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“Akadim don’t respond to magic,” said the Blade.

The Emperor wrinkled his nose. “They still respond to strength. But do you have it?” He waved me off in dismissal before he greeted the Imperator, the Bastardmaker, and my father. I fell back to my seat on the floor, catching Rhyan’s eyes across the room boring into me, his mouth hardened into a tight line.

Standing before the full Council of Bamaria, the Emperor lifted his arms, signaling everyone to rise. “Thank you,” he said, voice suddenly booming, “for this wonderful greeting. It has been too many years since I’ve visited the jewel of the Empire, Bamaria. Here on the shores of the Lumerian Ocean, we have our deepest connection to our heritage, to our source of magic. I am always pleased to come to our capital of education and learning. We’ve seen Lumeria’s finest mages and most powerful soturi arise from these shores. And yet, recent events have cast a shadow on our Empire’s jewel.”

The room darkened, his cloudy aura spreading within it. It was the strangest feeling, like a fog descending within the walls of fortress. He didn’t sound particularly emotional—the usual mark of an aura—and he wasn’t exerting any magic or strength.

He extended a hand to Meera, and she took it, walking to stand behind him. “We have high hopes for Ka Batavia to put such scandal behind them. Would you not agree, Lady Meera Batavia, Heir Apparent to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria?”

Meera bowed her head, taking a second too long to pull it back up. She looked weak, sick, unfit to be Heir Apparent. Beside the ancient Emperor, it was even more obvious who held the energy and strength.

“We look forward to brighter days, your majesty,” Meera said.

“The scandals go as far back as your mother not following the tradition of Bamaria and then her niece, your cousin the Lady Julianna,” he said, not acknowledging Meera’s words.

My chest tightened, and my throat went dry. The Imperator smirked, as did the Bastardmaker. And though I knew I shouldn’t, I caught Tristan’s eyes. His brows narrowed, his gaze on me full of the anger and vitriol he felt for vorkah. His eyes lost none of their fury as they flicked back to Meera and Emperor Theotis.

The Emperor smiled warmly at Meera and gestured for her to return to the line.

“And now, I see scandal continues.” He pointed toward me.

Heat bloomed across my cheeks, down my neck. My heart hammered in my chest. Morgana’s hand found the small of my back once more, her touch solid and supportive.

“Nahashim who can find anything in Lumeria, in the world, searched Lady Lyriana’s body and could not find a thing. Not an ounce of magic, of power, of strength.”

Did you truly believe that mere nahashim could scent what you truly are? Could find the well of your power? No. For they’ve never encountered your kind before.

Mercurial’s words played through my mind.

“Did you know,” the Emperor asked casually, his voice soft once more, “that the Goddess Asherah, after she fell from grace for her evil seduction of Auriel, for convincing him to steal the Valalumir from Heaven, lost her power, too?”

I stilled. Had he read Sianna’s writings?

“That after being given the highest honor—to be chosen to become a Guardian of the Valalumir, our most precious gift—she was left without her gift as punishment for the crimes that robbed Heaven of its light?” The Emperor turned to me. “I wonder, what sins have you committed, Lady Lyriana Batavia? And what sin have we, by allowing this training to go on?”

“She’ll show us soon enough, won’t she?” said the Blade.

“That she will,” the Imperator said, his voice final and deadly. “Much against my preference.”

The Emperor sighed. “Hmm. Well, either way, this experiment must come to an end. Now, shall we retire? A nice and quiet dinner before tomorrow’s celebration. Valyati comes again, the darkness of Lumeria Matavia ended as soon as Auriel fell from Heaven, carrying the Valalumir with him. A hero, bringing us our greatest light. And so, as the days have been so dark, light will return again. Let us hope. For akadim have been multiplying, and unrest lies in the jewel of the Empire. I do not like to see it. But for now, let us eat.”

I tensed at the warning in his words. He was unhappy with Ka Batavia, with what had happened to me, with my father’s rule, with Jules—even though all of those things were on some level his fault. It seemed he’d been displeased with everything Ka Batavia-related for the last twenty years. And I was unlikely to make the situation any better.

Dinner was tense and silent. I sat with Meera and Morgana, carefully observing their faces for any signs of discomfort, of a coming vision, of Morgana’s thoughts growing too loud and painful. Tristan had also been seated at our table and held my hand, trying to be supportive. For once, I had an excuse for my nerves, for my lack of desire for him.

I downed the wine before me, and the moment custom dictated, I retired, whisking my way to bed. We’d survived one night of the Emperor’s presence.

But I still had two more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ThedayofValyati,the winter solstice, was somber. It was the longest night of the year in terms of darkness, but it was also going to be the longest night of my life, as I was forced to dance before the Emperor, to pretend everything was fine, Ka Batavia was strong, and my courtship with Tristan remained unblemished.

The snow that began the day before had fallen steadily without pause all day. The flakes were fat and fluffy, coating the ground outside the Temple of Dawn in a sparkling white. I emerged from my seraphim carriage on a sparkling waterway, the glass cleared of all snow. The water underneath the waterway continued to run, the temperatures not quite cold enough to freeze it, though small crystalized pieces appeared within it, quickly floating past and sparkling red beneath the torches lighting the way to the ball.

Beyond the path, my escorts stood in the snow, their boots sinking. Rhyan was not among them. I hadn’t seen him all day.

The wind picked up, spurred on by the flapping of wings as a half dozen seraphim flew overhead, preparing to land. Meera and her escorts and Morgana and hers stood before me on the waterway. As my father emerged from his carriage, a dozen more guards appeared, along with the Ready and Turion Dairen, all dressed in their finest leathers and cloaks. Boots shined and sword hilts gleamed. The Valalumirs on the seven leather straps of their belts looked recently sharpened to deadly precision and glittered as they hit the light.