Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY

LYRIANA

Sometime later, I stood before the mirror in Rhyan’s bedroom as Kenna finished lacing my gown. It looked a lot like hers. Glemarian green in color, with suffocatingly long sleeves that flowed past my fingertips, and an extremely tight bodice that flared at the waist. There were no slits below my hips to allow for movement, or the cooling breeze like we had back home, but rather extra layers built into the skirts to add warmth.

The sleeves were so tight against my arms, I’d moved my golden arm cuff to outside the dress. And to top it all off was my new Glemarian hairstyle, courtesy of Kenna. I washed my hair in the shower, feeling admittedly cleaner than I had in weeks. Then Kenna used her stave to summon heat to dry my waves. She pulled some of my front pieces back into a Glemarian styled braid that blended into the rest of my hair. It was … pretty. But not at all like me.

I supposed that was the point. I was supposed to be who Imperator Hart wanted me to be. And as much as I could stand it, I would. But only to get Rhyan and Meera out.

There was a loud knock at the door, and a soturion stepped inside.

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing before Kenna.

I’d turned my head as if he were addressing me, then froze. I had once again forgotten I no longer held that title.

“Lady Lyriana,” he grunted a moment later, “you’re to follow me.”

“Just a moment, soturion.” Kenna pulled my loose hair off my shoulder, and leaned close, whispering in my ear. “Don’t act unaffected by what he’s done. You need to put your pride aside. He sent you here to punish you. He wants a reaction. If he thinks it didn’t work, if he doesn’t get what he wants, he’ll do worse.” Her eyes moved pointedly to the bed in the mirror’s reflection. A reminder of my punishment. Of being forced into the same room as Rhyan’s old lover .

There were knots forming in my belly, but my eyes met hers, understanding her meaning.

It was the same advice Rhyan had given me.

Kenna took my hand and squeezed, then stepped back, her expression neutral with the indifference of nobility. Throat dry, I walked out, surrounded by five soturi, each giving me a harsh look. The soturi kept a brisk pace, one that normally would have been easy for me to match. But my legs felt stiff after hours in bed, and I wasn’t sure if the chills across my skin came from the coldness that seemed to seep through the stones of the fortress, or from knowing I was about to see Imperator Hart once more.

I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t to be taken to a set of private stairs and led to one of the upper floors leading to the towers. When I’d been told dinner, I’d expected we’d be heading down towards the dining halls on the main level. I’d expected we’d be in public—and I’d have some safety granted from the eyes of others. But I was isolated and alone. My anxiety rose as we climbed higher and higher, going in circles as the stairs wound to the point of making me dizzy.

We stopped before a silver door, an emerald green gryphon carving in its center. A soturion knocked, and then announced me.

After experiencing the bleakness of the halls and the Seating Room, I nearly gasped as I was brought inside a shockingly elaborate dining room. Silver platters covered a white marble table in the center. Hundreds of crystals dangled, glowing, from the ceiling like stars. The amount of magic that would have been needed to sustain the lights inside each one would have been immense and had to have been the work of at least a dozen mages. Everywhere I looked, I noticed more details. Elaborate velvet tapestries, and carvings of gryphons within precious metals. Gemstones twinkling inside each corner.

I supposed opulence was reserved for only the Imperator’s private quarters. And the Imperator alone.

Well, he and whoever else he invited to dine with him.

The soturion on guard inside the room saluted the five sentries behind me, and then all at once they exited, closing and locking the door.

Shit. I was alone. No guards, no allies, and no way out. I rushed back to the door, and despite knowing my efforts were futile, I tried to open it. But the doorknob felt as if it had been magically sealed shut. There were no witnesses in the Seating Room. But at least then there’d been Rhyan. Even Kenna had been a comfort. Now? I’d be completely alone and helpless with Imperator Hart.

I walked back toward the table, unsure if I should sit or stand. The tower began to hum, the floor shaking. I gasped, reaching for a chair, terrified the tower’s entire structure was about to fall. But then the shaking stopped and a door on the opposite side of the room opened. The Imperator appeared. He stood inside what looked like a closet, the floor of which swayed ever so slightly. My eyes widened.

“It’s called a lift. You’ve never seen one before?” he asked.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back, and willed my hands to remain still at my side. “I have. We have something similar in the Great Library—there is a floor that moves, taking you to the lower levels of the pyramid. But it doesn’t look like yours.” I’d only been in it a few times. It required a mage to move the floor up and down between the library’s levels.

“Hmmm, right. I’ve seen the one you’re referring to. On your little tour years ago. This is different. It’s a human invention—popular beyond the border. It relies on rope. Perhaps the most interesting thing they’ve come up with. There, they have men stationed at the bottom, pulling the rope to make the lift go up and down. But here, the mages can do that with their magic. It allows me to rise and descend from the towers with ease. After all, these endlessly tiresome stairs can be such a bother, especially when you have more important things to do.” He eyed me carefully. “They weren’t too much for you though, my lady. Now that you’ve claimed your magic power?”

I sucked in a breath. “They were fine,” I said.

“Good. We’ll be keeping that quiet, just between us. No one needs to know what power you possess. Hmm?”

I nodded.

“And your room?” he asked, his voice filled with false sweetness and concern. “One of our nicest, of course. Was the bed as comfortable as you’d like?”

