Chapter 32
AMAIA
The summons to Grymia’s council—made up of Alaryk’s riders and a couple trusted advisors—felt daunting, a gnawing of worry deep in my gut as I followed the road down the rebuilding village.
The fresh morning still smelled like smoke and burning wood. The scent of death—from the two wild Elthika that had been brought down by Grymia’s riders—permeated the air, though their bodies had been disposed of, laid to rest in the forest beyond the village’s borders.
Dresnar followed behind me, his booted feet making me tense. After the Elthika attack, I’d slept the day and night solidly, only waking to discover that Ryak and Nevin had disappeared.
I hadn’t seen Alaryk since he’d brought me back to his dwelling. Though, judging by the imprint of his body and the rumpled furs on his side of the bed, I assumed he’d returned to me at some point in the night.
This morning, instead of waking to Alaryk, Dresnar had been outside, informing me that the “Dakkari prisoner” had escaped, Nevin with him, and that my presence was requested among the council.
Worry and dread had made me nearly sick.
But as I walked through the village, what surprised me most was the reception I received from near strangers. People who even recently had whispered as I passed or simply ignored me.
Now I got the inclining of heads, greetings of the morning, well wishes that I’d recovered.
There was an older Karag female who I’d once seen Ethrisha speaking with, who pressed a fresh-baked loaf of bread into my palm as I passed, saying that it was mixed with naro seeds, which would help me find my strength again.
It was a strange contrast—the warm reception of Grymia, while also feeling like I was about to be sick.
Did they know? Had they found Ryak and Nevin? Did they uncover what the Dothikkar had sent us here to do? To spy on the people I called my friends? My…lover?
“Through here,” Dresnar’s voice came from behind, leading me to a tall dwelling, an oil lantern installed in the roughened stone near the steel door. I’d seen it in passing, considering its close proximity with the landing field.
Before I entered the dwelling, I noticed there was a blue-scaled dragon, the color like midnight, nearly inky black, on the landing field.
One I’d never seen before. And another black dragon, with eyes as gold as the sun.
Had more representatives from Elysom come?
There was a group of Grymian villagers gathered, breaking in their duties, to stare at the two Elthika.
Dresnar led me inside. Down one of the hallways, I could hear the low murmuring of deep voices.
The room that I entered was rounded in shape, a high circular table in the center, a map of what I assumed was the Arsadia spread out, the edges of the parchment frayed and curling inward. There were no chairs in the room and so the inhabitants were all standing.
My eyes found Alaryk’s immediately. His expression was unreadable, so unlike the rawness in the bathing pool yesterday, the tremble of his hand against me, the sheer relief that I was alive palpable and pouring from him. He cared for me. Deeply.
The only thing more frightening than that was that my own feelings mirrored his. I thought it surprised the both of us what yesterday had revealed.
Looking at him now, however, didn’t assuage the worry gnawing in my belly. If anything, it made it coil tighter.
Myzalla was in attendance, standing next to…Brune. His lips curved up in a quiet smile, but mine pressed when I saw him. He gave a soft shake of his head, as if that would answer anything for me.
What had he told them?
As for the other two males within the room…
Both were similar in height, build, and coloring. Black hair, sun-kissed skin, sharp, cutting features that speared me in place as they regarded me.
For a moment, I thought they might be brothers. But as I stared, I began to notice the differences that told me the two couldn’t be more different.
“This is Sarkin Dirak’zar,” Alaryk told me, gesturing to the male closest to me.
He had short black hair that curled at the nape of his neck and piercing, beautiful eyes.
Golden in the center, molten brown, and dark forest green.
I watched the pupils narrow on me, his riding vest creaking with his smooth shift. “You know of him, I’m sure.”
“I do,” I said quietly. I recognized the name.
He was the Karath of the southern territory of Sarroth.
The Karag king who’d come nearly a year ago to take the princess of Dothik, one of the Dothikkar’s own daughters, Klara, to wed.
Of course everyone knew the story. An act of punishment that had led to love.
I remembered the night when he’d come to Dothik, demanding the princess. It had been all anyone could talk about for weeks.
And here he was, the villain made flesh.
