Chapter 46
Chapter
Forty-Six
LYRIANA
Hours had passed since Devon Hart’s demise, since Glemaria had been freed.
Everyone in the Seating Room had immediately gone to the healing center to see to their injuries.
It was mainly Rhyan who needed tending. But a few of our soturi had also needed attention from the fight to remove Devon’s guard.
There’d been a huge meal after, served in the dining hall, all arranged by Kenna.
I sat with her, glad to be reunited, and glad to know she was okay. Not hurt. And no longer under Devon’s threat. And never would be again.
She seemed lighter, happier, relieved. And finally told me then that she was having twins—that was why her belly had grown so big.
We both started laughing and crying, before she thanked me and Rhyan profusely. Because now, she and her babies weren’t in danger from their father.
Following the meal, everyone had gone into meetings.
So many meetings. There were so many decisions that had to be made by the Council.
The first order of business had been questioning Kenna, to provide any proof she could to verify Rhyan’s claims of his father’s crimes.
She had produced his journals, as well as a pile of scrolls he’d written, that detailed many of the decisions he’d made during his reign as Arkasva.
He’d been so arrogant, he’d written it all down, believing himself untouchable.
It was perhaps the first good thing he’d done.
Made it easier to convict him by confessing—even if it was from the grave.
Then, there was what to do about Devon’s funeral, how to announce his crimes, and who would rule in his place until the next Arkasva was crowned with the Laurel. Decisions had to be made about how they would proceed with the transfer of power.
I’d sat through most of the meetings, eager to help, and show my confidence in Rhyan, but I was also curious to see how all of the most powerful nobles would react to everything. To the change.
I’d never been so happy in my life just knowing that Rhyan had support.
That he’d quietly had much of their support all along.
The number of Council members and nobles who’d come forward admitting that they’d been forced into blood oaths, and then more recently, into Devon’s sinister blood contracts, had been appalling.
He’d had far less loyalty than he ever let on.
The constant use of magic to force his will onto everyone around him, had in the end, weakened his power.
He’d been losing control for a long time, scrambling to keep it.
Only Kane, who had left along with his legion, hadn’t been compelled in any way. It was a true testament of how evil he was, how in line Kane’s views were with Devon’s.
And also … just how awful the promises were that Morgana and Aemon must have made to draw him away.
I shuddered, and my heart ached. Morgana, who was my sister, who had felt like a part of my soul.
Morgana, who I’d fought so hard to keep from losing because of her vorakh.
Now I was losing her in a completely different way.
The reunion of Moriel, Ereshya, and Shiviel was going to have dire consequences.
War was coming. Not just from them, but from the Empire.
Glemaria was free, but Emperor Avery still ruled.
Bamaria was still New Korteria. And we’d just thrown the first shot.
When word reached him, he’d retaliate.
But I’d think about that tomorrow.
The consecration for Rhyan would be announced in every town.
The ceremony would be in a week. There would be a visit to the temple, multiple parades throughout the country, and a habibellum in their Katurium—one with no killing allowed—to celebrate.
Sean was sending out messages to every Glemarian in exile, everyone who wished to see Devon’s demise, and would support the transfer of power.
In a week, Rhyan would become His Grace, Arkasva Rhyan Hart, High Lord of Glemaria in open defiance of the Empire.
Tears welled in my eyes. He deserved the title.
He deserved all that went with it. The power, the prestige, the ability to decide to make things better for his country.
Rhyan could pass progressive laws. Help so many people.
As long as we could keep the wrath of the Empire back, he was going to be an amazing Arkasva.
Glemaria had no idea just how fucking lucky they were to have him.
And with the forces of Glemaria behind him, he would have the power to fully clear his name across Lumeria.
And then, we would begin to separate the country from the Empire and the Emperor’s cruel rules, policies, and exploitation.
We also wanted to begin to abolish the laws forbidding those tied together by kashonim from falling in love.
They were outdated, and a gross form of control.
Plus, we’d seen time and time again how natural it was.