I could feel my pulse jumping. I was ready to retort back, to go on the defense. But Imperator Hart never reacted like you expected. So, I took Rhyan’s—and Kenna’s—advice. I looked down, allowing myself to genuinely feel the jealousy and hurt that had plagued me when I’d heard who Kenna was—when I’d woken in Rhyan’s bed. I let myself feel the uncertainty that had washed over me at learning Rhyan had a long-term lover that he’d never told me about. The knowledge that she knew his body. The knowledge that he’d been intimate with not just me, but her. In that very room. On the very bed I’d slept in. For seven months. Fuck. I didn’t have to try too hard to feel upset.

I looked back at the Imperator, and swallowed roughly. “It smells like him,” I said, my voice shaking. I’d spoken the truth.

“Smelled like her, too. Can you stand it?” he asked sympathetically. As if we were in this together. As if either of us had been betrayed. He was the only one wrong in this situation, twisting everything and manipulating us for his own pleasure.

I shook my head. “No. Perhaps, if I am to continue staying there,” I said primly, “the sheets might be replaced, ones without his scent lingering.”

He smirked, and nodded. Good. If he thought he won this round, he’d let it go.

“Of course, my lady. Fresh sheets will be made available to you,” he said, his voice suddenly charming. “I believe we can even procure some Bamarian soap to soak them in. Thank you for joining me for dinner. Have a seat.”

I stared at the table, reluctant to follow any orders. “Why do I not have an escort?”

“I have things to say to you. Things no one else should be privy to. Sit,” he commanded, walking around the table and pulling out my chair.

I kept my eyes on him, trying to remain alert to any hidden dangers or tricks, to guess his game before he won. But I could see nothing else to do but take the offered seat.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pushing me in toward the table. Then sitting across from me, he made an elaborate display of unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap. His eyes bore into me, his lips tightly pressed together behind his beard, as he waited for me to do the same.

I unfolded my napkin.

“I do like this color on you,” he said, eyeing me studiously. “And this style of dress. It’s surprisingly becoming. You should always dress this way. You look far more proper than you ever did in Bamaria.” He twirled his finger in the air. “This way, you leave a little something to men’s imagination.”

“I prefer it when men have no imagination,” I said. “No matter what I choose to wear.”

He laughed. “We do things a little differently here. Something you ought to get used to.”

“And why might that be?”

“You’re going to be staying here for quite some time. Might as well acclimate.”

The hell I would. But I smiled sweetly. “My Imperator will not like that.”

“No,” he agreed, leaning forward to pour me a glass of wine. “He will not. But I think, you’ll agree that staying here is your best option. I don’t think you’ll have a choice.”

“Did I ever?” I asked.

Wind howled outside, the sound louder than I’d ever heard. The tower shook again.

“You always have a choice, my lady. I can’t say they’re good choices, but they exist. Why don’t you uncover your dinner? You must be hungry.”

I kept my eyes on him, on his dark beard, not trusting him, and far too aware of his hateful aura. It felt visceral in a space this small. But I reached forward, and lifted the lid.

I’d barely uncovered the plate when something dark moved across it. My body jerked and I screamed. “Fuck!” I threw the lid across the room, pushing my chair back so fast, I almost fell over.

Slithering up from the center of my dinner plate was a black nahashim—the very same snake that had grown wings and chased me through the skies. The snake that had led me here.

“Don’t be scared,” the Imperator crooned. “He won’t bite you. Unless I ask him to.”

I remained still, not wanting to get near the snake. Imperator Hart made a shushing sound as he stretched his arm across the table. The snake slid across his leather cuff, and wound its way toward his elbow.

“Do you remember him?” he asked, his lips lifting into a curve.

“We met last night, I believe. At least, I saw him last night for the first time,” I said, trying to get my breath under control. “I didn’t realize they could fly.”

He chuckled. “They can do whatever it takes to fulfill their master’s orders. Even … travel . But you knew that.” He eyed my position, far from the table. “Pull your chair in. Now.”

Reluctantly, I obeyed.

“Last night was not the first time you met,” he said. The snake’s shiny black scales stretched and retracted as its body settled over the gryphon etched into the Imperator’s leathered armor. “The first time, he was so tiny that he fit,” he paused, patting his belt below the table’s edge, “right here in my pocket. You remember?”

The nahashim he’d forced me to touch during our dance in Bamaria. My chest tightened.

“I trained him to follow your scent in particular that night.”

My skin crawled. I wanted to bathe, I wanted to erase my scent, and any signs I’d been in the room. His actions that night at the ball had felt devious enough, forcing my hand to touch the snake. But this? Fuck.

“He’s grown since then,” I said through gritted teeth.

“He has. Beautifully. And he will continue to grow. Quite fortunate, don’t you think? All the fully grown nahashim I’d bred and raised since infancy were killed. By you. All nine of them. Back in Korteria.”

My breath caught. I had killed them all in Korteria. The very same day I’d killed Brockton. But he couldn’t know that. It was impossible. No one but Rhyan knew that.

“I don’t … I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I said, my heart hammering. “I was not aware you had nine nahashim, nor was I aware they’d been killed. We were never in Korteria.”

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes raking me up and down.

I could feel my pulse pounding against my skin, threatening to burst out of me.

“You’re quite good. Quite an actress. Though, you have some tells—your eyes. They’ve never been that convincing. Too honest.” He grinned, and leaned his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “Let’s play a game, shall we? A game of possibility. I can choose to believe you. Perhaps my nahashim suddenly felt the need to fight each other like Brockton Kormac and his friends. Or,” he raised his voice, anger pulsing through every syllable as he sat up. “Perhaps, you were seen in Korteria by four wolves, including Brockton. Perhaps, they saw you in the very spot where the corpses of my nahashim were found. Perhaps, they saw you kill my pets, the very same day you killed all of them. Perhaps.” Imperator Hart’s aura darkened. “Do you understand what I’m referring to now?” he asked.

