Chapter 47
Chapter
Forty-Seven
MORGANA
I emerged from the river, finished with my nightly bath and took my towel from Lissa. The water dripping off me felt cool in the night. Refreshing after a long day of meetings and plans on what to do next.
“My robe,” I said. Lissa handed it over at once, and then I slid into my slippers, motioning for the two akadim who’d become my personal guards in the last few weeks to follow behind, watching me from the shadows.
Our court had turned in for the night, thank the Gods.
My mind was exhausted. I’d had to restrengthen the onyx walls around my thoughts over and over as Aemon hounded me for details on everything I’d done while away from him.
He’d been furious since he discovered that Lyr had managed to not just find Rhyan, my prized Arkturion, and cure him, but that she had acquired the red shard, and Rhyan the green.
Not to mention, she had cured every akadim I’d left behind in the Wall of the Prince.
Between him and Parthenay’s gloating, as well as all the former chayatim we’d rescued constantly trying to pry, I was beyond ready to go to sleep.
I’d been penitent for the loss for days. And I knew he was harboring his suspicions. Blaming me. Ridiculous. I was going to explode if he asked me again. Why had I done it? How could I have left Rhyan and his soturi so vulnerable? How could I have lost the green shard to the enemy?
As if I could see the future. As if that were my vorakh. It wasn’t—not yet.
He had access to Andromeny and her visions and every other Godsdamned chayatim from the Palace. If he hadn’t seen what was coming, how could I have? How could I have known?
I’d done nothing but serve him, helping our cause, betraying my own family, all so I could complete my goal. Bring down the Empire.
But after weeks of digging, Rhyan had been running the mines perfectly. They weren’t raping, they weren’t fighting, and they were hardly eating. Akadim could go months without a meal, and promising blood and flesh when the work was done had proved a mighty motivator.
So I’d felt safe leaving when I was called away.
I’d performed the kashonim on Rhyan and his akadim to ensure the work was completed.
To ensure we found the green shard, and that it was given over only to us.
It would have been our third out of the seven.
Between the shard and Rhyan, the amount of power we would have amassed, even I shuddered thinking about it.
The Empire was going to crumble. And Rhyan was going to be the monster leading the force.
But that plan had died. Thanks to my Godsdamned sister, thanks to Lyr.
Still, we had another way. I had brought Arkturion Kane into our camp. Shiviel. Aemon didn’t want to admit he was pleased, he preferred to blame me for the loss of Rhyan and the shard. But Kane was the real reason I’d had to leave my post. I had come to help him. A fact I wouldn’t let him forget.
For years Aemon and Kane, the two most violent and powerful Arkturi in the Empire, had been at odds. Always fighting. Always antagonizing each other. It was no wonder he’d been unable to get Kane onto his side.
Me, however? Exploiting his mind was easy.
He was weak. Not even in possession of a vorakh.
Not since his soul was splintered. Not since Auriel and Asherah had created a secret eighth Guardian.
It was the new incarnation that carried Shiviel’s magic, Shiviel’s power.
And, Shiviel’s soul-code to access the yellow shard.
Kane on our side was far better than not having him. But Kane on his own was proving to be somewhat useless. Little more than a vicious muscle.
I entered the cave where we were staying, torches lining the walls. My guards stepped into the shadows and Lissa, finally accustomed to their presence, stood just a few feet apart from them.
Aemon stood in the dark, a handful of his guards against the wall opposite me.
Still ruminating over what you’ve done, Aemon thought into my mind.
How can I not? But why do you worry? We’re still stronger. We have two shards.
But so do they, kitten. Aemon walked toward me.
So? What will they do? I thought. They don’t even know how to use their power yet.
Aemon’s nostrils flared. They will. You know that they will soon.
I took his hand. Soon. Not now. They are woefully behind us in strength, in planning, and in support. They are nowhere near our power. Or our purpose.
His eyes darkened, flashing down my body. Hmmm. They only have two shards. But now I hear Julianna and Meera have rejoined them. That’s four Guardians.
And? I scoffed. My sister and cousin are weak. And we don’t know yet if they will come to our side, if given the chance.
Aemon laughed. I can be persuasive. I think we can get them.
I frowned, my stomach lurching. What do you mean?
You look worried, he thought. Wouldn’t you be happy? I thought you wanted them to be here with you.
I swallowed roughly, trying to calm my nerves. Of course, I do. I just don’t want them to be hurt on their way to us. I’d rather they choose to come here willingly. Or at my request.