How good it could be for kashonim partners to love each other. How powerful we’d become together.
And perhaps most importantly at the moment, far fewer innocent people would be killed and turned by akadim.
Because Rhyan would guard and protect his people against them.
He was actually going to stop the threat, not encourage it, not use it as a crutch to keep his people afraid and docile.
And of course, with what I could do now, with the red shard and my ability to heal, I was going to help.
We were going to heal as many people as we could.
But despite how good everything sounded, the coming together of our plans, and the coming celebration of our victory, I was unsettled.
My heart hurt just a little, my stomach twisting—and I felt so fucking guilty for it.
Kenna had made arrangements for me and Rhyan to stay in his old room.
So after hours of meetings and discussions, that’s where I ran off to, needing a moment to myself.
I knew where we stood, Rhyan and I. I knew we loved each other more than anything in this world.
We wanted to be together. We were mekarim.
There was no doubt about that. There never would be.
But duty sometimes made love impossible.
Rhyan now had to remain in Glemaria for who knew how long.
And now that Arianna had been named Imperator of the South and had willingly annexed Bamaria to Korteria along with Elyria, had allowed the creation of New Korteria, something had to be done.
I couldn’t stand back any longer and allow Bamaria to remain occupied, to allow my people to be abused by Ka Kormac.
I had to go home. I had to get my country back.
But I didn’t know where that left me and Rhyan.
Jules was the Heir of Ka Azria. Elyria was meant to be hers.
And … I’d spoken to Meera in depth. She’d changed since I’d last seen her.
After discovering her identity as Cassarya, Goddess of the Blue Ray, and getting to work with the nahashim, away from the intrigue of court politics, she confessed to me that she had no desire to rule. No wish to become Arkasva.
It was up to me.
It had always been me. My dream. My desire.
And now, my destiny. I was my mother’s daughter.
She’d named my father Arkasva because she knew Arianna couldn’t be trusted, because she’d always planned for the line of power to come to me.
The daughter she’d dreamed of, the daughter she knew was Asherah.
It was all I’d ever wanted to do, to fight for.
But my heart sank. Gods. How was I going to rule Bamaria—if we got it back—in the South, while Rhyan, my love, was duty-bound to rule in the North?
We’d be back on opposite ends of the Empire.
Torn apart again. It was for the best for our people.
We had to fulfill our duties to them, and we needed the support and backing our positions would offer.
Would need them when we took on Morgana and Aemon.
But I didn’t know what that looked like. Or how long we might be apart.
I took a long, hot bath, and then discovered some of Rhyan’s extra sleep clothes had been moved in.
I changed into them, sitting down at the vanity to brush out my hair and add oil to the ends.
Rhyan’s red gryphon soared by the window, wings flapping, his eyes looking in, like he knew. He knew this was his place.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
“Partner,” Rhyan said suddenly. He hadn’t used the door. He’d traveled. His magic truly was back.
I smiled and watched his reflection behind mine in the mirror, my heart leaping.
He’d changed into a fresh tunic and soturion uniform hours ago, all of his old weapons and effects restored to him.
The only thing that was new—well, in a sense—was his armor.
Auriel’s golden armor, and the green shard. His shard.
My breath caught. He looked so handsome and strong and healed. He looked like a king.
And … a God. Not Auriel. But like himself.
I turned in my seat, rising to greet him.
He was already crossing the room to close the distance between us, his arms outstretched, ready to hug me.
I sank into him, squeezing him tight, holding him as he buried his face against my neck.
His eyes were wet with more tears. I ran my hand up his nape, into the soft brown curls that I adored.
He shuddered, and I led him to the bed, sitting down on the edge, my arms tight around him.
“You’re okay,” I whispered. “It’s all right now.” I let out a shaky laugh. “Everything’s okay.” Somehow. Miraculously.
“I just—I think, I’m grieving,” he said. “I’m grieving. I feel like … not exactly like I did when my mother died, when he—You know. But the pain, it feels similar. Heavy. It hurts.”
“You did the right thing. You know it had to be done.”