I swore I could hear my heart drumming. My blood was now pulsing in my ears. I swallowed roughly.

“I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness. Just as I was … saddened to learn of the soturis’ deaths. It was a terrible tragedy for Ka Kormac. My sympathies go out to Imperator Kormac on the loss of his nephew and the three members of his soturi.”

Imperator Hart held my gaze unblinking across the table. Without losing eye contact, he reached for his wine glass, and took a long sip. “What did the wolves do to you after you killed my nahashim?”

“N-Nothing.” I shook my head. “How could they do anything? We never entered Korteria. Like I told you,” I lied. But I could still feel it. Feel the way the air hit my skin when they’d stripped me. Feel the shame and fear that pulsed through my veins when their eyes were on my bare skin. Remember the threats they uttered through the vadati stone to Rhyan. The disgusting way Brockton’s hand felt as he grabbed my breast.

… we’re going to fuck your girl. We’re going to do it until you get here.

Imperator Hart didn’t respond, just stared at me with this dark look in his eyes that told me I had to go on, that I had to keep explaining.

I continued, “I had only one objective when I left Bamaria: find my sisters. We took the eastern pass from the Elyrian border, heading north.” A truth. “We were never near Ka Kormac’s territory.” A lie. His Godsdamned nahashim drove us there. “I cannot answer any of these allegations.”

Imperator Hart sighed loudly. “Shame. Witnesses say otherwise. You’re lying, Lady Lyriana. I know for a fact that you’re lying. My nahashim tracked you to Korteria, where you were captured by Brockton and brought to Vrukshire for questioning. Imperator Kormac himself reported to me the presence of the nahashim corpses.”

“He … he reported the snakes to you?” I asked, trying to sound interested instead of guilty.

“Oh yes. And so much more. It seems Brockton kept you tied up for the entire day. Sometime after nightfall, there were screams from his bedroom, the sound of glass smashing. The Bastardmaker’s son had an appetite for some, shall we say, less than savory things. He had special locks on his door to protect his … meals. According to my sources, by the time the servants pried the door open, they found three dead wolves.”

Three? My heart stopped. Three? No. No. No. Not three. There were four.

“I believe their names were Geoffrey, Trey, and Brett. All dead. And then they found one nearly dead Brockton.”

Nearly dead? By the Gods. I’d … I’d stabbed his heart. I felt the sword go in—felt the sickening give of my blade pushing through muscle.

I’d seen the life leave his eyes with my own. I’d been sick over what I’d done, and then sick I hadn’t done enough and now … Fuck! I felt farther than Lethea. My hands grasped for the edge of my chair, desperate to hold onto something, to keep breathing, to stay in my body. “We …” My throat tightened. “We heard word in our travels that he passed away.” Was Brockton alive this whole time? By the Gods. I couldn’t breathe.

“Of course, he passed away,” the Imperator said dismissively.

I resisted the urge to clutch at my chest. I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

The nahashim slithered across Imperator Hart’s shoulders to his other arm, poking its head in his face.

“You gave him a mortal wound,” he said. “Unfortunately for you, the promise of death by your hand was not instantaneous. He survived. Long enough for the door to be opened, long enough for him to say your name to the poor fool who found him. You should be honored. His final words before death were ‘Lyriana Batavia.’ How many can claim that for themselves?”

“He …” I took another labored breath, barely able to hear over my heart pounding. “He accused me of killing him?” I tried to sound innocent and surprised, but the beats of my heart were growing with intensity.

“Brockton was a fool. I know he thought he could play his twisted games with you, and no one would ever know. But servants talk. They all knew you were there all day, even if none of them actually saw you. I can only assume they knew my son came to rescue you. From the descriptions of the wounds, I’d surmise he was responsible for the first three kills. Only an inexperienced soturion would leave an opponent still breathing. Always, always finish the job, little slayer.” He smirked. “My son has many faults, but he certainly knows how to take a life. I’ve seen him do it. Out of curiosity, what caused him to stand down? What could have happened to make him, a well-trained killer, pause and allow you the final kill?”

If you kill me, I won’t get to tell you about how I fucked her.

My skin crawled.

“You can tell me, Lady Lyriana.” His father’s voice softened. “Did something happen? Was this revenge? Did he touch you? Something more?” His eyes turned to slits, shining with the same excitement he’d had when he questioned Meera. “Did he try to fuck you?”

“You mean rape!” I spat.

Imperator Hart laughed, and the nahashim hissed. “Ah. Now we are getting somewhere.”

Fuck. Fuck! How did I keep walking into the traps this man had set for me? At last, I reached for my wine and took a sip. I swallowed roughly, but I kept drinking and drinking, until I emptied the glass.

“Did he rape you? Or was my son fast enough to stop him?”

“What do you care?” I said, my voice hushed. I slammed my glass on the table. “Rhyan stopped him. Not that it matters now. Because none of what you’re saying is of consequence. The official story of Brockton’s death at the hands of his friends has been publicized across the Empire. Acknowledged by his Ka. By his own Imperator and Emperor. There is no active investigation, and no calls for my arrest, and certainly no calls for Rhyan’s either—at least not regarding this.”

