Chapter 1 #3
I shook my head. “That might not mean anything to you. I know it doesn’t.
But it means something to the rest of the world.
To the Empire. And you look pathetic! You look weak handing over your own blood!
You’re doing this now,” I said, “because you’re losing.
Because you lost your bid for the Throne.
You’ll never be Emperor! And I swear to you, after this, you won’t remain Imperator much longer either. My death will be your downfall.”
“Shut your Godsdamned mouth,” he said, but he still didn’t come any closer. “You know nothing! Foresight and vision were never part of your skillset. You were always so cocky, so sure of yourself when you had no reason to be.”
“I had reason,” I said.
The shouts outside were growing louder now, more frenzied. Calling for action, for violence. For blood.
My blood.
I closed my eyes, my body starting to shake involuntarily. It will be over soon. It will be over soon.
But when I looked at my father again, he actually looked sick. Regret? Guilt? A change of heart?
No. He’d never change. He was incapable.
It was just as well. I had to accept that he was who he was.
But I was also going to make sure that in my final moments, he knew exactly who I was.
I was going to make sure he didn’t forget what I’d promised.
I wanted him to remember every day for the rest of his life, that the oath I’d made, that the threat I’d sworn, would still stand.
That it would be enforced long after I was gone.
My death would not stop justice from finding him.
My heart pounded then, a sudden warmth growing inside me, shooting out through my limbs.
And just like that, I had a final burst of energy, of strength.
The chains around me rattled, the nails in the walls coming loose.
Not enough to break. Not enough to free me. But enough to cause fear in my father.
It was like the moment I’d made my decision, the moment I’d chosen to spend my last moments here on earth doing this, protecting Lyr, protecting my love, my partner, my mekara, something had taken over me, was helping me, supporting me.
The same thing I’d felt when I first swore my oath against him.
Ancient power. The strength of a God. A kind of kashonim that went beyond this realm.
Auriel. My past life. My soul.
I held my father’s gaze, holding it for what I swore would be the last time.
“I promised you pain,” I said, but I no longer sounded like myself.
My voice had changed, and power beyond what I could hold vibrated through my words.
“I promised you an eternity of suffering if you hurt her. An eternity of being hunted, life after life. I meant what I said. And just because I’m gone,” I swore, “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep my oath. My death will not make you free of me.”
His chest heaved and he stepped back, his eyes widening. “Rhyan!” He held a note of warning in his voice. But I recognized the truth of what lay beneath it.
Fear.
“Not Rhyan,” I snarled. “You know who you’re speaking to now, don’t you?
Not your son—not the boy you spent a lifetime trying to scare.
I am more. I am eternal. I am Auriel. I am a God.
And you know it. You’ve always known it.
And still, you played with destinies beyond your control.
” I took another step forward, the chains straining against the wall, each one rattling, cracking.
One nail popped, and rolled across the floor, stopping at my father’s boot.
“I want you to remember in the end, when you’re all alone, when your people have abandoned you, and you’re forced to admit how pathetic and weak you truly are—that you did this.
You killed your son. Just as you killed your wife.
And soon you will die. If not by my hand, then by one who I will choose to avenge me. ”
His nostrils flared. “Enough! Enough!” He scoffed, “Auriel! Like I’m to believe you.
I’ve had a lifetime of your ramblings, Rhyan.
Of your insolence, and your refusal to take ownership of your choices.
Your mistakes. Your weaknesses. You want to speak about who plays the martyr, victim and hero?
Well get a Godsdamned fucking mirror. And take a look!
But do it soon. Because your time is done.
” He was losing control, he sounded on the verge of hysteria.
“Do not tell me my fate when you didn’t have the vision!
When this was never your vorakh! I know!
Not because of your mother, but because I have common fucking sense.
And you don’t know anything about how I’m seen!
Or how this will look! Or how I will succeed!
Now shut your mouth! Shut your Godsdamned fucking mouth! It’s time to meet your fate, Rhyan.”
He’d emphasized my name, saying it again like he was trying to summon me. To make sure it was me. Just me.
“Don’t worry, father. I’m ready. At least, I can rest assured that my doom won’t take so long. I’ll be gone by nightfall. And I’ll be at peace. But I promise you, your doom will last an eternity. I swear it to you. Me sha, me ka.”
The doors opened again, the sound echoing in the hall. Boots marched across the floor. A death march—mine. A line of soturi made their way to my father, and then passed him, making room for more and more. Each one had their sword out, their guard up.
My entourage was here to take me to the gallows. Out to the pole.
I guess it was a compliment that they perceived me as such a threat. Such a danger.
Look at that. I was receiving all sorts of praise since I’d entered this prison.
My father turned away, addressing the soturi all while their small, fearful eyes sized me up. Some soturi I recognized. Some I’d even bruised as I’d tried to escape my trial, fighting every second until I was locked into this cell.
But in that moment, the feeling of strength left me. Whatever part of me that was Auriel, that was larger than me, returned to wherever he had been summoned from. I collapsed against the wall, sinking to my knees, the rattling chains now still and silent.
I was drained. My time was up. So, I cleared my mind of everything.
Everything except for Lyr. Lyriana. Mekara.
I would think of her, and just her for these final moments.
Her sweet scent. Her sweeter taste. The hint of lemon and vanilla against her skin.
The feel of her arms around me, the soft sound of her breathing in the dark of night.
Her cries of passion when we came together.
Her infectious laugh when we played. The way her face glowed when she smiled.
Or she was discussing a topic she was excited about.
The translation debate. High Lumerian. Dancing.
The proper time to drink coffee—which was always, according to her.
And I would remember the first time I told her I loved her. The way she looked when she said she loved me, too. The way she radiated with light when our bodies joined. And our souls.
The feel of her against me, skin to skin, warm and sleepy in the morning, or drifting off at night, safe and tucked against me.
Collapsing against my body, exhausted from training.
Exhausted from other things. The way she dragged her fingers through my hair.
Her lips across my throat and neck. Her hips shimmying, dancing, undulating.
Her hands in mine, fingers threaded together.
The gentle jingling sound her bracelets made.
The way she called me ‘‘partner’’ when she was mad at me.
The way she called me Rhyan when she wasn’t.
Her wild, beautiful hair in the moonlight, as dark as a raven’s. Her hair in the fire of the sun. Batavia red. Asherah’s red. Lyriana’s red.
Lyr.
Lyr.
Lyr …