Page 151 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

Rhyan’s eyes met mine. Slowly he set down his swords, standing with both of his hands up in surrender. “You don’t need to hurt her,” he said.

I could hear the barely contained rage in his voice. He’d done this so many times—pretended to be indifferent, shut down his emotions. But they were always boiling just below the surface.

I could barely breathe. Brockton pushed the dagger against my skin, the blade cutting into me. Tiny beads of blood dripped down my bare collarbone.

Rhyan’s eyes tracked the blood, and his aura, icy and deadly, raged out even as he kept his face schooled into a neutral expression. And then he vanished.

He reappeared in the space between me and Brockton, his head slamming into Brockton’s. Rhyan grabbed Brockton’s arms, recovered my dagger, and swung it in an arc above his head, cutting my ropes.

My arms collapsed to my sides, helpless and numb as I stumbled back. My wrists were burning and bleeding. My strength was gone.

“Tell him to stand the fuck down,” Brockton said, “if you want to know about Jules.” His dark eyes bore into mine.

I stilled, my heart slamming into my throat.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rhyan said.

“No,” Brockton sneered. “Because if you kill me—you’ll never get her back.”

“Get her back!” I roared. “She’s dead!”

“Is she?” Brockton asked.

Rhyan shook his head, looking at me carefully. “He’s trying to mess with you. If he lives, we die.”

But I needed to know. I shook my head at Rhyan. He didn’t change his hold. I turned my attention back to Brockton. “Tell me.”

“Lyr,” Rhyan said, a warning note in his voice, but he did as I asked, and held Brockton tighter.

“If you kill me,” Brockton said, “I won’t get to tell you about how I fucked her.”

“You mean raped?”

“Ask me when I did it,” he said. “Because it’s not when you think.”

My chest was heaving. I’d heard enough. “Give me a sword,” I demanded. “Give me a sword. Give me a fucking sword.” I didn’t recognize my voice. I didn’t recognize the rage that was boiling inside me. The humiliation. The fear. The absolute need for revenge for years of Ka Kormac’s torment, for what they’d done to me, to Rhyan, to my country.

To Jules.

Rhyan stared at me with fear in his eyes I’d never seen from him before.

“Give me a sword!” I yelled again.

“Partner,” Rhyan said.

“NOW!” I screamed.

Rhyan’s eyes moved back and forth across my face before he nodded. Keeping Brockton restrained with one hand, he pulled the third sword from behind his back and handed it to me.

I stepped forward, half-naked, blood running down my neck and breasts, dried nahashim blood and venom covering my arm. I felt farther than Lethea. I looked farther than Lethea.

“You rapist!” I screamed.

Brockton’s face paled, but he spit. “Bamaria will burn for this. We’ve already infiltrated your land. And just as sure as I drove into Jules’s body, our soldiers will drive into yours before it’s over. My uncle has all the pieces in place. Go ahead and kill me. I’ll still have my revenge with your puppet aunt on the Seat.”

I gripped the hilt, my knuckles white. “Rhyan swore that none of you would walk out of this room alive,” I said, my voice filled with a deadly promise. “And he never breaks an oath. But he never specified who would kill you.”

“If you do, this will mean war,” Brockton said.