Chapter 45
Chapter
Forty-Five
RHYAN
“But you’re—you were …” my father spluttered.
“Dead? Akadim? Apparently, that was just a phase for me. Something I was going through.” I strolled into the Seating Room.
Into the room I’d hated so much over the years.
The room where my father had hurt Lyr, where he had forced her into an engagement with Kane, forced me to be with Amalthea.
The room where I’d had to stand for hours in silence at his side, and it was the room where my mother had—where—where he’d murdered her.
He rose from his Seat, his face turning red with anger, his aura blasting. “Seize him,” he screamed. “Now!”
Twenty-five soturi in the room all stepped forward, emerging from the shadows against the walls, their swords drawn and pointed at me.
I shrugged, unconcerned. “I am powerless now. You saw to that, Father. You took my magic. Ripped it from my body. The way you ripped everything else away from me. My title, my friends, my life!” My voice shook. “My mother.”
His eyes narrowed, his brows coming together in a sharp, pointed V.
“So,” I said, “it should be easy for your soturi to apprehend me.”
But they didn’t. They remained in place, not moving, not daring to take even a single step forward.
“I said seize him!” my father screamed.
I continued strolling forward, unconcerned.
“Dario,” I said, my voice had gone cold. “Step away from Lyr. Now.”
“No,” my father yelled. “You keep that knife on her throat. And Rhyan,” his eyes bore into mine, full of the same hatred they’d been filled with the day he tried to force me into a blood oath—the day he carved into the skin on my face.
The day he took my mother’s life. “One more step, and she dies.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said. “You know the consequences. You know what I promised, what I swore.”
If you hurt her, if you harm one hair on her head, there will be nowhere safe for you. Nowhere you can hide. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. I will hunt you to the bowels of eternity.
“You have one chance,” I told my father.
“We don’t want to hurt you. We want justice.
Justice for all the akadim you allowed in, that you allowed to hurt your people.
For all the blood contracts and blood oaths you’ve been wielding like weapons against your own Council.
Your own Ka. And, for the murder of Garrett Aravain.
On the day of the Alissedari you willingly allowed akadim into our country, akadim that attacked us on our way to the tournament.
It took Garrett’s soul, turned him forsaken.
When I killed him in the arena that day, it was to let him die as himself.
Because he asked me to. And when I confronted you about it, you admitted it.
You knew all along what had happened, you knew the truth and covered it up. ”
“What?” There was a cry, and I knew at once it was Garrett’s father, Kane’s Second.
I’d avoided looking at him the whole time we were back in Glemaria before.
But now, now I looked, for the first time in over a year, trying to tell him how sorry I was for the role I’d played, and how sorry I was for hiding the truth.
I wanted to apologize to Garrett’s whole family.
To make amends. But that would come later.
I glared at my father. “And you, you, are responsible for the murder of my mother, Lady Shakina Hart.”
“You fucking liar!”
“It’s true,” Kenna said, looking up. “I was there. I watched it happen. And I was forced to lie.”
“I will speak to you later, wife,” my father spat out, his words like ice. “I’ve had enough. Dario. Slice Lyriana’s throat. Now!”
“NO!” Lyr screamed, and so did I.
Dario’s hand shook, as he tried to pull his hand back. He cried out clearly in pain.
“The blood … contract … fuck!” He gasped, tears in his eyes.
Lyr stumbled back. But my father barked an order at Aiden, and suddenly he was rushing toward Lyr, his face screwed in pain. He gripped her shoulders, shoving her towards Dario.
Fuck. Fuck. Every single part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. Had gone perfectly.
Until now.
Our soturi had infiltrated the fortress before Dario’s team arrived. Every soturion still loyal to my father and on-duty inside Seathorne had been bound and moved to the dungeons.
It was Sean’s men who stared back at me now, refusing to strike, refusing to harm me.
Lyr had removed her glamour, willingly getting captured by Harman and Sean when she entered Seathorne. Sean’s hair had been glamoured to a white blond, and my father hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t recognized the green of his eyes.
But Meera and Jules were supposed to be back by now.
And there was no sign of them.
We knew as soon as Dario and Aiden got near my father, their blood contracts would reactivate. And we had counted on him using them to hurt Lyr. To be convinced he was still winning.
But I was supposed to have my strength now. I was supposed to have my magic back.
And now, the fear in Lyr’s eyes wasn’t feigned anymore. I knew the difference. It was real. Because Dario and Aiden had been given direct orders. Orders they couldn’t refuse.
Dario was struggling, trying to hold back his knife as Aiden looked ready to vomit. They were trying, trying to refuse, to not hurt Lyr. But their strength was failing, and Lyr was bound, her body exhausted from calling on Rakashonim, using enough magic to glamour an entire army for the day.
“Dario,” my father roared, and even I could feel the thrall of the blood contract. “Slit. Her. Throat.”
“NO!” I screamed and watched in horror as Dario had no choice but to push his knife against Lyr’s neck.
I ran, racing for them when suddenly something heated against my chest, illuminating my entire torso.
My armor. The shard. I had a sudden memory of being Auriel. Of him putting the armor on, trying to save Lyr from the Wall of the Prince. Of the armor starting to glow and heat, the shard activating. But it hadn’t been him doing it.
It had been me. My soul returning to my body, coming back to life. Connecting to Auriel.
And now, this time …
That’s right. I’m back, Auriel thought in my mind. But I can only hold on so long. So let’s make it count, shall we?
The room exploded with green light and suddenly Dario and Aiden yelled out, as did a dozen others. Aiden released Lyr. Dario turned away from her, his eyes like daggers, pointing his knife at my father, and drawing his sword.
“It’s gone,” gasped Aiden. “The blood contract. It’s just … gone.”