“No calls for your arrest?” he taunted. “Lord Tristan is not merely hunting Rhyan. He’s hunting you. Do you not yet understand all of this? Did you think you got away with it? You have not. The fate that awaits you at the hands of Imperator Kormac will be far more dire than you can imagine. And that, my lady, is precisely why there has been no public call. And why there won’t be. Every single witness to Brockton’s murder has spoken, and given their testimony. And do you know where they are now?”

My vision swam. “In Vrukshire?”

“Not anymore.” He grinned. “Every last one has been executed.”

“Executed?” All those servants were dead? Because of me? “By who?”

He looked at me pityingly. “Who do you think? Imperator Kormac.”

“But they served him.” My mind was whirling, unsure how to play this, unsure what it all meant. Only that we were fucked. That they knew, and something worse was coming.

“Imperator Kormac came home, and did his investigation. He knew of my nahashim, knew who they sought. He saw the wounds on his soturi. He knows which men died by the hand of my son, and which one died by yours. He’s quite insulted by that you know. He had higher hopes for Brockton than to be taken out by a powerless girl. In any case, he learned all he needed to in a single morning. And then he eviscerated the evidence.”

I shivered. “Why?”

“No witnesses, no crime, at least as far as Imperator Kormac is concerned. But I wouldn’t look too relieved at this revelation. You have not been exonerated.”

I knew there was no such look on my face, but I nodded for him to continue, barely able to stop myself from glaring.

“I can assure you that he desires his revenge greatly. Both he, and the Bastardmaker. It was his son and heir you stuck your blade into, after all. The thing about wolves is they are pack creatures. Loyal, and vengeful. And hungry. They will not rest until they sink their teeth into you, biting and tearing you apart until they are satisfied. Perhaps while my son gets to watch.”

My eyes widened, my hands shaking.

Imperator Hart chuckled. “Oh, they’d love that. Kormac wants to find you—and, he wants to keep your crimes secret. You should be worried about why. He could easily send you to prison, execute you for murder. It’s the legal way to do this of course.” He shrugged. “An option that may offer him a moment of satisfaction. Or …”

The snake hissed again, and the lights in the crystals above us twinkled as the wind howled and another rumbling through the tower made my stomach turn.

“Or?” I asked.

“Or he can keep you above the law, and use you to his advantage. Use your blood, your lineage,” his lips turned, “not to mention your womb. A perfect way to legitimize his claim on Bamaria. I think we all know that you are far more useful to him alive, as a docile bride for Lord Viktor, than you are dead. By having you as a daughter-in-law, he has a claim to take your country for himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s taken something that isn’t his. Think about when the Emperor had the Blade murder every last child of Ka Azria. What happened once they were gone? Imperator Kormac put his puppets, Ka Elys, in their place.”

Ka Azria … The ruling Ka of Elyria who’d been murdered for concealing vorakh. By the Gods.

My blood ran cold, my eyes locking with Rhyan’s father. The puzzle pieces I’d spent years collecting were now snapping together. By eliminating the ruling Ka of Elyria, the only Lumerian country to share our border, the Imperator had created a clear path to enter Bamaria. My whole life they’d been using it. Entering easily, bringing more soldiers every time. And Ka Elys never stood in their way, never challenged the entry of an armed legion. Ka Kormac’s soturi already had the backing of the Emperor. It wouldn’t be long before Imperator Kormac controlled the entire southern border. Korteria, Elyria, and Bamaria would all be under his complete and total rule.

I wanted to throw up. It had been in front of my face the whole time. Ka Azria hadn’t been a cautionary tale to warn others of concealing vorakh.

They’d been collateral damage in Ka Kormac’s quest to control the Empire.

Imperator Hart blinked slowly. “You see the gravity of the situation then. Emperor Theotis is not long for this world. And if things continue the way they are, you will not just be facing Imperator Avery Kormac, Arkasva and High Lord of Korteria. You’ll be bending a knee to His Majesty, Emperor Avery Kormac, ruler of all Lumeria.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying somehow to find composure. Gods. The Imperator was monstrous enough with his outrageous levels of power—for him to become Emperor …

But no. He couldn’t be allowed to ascend to the throne. The Emperor would be chosen from another Ka. That was the legal precedent. The way it was always done. No two Emperors in a row could serve from the same Ka, or from the same country. It was the law.

But … Fuck. It wouldn’t matter. I knew firsthand just how well the Imperator followed the law. Knew what little regard he had for precedent or tradition. How little resistance he faced from those he controlled. He was as good as the Emperor now. And if nothing changed, he always would be. He and his progeny would rule our lives forever.

I stilled, my eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t be the only one to swear my allegiance. If this happened, he’d no longer be your equal. He’d be your Emperor, too. You’d be bending your knee as well, Your Highness .”

Imperator Hart lifted his wine glass in response, his lips turned up. A grim toast. “You see my problem, then. I did not become Imperator of the North to find myself bowing before my incompetent counterpart. Now, considering what we know, I have two options to move forward.”

After taking a long sip of wine, he sat back, readjusting the golden Laurel of the Arkasva atop his head, and refilled my glass. He gestured for me to drink, but I couldn’t move.

For a moment, he eyed my goblet, but then he shrugged, running his fingers along the golden border of his cloak, so it laid just-so on his shoulder. “My first option here is that I fall in line with Kormac’s story. Pretend Brockton and his little wolves had a big bad fight that led to their unfortunate end. I can pretend my nahashim weren’t in Korteria. Pretend you and my son weren’t there either. It seems the likely option—I expect word of your arrival to Seathorne has reached His Highness’s ears by now.”

