Chapter 1
Chapter
One
RHYAN
The clock tower struck the new hour in Numeria and I groaned.
Fucking Numeria. Fucking stupid Lumerian capital.
How was it possible I was back here? How was I already away from Lyriana? Away from my friends? How the hell had I already been separated from them—and after I’d just gotten them back? After, for a moment, for a brief shining fucking moment, it felt like things were working out for me.
For one night they had.
I’d gotten away from my father’s iron grip. Away from the Emperor. I was with Lyr, and she was safe and she was mine and she was loved. And so was I—as long as I was with her.
I was everything with her.
And finally, I knew the truth—knew that Aiden and Dario, my best friends, didn’t hate me. Gods, they’d even forgiven me for Garrett. For leaving Glemaria and abandoning them. For all I’d done in my escape. For everyone I’d hurt. Everyone who’d died because of me.
And we found Jules. We fucking found her, two and half years after she was taken. We got her safely out of the Palace. Got her to freedom. And more than that. Meera was safe. Hell—even Lord Tristan freaking Grey was on our side now.
It was all working out. All coming together. And by the Gods, the only thing left for me to do was free Kenna, get her away from my father. Away from her father, too—that monster, Arkturion Kane. Shiviel. But I’d already reached too high.
I always reached too high.
I leaned my head back against the hard stone wall of my prison cell.
The tiny square I’d been locked in was cold and drafty, and the damp and musty hall leading up to it smelled like shit.
In a larger cell, a few rows down, prisoners banged on the walls.
Coughing, and groaning in pain. Some were crying. Some were just screaming.
Closing my eyes, I tried to forget where I was. To forget everything from the last few hours. And everything coming in the next. The horror I knew I’d face. And the pain. The pain which was inevitable. I only wanted one thing now.
Lyr.
To see Lyr. See her in my mind, and remember the way she looked last night, so raw and beautiful.
I could almost feel my body still tangled with hers, could almost feel, even in the damp cold of the cell, just how Godsdamned warm I’d been in her bed.
Warm inside her, around her, on top of her, beneath her.
We had connected in every way possible. Our bodies, our minds, our hearts.
Our souls. And I was smiling, and so was she.
And we were happy. For a moment, we were happy.
The backs of my eyes pricked with tears. Fuck. I shook my head, and swallowed, my throat dry and rough.
I was happy? What a fucking joke. Happy.
Happiness wasn’t for people like me. Happiness wasn’t my fate.
It never was. I should have known better.
I should have known my father would come for us.
Should have known that in the end, above all else, he’d come for me.
And most of all, I should have known he would succeed.
Now he had. Now it was done. And now nothing else mattered. My time was up.
Gods. The bindings were so fucking tight, I could barely breathe.
My father wasn’t taking chances this time.
Not after I’d broken through his double binding at home.
Not since I nearly killed him while behind bars.
I guess I should have been flattered he found me to be such a threat.
But to be honest, it was hard to feel anything else beyond dread.
I knew there’d be no reprieve. The trial they held for me in the Palace had been swift. Barely even worthy of meriting the formality of being called a trial. Accusation, evidence, conviction and sentencing were presented briskly, without emotion.
All in under a minute.
It was a farce. And yet—ironically, I was actually guilty.
Though, what other outcome could have been expected?
When I’d grabbed my father, traveled with him away from Lyr, from my friends—from my …
From everyone who’d become my family, I was so afraid, and terrified for them, I wasn’t thinking straight.
I only knew one thing: I had to stop the threat.
I had to save her. I had to save them all.
He had fucking nahashim with him, and the giant snakes were going to suffocate Lyr; squeeze Dario and Aiden to death.
And there was nothing I could do. Because my father had control over the snakes, and he had total control over their prey.
Lyr, Dario and Aiden had all been bound to follow his word, forced to follow his commands.
He had blackmailed them all into signing a blood contract, compelling them into complicity with their own demise.
Nothing broke me more than the look on Lyr’s face at that moment, at the sheer panic in her eyes as she realized she was helpless.
The moment she realized that despite her strength, and the power she’d fought so hard to find, she was unable to fight back.
There was only one thing I could do. Only one way to help. Get him away from her. From all of them. Get him far away enough to break the power his words held.
So, I ran at him with all I had, and I jumped, holding onto him like my life depended on it.
Apparently, my life had depended on it. I just didn’t understand why at the time.
I could still feel my stomach tugging as we traveled.
Feel the strain in my arms from holding my father against me.
And the sudden weight in my boots when we landed, the strain in my calves.
The sinking feeling that followed. Because it turned out the jump I’d made was too short—we hadn’t traveled far away enough to break his hold.
He laughed when we landed, confirming as much. The threat hadn’t stopped.
So immediately, without thought, without recovering my strength, I jumped again. Right into Numeria, right into the Empire’s capital. The most dangerous place I could have gone.
My father’s face said it all. That what I did had worked. I’d broken his hold. I’d saved my friends, saved my family.
I’d saved Lyr …
Unfortunately, as I was reminded by my current surroundings, I’d been unable to save myself.
We were seen by dozens and dozens of witnesses.
Their testimony wasn’t needed though. The Emperor—the newly crowned Imperator Kormac—already knew my secret.
Knew I was vorakh. He’d already told Lyr.
And with my sudden display of forbidden magic upon landing in Numeria, so did everyone else. No more hiding.
I was sentenced. And before the end of the day, before the sun set again, I would be stripped. At least, that was technically my punishment. A stripping of power and magic. But everyone at the trial knew the truth—knew what was really going to happen to me.
Because the procedure wouldn’t end there.
It would end in my execution. My magic would be ripped out of my skin, torn from my muscles, cut out of my organs, and sucked from my bones.
They’d take it all, take everything that had made me who I was, until it was gone, until I was dead.
The Examiner from Ka Lethea had gone over the procedure already, explaining in such detail what would happen that I’d nearly vomited.
He said I might survive, that it was possible.
But I could see the lie in his eyes. I knew.
We all knew. One did not survive these strippings, no matter how strong they were, no matter how hard they trained. And I had trained. Really fucking hard.
I suppressed a cry and sucked in a breath, but the movement was labored under all of my bindings. I guess this was my final rope. The one I wouldn’t be tearing apart.
A tear rolled down my cheek—one I couldn’t even wipe away since my hands were bound.
Fuck. I was running out of time. The countdown was on.
I took a deep breath and shook my head. It was okay.
It had to be okay. I mean I could live with it.
Or … die because of it. I laughed. Bad time to make a joke.
Another tear fell, and I swallowed again, my throat painfully dry, as I tried to steel myself.
I just had to focus on what mattered, on what was important. If it saved Lyr, if it saved her life, I could bear it. It would be worth it. If she was free from my father, free from Kormac, then I could die. I could face down my death with honor, and without regret. As long as she was all right.
I nodded, to no one but myself. She was all right.
And she would continue to be—even without me.
There was no question about it. Lyr was strong.
So strong. A fucking Goddess. She would bring the Empire to its knees when she was ready.
And I was so fucking proud of her, of how powerful she’d become, how fierce.
She amazed me constantly. I still remembered when I’d first fallen in love with her.
Gods. I thought she was so beautiful. So beautiful I’d never tire of seeing her every day.
Of seeing her beauty. Her smile. Her eyes. Her body.
I’d been right. But I’d underestimated myself, underestimated her. I hadn’t tired of her—not once, not even close. Instead, I felt insatiable. Like I was starving. I wanted more. More time to see her, to admire her. To talk to her, to listen to her, to hold her … to … fuck. To everything with her.
My chest heaved, and I bit my lip, my stomach twisting.