Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
RHYAN
“How?” Lyr asked. She looked stunned as her eyes moved across the former akadim.
I reached up and took her hand. “Lyr, it was you.”
Her chest heaved, as she took a few shallow breaths.
“But I only stabbed you.” She stared out at the crowd, shaking her head, her brows furrowed as she tried to understand.
“I didn’t think I saved you at first.” She took my hand and pulled me up.
“Auriel never said this was possible. We were losing in the last war because it took so long to save akadim. We had to do it one by one. How? How could I have turned so many of you at once?”
“Arkturion Rhyan,” Harman said, rising to his feet.
It was only then that I realized he’d been holding the silver collar he’d worn as an akadim.
The ones Morgana had fashioned. It was the collar she’d used to bind us all to her, forming a kashonim that she could manipulate and control.
We’d all drawn blood, had it mixed inside the collar along with hers.
It forced us to follow her directives, to comply with her rulings and commands—at least when she was nearby.
But she left weeks ago, taking Parthenay and her maid with her. Lissa. That was her name. I’d already been Arkturion, a leader for the akadim, keeping them on task, giving them their orders. Reinforcing anything Morgana wanted. Or Maraaka Ereshya as she was referred to.
“Harman,” I said. “May I—” I frowned, a theory starting to come together in my mind. “May I see that?”
“Of course, Arkturion.” He stepped forward, slowly approaching Lyr, Sean, and me.
“You,” I shook my head, “You don’t have to call me that anymore. I’m not—I was never an actual Arkturion.”
“That’s not what I remember,” Harman said.
I remembered him clearly. He’d been paler as an akadim, but now his skin had been returned to a deep brown.
I hadn’t spoken much to Harman—truthfully, I hadn’t spoken to many of the akadim.
They weren’t exactly social creatures. But I remembered Harman.
He did what was asked. And he kept the others in line for me.
He’d been … I supposed loyal was the right word.
He placed the collar in my hand and I nearly recoiled. I still remembered the night I got mine. The way Morgana had found me naked and feral in the woods. I was so angry and confused. But she’d collared and calmed me, and by morning, I’d had purpose.
I turned the silver in my hands, watching the hateful metal, and all it represented, glint in the sun.
It was more than just a symbol of the monster I’d been, or my obedience to Morgana.
It was my kashonim. The one I’d formed with her as an akadim.
Like Lyr and I had done as soturi, with our armor and blood mixed together.
Auriel’s words from my dream came back to me.
She kept you tethered to her. She doesn’t even know.
She saved your life. No one survives the stripping.
But her soul called out to yours, and it was a far stronger pull than the cries your soul made to mine, to yourself, to your original form.
In the end, it was sealed in blood, in kashonim.
But without that connection—that alone wouldn’t have been enough.
Lyr had saved me from the stripping because she was my soulmate, and because of our kashonim. It had linked us. It had brought me back. And the collar I wore had linked me to Morgana.
“The night Morgana left,” I said, my voice hushed, “she wanted to make sure that her commands were followed, that the force of them remained strong, even while she was far away. So a new kashonim was made.”
Lyr’s eyes narrowed. “To you?” I nodded slowly, my heart racing.
“Every akadim drew blood and it was mixed into my collar, and in exchange, a drop of mine was given to them. Lyr, I think when you called me back, when you called back my soul, I think—I think it brought everyone back. Everyone tethered to my blood.”
“By the Gods,” Lyr breathed.
“You were a good Arkturion,” Harman said, pulling my attention back.
Several others began to yell out their agreements, affirming his words, some even clapped.
“You were fair,” he continued. “You kept us in line. You didn’t hurt anyone unnecessarily. You only killed when we were assigned to … assigned to feed.”
I closed my eyes, my stomach roiling. I could still taste it. Taste blood and flesh on my tongue. I wanted to vomit. Especially when I remembered the taste of Lyr’s.
“You never killed others,” Harman continued, “except when Maraaka—”
“Morgana,” Lyr hissed. “Her name is Morgana. And she’s no queen.”
Harman lowered his chin. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Lyr shook her head, but I stayed her hand. He was right to refer to her as Her Grace. That was her appropriate address, no matter the status of Bamaria.