Of course, it had—he wanted everyone to know he had me. That he had rescued Meera.

“I can allow Imperator Kormac to take control of you like he’s always wanted. I can honor his claim, and send you home to Korteria as his son’s bride. Allow him to breed you.”

And I’d be a prisoner for life. A slave to Viktor and his Ka. Tortured and worse. I’d never see Rhyan again. I’d never free Jules. Bamaria would be doomed.

“I think we can both agree,” he said, “that neither of us like option one.”

“I think we can agree that you don’t want him to have control of me,” I snarled. “Nor do you wish for him to outrank you. Option two?”

He smiled slowly. “I can expose the truth. Let everyone know you’re a murderer. It would be easy to say you confessed to me. To pull the memories from your mind with my nahashim. We can have you tried before the Emperor’s Council, imprisoned along with my son. You may even both be publicly stripped. My son at least would be. Then, I suspect Ka Kormac will have no choice but to go to war with Bamaria for your crimes—a war he will win since you’re currently lacking an Arkturion. How long do you think it would take Bamaria to fall? Hours? Days? It wouldn’t be long before Bamaria went from an occupied country, to a conquered one.”

It took all I had not to throw up.

“But, like you, I’m not inclined to support that option either.” The Imperator stood, strolling slowly beside the table until he stood right behind me. The tower shook again. The wind howled wildly, and the crystals swayed causing their lights to flicker. I felt dizzy as he breathed down the back of my neck.

Imperator Hart moved even closer, his body heat and aura brushing against my own. There was a hissing sound that rushed past my ear, and then something hot and slimy slid across my collarbone.

I barely dared to breathe.

“It is time we came to an understanding, you and I,” he crooned. “Time to find a third possibility. I have things I want. And things I can do. You have the same. I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you and I. Asherah .”

I focused on my breathing, on inhaling and exhaling. “I don’t know what makes you think I’d ever agree to work with you.”

“The fate of yourself, of my son, and your country aren’t enough to sway you? Pretend you’re brave all you want. But I don’t think you want this nahashim inside your body, or your mind. I know what the Examiner from Lethea did to you. I had Kunda show me, in great detail.”

The nahashim slid between my breasts, its tongue poking below the top of my dress.

By the Gods …

“He used far smaller specimens than this. A nahashim of this size would hurt terribly, I imagine. But at my word, he will enter you, and he will extract every memory I need to turn you in for the murder of Brockton Kormac. And then, I will extract every memory of my son mounting you. Of your sister’s vorakh—oh yes, I know about that, too. You think I don’t know exactly who I allowed in my gates? I can pull every secret you have out for the entire Empire to see. And I can make sure that you face every punishment available to you and yours. Or? I can call the nahashim back, and you and I can talk terms.”

His hand pressed into my shoulder, fingers digging into my flesh to the point of pain, his palm pushing until I could swear, he was touching my bone. My chin quivered, and my breath came short as my body tried to adjust to the pain. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Even with my magic. And he fucking knew it. He shifted, standing before me, as his eyes held mine. The pressure increased.

The snake slid down to my lap, its head bolting up in line with my own, its tongue thrust out as it darted for my eyes. That was where they entered, through the eyelids. I could viscerally remember the awful feeling, the pain and the violation. Its head snapped back and then it lunged. I closed my eyes, feeling its tongue slide against my eyelid.

“Call him back,” I said, my throat raw.

He made a soft whistling sound, and I felt the snake slide to my shoulder and back up his arm. He released me, and only when I could hear he had returned to his seat did I open my eyes. My entire body was trembling.

“Good girl,” he said.

“So, you make Imperator Kormac’s threats somehow go away, and then what? I am forced to serve you instead?” I asked, trying to ignore the hissing of the nahashim still sliding around his neck.

“In a manner of speaking. I will bring you under the safety of my Ka. I will publicly announce my sorrow at Brockton’s death, and express my woes that it happened at the hands of his friends. And I will issue a formal pardon to my son, revoking his status as forsworn, so he may remain in Glemaria without threat. I will also announce that he and you rescued Lady Meera, that there is no relationship in violation of the kashonim between you two. Legally, and politically, Imperator Kormac won’t be able to touch either of you ever again.”

I shook my head. “I’m still supposed to marry his son. I’m pretty sure he’ll come to claim me for that alone.”

“There will be no wedding. Not between the two of you. I can end that as well.”

It was so much of what we most desperately needed. But at what cost?

I shook my head. “Rhyan will never agree to that.”

“I’m not bargaining with Rhyan, am I?”

“What makes you think I would agree? That I would want this? That I’d sentence him to such a fate? I’d be merely trading one Imperator’s prison for another.”

“Your choice to see it that way. But I am prepared to offer you more. A far bigger prize.” He leaned closer, his body looming over me, blocking the light from the chandelier above. “Something I know you desire greatly. You agree to serve me, and become one of my Ka. And I will help you get exactly what you want.”

“What I want? I want to leave here. I want you to tell the truth about what happened to Rhyan’s mother, un-name him forsworn, and then release him and Meera. You think there’s truly anything you can offer me beyond our freedom? Beyond our safety?”

“I know there is.” His eyes sparkled. “Because I know who the Emperor is keeping locked up inside his palace.” He smiled slowly, holding my gaze. “Lady Julianna.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

Jules.

I shook my head, trying to remember what I was supposed to know, what I was supposed to say. “But she’s … she’s …”

“Alive? You can cut the act, Lyriana. I know you were made aware.” He stroked the top of the nahashim’s head. “ He told me.”

