Chapter 44
Chapter
Forty-Four
LYRIANA
My heart pounded a heavy rhythm in my chest as I soared through the sky, flying over Glemaria. I nestled back against Rhyan, grateful I had him to hold onto.
On top of not loving flying on gryphons—though, the animals were starting to grow on me slowly—this flight was extra strange.
The glamour magic meant I could hardly see the red gryphon beneath us.
He was anything but red at the moment. I could barely see my body, or Rhyan’s.
We blurred into the sky, and the mountains, and sometimes the leaves of the trees as we passed them.
Rhyan remained mostly quiet as we flew, and I didn’t want to say much to disturb his focus.
I knew this was hard for him. There were so many moving pieces, and at the end, he’d face his father.
Something I knew he still feared, still dreaded.
So I mainly leaned back against him, stroking his hand which rested against my belly.
The flight was expected to take hours. We had to cross to the other side of the country, heading all the way north, and then east.
The arena known as the Pits was located to the west. But we weren’t heading to the Alissedari.
Thanks to Kenna, we’d learned Devon had become aware of Sean’s movements north. As had word of my presence in Korteria. Thanks to that Godsdamned innkeeper. But it was a blessing, in the end, because it allowed us to realize what he had been planning.
The entire tournament wasn’t just a distraction for his people against a failing reign. It was a trap for all of us.
He wasn’t going to be at the arena today. He was hiding in Seathorne, in his fortress.
By the time we would arrive, our soturi would have infiltrated Seathorne, making a path for me to easily reach Rhyan’s father.
Then I would bind him. Jules and Meera, guarded by Dario and Aiden, would locate the box that contained Rhyan’s magic and bring it to us.
Then, his magic restored, Rhyan would be able to reveal the extent of his crimes to the Council, and Glemaria would finally be free.
The hours passed more quickly than I would have thought.
And I knew my time with Rhyan, just flying, alone, and momentarily safe, was about to come to an end.
Rhyan’s breathing quickened as the gray stone towers of Seathorne atop Gryphon’s Mount finally came into view.
Out on the cliff just beside it, lay the white seraphim. Asherah’s tomb.
My tomb.
He released a shaky breath, then leaned forward, ordering the gryphon to land.
“Dorscha,” he commanded, making sure to reach past me and touch the gryphon’s head so our descent wasn’t at the usual speed—the one that felt like a gryphon crashing out of the sky. I’d had enough of that for the next two lives.
I held onto Rhyan and the gryphon’s claws touched down just outside the promenade.
It was eerily quiet. My stomach twisted.
Then Dario’s voice sounded in my ear. “Lyriana.” I touched the cool vadati stone with my fingers, feeling it warm as a blue light glowed in my peripheral vision.
“Dario.”
“Everyone’s in place,” he said calmly. “Showtime.”
“I’m on my way inside.” I turned in Rhyan’s arms, reaching for his face, still blurred and difficult to see with my illusion spell. But I knew where his lips were, I had his face memorized, and pressed a light kiss to them.
“Partner,” he said, his hand stroking over my waist, fingers running over the hilts of my weapons, and then down to my hip where he gripped me. “Remember, strike first, think later. Whatever happens in there, we survive this, and we leave together.”
“Together,” I said, my heart pounding.
He lowered his hand to my thigh for one more squeeze before I felt him frown against me. “Did Dario sound a little strange to you?” Rhyan asked, his voice formal and devoid of his accent.
“I don’t know,” I said, sweat beading at my brow.
“The blood contract,” Rhyan hissed.
“If he’s compromised,” I said, “I have to get in there.”
“Fuck.” Rhyan stilled. The blue light hadn’t gone away.
“Lyriana, everything’s fine,” Dario said, but he sounded even stranger than before. His accent softened. His lilt was usually the thickest of the three, devoid of any attempt to use the more formal accent of the nobility. The kind meant to mimic Devon’s lack of a lilt.
Rhyan shook his head. “Something’s wrong.”
My pulse quickened. But Meera and Jules were inside. I had to get in there.
“I’m going.” I pressed one more kiss to Rhyan’s lips. And then I descended, my boots slamming down on the stone beneath us.
I pulled out my stave. One more spell.
And then I brandished my sword and I ran inside. I tore through the front hall, expecting it to be empty. That was the plan. Our soturi should have taken care of any guards, clearing the way. But then someone called out to me from behind.
“Stop!”
I heard two sets of boots. I didn’t wait to see who it was. I ran, but only a moment later, two Glemarian soturi wearing black leather armor, silver gryphons stitched into the torso, seized me. My sword clattered to the floor as they grabbed my arms, and shoved them behind my back.
No!
It had been hours since I’d called on Rakashonim. My glamour must have faded as soon as I entered the fortress. And my strength, that had faded, too. Fuck! I gritted my teeth and struggled against them, but their grips were like iron.
“Lyriana Batavia, you’re under arrest for trespassing in Seathorne, and conspiracy to assassinate His Highness, Imperator Hart. You’re coming with us.”
“NO!” I screamed. “NO!”
