Chapter 4 #2
“And if she doesn’t come?’ I asked, my voice going cold.
His aura flared, like a burst of fire. “You think I haven’t thought of that possibility?
” he yelled. “That I haven’t been running a thousand outcomes for them and us in my head as we waited?
They could be delayed for a thousand reasons, they could be on their way now, injured, needing just a little more time. ”
“Or they might not be coming back at all,” I spat.
Dario snarled.
“She’s right,” Meera said, her voice cold. Her lip trembled and I could feel my own terror for Lyr ramping up. Going into the Palace, even armed, even ready to lose it all—still meant losing.
I felt callous with what I had to say, because Gods, the thing I’d most wanted when I’d been taken was Lyr.
To see Lyr. I missed her so fucking much.
But I’d learned by now, you just don’t get what you want in life.
And this was no different. We had to accept reality.
Because if Lyr had been captured, if Rhyan had been stripped—what chance did we stand?
It was only because of them we were free to begin with, and we had just barely made it. If they’d fallen …
“Any events in the arena would be long over by now,” Meera said. “Whatever did or didn’t happen is done. And Imperator Hart knows where we are. We’re on borrowed time.”
“I’m not leaving Lyriana behind,” Dario said. He moved toward the small table where we’d had our meals, and slammed his hand down on it. “Or Rhyan.” His voice cracked.
Meera shook her head, moving toward him. “No one is saying that,” she said. “Do you think I want to? That I can stomach leaving my sister? Not knowing where she is or if she’s safe? That I’m not losing my fucking mind right now? You think I’m not just as worried about Rhyan as you are?”
“No one is suggesting that you’re okay with any of this,” Aiden said coolly.
“No,” Dario said, stepping back into the middle of the room. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes meeting all of ours, “You’re all just saying that it’s time to go. That we give up and leave Lyriana and Rhyan behind. Well, we’re not. Because that’s not how this works.”
“What do you think this is?” I yelled. “Protocol training at the academy? There’s no turion for you to answer to, no chain of command to follow. Right now, there are no rules. Except for one. Survive!”
“If Rhyan were here,” Meera said quietly, “he’d say the same thing.”
“If Rhyan were here,” Dario gritted through his teeth, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” His eyes reddened. “We’re waiting. Just a little longer. You don’t know how strong he is, or Lyr. They’ll be here. He’ll be here,” he said again. “He has to.” But he no longer sounded convinced.
And then, as if in answer, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Dario rushed forward to check the peep hole. “It’s Cal.” He unlocked the door, cracking it open just an inch as he examined the hall. Satisfied, he pulled the old man, one half of the elderly couple who owned Auriel’s Flame, inside the room.
“Any news?” Dario asked, his voice now filled with desperation. “Rhyan? Lyr?”
“There’s a rider downstairs,” Cal said somberly, his white bushy eyebrows furrowed.
“A soturion with the seal of Lady Kenna Hart. She bid me show this to you as proof. She has urgent news from Numeria—but she was ordered to deliver it directly to you, and only you. If you verify her seal, I’ll send her up. ”
“Show me,” Dario said.
Cal nodded, placing a small silver ring in his hand.
Dario’s face hardened, his jaw clenching before returning it. “Bring her.”
A moment later, a soturion in the dark leathers of Ka Hart appeared in the threshold of the door.
Her black hair was braided down her back, but dozens of wisps had escaped, and even had leaves stuck to them, like she’d ridden an ashvan here as fast as she could.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, and there was a tear in her green soturion cloak.
“Brianna,” Dario said.
Aiden shot across the room as well.
“What happened?” Dario asked. “Where’s Rhyan?”
“Here,” she said, handing him a leather pouch, the kind used to transport scrolls. “Something happened,” she shook her head. “Kenna went to great trouble to get word to you. As did I.”
Dario shook his head. “What do you mean something happened? Why is Kenna sending me letters? What is this? What’s going on?”
“It’s all in there, Dario,” she said, turning piercing blue eyes on him. “Everything.” Her mouth tightened. “Just read.”
“Bri,” he begged, shaking his head, “Just tell me. Tell me, please.”
“Brianna?” Aiden asked, his voice oddly formal despite the emotion wavering beneath it.
But the soturion, Brianna, shook her head again, and closed Dario’s fingers around the missive.