“And this is Vaedrin Malik,” Alaryk continued, gesturing to the other male in the room.
The name didn’t register with me, not in the way Sarkin’s had…but there was no mistaking what he was. A king in his own right. A Karath? I wondered.
“He is the Karath of the northern territory of Kyloth,” Alaryk answered for me, as if hearing my wonder. “Rider of Aeras.”
Now I realized why the group of Grymian villagers had gathered to gawk at the Elthika. Because how often was it that you saw two Vyrin next to one another, up close and in the flesh?
That was how I felt faced with not two but three Karaths.
Vaedrin Malik had black hair, wavy and wind-swept, that brushed the tops of his broad shoulders.
There was a cloth hood that was draped around them and thick hide leather that molded to his chest like armor.
A silver buckle was strapped around the middle of his chest, the hilt of a dagger flashing when the cloak’s fabric shifted.
And his eyes…they were purple. A soft violet that was almost too pretty for such a brooding, stark face.
I’d never seen their likeness before, not here or in Dothik.
His face was perfectly symmetrical, too handsome to be real, not a single flaw.
It almost hurt looking at him, and I had to look away.
I averted my gaze back to Alaryk’s, just as he said, “This is Amaia of Rath Savenal.”
“Savenal?” Vaedrin’s voice came, deep like thunder but strangely smooth like glass. “You’re from the West Lands?”
I cut him a sharp look, surprise making me forget his beauty. “My family, lysi,” I replied. “How…how did you know that?”
Vaedrin spread his hands over the table as he leaned forward. “I am fond of the West Lands.”
Sarkin cut him a sharp look. “Elysom gave you orders.”
“And I haven’t been back, have I?” Vaedrin replied, but he kept his eyes on me. His piercing observation made me squirm in place.
I cleared my throat. “My family lived in a horde there once, decades ago. But I was born in Dothik. I’ve never stepped foot in the West Lands.”
As much as I wanted to.
“A shame,” Vaedrin replied. “There is much beauty there. In the land and the people.”
Then he fell silent, staring down at the map.
I licked my lips, looking back to Alaryk. “You needed me for something?”
My voice sounded strained, even to my ears. Nervous too.
“Something about Ryak?” I asked, very aware of Brune’s presence. “Have they been found?”
“No,” Alaryk replied. His thumb traced the edges of the forest on the map outlining Grymia. “We have searched the outer borders, but there is no sign of them. We can’t spare many riders to look for them, with all the work that needs to be done.”
I looked to Brune, a quick flash, but one that Alaryk caught.
“Did you know anything?” came the question, rasping from my lover’s throat. “About what they planned?”
My brows drew together. Something I wouldn’t have to lie about, thankfully. “Of course not.”
“Did you ever speak to Nevin?”
“I—” I cut myself off, thinking fast. The truth wasn’t enough to expose Brune or me. But I did hate the deception. “He did speak to me. He asked what would happen to Ryak. He knew I was…close to you.”
Alaryk’s eyes pinned me. “And what did you say?”
“Alaryk,” I said quietly, spreading my hands out, even as my gut churned. “I certainly didn’t suggest that he break Ryak out at the first opportunity he had.”
“I didn’t say that,” he murmured, not looking away from me.
I began to feel like I was under interrogation. My heart was pounding harder in my chest, a sensation that I was going to be sick the longer Alaryk looked at me like that. With…caution. I hated it.
“I told him that I thought it was very likely Ryak would be executed,” I said, the truth tumbling from my lips. “But I didn’t think it was a secret. That was what Grymia wanted.”
I still couldn’t read Alaryk’s face.
“I think it’s more likely,” Sarkin said, cutting through the tension that had suddenly seeped into the circular room, “that this Nevin saw an opportunity to save his friend…and he took it. I don’t think it was planned. And I certainly don’t think these Dakkari were involved.”
I jerked, my eyes flashing to Alaryk’s, frowning. “You thought we had planned this with Nevin?”
Whatever Alaryk saw in my face, it made his shoulders loosen, but only slightly. “I wanted to be sure.”
Did I even have a right to be angry and hurt? When I was the one stepping gingerly onto a battlefield, afraid I’d misstep at any moment?