“Lord Dario and Lord Aiden have already turned you in. They confessed everything. Between that and your crimes against the Empire, it’s time to accept, it’s over for you.”
Tears filled my eyes. “No. No!” Fuck! The fucking blood contract.
They gripped my arms tighter, pulling me down the stone corridors, past the giant gryphon statues that lined the walls. My feet dragged, and I tried to stop them by digging my boots into the floor, trying to break free of their hold. It was no use.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“To the Seating Room. His Highness is very eager to see you,” said the soturion on my left.
My throat dried and before I knew it, we were at the familiar double doors leading to the room where Imperator Hart ruled.
Where he’d killed Rhyan’s mother. A gryphon with his wings outstretched had been carved into the wood.
I met the herald’s eyes, and then he stepped back, the doors opening wide.
Imperator’s Hart’s aura blasted through the threshold. All at once, all the fear and trepidation I’d felt the first time I was there returned.
But unlike last time, the Seating Room was full.
The entire Glemarian Council was in attendance, filling the plain wooden benches that Devon favored.
The only opulence in the room was him, his golden Laurel of the Arkasva.
The golden border on his black robes that marked him as Imperator.
And the shining silver of the weapons slung through his belt.
He sat on his Seat now, on the raised dais, his face stern, his eyes blazing with triumph.
My stomach clenched as he stood, and the auras of his nobility blasted against me. Anger and hatred and disgust.
I searched desperately, looking for a familiar face.
I landed first on Lady Amalthea, the fucking woman that had taken advantage of Rhyan when he was drunk.
The one his father had tried to force him into an engagement with.
I looked ahead at the dais. Kenna stood behind him, even more pregnant than before.
Her stomach had been huge the last time I’d seen her, and I could have sworn based on its size that she’d have given birth by now.
But her belly had only swollen more. And as I moved closer, my feet still dragging, my pulse racing, she looked down, refusing to meet my gaze. My heart sank.
“Lady Lyriana Batavia,” Imperator Hart said in his deep and hateful voice. “It wasn’t enough for you to kill His Majesty, Emperor Theotis.”
“I didn’t do that,” I cried out.
“No? You still want to lie? Even with all the evidence stacked against you? Enough of this. Your men have been captured.” Gone was any trace of the smirk I’d seen him wear when I’d dealt with him in the past. This wasn’t Imperator Hart anymore.
This was Rhyan’s father. The vengeful, cruel man who had no shred of humanity left.
I realized now that as dangerous as he had seemed before, it was nothing compared to the hatred burning in his eyes now.
Nothing compared to the man he’d become to Rhyan. Sending him to his death.
I looked desperately around the room, my heart stopping when I didn’t see any sign of Meera or Jules.
“Where’s Dario?” I asked. “And Aiden?”
“Where they belong,” he said and snapped his fingers. A door behind the dais opened, and Dario and Aiden both walked out, smiling viciously at me.
Dario laughed. “It was only too easy to bring you back here.”
Aiden shrugged. “Sorry, Lyriana. But my loyalties will always lie with my Imperator.” He placed a hand over his heart. “With my country.”
“Bind her,” Imperator Hart ordered.
“No. No!” I screamed, but Aiden unleashed the rope from his stave. It shot at me, coiling around my body like a nahashim, burning against my clothing.
“I trusted you,” I cried.
Aiden only shrugged, and looked away, his face stern, without any hint of warmth.
My chest heaved.
“Dario,” he said. “Give this to her. Now.”
Dario retrieved a scroll from his hand and walked it over to me, unraveling it before my eyes. It was another blood contract.
I’d broken free of mine when I’d last seen him in the arena. At Rhyan’s stripping. My Rakashonim had burned through it.
There was another unspoken signal from His Highness and Dario held a knife to my throat.
“Now, Lyriana,” the Imperator drawled. “You can sign this, and I may pardon you for your attempted crimes, speak on your behalf to the Emperor. Though, considering you have been named a traitor of the Empire, and wanted dead, I can have Dario execute you now, save you from further torment and torture. But you’ll choose, and do it before all these witnesses. ”
I searched the depths of Dario’s dark eyes, pleading. We’d become friends. I’d trusted him. Left him to protect my family. But he remained cold and unmoved, the way he’d been when I first met him, completely under the thrall of Imperator Hart.
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I looked up again, trying to catch Kenna’s gaze. We’d been allies. Friends. But she continued to stare at the ground.
Where the hell were Meera and Jules? What had happened to them?
“Sign,” the Imperator commanded.
“No,” I yelled. Just another Godsdamned manipulation. If I signed, I signed my life away. My freedom. And in the end, he was likely to kill me anyway. “Fuck you! You lying, murderous, piece of shit.”
“Dario,” he commanded. “She had her chance. I sentence her to death.”
My stomach clenched, sweat breaking out on my forehead.
And then the double doors slammed open with a thunderous bang, one powerful enough to shake the room. Someone cried out in fear. And a voice, angry and feral, filled with the vengeance of a God, roared out.
“You will die if you touch her!”
Everyone turned in their seats, and Imperator Hart’s eyes widened in shock and fear, his face draining of color as Rhyan entered the room.