Imperator Hart leaned forward and lifted the lid to another silver tray. This one was also lacking food. Instead, there were a dozen tightly wound scrolls. Letters. Imperator Hart picked one off the top and placed it in my hands.

“Go on. Read.”

I unraveled the parchment slowly and gasped.

To my favorite friend in the North—also my only friend in the North (a fact that does not make you any less my favorite, by the way)—

The shock of hearing Jules’s voice in my head the other day had been one thing. But to come face to face with her handwriting again was another. To read her wording, her specific turns of phrase. There was no doubt in my mind who’d written this. My heart hurt at the truth of it. At her lightness, the joy she’d once possessed. The letter was dated on Auriel’s Feast Day. Two years ago. My birthday. The night of her Revelation Ceremony. The night she was taken.

By the time you read this, most likely you’ll be back to your rigorous soturion training.

Jules had kept up a correspondence with Rhyan. She’d written to him the last night she’d been in Bamaria.

“Where did you get this?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“A copy,” he said. “We copied all of her letters as they arrived. The originals, sad to say, are gone. My son, in his anger after receiving this one—the last one, burned the others in a fit. I’ll spoil the ending for you, but this was the night he learned about you and Lord Grey.” He chuckled. “He was absolutely devastated.”

My eyes shot down to the end of the letter.

Your not-so-favorite lord, of the mixed colors of black and white, has finally made his romantic intentions known. She hasn’t come to tell me yet, but I expect she will soon—they’re together now. Officially.

I think this will be a good thing for her.

My chest tightened. The night I’d first kissed Tristan. I remembered running to meet her before the ceremony, telling her in an excited, hushed whisper of what had happened.

And all this time, Rhyan knew. Gods. Myself to Moriel. Kenna said Rhyan had spent a year not looking at any girls. And then something happened …This letter. This letter had happened.

He knew. He knew that very night. After a year of waiting for me, he’d tried to move on. Auriel’s fucking bane.

“I stopped in Numeria, briefly on my way to your aunt’s consecration,” his father said. “I took our little friend here. Imperators have special privileges at the Emperor’s Palace, you see. We can access certain rooms, are granted the privilege of guarding copies of the building’s layout, and blueprints. Things you might need if you were to say … attend the Valabellum and attempt a rescue of Lady Julianna.”

He made a sharp hissing sound, and suddenly the nahashim was across the table, staring into my eyes. Its blackened orbs filled with blue light, until all I could see was the color blue.

The room vanished. And suddenly, I was slithering down a hall, seeing what the nahashim saw.

Black and white marble shone beneath me, the black scaly reflection was as clear as if I were sliding across a mirror. I slipped beneath a door, feeling the roughened wood slide against my back, the floor cold against my stomach. And then I slid beneath another, and another, until I entered a room. Small, rounded, with multiple doors. A single bed in the center. Jules lay on it. Her skin was lightly tanned, paler than when I’d last seen her. There were marks on her arms, and thighs: bruises, the kind that came from being gripped too roughly.

My eyes welled.

She was thinner than she had been, wearing a long black dress with slits to the tops of her thighs, and a V from her shoulders to her belly that left most of her body exposed. Though revealing, the material was loose. The dress looked too big on her, like she’d once filled it out, but no longer did. Some of the threads at the hem were coming undone. She noticed the snake, and sat up. But there was no sense of fear in her eyes, only a tired, and resigned dullness. Her brown hair fell like a lion’s mane around her shoulders.

The vision ended.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and my hands clenched. She was so thin, so pale. Those bruises. And her eyes … she wasn’t dead. But she wasn’t far from it, either. I had no time to lose.

“I think we can all speak plainly now of what we know,” Imperator Hart said. He retrieved his nahashim and returned to his seat across from me, taking another sip of wine. “The stripping of a vorakh’s power in Lethea was one of the greatest lies the Empire ever sold. Those in power know better. They are taken to the Emperor’s Palace to serve as the chayatim, the cloaked ones. The Emperor’s most esteemed servants. His spies. They are the ones who keep an eye on Lumeria for him. Lady Julianna has spent two years as his personal slave. She offers insights and visions to the very man who ruined her life.” His lips curled. “Amongst the other services I hear she supplies.”

I was shaking. If I had my weapons on me, he’d be dead. Fuck the consequences. I couldn’t take any more of this torment, this grief. But no. No. I needed to breathe. I needed to calm down, to find some control.

I tried to imagine Rhyan was here, telling me to keep a clear head. To do what I had to do to survive, to get us out of here, to focus on the outcome I wanted. See the end.

Partner. Inhale … Exhale … I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you.

Hearing his voice in my mind, I took a breath.

“And your plan is what, Your Highness? I agree to become your servant, agree to do whatever you want, and you’re going to rescue her for me?” I asked in disbelief. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“The goodness of my heart,” he scoffed. “Call it that if you will. But no. I will do this as a favor, if you do something in return for me. There is something I want from the capital. Something I believe only you can take. I will provide you and my son all that you need to get it. The blueprints to the Palace, the full layout of the Nutavian Katurium. You’ll have access to keys, knowledge of the soturis’ schedule, and a group of mercenaries at your beck and call. I will personally assign two of my most trusted men to assist you in planning. I’ll even let you in on the secret of which of the Emperor’s guards are loyal to me. You will have everything you need to acquire it.”

I frowned. “You want me to be your thief?”

“If that’s how you want to put it, then yes. Now, are we in agreement?”

