Page 111 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

“It matches the other one—the one with the note that led to my mother’s journal.” I slid my hand up my sleeve, gripped my arm cuff, and slid it down. Inside a compartment of the cuff was the parchment rolled up as tightly as I could manage.

Rhyan took the scroll and read through it again, as I opened the leather case. Another carefully rolled parchment fell into my hand along with a white satin purse tied with white ribbon. I gripped the purse and shook it, but it was weightless and soundless. Seemingly empty.

“Let’s look at the handwriting,” Rhyan said.

I reread the original note.

Your Grace,

Now the phrase “shekar arkasva” has true meaning. Not all support the illegitimate black seraphim. You’re not alone.

131189114141

My eyes flicked to the new note. The handwriting was identical to the original as the case it had come in. Rhyan stood behind me, one arm wrapped around my waist and his chin on my shoulder, as I started to read.

My Lady,

I offered you all the clues you needed, and pulled the journal so you could read for yourself, knowing you’re clever enough to have pieced the puzzle together. The way is clear. Claim your power. And do it now. Your sisters’ lives depend on it.

Go to Glemaria. Open the seraphim. Bring what lies inside directly to me, and place it in my hands. It is of great value. I’ll be waiting for you in the Allurian Pass with your sisters. You have two weeks. Come alone. Or you’ll add two more akadim to your Ka.

I dropped the parchment, shaking.

“Allurian Pass?” I asked.

“It’s on the western Glemarian border—a cave system leading to the human lands. It’s on the other side of the country from the seraphim’s location,” Rhyan said, reaching for the satin purse in my hands. “Why does it feel empty?” He untied the string, opened the pouch, and dumped the contents into his hand.

My stomach turned.

There were two locks of hair. One thick and wavy, black like a raven. The other finer and ash brown.

“Cut from Morgana and Meera,” I cried.

“Gods.” Rhyan put the locks back into the bag before retrieving the note. “It’s not signed,” he said. “And the other had no signature, either, only the reference number to the journal. Do we have any idea who this could be?”

My shoulders heaved as I tried to suck in air, to not panic. Rhyan turned me in his arms.

“Shhh, partner, I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He wrapped me against him. “But this is proof they’re alive.”

I sniffled. “How do we know we can trust them? Trust the akadim?”

“We can’t,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we’re not going to try everything to get them back.”

“I don’t even have everything they’re asking for. I still need the key on your father’s sword.” I felt hopeless. “And he’s not going to give it to me—not without me going to him. Not without me making another deal.”

“We need Mercurial,” he said.

“What?”

“We need Mercurial. This is about your power. You have a deal with him already. A deal to claim your magic.”

“But Ramia said he’s missing.”

“MERCURIAL!” Rhyan yelled, arms out wide. “Hey! You Afeyan bastard! Where are you? Come on! Come and play! It’s your favorite not-lord, I’m right here!”

“Rhyan! What in the—?”

His hands slid behind my waist and shoulder, dipping me backwards. His face leaned over mine, positioned for a kiss. “I have Lyr in my arms, in a compromising position!” he shouted. “Your favorite! Come on, interrupt, you know you want to! Look at my hand.” He placed it over my heart, his fingers spreading toward the curve of my breasts. “Oh, come on, First Messenger to her Royal Highness! I know you love this!”