I didn’t say I’d kidnap them, I said persuade.
His hand stroked my hair, twirling it in his hand, wrapping it around his wrist until he pulled my head back.
His lips found mine. But maybe you should convince them, if that’s what you want.
His tongue pushed between my lips, one hand sliding my robe off my shoulders.
Maybe, I thought. If you trust me to go to them, I will.
Hmmm. He reached for my ass, grabbing it roughly.
Are you truly still mad at me? I asked. I swear I did what I thought best.
You lost us a shard, a powerful akadim, an entire fucking soturi.
And—I brought a Guardian in!
I’d had to get into Kane’s mind. Understand his twisted wants and desires. And then fuck him. It was always about fucking in the end.
But it worked. He was ours now. And so was Glemaria’s first legion.
The North was officially unstable. The Empire primed to fall.
I just had to promise him more power than Devon Hart had ever allowed.
Reveal the truth of his identity. That Kane was a God.
And Devon Hart was not. Especially now. Now, he was dead.
Everything was already working in our favor.
The first hole in the Empire’s strength had been made, a hole we would exploit.
“Well, I have good news,” Aemon said. “We’re going to be able to get to the yellow shard. Restore Kane’s power. Very, very soon.”
I frowned, willing my heart to beat normal. “How?”
“The eighth Guardian. Turiel has been found. Andromeny’s got him and she’s on her way here. They should be arriving … right … now.” His lips widened into a grin.
A line of akadim marched into the cave, Andromeny walking behind. She was glowing, her black hair wild and unkempt. Right behind her, a giant akadim carried a mage in his arms, bound with magic and actual rope. His mouth had been gagged, his eyes blindfolded.
But I recognized the floppy brown hair of Tristan Grey.
Aemon laughed. “Sit him on the ground over there.”
Tristan struggled as he was put down, moaning against his bindings, his body jerking as he tried to free himself from the ropes.
Andromeny leaned down, removing his blindfold. His brown eyes widened in fear. She ripped the tape from his mouth.
He let out a yell. “You. You! Murderer! You fucking bitch!”
Andromeny slapped him across the face. “Shut your mouth! I did what I had to for my king. If you had died, none of this would have happened. But here we are.”
“Died? What—what wouldn’t have happened?” His body trembled, and his brown eyes filled with tears. “Morgana?” he asked. “Morgana? Where are we, what is this?” Then he shook his head, like it didn’t matter. “Help me.”
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” I said sweetly, my head starting to hurt. “I can’t. Justice must be served, the way you served justice to my kind for so many years.”
“No,” he said. “No!”
“Welcome to our court, Lord Tristan,” Aemon said.
“Arkturion Aemon? Please, I can pay, whatever you want,” he begged.
Aemon shook his head. “It’s King now. And I don’t want your money. What we need from you, is something else.”
Tristan paled.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t be here too long. We just need you for a little. Your life actually. Then Kane can activate his full power. Reunite with his full strength. And you’ll be free.” I shrugged. “Dead, but free.”
His face fell, like his soul had just been crushed. “Morgana,” he pleaded.
“Well done, Andromeny,” I said, and snaked my hand down Aemon’s back, reaching for his ass. The pain in my head was intensifying. “Now leave us. All of you. I need some time with my king.” I looked away from Tristan, my head felt like it was going to split open.
“Maraak,” Andromeny said and bowed. “Maraaka,” she said to me. Then she turned to Tristan one last time. “Turiel,” she crooned. “Welcome home.”
Tristan’s eyes widened, his skin paled, like he’d heard that name before. He knew. He’d seen it. Then she walked from the room, taking the akadim along with her.
It left me and Aemon with our guard, with Lissa, and a bound and terrified Tristan on the floor.
“I want you,” I said to Aemon, my breath coming in short, painful bursts. “Now.” Fuck me.
Aemon’s eyes narrowed, looking back and forth between me and Tristan. Are you sure, he thought. With our prisoner here?
I grinned wickedly. He’s going to die. He’s already had his last fuck and doesn’t know it. We can at least entertain him.
I let my robe fall. Tristan gasped, though he sounded like he was in pain, and averted his eyes.
Good. The prick had always deserved this.
Take me, I thought to Aemon. Now, I can’t wait. I need you.
Aemon’s pants were undone a second later. He lifted me up into his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, my ankles locking behind his ass. He carried me to the wall, pushing me against it.