My mind was whirling. None of it made sense. What did he want so badly that he was willing to dangle Jules in front of me?

“What am I stealing?”

He slowed, and reached into his pocket, removing a small cloth bag which he passed to me. “I need to know that you will not speak to anyone about what I share with you.” He gestured for me to open the pouch.

I did. It was a lock of hair. Ash brown and fine. Meera’s. Aemon had left me something similar after she’d been taken by his akadim.

“How did you get this?” I asked.

“How do you think?”

A chill ran down my spine. Kane had a key to her room. “You’re threatening her.”

“I’m using her as collateral. Should you reveal this to anyone beyond those I approve of—” He made a snipping motion with his fingers. “Agreed?”

I swallowed. “Agreed.”

“What I seek hangs in the Great Hall, above the throne where it is guarded day and night by the Emperor’s sentries. But during a Valabellum, it is brought into the arena ceremonially. Why else do you think I whispered in the Emperor’s ear to host the event?” He smirked, pleased with himself. “That means there is a time where it is changing hands, where it is more vulnerable. That’s what you’re to steal. I will gift you your freedom for the next month to prepare for the event. Under the roof of Seathorne, you will have access to all you need for the theft. You agree to do this, and I’ll give you all you need. You keep it a secret, and Meera gets to live.”

“And if I agree to steal this for you, you’ll rescue Jules?” I asked, still not believing him. What didn’t I know? Why would he offer me anything I wanted when he already had me and my loved ones completely cornered? He could demand this theft without the promise of Jules.

He nodded, but my mind continued to race. Was he after Jules, too? From what I knew about Rhyan’s father, he preferred blood oaths for his agreements. But Rhyan had broken his. Perhaps he worried we couldn’t be trusted with them. If he thought we’d break them, then giving them to us was a death sentence. We’d be useless when he wanted us alive. He wanted control of Gods and Goddesses. But he had us here, he could simply keep us imprisoned. And if he needed collateral, if he needed to threaten someone I loved, he had Meera. What the hell was this object he wanted?

Gods. I needed Rhyan. Needed to discuss this with him. I needed time to think.

“What happens to her after? Won’t they notice she’s missing?” I asked.

“They will. Eventually. I’ll leave a decoy. She’ll need a new name. Perhaps a new face. Not a problem. You’ve met Aiden. You’ve seen what he can do.”

“And what about Rhyan,” I said carefully. “I assume I’ll need his specific set of skills to do this.”

“You will. Not within the Palace. They have wards to block such a thing, of course. Magic siphoned from others like him have proven invaluable for security. But outside the walls? Yes, we’ll need him to spirit Jules away, after I free her.”

“Then he is to be seen by your best healer, and freed from prison. Tonight. Or no deal. You will remove his binds, and you will let me see him.”

“Remove his binds? And let you see him? Hmmm. That sounds wonderful. For you.” He clucked his tongue. “And then what happens when the two of you are alone, and my son is unbound? You vanish? Just as you wished to earlier? You think I couldn’t see the plan in bold letters across your face?”

“We wouldn’t leave. Not without Meera,” I said. “You separated her from me, placed her under guard for a reason. And you’ve made sure the entire Empire knows she’s here. I think you already know you have me locked into Seathorne.”

“I do. And I know that you know that. My son, on the other hand? He’s impulsive. Bull-headed. Forgive me if I do not trust him. But I’ll tell you what I will offer tonight. He will be healed—”

“By your best healers!”

Imperator Hart nodded. “By my best healers. He will be freed from his prison cell, and he will be escorted to a private meeting with you so you can fill him in on his duties. But he will be bound for that meeting. Or there’s no meeting. You must explain things to him in order to win his cooperation. During the events of tomorrow, if I feel his behavior proves you’ve done your job, then, and only then he may have his ropes removed. But that will depend on you. And how convincing you are.”

Gods. Either he was bound, his own form of personal hell, or he agreed to live under his father’s rule, something that would be equal parts torture for him. If I didn’t bring Rhyan into this, it would cost me Meera. And if I did—it might cost me Rhyan. No matter what I chose, someone would be hurt. Every choice felt like a betrayal.

But I had to believe that if forced to pick between the two, he wouldn’t want the ropes. He’d play along to help me, to help Meera, and Jules. We wouldn’t stay here forever—no matter what I swore tonight. We’d find a way.

“Once Rhyan is healed and freed and has the chance to see me, his binds will be removed,” I said again. “And no harm comes to Meera. Only her guards have a key to her room. Not Kane.”

“Kane is Arkturion. He may have any key he wishes.”

“Except for one!”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to offer in that negotiation. But you have my word—no harm will come to her.”

No harm that would be obvious. No harm that couldn’t be hidden under the complex Glemarian dresses she’d be forced to wear.

“I have drawn up a contract for you with rather agreeable terms.” He lifted the lid of another silver platter and handed me a scroll.

I unraveled it to see that this contract only included stipulations between the Imperator and myself.

“You are to steal the item I request,” he said, reading the points he’d written out. “You may have Rhyan and any other resources you need to complete your missions. You must remain at Seathorne until the Valabellum. You will also resume your soturion training during that time—however, no one knows you have magic. I intend for you to keep it that way. And I will reinstate Rhyan as an heir. He will no longer be forsworn.”

“He’d be Heir Apparent again?” I asked.

He made a disapproving sound with his tongue. “Gods, no. That honor goes to my next son. But Rhyan can be an heir once more. I can even allow him access to his old bank accounts.”