I nodded at Aiden. “Unbind her.” I turned to look back at the Council. “All of your blood contracts are gone now.”
Lyr’s ropes vanished, and she drew the red shard from her back.
“Surrender, Devon,” Lyr ordered my father, her voice full of venom. “It’s over for you now. You’ve lost.”
His eyes were wild, searching the room in horror, looking for any of his soturi, anyone still loyal to him.
But no one would meet his gaze. Instead, they were focusing on me, like they were offering their support. Like they’d taken my side. My heart thumped, and I realized it was the first time they’d done so. Because it was the first time they were free.
“No!” my father screamed. He withdrew his sword and tore across the room, launching himself at me, tackling me to the ground.
As we fell together, the hilt of his sword landed on my face.
Stars and then darkness filled my vision. I groaned, a splitting pain running through my head. I hit the ground with an agonizing thud. My blade slid across the floor from me, and I strained to reach it, my vision blurry.
“If I die, you die with me,” he seethed. “And this time, it will stick, because you are powerless. Like you always were. You were always weaker than me. Pathetic. Nothing.” Spittle flew from his mouth and sprayed across my face.
“You. Are. Nothing,” I gritted through my teeth. I was panting, and out of breath. His body weight shifted and for a moment I thought I would be able to reach my blade. But before I could move, his hands wrapped around my neck and squeezed.
I gasped, barely able to breathe, kicking helplessly. Lyr was screaming my name, telling me to get up, to fight back.
But I couldn’t. Suddenly, I was younger. Back to a version of myself almost four years ago. Powerless, and bound by my father. Unable to touch my magic or my strength.
My father had beaten me brutally, like he always did.
Because he was stronger. Had always been stronger.
But that time, it was the first time I’d remembered what I knew about gryphons.
That they never learned that they became stronger than the rope.
That if they tried, they could tear the rope apart.
And before that day, I’d never tried. I’d never fought back.
Until I did. And I’d won.
My power was gone. But I was more than that. I’d fought for my strength. I’d been fighting my entire life.
And I was done feeling weak, feeling lesser than him.
I was ready to win. Finally. I threw my head forward, slamming into my father’s.
Blood spurted from his nose onto me, and his hands loosened.
I landed a punch to his face, my body bucking and throwing him off.
Suddenly, with an energy I didn’t know I had flowing through me, I grabbed my sword and charged.
He swung, blocking my hit, and I turned, striking metal against metal. Our blades clashed, again and again.
I turned and spun, about to attack, when he struck a hit, slicing into my arm. I cried out, feeling blood gush from the wound.
And then suddenly, I stilled, the armor around me heating again.
I felt my eyes brighten, and my father, who’d lined up a killing blow, froze.
“Devon, you didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?
” Auriel spoke through me. “The big finale? No. I’m always one for a show.
But I’m also here to remind you that when you die, our oath still stands.
When your pathetic ruined soul leaves your body, I’ll be here waiting on the other side, waiting to escort you to hell. ”
Then silently, in my mind, he said, Now get him. And tell Lyriana, I said hello.
I will. My chest heaved and he was gone. It was just me and my father.
He roared out, his sword lifted.
Our blades came together, clanging and reverberating, and then somehow, I lost mine. He did, too. They clattered to the floor and slid away.
We both scrambled for the nearest one.
Mine.
I reached it first, but my father’s grip on it came a second later, and then we were in a tug of war for the weapon, both trying to turn it toward the other.
I hissed through my teeth and watched as I slowly bent his wrist back, turning the blade on him. I was winning. Finally.
I could see the fear in his eyes.
“Rhyan, he seethed, “I will kill you.”
“No. You won’t.” My muscles burned, but I turned the blade on him and pointed its tip at his belly.
And suddenly there were two new voices in the room. “We have it,” Jules yelled out.
“Lyr,” Meera cried. “Here.”
A snake hissed, a nahashim, and I caught sight out of my peripheral vision, a black box being handed to Lyr.
There was a metallic clicking sound as it sprang open.
I pushed the blade into my father’s stomach, ready to gut him the way he’d stabbed me before. I felt it, my muscles straining, every last ounce of my strength being tested.
And then bright, brilliant blue light filled the Seating Room. My magic.
Lyr began to chant, and as I pushed the blade through my father’s belly, his eyes widening in pain, my body began to glow as the light seeped inside of me, sinking into my skin, knitting through my muscles, threading back into my bones.
I gasped, all at once, my strength renewed, any lingering hurt or pain gone. My sense of weakness and exhaustion vanished. My sight was clear, my head no longer hurt.
“I should have killed you that day,” he said. “Instead of your mother.”
“You should have. But you didn’t. Now go to hell,” I said calmly. “Auriel’s waiting for you.” I impaled him with my sword.
The light left his eyes, blood pouring out of his mouth and coating his black beard.
I kicked his stomach, pushing him off the blade, and watched as his body fell.
Right over the spot where my mother died. The exact same spot.
I dropped my weapon, tears in my eyes, and found Lyr, and all at once, her arms wrapped around me, holding me close.
It was done. It was over. My father would never hurt me or anyone else again.
The room erupted into cheers and applause. Fucking applause. Dario was clapping and Aiden was smiling and hugging him, and Sean was rushing toward me, his eyes watering, his arms open.
Everyone began to chant, their words coming at once in a cacophony of declarations.
“The tyrant is dead!”
“Arkasva Rhyan!”
“Arkasva Rhyan!”
“Lord Rhyan Hart, High Lord of Glemaria.”
My chest tightened. The title I’d been given by a rebel army in the woods, it was now reality, now being shouted by members of the Glemarian Council. I looked up at the Seat of Power, at the dais I’d never wanted to stand on before, and my eyes met Kenna’s.