Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
LYRIANA
Sean put his finger to his lips, and removed the vadati from his pocket.
“Turion Matthias,” he said, his voice clipped and short. His Glemarian accent was completely gone.
The stone glowed blue and a voice called back, “Soturion Calden.” The dead soturion.
“We’re in pursuit of Lyriana right now,” said Sean, turning off a pathway, and leading us through another cluster of trees. “She’s alone. Heading west from the Urtavian Woods—looks like she might seek sanctuary in the Temple of Dawn.”
“I’m ordering my unit to the temple now,” said the turion. “Good work.”
The stone went white and Sean pocketed the stone.
“That should buy us some time,” Sean said, his accent thick again.
“Both of you, follow me!” Sean started sprinting back through the trees, heading east, out of the city and back towards soturion housing.
The opposite direction of where he had told the turion.
One look from Auriel, and we ran behind him.
Sean had us stop beneath a cluster of moontrees that led out onto an exposed waterway.
“We’re nearly at my house,” he said, “You can hide there—as long as you need. We’ll keep you safe.” Then he stilled. “Shit. Don’t move. Someone’s coming.”
Sean vanished, loudly shouting at another soldier to draw their attention. I kept my back pressed to the tree, holding my breath. Auriel squeezed my hand.
Sean reported the same false story he’d given his turion— that I was spotted on the other side of the woods, heading into the city. He mentioned needing another sword back at home, then he waved the soturion off.
At that moment, the bells began to ring again. The fifteen minutes were up. Curfew had started.
“Hurry, they’ll see us,” Sean said, coming around the corner. He pointed across the waterway. “First house on the right.” He lifted his hood, carefully covering his hair and eyes. “Be ready to run. On my signal.”
He stepped forward, looking left and right.
I did, too, checking for soturi, but the waterway was clear.
And the porches of the homes before us were empty.
He turned, making his way toward a small house.
He knocked on the door with three rapid taps.
There was a pause. Then two taps. Then one. A code.
I didn’t understand. All I knew was that this wasn’t his house. Otherwise, he would have had a key.
The door swung open as if on its own. No one stood in the threshold, but Sean didn’t wait.
He dashed inside, gesturing over his shoulder for us to follow.
I sensed someone nearby. But I never had the chance to see who it was because Sean didn’t stop running.
He led us through a modest living room and then into a small kitchen with a back door which he pushed open, again gesturing for us to follow.
“Wait! Why are we leaving?” I asked.
“We’re not. We haven’t arrived,” he said.
“What?”
“You can’t be seen on the waterway with the curfew,” he said. “Trust me. The only way to keep you hidden is to go through the houses. Now stay close.”
We had entered what appeared to be a small yard.
Several dolls lay discarded in the grass, like a child had been playing with them but forgot to clean up, perhaps rushed inside by their parents when the bells rang.
The yard led into a neighbor’s property that Sean had us cross as well.
We hopped over a fence, and then another before we entered another home from the back door, entering right into someone’s kitchen.
We rushed into a small living room. A green flag, embroidered with the silver sigil of Ka Hart, hung above a fireplace.
A second later we popped through the front door.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Almost there,” Sean shouted over his shoulder. “Keep running!”
I lost track of how many houses we’d entered and left.
Each time the doors seemed to magically open, or were simply unlocked.
We ran in and out, and even a few times, instead of going through the doors, we went through the windows.
The houses were so closely built together that all it took was one more step and we were climbing into the kitchen of a new home.
Each one seemed to have one small token in it that reminded me of Glemaria. Of Rhyan.
But I was sure it was my mind playing tricks on me.
Looking for signs of him. Evidence of his existence.
Something for me to focus on while my body screamed in pain.
For the first time since I lost him, the pain in my body was overrunning the shattering inside my heart.
My arm was still bleeding, my body growing more sore by the second.
I was still feeling hot, and sweaty, my head like a deadweight.
Exhaustion was quickly catching up to me.
And if we didn’t arrive where we needed to soon, I was becoming fearful I might faint again.
“Last one!” Sean yelled. “Move! Fast!”
