Chapter 14
Fourteen
Liar
My head throbbed viciously, each pulse of pain syncing with the sluggish thump of my heart.
I pried my eyes open and winced. The dim flicker of dying torchlight seemed to make the pounding worse. The air felt thick, stagnant, laced with the sharp tang of medicinal herbs and something far more metallic beneath it. Blood.
My limbs felt heavy, my mind struggling to find a thought to grip onto.
Shadows slithered across the stone walls.
Too thick. Too alive. They stretched towards the corners of the room where the darkness bled into itself.
The faint glint of metal caught my eye: a wooden trolley, scattered with healer’s tools.
The hairs on my arms stood on end, sweat beading on my skin despite the cool air.
The dying torchlight flickered lazily, as if warning me that something unnatural was happening.
The shadows rippled and coiled, slow and oozing, holding me captive.
My muscles locked in fear as they bled into an inky form.
The torches guttered weakly, trembling back to life.
And in the brief second the shadows recoiled, a large figure was watching me.
The darkness hid his features, but I could make out a muscular form that stood well over six feet tall.
The shadow man took slow, predatory step towards me.
Darkness crawled along the stone, creeping towards me in an unnatural slither.
That was all the warning I got before the figure lunged at me.
Terror locked me in place. The thing lurched forward.
I screamed, sitting up and clutching my chest. My hair clung to my sweat sleeked skin as I frantically searched the room like a trapped animal. I was in the same room. The infirmary.
“Hey. Hey, you’re safe.” Riven leant forward in the chair beside my bed. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his unruly brown waves looked as though he’d dragged his hands through them repetitively.
I looked past Riven, searching for him. But there was no darkness. The moving shadows didn’t exist.
“I—There was…” I trailed off, trying to catch my breath.
“You had a nightmare,” Riven reassured me, wrapping his hand around mine.
I startled, not moving for a moment before I wrapped my hand back around his. I needed a tether right now.
Logically, I believed him—yet it had felt real. The hairs on my arms stood on end, every nerve taut with the certainty that something unseen was still watching me.
“Just a dream,” I mumbled, staring at our interlocked hands sitting on top of the blanket.
In a chair next to Riven, Orin’s long legs stretched out with his head tilted to the side, his mouth parted in the depth of sleep.
Then it hit me.
Memories invaded my head like the dead clawing their way out of a shallow grave, unwilling to stay buried. The sound of choking. Initiates drowning on dry land at my hands. Did someone see me wield water? If they had, why was I not dead?
A merciless shudder tore through my body. I grabbed my aching head with my free hand.
Shame crawled up my throat, thick and bitter. I’m a monster.
But before I could drown in it, Riven cut through my internal panic. “It’s alright, Lyra.” His voice was soft, soothing.
My gaze remained ensnared on his fingers intertwined with mine, a strange feeling of familiarity settling into my stomach. If I met Riven’s gaze, I was certain disgust would meet me.
“It’s our little secret, okay?” he said in a hushed tone, sensing where my thoughts had gone.
“Why?” I asked cautiously. Why would he protect me? We had all been told the same thing. Anyone who wields water was too dangerous to be kept alive. I needed to be killed for the greater good. Because the estranged Gods deemed me a threat.
“I’m not going to let them kill you, Lyra.
” His voice had turned darker, not one drop of amusement laced his tone.
My eyes shot to him. His dark grey eyes were already watching me with an intensity I didn’t realise he was capable of.
Those strange amber flecks seemed almost alive, like rays of sunshine tearing through storm clouds.
He leant forward, his voice a soft whisper that sent a strange warmth through my stomach.
“I can get you out of here, take you somewhere you can be safe.”
Did such a place even exist? We were on an island surrounded by cursed seas filled with vicious beasts. Running away was impossible.
“Aren’t we bound by the Ascension to be Iron Guards until we die?” I asked. The magic that had torn its way through me on that altar was binding.
He gave me a knowing half smirk. “I have a way around that.”
I considered it for a moment. They would kill me the moment they realised I could yield water, a fate I would have embraced a few days ago.
But a small, stubborn part of me wanted to live simply because the Gods had decided I should die, just to spite them.
I almost agreed. The words hovered on my tongue, heavy and tempting.
My gaze drifted to Orin. His red hair had fallen across his brow, his face unguarded in sleep, stripped of command and fury.
I wanted to believe that if it came to it, he would protect me. He would help me hide.
“I can’t,” I whispered. Riven gave me a mischievous smirk and squeezed my hand softly. “Tell lover boy over there that it was Roman and watch what happens. My guess is you will want to run away with me after that.”
The power inside me withered beneath my skin, threatening to spill free. I couldn’t tell if the uneasiness curling in my stomach wanted me to take Riven’s hand and run or stay.
Honestly, I didn’t know which fate frightened me more.
“Why try to help me? Riven, I’m a monster.”
He didn’t flinch at my words. Didn’t recoil. Instead, his face softened, a breathy chuckle escaped him as his usual amusement settled back into his eyes.
“You’re not a monster, Lyra.” He shook his head, eyelashes brushing his cheek as he looked down at me. “People have a nasty habit of fearing what they don’t understand.”
My breath stalled in my throat. He wasn’t afraid of me. My eyes flicked to his lips, inches from my face. Gods, all I had to do was lean forwards. One small movement and his lips would be against mine. He was offering to save me, even though I had almost killed him.