Watch him. Watch him suffer and writhe while I take you.
I did as I was told, making eye contact with Tristan.
I could hear his thoughts clearly. His fear of pain and dying.
Dark thoughts about a Yellow Room and the Emperor.
Galen flashed in his mind, sorrow, grief.
But mostly he was missing … Naria. Well, that was new.
Though all the thoughts were tempered by the terror in his veins as he remembered who’d taken him. The vorakh who’d murdered his parents.
He was also busy trying to figure out a way to escape. Fool.
He didn’t know it yet. There wasn’t one.
Aemon rubbed the head of his cock against my folds.
Kitten. He frowned. You’re not wet.
“I will be,” I said, biting his lower lip. I lifted my pelvis, grinding into him, willing myself to become more aroused.
He sucked on my neck, one hand toying with my nipple.
I circled my hips, pushing against him from the wall.
“Distracted?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I panted. “A lot has happened. And a lot lies before us. But I still want you. I need you.” I pushed my hips forward, taking in the tip. Please.
He growled from the contact, no longer able to resist, and shoved inside.
I cried out, tightening around him. I hadn’t been ready, but it didn’t matter. The minute his hips began to thrust, I moaned in relief.
Fuck. Fuck. I gritted my teeth. That had been close. Too close.
I arched against him and cried out as I finally released the fucking onyx wall I’d wrapped around my mind. The secrets I’d been keeping, the depth of my thoughts, was exhausting, and draining me, even with access to the power of my shard.
Aemon grunted, thrusting deeper, and I closed my eyes, matching his pace, moaning every time he slammed back inside.
I had known what would happen to Rhyan. I had known before he died.
I knew it would come to pass. I knew it had to.
He would become akadim. Andromeny had seen it.
And so I’d waited, and bided my time. Holding Aemon’s shard captive, learning to control the akadim, to bind them to me.
Because I had to be sure. I had to make sure he was mine.
That I could protect him. Save him. For Lyr.
For Lumeria. Bartering for Rhyan as my Arkturion, in exchange for the indigo had worked beautifully.
And I’d kept Rhyan from further losing his soul, from being unable to return to himself.
Aemon picked up the pace, his flesh slapping against mine.
Tristan was silently sobbing to himself.
I ran my fingers through Aemon’s hair. “Not so fast,” I purred. “Don’t you want to give our company a good show?”
He bared his teeth, and pulled at my hair, baring my neck to him. “He’ll get a fucking show.”
He turned us around, laying me on the ground, pulling out just long enough to lift my legs over his shoulders, and then he slammed back into me with a grunt.
“Fuck,” I cried out, turning my head in time to see Tristan look away in horror, his eyes tear-stained.
I continued to stare at him, just to keep Aemon happy. To keep him going. Because I needed him to keep fucking me, to give me just a few moments where my mind could be open, my thoughts my own. And Aemon unable to hear for once.
I had known, I had fucking known Rhyan would be cured, that they all would. Andromeny had seen him as a demon, seen him march on Glemaria. Seen fire spread from its highest peak and burn the Empire to the ground. She’d seen the sun come out. She’d believed that meant the daywalkers.
But I had known better. I had enough experience interpreting Meera’s visions, seeing how the strange images always played out. Andromeny’s visions were almost always straightforward. Accurate. Not this one.
I knew the sun meant he was healed. Meant he was cured. And so was his entire army.
There was never any need for me to perform the kashonim on Rhyan, linking the others to him. There never was. I had the akadim well under my control, and knew they’d continue to be long after I was gone. But I’d done it anyway.
So Parthenay would believe. So I could abandon them. So Lyr could save them. Rhyan was always meant to come to Glemaria, and from there fire would spread. Fire that would bring the Empire to its knees. But he was going to do it alive. And Lyr would be beside him. Already, it was starting.
I lifted my hips, urging Aemon on, making sure he didn’t grow suspicious, or think for a second I wasn’t enjoying myself. I was. Oh, I was. I fucking was.
Just not for the reasons he believed.
His movements grew faster, and I squeezed him inside of me, crying out his name.
He was not going to touch Jules, or Meera. Or Lyr. Or Rhyan. Not again. I’d see to that.
But first, I had to find a way to save Tristan. I had to get the reincarnation of Turiel, the eighth Guardian, away from here.
Because if Aemon killed him, if Kane’s full Guardian power was restored, and he was reunited with the yellow shard, the power of the Yellow Ray, then Gods help us all.
The world would end.