“How? You had your own men swear he killed his mother. That they saw it with their own eyes.” I bit my tongue before I could say that he , Imperator Hart, was the true murderer.

“Let me and him worry about those details.” He continued, “Now, your reputation, along with his, must be rehabilitated. We must squash the rumors of your affair. This work will begin the moment I make the claims of your innocence in Korteria, and end your engagement to Viktor Kormac.”

I shook my head. “And how do you plan to do that? You said so yourself, I am too valuable to him. He’ll come and claim me at some point. Fight you on the fact that my engagement to his Ka came first. He may not be able to retaliate against Bamaria with this, but I doubt you wish to go to war with him over me, not when the Emperor is on his side.”

“It’s easier than you think,” he said. “You never publicly accepted the engagement. And even he cannot force a marriage on a noble already betrothed.” He winked.

My stomach sank. I didn’t need to ask who. He’d been trying for years, trying since I was a baby. I’d be engaged to Arkturion Kane. To Shiviel reincarnated.

I couldn’t decide which fate was worse. A marriage to Kane? Or a marriage to Viktor?

I felt nauseated. “What happens after I bring this object to you? Are we released from your service?”

“Released?” He chuckled. “You will find a far better life here than under any other options you now face. You’ll need me anyway to keep you safe, to continue hiding Julianna.”

Rhyan had escaped before. He’d do it again. And I still had to fulfill my deal with Mercurial. I had to find the red shard. I had to claim it, and use its power. He’d been less than forthcoming about when that would happen, or how. But I knew one thing—it would happen.

I looked down at the table, at the edge of the letter Jules had sent to Rhyan. Under her signature, she had written:

Yes! Anything is possible.

She used to say that all the time. But it had been so long, I’d forgotten.

I swallowed roughly and looked up at the Imperator. “If I fail to steal this object for you?”

“Don’t,” he commanded, and removed the dagger from his belt, passing it to me. “Your signature, and a willing drop of your blood.”

“A blood oath?” I asked.

“I think we both know that you’re at too high a risk for breaking one, as is my son.”

Then what was the catch?

I read the rest of the contract, scanning for discrepancies, for any hidden stipulations. It said everything he’d mentioned. But at the bottom was one more clause—what would happen if I failed to steal what he asked for. The price was Jules. She wasn’t an act of goodwill, nor was she the carrot to dangle in front of me for motivation. She was the final collateral. Meera died if I didn’t fall in line. Jules died if I didn’t finish the mission. He was going to remove her from the Palace no matter what. Our success determined if she left there dead or alive.

“What exactly am I stealing?” I asked. “You still haven’t told me. I won’t sign unless I know.”

“You lost something of great value to me when you broke into the tomb without permission.” He took out the red jewel—the key to the moonstone seraphim—and let it roll across his palm. “You owe me. I intend for you to bring me something in return. Go on,” he crooned to the nahashim. “Show her.”

The snake lifted his head, its gaze on mine. I stilled and once more, blue light filled my vision.

A golden throne sat in the middle of the largest room I’d ever seen. There were dozens of white marble columns that reached for a ceiling too high to even comprehend from the ground. On either side of the Seat were two dozen of the Emperor’s soturi, each of them wearing a golden Valalumir tattoo on their cheek.

Through the snake’s eyes, I looked above the throne, my eyes traveling up and up the wall. Mounted between the purple tapestries descending from the ceiling, was an old-fashioned shield made of bronze. It was round, adorned with a fiery golden sun. And in its center was an orange crystal.

I stifled a gasp. It was the same shield I’d found in Meera’s vision—in my vision. The one I’d seen in the arena. Sunlight shined through the windows, and light from the crystal erupted, filling the entire hall with bright, beautiful orange light.

My heart pounded, the Valalumir inside me was beating its own, rapid rhythm, before the heat spread across my chest, growing hotter and hotter. If my dress were cut lower, he’d see markings of Mercurial’s bargain with me coming to life.

And then I knew.

This wasn’t just any shield. This was Ereshya’s. I knew why Aemon and Morgana would be at the Valabellum.

If Morgana hadn’t handed over the indigo shard to Aemon yet, then she would after she was in possession of the shard she’d guarded in her past life.

And when that happened, they’d both be able to tap into their God and Goddess power. They’d be unstoppable. It wouldn’t matter who conquered Bamaria, or who was anointed Emperor.

We’d be under the reign of Moriel’s terror once again.

If I agreed to this, I’d be handing a shard of the Valalumir to a tyrant. A tyrant who had a God as his warlord. A tyrant with his eyes on the Emperor’s throne. But I was going to keep it from Morgana and Aemon. And if we could save Jules, and then find a way to escape, we could go after the red shard, we could find a way to fight back.

My heart thundered.

“Meera won’t be harmed. Rhyan is healed and freed from your prisons,” I said. “And his binds are removed.”

“Sign,” was his only response.

I stared down at the contract, and the blade he’d handed me. A scratch pen but no ink was offered next. I was signing my name in blood. Gods. This wasn’t a blood oath.

It was worse.

Signing a blood contract was an old practice. It would bind me to Imperator Hart, compel me to follow his orders whenever he was near. Like a blood oath, I’d be bound to what I signed, to any request or order he gave. Compelled to fulfill his every request. I’d be his slave. My free will would be gone any time he was near enough for my blood to sense him.

But there was no other way out. No other option that gave us a chance. That got us to Jules.

Anything is possible.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and pressed the blade into my skin, hissing as the sound of my blood splattered against the parchment. Then I picked up the scratch pen. And signed.