Ryak and Nevin were gone. Which meant Brune and I were no longer bound to fulfilling the Dothikkar’s orders. Ryak had made a mess of this. It was he who would answer to his king…if he ever made it home.
My brow furrowed.
How would they make it back home?
“I had no idea that Nevin would do what he did. Or Ryak for that matter,” I answered, because, with the eyes of the Karag on me, I felt like I was on trial. I wondered if they had questioned Brune already. “Like I said, I hardly knew them.”
So why was my gut churning? I looked down at the table to avoid meeting Alaryk’s eyes, dragging in a deep breath. Because he would be able to see right through me. Panic was rising.
“Are you all right?” Brune asked, touching my shoulder when it slumped.
“Fine, just tired,” I replied, not meeting his eyes either.
Because I didn’t know what he had told them.
But judging by the way he had shaken his head subtly when I’d stepped foot inside the room…
I thought nothing. I thought that maybe Ryak had also threatened him, perhaps concerning his own father.
Like me, maybe he’d do anything to protect his family.
Even though the true threats were no longer here, we still had to go back home. There might still be consequences.
And who knew what blame would fall on us when we returned…
I wondered if Brune had thought the same. I had to keep it together.
When I looked back to Alaryk, I felt more centered and in control. “You’ve found no sign of them?”
“They can only get so far in the Arsadia,” Vaedrin murmured, his gaze on the map. “There are steep valleys, mountain ranges, lots of perilous land that’s hard to navigate if you aren’t on Elthika-back. They’re hiding somewhere. A cave system, perhaps? Ny’am was searched?”
“Dresnar searched it this morning,” Alaryk said, nodding toward the rider who stood guard at the door.
“No sign of them,” Dresnar answered.
“I don’t understand,” Myzalla chimed in. “Nevin and Ryak are guardsmen for their king. They have survival skills, surely. How far did they think they would get? They have no food or water or shelter. Not to mention they’re on an island in the center of our nation. To get back home, they need…”
“Help,” Sarkin finished for her. “They need help from the Karag. They need Elthika. So was Nevin’s decision based on the fact that they had already secured help? Or was it desperation?”
“Desperation,” Vaedrin answered, scoffing. “No Karag would help them. Especially here, in the Arsadia.”
I bit my tongue. I thought they might have help.
Because Ryak had been getting messages back to Dothik, hadn’t he?
He’d seemed to have some way of communicating.
I just hadn’t been privy to that information.
Besides, a big part of me had thought he might’ve been lying in an attempt to control me. A bluff.
“What if it’s the Dakkari?” Vaedrin asked. “They don’t have Elthika, but their vessels have landed on our southern shores before. If either of them has a beacon of some sort, it’s possible they could find their way here by sea.”
“Our patrols would’ve spotted a ship by now,” Sarkin murmured, shaking his head.
“Not if they came up from the east,” Vaedrin replied. “We don’t have regular patrols there.”
Alaryk was looking at me. I only hoped he didn’t catch the flicker of guilt.
“What do you think, Amaia?” he asked. But his voice was cold. He knows, I thought. I only hoped it was my paranoia.
“Me?” I asked, swallowing. I blew out a breath, shaking my head. “I have no idea where they could’ve gone.”
Brune chimed in. “Is it possible that they learned enough in training to claim an Elthika of their own? To leave the Arsadia?”
“Doubtful,” Myzalla said, sniffing. “But not impossible. Even still, it’s suicide. You’d have to be desperate.”
“They are,” Sarkin merely replied. “If they don’t have outside help, they are most certainly desperate.”
A wave of dizziness made the room spin, and I clutched harder at the table so I didn’t fall. It was getting harder to breathe, but I thought I was able to hide it well.
“Amaia,” Alaryk murmured.
I lifted my gaze.
“You know nothing about this? The Dothikkar never spoke to you? Ryak and Nevin never spoke about their plans here or hinted that they had allies here?”
Brune’s hand brushed mine beneath the high table.
With the eyes of the Karag on me, I looked at Alaryk and said, “No.”
And the lie tasted like bitter ash on my tongue.