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She walked out of the room, as I turned to Morgana.

“Morgs! What in Lumeria is happening?”

Morgana’s nostrils flared, her eyes darkening. “She’s abdicating the Seat of Power.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Of course, she was, she had to. She was too frail to rule. Too vulnerable with her vorakh. But hearing it was happening now…I wasn’t ready. Father wasn’t even cold or buried yet, and already Meera was abdicating.

I stared at Morgana carefully, my gut twisting, as I tried to bury the desire I’d always had, always carried. My own desire to rule. My own desire to become arkasva because I’d known it couldn’t be Meera since her vorakh had appeared. And I knew it couldn’t be Morgana for the same reason. But I…I wasn’t ready. Not now. Not yet.

Morgana’s gaze narrowed on me, and she shook her head, a mirthless laugh on her lips, almost cruel. “She’s not abdicating to you,” she seethed.

“To you?” I asked, my gut twisting.

“No. She’s removed us from the line of succession. Enjoy your diadem while you can, your grace. In one hour, she’s going to make the formal announcement. Aunt Arianna will be the next Arkasva Batavia, High Lady of Bamaria.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

IstoodintheSeating Room, which was now filled with every member of the Bamarian Council and their family members, the most important nobles of Bamarian society. The Imperator remained, and Viktor had been allowed to attend the announcement as well.

I’d been informed that the Emperor and his men had left in the middle of the night, retreating to the capitol where it was safe and civil. He’d left a small scroll behind for me.

Congratulations, Soturion Lyriana Batavia. You may continue to train so long as you may survive. Be warned, one akadim fight does not a soturion make. Tovayah maischa, as you continue on this quest. You’ll need it.

And my deepest sympathies on the loss of your father, Harren Batavia. Bar Ka Mokan.

Emperor Theotis, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia

I crumpled the scroll.Bar Ka Mokan. His soul freed. Because he was gone. Dead. And I was standing here in a pretty dress, expected to celebrate his replacement.

Arianna stood across the room with Naria, Viktor, and the Imperator at her side.

I loved Arianna. Arianna made sense as ruler. She would be a good arkasva. Meera couldn’t do it. Morgana couldn’t do it. But every time I looked at her, I felt a knot in my stomach.

She had been the Emartis’s chosen ruler. She had been whom they’d fought for, whom they’d died for. Because of them, Father had walked for most of my life with a limp. Because of them, unrest had brewed in Bamaria, made the streets unsafe, and allowed the occupation of Ka Kormac in our streets.

Because of the Emartis, Father had been murdered. Because they wanted her to rule. Because of the Emartis, I’d never see him again, never speak to him again.

I blinked back tears. I had to appear strong, to show my solidarity over the transfer of power. But I couldn’t stop imagining the traitors celebrating in the streets, toasting and drinking to Father’s dead body. I wanted to be happy for Arianna, for her being given this opportunity to rule, to do good in Bamaria, to be recognized for her strength and intelligence.

But not at this cost. Not at this price. Not when it made my father’s murderers happy.

Familiar mage escorts entered the Seating Room—Bellamy and those employed by Ka Grey. Lady Romula walked through the threshold wearing a black and silver gown, her hand resting on the arm of her husband Lord Trajan. Bellamy, whom I was still paying to keep silent from Tristan about anything he witnessed while on my guard, gave me a curt nod, sorrow in his eyes. I didn’t see Tristan, but upon seeing me, Lady Romula left her husband’s arm and walked faster than she usually pretended she could to reach my side.

“My poor dear,” she said. “Your grace, you have my greatest sympathies on the loss of your father.Bar Ka Mokan.”

My eyes welled up. I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t breathe.

“His soul freed,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, one ancient, withered hand reaching forward to brush a tear from my cheek. She grimaced but took my hand and placed it on her arm, patting it gently and leading me away from the crowd, away from the noise.

“There, there,” she said. “Away from all that. It is cruel for them to have you here. For you to bear witness to the transfer of power not even a full day later. But such is the burden of the lords and ladies of Lumeria. Such is the burden of being an Heir to the Arkasva. Life must go on even in the face of death.”

I nodded, knowing she spoke somewhat of herself, of Ka Grey and Haleika. “Thank you. And, Lady Romula, I am so sorry….” Tears were falling freely down my cheeks, and she frowned, her dried lips pursed together. “I am sorry for…for….”

“Do not mention her name to me. She is dead. You killed her.”

“I….” I swallowed. I had. I had killed her. I’d had to do it. But I was still sorry, I still wanted to offer my sympathies, to grieve Haleika with her family.