the guard. But then a scream of pain down the hall had us all walking forward, and then running. A scream that pierced my heart and my soul. Because I knew that voice. It was Jules. It was Jules screaming.