We raced into a kitchen, out through a back door into a tiny yard, and then at last, crossed a property with a small stone gryphon—another sign of Rhyan—beside the back porch. A balcony loomed above on the second floor.
This home’s back door was already open, and there was a familiar scent in the air inside. Pine.
The moment we’d crossed the threshold, Sean led us past another door. I could hear the first one shutting, the bolt sliding into place as we were led down a series of stairs into a cool room underground without windows.
“Sean, where are we? What is this?” I asked.
“Basement,” he said. “To hide.”
The door at the top of the stairs closed, and for a moment we were thrown into total darkness.
But then a torch flared to life, the flames hissing.
A beautiful mage I’d never seen before began to walk down the steps.
She had golden tanned skin like most Bamarians, and long, brown curls that fell softly past her shoulders.
Sean took a second to catch his breath, then rushed for the mage as she reached the bottom step. He took the torch from her hand, and pulled her into a tight hug, before kissing her on the lips. She grinned, and pushed back a lock of brown hair that had fallen over Sean’s forehead.
Like Rhyan’s hair used to …
“Doors locked,” she said. “The coast clear. But rumor is Turion Kevel is making the rounds one street over.”
“I’ll need to get out there.” Sean nodded. “Show my face.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his jaw clenched. “You can keep them both hidden until I return?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Sean’s eyes moved warily between me and Auriel, then back to the mage. At last he said, “Lady Lyriana, this is my wife, Branwyn, of Ka Drona.”
Branwyn smiled warmly, and curtsied low. “Lady Lyriana, Your Grace.” Her eyes moved to Auriel, and she frowned. “Myself to Moriel. Rhyan? Are you—? No. But I thought— Gods!” Her eyes watered. “By the Gods! Is it you? Rhyan?”
Sean’s eyebrows drew together in concern as Auriel sadly shook his head, and removed his mask, revealing his face and hair. And once more, I found myself cataloguing all the small differences between them. And … the ways they were so completely identical.
I was too aware of the crushing disappointment Branwyn and Sean were about to experience. It was evident from the look in their eyes. Like hope had been lost.
Sean seemed to deflate, even though Auriel had already assured him he wasn’t Rhyan. I could see it in his eyes, he’d still held on to hope.
“I’m sorry,” Auriel said, but his eyes were on mine as he spoke. “I’m not him.”
Sean stepped forward, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth across Auriel’s face. “No. You’re not, but you …” He shook his head, almost in wonder. “Who are you?”
“I’m called Auriel.” He lowered his chin in respect.
“Like the God?” Sean spat.
“Exactly like that.”
Sean’s jaw tensed. “Is Rhyan … Fuck! I heard the reports. Heard there was a vorakh attack on the capital. And that he was—that he was stripped. But I haven’t been able to confirm, I mean—Devon’s lied more than enough times before.
So has Kormac. I know something happened.
Something bad. But I also know a Godsdamned fucking lie when I hear it.
Lyriana, please tell me. What happened?” His eyes widened, looking between me and Auriel with a sort of silent desperation. “Where’s Rhyan?”
I stared at the ground, suddenly afraid to meet Sean’s eyes. Like it was my fault. My responsibility.
And it was. It fucking was. I’d sworn I’d get him back. I’d sworn I would heal him. That nothing else would hurt him.
I promise. I’ll make the pain go away. And I swear on all the Gods, no one else will hurt you. No one else will lay a fucking finger on you. I’m going to take care of you, Rhyan. I swear!
But he’d been so out of it when I swore, and in so much pain, I wasn’t even sure if he’d heard me. If he knew what I’d promised. If he knew I’d broken it. It didn’t matter. Because I knew. I remembered.
And I’d failed him. I’d lied. He had been hurt again—and in the end, I hadn’t taken care of him. And that … that was going to be one of my last memories. One of my last moments. Rhyan dying, in excruciating pain, being offered an empty promise. From someone he trusted and loved. Me.
“Lyriana?” Sean asked. “Please. I can’t take it anymore. I beg you. What happened to him. Where’s my nephew?”