Page 144 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

My stomach twisted. I had a bad feeling that this was a worse outcome than being locked in a Korterian prison. I knew what Ka Kormac was—what they did to their women, to any women they encountered. And based on our last interactions, I was sure they believed they owned me now. That because of Arianna’s fucking promise, they now had some legal right.

But there had to be rules, even here, some decorum that remained in place. I was still a noblewoman, still a lady of Ka Batavia legally. I was still niece to the Arkasva and High Lady…. Even if that meant shit to her, the Emperor and Imperator at least somewhat kept up appearances, wore masks of propriety. Pretended to be moral, to follow the law. I was set to be betrothed to the Heir of the Imperator. But I wasn’t theirs. Not yet.

They couldn’t just violate me, not without repercussions. I clung to that thought—the only possible protection I had against who was sure to walk through that door, who had no doubt been in here with me, keeping the fire going, watching me while I’d slept, tying me up while I’d been unconscious.

Just the thought of that alone left my stomach twisted. Knowing he’d seen me like this, had most likely had his hands on me. I’d been so delirious from the nahashim’s venom and exhaustion of Asherah’s kashonim, I hadn’t been able to name him before. But I knew now. I knew whose room I was in.

This was Brockton Kormac’s room. Viktor’s cousin and apprentice—nephew to the Imperator and son of the Bastardmaker—he had been the one who found me.

Despite my attempts at staying calm and rational, I immediately started struggling against the ropes again, stopping only when every move I made had the rope cutting deeper into my wrists. I gritted my teeth, hissing in pain as I tried to find a comfortable position to stand in, but it was impossible.

If I couldn’t relieve myself of the pain, then I needed to use it as an anchor. I would focus on the burning sting in my wrists. Focus on the discomfort only and think of how I was going to escape—not of what might happen, not of what they might do to me.

I’d spent months training with Rhyan to focus on the outcome, to see only what I wanted to happen in the end. But the longer I stood here, the harder it was to see my way to a solution.

I took a deep breath. It didn’t matter—I’d figure it out. I was going to survive this, I just had to be smart. And I had to accept the worst-case scenario. The worst that could happen was being captured by the Imperator and the Bastardmaker. I was in their home, but…I didn’t think they were here. Neither would expect me to come to their country—so the chances of them tracking me here were slim. And if, on the off-chance they were actually following the trail of akadim to my sisters—they’d be following a path north, not west.

Rhyan and I had set out only two nights before. At best, my worst enemies had reached Cretanya. They were moving with their soturi, and considering neither man would be anywhere near the frontline, that also meant they had to be moving slowly.

It was a small thing. But it would buy me time.

I looked around the room again. The bed was perfectly made, cold-looking, untouched. Brockton and his friends had been in Bamaria, at the Soturion Academy. If I’d had to guess, they’d been sent out with everyone else to find my sisters, or they’d been sent by the Imperator to track and capture me. Neither of those would have led him here though.

Fuck. Had we really been that unlucky? We’d escaped the Shadow Stronghold, avoided a legion of soturi, and escaped nine nahashim. And all so I could be captured by Brockton fucking Kormac, son of the Bastardmaker, disobeying orders to come home and party with his friends. Failing to do his duty as a soturion.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to temper the nerves exploding in my belly. If I was in Brockton’s bedroom rather than the prison, then there was a small chance only he knew I was here. If he’d reported me, I’d be in a dungeon being watched by a guard. I’d have been stripped of all my weapons. But I could feel my dagger against my thigh. My sword scabbard was empty—I was pretty sure my sword was back on the cliffside with the nahashim.

I would have been insulted he’d thought me so little a threat that I didn’t need a guard or to be separated from my dagger. They’d failed to disarm me in the Shadow Stronghold, too. Yet they weren’t wrong this time. Because here I was, tied up and unable to reach my weapons. Unable to escape. Again.

I desperately tried to parse out what it meant—why I was alone, why I was in his room. Was he keeping me secret so no one else knew he was here? Or did he have some other reasons?

My arms shook, and the door creaked open.

Brockton passed through the threshold. His beady black eyes slid over my body, landing on my face last. He looked startled to see I was awake.

“Thought I’d have to throw water on you.” He carried a log under his arm and tossed it into the fire, rubbing his hands together as the flames receded and then flared back to life, popping and crackling. “At least you don’t snore.”

“No,” I said quietly. “I’m awake.”

His back remained to me as he locked the door, the bolt making a thick metallic thud as it fell into place. The sound echoed, making my heart pound. When he turned, a wolfish grin was on his face, and his eyes wandered over me again.

My skin crawled at every place his gaze landed.

“What do you think of my pole?” he asked, eyebrows lifted.

“It’s cutting off my circulation,” I said, affecting my best heir’s voice. “And it doesn’t match your décor.”

He licked his lips. “You remember when you were whipped? I do.”

I swallowed a growl. Of course, I remembered. I’d pay a small fortune to not have to remember, to unhear Aemon saying, “I’ll do it,” to erase the moment the Imperator cruelly decided to add another lash—one that had nearly destroyed me.

My stomach twisted at the thought of others being tied here—of his past victims suffering in my place.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Right to the point, huh? No small talk? No pleading?”

My nostrils flared. “No one knows I’m here, do they?”