“You only killed,” Harman continued, “when she ordered you to. And then never again. Not once during all those weeks we were digging and mining. You didn’t hunt any innocents, and you didn’t go after any of us.
You didn’t beat us, or kill for fun. You only killed …
when you arrived, my lady,” he said quietly.
“But even then, I know you were protecting Lady Lyriana. Even until the end, you were fair, as fair as an akadim could be. Not kind maybe, but not cruel either.”
I exhaled sharply. Not kind, but not cruel. What a way to be described. Though I supposed for an akadim, that was high praise.
“Well, I thank you for that,” I said, awkwardly.
“For an akadim,” someone shouted. “You might as well have been a saint.”
“Arkturion,” came a new voice. A blond man stepped forward, he was tall, towering over even me, with lean muscles, and a look that reminded me of Leander. I blinked, suddenly seeing his face as an akadim’s.
“Brandes?” I asked. “Ka Daquataine?”
Brandes’s face broke into a wide grin. “Yes, Arkturion.”
“Just Rhyan,” I said. “That’s all I am.”
“No,” Brandes said. “What Harman and all of us are trying to tell you—is—” He clutched at his own collar, staring down and turning it in his hands over and over.
“We were gone. Our lives were forfeit. We had been damned to a fate worse than death. To walk the world as a demon. Hunting. Killing. Doing what—what akadim do—what I know we all wanted and felt driven toward—what happened with you and Parthenay that first morning—”
I paled, feeling ready to retch. I’d do anything to forget that morning, to undo it. I looked at Lyr, afraid she’d run, or want to vomit as well. But she looked so steady and sure, and confident. Confident in me. Trusting in me. I didn’t fucking deserve her.
“I’m sorry,” Brandes said. “To mention it. What we’re trying to say is—we all of us—Fuck.”
“He kept you from committing the worst crimes,” Lyr finally said. “None of you committed rape.”
My chest tightened. And for a second, I felt like I couldn’t breathe again.
Because I’d been close. Morgana had put me in position, riled me up.
It wouldn’t have started without her. But it didn’t change the fact that I’d still participated, that I’d almost done it.
That I’d been willing to. Only her command had stopped me.
Not me. The akadim. But still—the memories were mine.
“Yes, Harman said. “And so much more. Not only did you keep us from doing the worst things akadim could do, but you brought us back. You gave us another chance at life.”
And several more former akadim began to shout in support.
“I don’t know how it happened,” someone called out, “but we owe you our lives.”
“I’ll see my wife and children again.”
“I thought my life was over. You changed that,” came a shaky voice.
“Because of you, I have the chance to atone, to make things right.”
The words kept coming, the thanks, the relief, the sheer praise for me and gratitude that no one had turned into the worst kind of monster in this world. And even more were thanking me because they were human again. Because their life hadn’t ended.
“We still have to atone,” Brandes said, looking out at the crowd. “Much evil was done by our hands. But that burden has lessened. Thanks to you, Arkturion Rhyan. And the reason we get to do so, that we have a second chance at life, is thanks to you, Lady Lyriana.”
Applause exploded at Brandes’s words.
But it was Harman who dropped back to his knee.
“I can barely live with what I’ve done, what I’ve become.
” His voice shook. “But at least I get to live. I have a chance now to do things differently. You gave me another chance to be human, and to be better, to make up for the sins I’ve committed whether willingly by my hand or not.
And for that reason, I give my oath to you, Arkturion Rhyan.
I will fight for you. If you’ll take me. ”
And suddenly, they were all shouting, “I give you my oath.”
“I pledge myself to Arkturion Rhyan.”
“My loyalty is with Arkturion Rhyan and Lady Lyriana.”
“I would have no life without you. I pledge my life to Arkturion Rhyan!”
The promises and oaths kept coming, again and again.
I looked at Sean, who was nodding proudly, then Lyr, taking her hand.
“What do I do?” I asked. Yesterday I’d been a monster, and then I’d woken up alive and guilty and a fugitive and criminal on the run. And now? Now I had a band of soturi asking me to lead them.
She smiled. “You can accept their oaths.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t ask them to fight for me.”
“You’re not asking,” she said. “That’s the thing.” She looked out, turning her head to see everyone before us. “They are.”