“Riven, I... I nearly… I wanted to…”
“Whatever it is you were going to do, you didn’t.
” His expression shifted, darkening. “And even if you did…” He trailed off, eyes dipping to my lips and his voice dipped lower, huskier.
“I was completely under your spell. You could have shoved a blade into my gut, and I would have thanked you for it and then kissed the ground you walked on.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
His fingers flexed in my hand as if fighting the urge to close the distance between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He chuckled under his breath, letting go of my hand and sitting back in his chair.
Before I could protest, Orin stirred and sat up. His sleep blurred eyes scanned me for injuries. His gaze softened for a moment, reminding me of the guard I once loved before the hard lines of anger returned to his face. “I thought you were dead!”
Riven clapped his hand on Orin’s shoulder. “We won boss man. Get your panties out of a knot.”
“We won?” I asked cautiously as Orin glared daggers at Riven.
“I would love to know how,” Orin said in a clipped tone. The vein on his forehead looked like it was going to burst.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I remember fighting and getting attacked. I must have been unconscious.”
I twirled the end of my silver braid between my fingers, making my eyes go wide with fear. Surely, he wouldn’t expect the unskilled princess to have killed multiple initiates. Lying and acting weak were skills I had mastered long ago.
“See? I told you my skills are unparalleled,” Riven smirked, puffing up his chest with arrogance.
“Riven and Dreya have shown me their Sanctums. So, who wielded water in the maze?” His attention made me squirm. I still didn’t know what Orin’s Sanctum was. Did he know I was lying?
“I don’t have my Sanctum yet,” I muttered, dropping my braid and settling my hands in my lap.
Riven glared at Orin with open hostility despite the amused smirk plastered on his face. “Leave. I need to speak to Lyra alone,” Orin seethed towards him, crossing his arms.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be alone with you,” Riven shot back, his arrogant smirk taunting.
Orin laughed without humour, standing to loom over Riven. “She has wanted to be alone with me plenty of times. Now leave.”
Riven shoved the chair back with force as he stood, its legs screeching against the stone floor. Riven stood an inch taller than Orin, the two of them stared each other down.
The door swung open, Bohdi storming in with a concerned look on his face.
“What’s going on? The emotions I can feel from down the hall are intense.”
He eyed Riven, whose entire body was rigid as if he was trying to hold himself back.
“You need to calm down. I’m going to help you. Okay?” Bohdi’s voice was calm, slow, laced with the kind of warmth that could settle a raging storm.
But his stance told a different story. His weight was evenly braced, and his muscles were coiled like a predator ready to strike.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Riven warned, but there was a crack beneath it.
Bohdi ignored him, lashing out quickly and seizing Riven’s face between his hands. His fingers pressed firmly against Riven’s temples, thumbs locking over his strong jaw.
Bohdi’s brows drew together in concentration, strands of honey-blond hair clung to his forehead. Riven’s eyes were wild and my heart ached. He looked how I felt. Hopeless. Caged. Like there was something below the surface begging to break free.
“Let him go.” My voice was louder than usual, demanding in a way I wasn’t used to.
Orin shot me a look of warning that made me writhe with defiance.
Riven’s hands latched onto Bohdi’s wrists with bruising force, his fingers white-knuckled as he pried Bohdi’s hands off.
Riven swung his fist. Bohdi’s head snapped to the side with sickening force.
Orin moved to grab Riven, but Bohdi raised one hand to stop him, the other clutching his bleeding nose. “Leave him.”
Riven started to leave, pausing at the door and turning to look at me over his shoulder. “Remember what we talked about.”
I wrapped my arms around myself as I watched the door close.
“What in the Hells was that?” Orin asked Bohdi. “That’s the second time your Sanctum has failed.”
Bohdi exhaled, still holding his nose as blood dripped onto his dark grey uniform.
“All I could sense was darkness,” his voice was hoarse and filled with confusion.
“What do you know, Lyra?” Orin directed his attention back to me.
Bohdi hesitated, glancing at me again. Not just at me, but inside me.
I knew he could feel my guilt, my shame, my fear.
But he said nothing to me, instead he turned to Orin. “I’m going to check back in with Dreya, she is about to get released.” He left, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with Orin.
“I need to know if you saw who drowned the initiates, Lyra,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
I studied him instead of answering. The tension in his jaw. The way his fingers flexed, restless. He wanted the truth.
Riven’s warning echoed in my mind. Seven years was a long time for loyalty to rot, and trust was something I would not give easily. If I chose wrong… If Orin wasn’t who I needed him to be, then Roman would be dead by morning and I would leave with Riven.
“Roman,” I said quietly, letting his name hang between us like a blade. I met Orin’s eyes and didn’t look away. “Roman drowned them.”
The lie slid out smoothly. I let my voice tremble just enough to sound scared.
“Thank you,” Orin said gently, leaning forward and running the back of his finger against my cheek, slow and familiar, as though he were rewarding me. “Get some rest and I will see you at dinner.”
Orin pulled a small metal cylinder out of his pocket and threw it onto my bed with a dull thud.
“A royal hawk dropped that off for you while you were out. I kept it from leadership.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his red hair, as if he couldn’t believe he’d broken a rule for me.
He turned and pushed open the door, his silhouette outlined in the dying torchlight.
Leaving me alone with a deep unease that had settled beneath my skin.