Page 39 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire

The lights flickered again as they rolled, kicking and punching at each other. Rhyan swore.

“Tristan!” I screamed. The hall had gone black. His time was up. The Shadows were coming. “You have to go! Now!”

“If you hurt her…,” Tristan snarled.

“Tristan! They’re coming,” I said.

The room grew cold, and I could feel them hissing puffs of ice at my back. The Shadows. They pulsed in the walls, breaking through, sweeping past me in cold rushes, brushing against my chilled skin. I clutched my chest, terror rising inside. My teeth chattered. There were more grunts of pain, and then a door swung open and slammed shut.

The torchlights in the hall flickered back to life. I was alone again with only Rhyan outside my cell.

“Lyr? You all right?” he asked, straightening his green cloak back over his shoulder.

I burst into tears in response. “Fine. Did they hurt you?”

“No.” Swallowing, he approached the bars.

I shivered. I’d never actually seen the Shadows in action; they were more frightening than I’d anticipated. “Do you think he’s hurt?”

Rhyan shrugged. “He paid his minute. I’m sure management wouldn’t risk harming a potential repeat customer. He almost pulled it off. Impressive for what must have been some half-cocked plan.” His eyes met mine. “You didn’t want to be rescued, partner?”

My heart squeezed, my lip trembling. “I have my reasons.”

His jaw tightened in response.

“Please,” I said, “don’t tell anyone.”

Rhyan lifted an eyebrow. “I was just doing what the Arkasva and Imperator commanded.”

“Thank you,” I said, voice rough.

“You should get some sleep. Before any other excitement barrels through these doors.”

“I can’t.”

“Sleep. It’s been a long day. You’re not going to be able to feel better unless you get some rest. I’ll be right here. You won’t be able to get out, I promise. And no one else can get in.”

I swallowed. “Won’t you be bored?”

Rhyan’s lips quirked. “Terribly. I’ll be counting down the hours until you wake and can entertain me again with your pacing and poorly formed wall punches.” Then, more seriously, he said, “For what it’s worth, you chose bravely tonight. Most Lumerians would have gone home in an instant, charming as these caves are.” He wiped dust off the wall and frowned. “Or when their almost-fiancé so gallantly pays their way in here.” His eyes searched mine. “I know I didn’t swear to your father tonight. But your Ka has given me shelter. And while I remain, I swear, no harm will come to you. Not just here.” He gestured around the Stronghold. “But anywhere in Lumeria. If I’m there, you’re safe. I swear it.” He pressed his fist against his heart, tapping it twice before he flattened his palm over his chest.

“I thought you said not to trust you.”

Rhyan paused, his posture stiff before he retreated from my bars, stationing himself on the other side of the hall. “I said no one told you to trust me.” His nostrils flared. “Now lay down.” He gave me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage the night without your charming conversation. I’ll count floor tiles.”

I stared at the high ceiling, listening for the steady rhythm of Rhyan’s breathing. I couldn’t process anything else: that Tristan had tried to rescue me; that I was here; that Rhyan had intervened. I squeezed my eyes shut until all thoughts left.

“Arrest her!” The Imperator stormed up the dais of Auriel’s Chamber, his mage snaking behind him, casting the binding over Jules.

The Bastardmaker hauled her over his shoulders, his grubby hands pushing up her dress, exposing her bare legs.

I stood in my chair, screaming as Tristan grabbed my waist, holding me back. Aunt Arianna watched from a distance, her blue eyes devoid of feeling.

“Let me go! I have to save her! Let me go!” I beat at Tristan’s chest, but he wouldn’t move. His brown eyes were cruel, blackening, until I saw it was the Imperator who held me, his lips curled into a snarl, canines elongating like a wolf’s.

“Asherah,” he hissed. “We’ll have our way with you yet.”

I screamed for help, but everyone in the temple sat busily staring at their scrolls, not noticing that the Imperator was trying to steal me away or that the Bastardmaker had Jules. My father seemed to be asleep on his chair, his Laurel askew.