“I’m sorry. I can’t stay. Not even a minute.
I have to get back to her quickly, before I’m seen.
The Palace is in lockdown. The whole capital.
I barely made it out. My lady needs me. Just …
just read. Okay? And do what she says.” She nodded at Aiden.
Then her blue eyes glanced sadly around the room.
“Be careful. Be safe.” And then she rushed back down the hall.
“Bri!” Dario yelled, but Aiden closed the door and leaned back against it, his eyes closing slowly, his face drawn.
Dario silently went to sit back on the bed, staring at the case, turning it over in his hands.
My heart raced, my stomach churned. The answers were in there. The answers we needed, that we were fighting over.
I wanted to throw up.
“Well?” Tristan asked. “Read it!”
“Dario, please,” Meera said. But he was still, turning it over again and again.
Aiden approached slowly, kneeling down before his friend.
“Dar? You want me to—”
“She sent it to me,” he snapped.
Aiden nodded. “Okay.” Something unspoken passed between them. “Okay.”
Taking a deep breath, Dario opened the case, and pulled out Kenna’s letter. A minute later, his hands opened, the parchment falling to the ground as he stared ahead, his eyes vacant.
Rhyan was an akadim. Rhyan was an akadim. Rhyan was an akadim.
The minute Dario dropped Kenna’s letter, Aiden had picked it up, trying to read it out loud.
But he couldn’t finish it. His voice broke mid-sentence as his emotions took over.
So Galen had to read as Aiden stumbled back against a wall.
He seemed glued to it now, minutes later, unable to move, unable to speak.
He wasn’t even blinking. Just standing eerily still, his face pale as a corpse.
Dario’s eyes were watering and red, and his hands were trembling, the tendons in his arms taut.
Without a word, he walked over to the nightstand by the bed.
He stood with his back to all of us, his shoulders tensing, and then his fist flew, smashing through the wooden table.
He pulled his hand out as blood and shards of wood fell to the floor.
He’d hurt himself. Some pieces of wood were sticking out of his palm.
But we were silent with him. Like grief had stolen our voices.
The only sound in the room had been the remains of the table collapsing.
Meera was the first to spring into action, tending to him—pulling out splinters, and demanding Galen bring her a damp wash cloth to clean the cuts across his fingers and knuckles. Dario just stared blankly, his face turned in my direction, while Meera applied sunleaves.
I slumped back onto the other bed, numb and unsure what to do.
The news about Rhyan was too awful to comprehend.
And yet, somehow, there was still even more than that to digest. Vorakh—so many more than just me—had escaped, and akadim had attacked.
Akadim had breached the capital. Akadim who’d managed to kill beneath the sun, who’d come out before it was night.
Akadim who had targeted Rhyan. I couldn’t decide which felt less believable.
That Rhyan had been attacked, or that it had happened in the daylight.
And then … there was Lyr.
Lyr was missing. Vanished. Gone.
Gods. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my heart was twisting in on itself.
I tried to convince myself that it was a good thing that no one knew her whereabouts.
Because if the Emperor had captured her, if the worst had happened, Kenna would have known.
I was sure of it. Emperor Avery would want everyone to know he had her—especially since he’d long been obsessed with her.
The little game between him and Imperator Hart had been going on for years—both wanting to dominate her, to possess her.
I had to trust in the fact that no news coming out of Numeria about Lyr meant they still didn’t have her.
And yet if the Emperor hadn’t captured Lyr, if Imperator Hart didn’t have her—why hadn’t she come back here?
Why hadn’t she gotten word to us herself?
Why had it taken a message from Kenna for any news to reach us at all?
Lyr knew where we were, knew we needed her, and that we’d be waiting, worried.
Where the hell had she gone? Or was she hurt?
Lying helpless somewhere? Had an akadim dragged her off as well? Gods. Had she gone after Rhyan?
Again, I reached for my ring finger, desperately feeling for the thin scar. I traced the line, again and again. Over and over, searching for comfort, for strength. A reminder of what I’d sworn.
I needed it now. Needed to remember the promise I’d made to him.
But already I could feel the pain in my heart, and of my companions, crashing down on me like the waves of the ocean in a storm.
Lyr was gone. Lyr was gone. And so was Rhyan.
I stood up, facing everyone. They were all like ghosts, lost in their own universes of grief.