Page 18 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

Lyr’s eyes were wide and full of hurt. But it was enough already. Meera was half-conscious. The last thing we needed her to do was talk about her latest terrifying vision and add any more Godsdamned paint to this room. In fact, if we didn’t start removing every painting from her walls soon, we might as well hand ourselves over to Arianna now.

I stared at the paintings of her visions from the last two years, at the ridges of texture from layers upon layers of paint. Myself to Godsdamned Moriel.

I wanted wine. I wanted to smoke. I wanted to fuck. Anything but this. But Meera’s vorakh would be exposed if we didn’t remove the paint.

I stared at Meera’s rendering of Aunt Arianna, her red hair, her clever eyes, her uncanny resemblance to Lyr before turning into a black seraphim. The truth had been in front of us this whole time, but we hadn’t seen it. We hadn’t known we were looking at Arianna.

But Meera’s vision tonight? That had been crystal fucking clear.

Still, I wasn’t going to be fooled a second time. I needed proof.

I leapt off the bed, lunging for Lyr’s neck.

“Morgs!” she shouted in surprise just as Rhyan vanished and reappeared without warning behind me, breathing down my neck.

“Morgana,” he warned. His aura pulsed with a level of anger and restraint I didn’t think possible. He was tense, seconds from attacking me the moment he believed me a threat to Lyr.

I twisted my neck to look back at him, venom in my eyes. “I’m her sister, not an akadim. And you are in my fortress. In my sister’s bedroom. Back off.”

The muscles in his jaw worked, his strangely green eyes burning into me. I realized in that moment how relevant my words had been. In Meera’s vision, Lyr had been there. And Meera, and me by proxy, had been an akadim. Had Rhyan sensed that?

No, he was just so in love with Lyr, so protective, his instincts got away from him. He saw a threat and moved to stop it.

Only I wasn’t threat. I was exposing one.

Sorry, he thought. Reflex. I know you’d never hurt her.

My stomach twisted. I’d known the forsworn lord half of my life, but we’d only truly spoken a handful of times. We knew each other’s deepest secrets, and we kept them. We were both vorakh. There was a kind of bond and understanding between us from that fact alone. But we weren’t friends.

“No shit I wouldn’t hurt her.” I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to Lyr. “We saw you,” I said. “You were in Meera’s vision again. And this time, I’m sure it was you. Because you were wearing this,” I said, pointing to the collar of Valalumir stars around her neck. I ran a finger over the gold stars, the red diamond centers. Three were now white—missing the red material inside. “Tell me the truth, Lyr. It’s not a necklace, is it? It’s armor.”

Lyr gasped, her eyes widening. Her mind was forced blank, the kind of blankness she’d so desperately tried to achieve downstairs. That was all the confirmation I needed. I reached for the nape of her neck before she could react, my fingers finding the metallic clasp.

“Morgs! No,” she protested.

Rhyan made a sound of protest, and tears sprang to Lyr’s eyes as I bit my cheek.

But I already had the collar off. She was wearing a black mourning gown, a V cut down the center. Without her armor, her cleavage was on full display. When I’d last seen the skin of her chest bare like this, it had been smooth. Unmarked. The skin of a noblewoman.

But that was no longer the case.

Meera’s visions had always been nonsensical, but now they were coming true. I didn’t want to be right. But I needed to know what the hell this vision meant before the next tragedy struck.

My eyes fell on the golden seven-pointed star branded between her breasts, glowing with light. Just like she’d had in Meera’s vision.

An Afeyan contract.

CHAPTER SIX

MORGANA

Rhyan pushed past me, stopping in front of Lyr. One hand reached out before he slammed a fist at his side. His eyes were blazing with fury as he stared at the mark.

“That’s where he…where….” His shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths. The room grew colder. His hands reached for her again and again retracted. “Lyr, I’ll kill him.”

Lyr closed her eyes, her breathing labored as she placed her hand over the mark, trying to conceal it. Staring back up at Rhyan, she shook her head, grimacing in pain. “It’s done. You can’t change it. You…I….” She bit her lip. “Rhyan, please. It’s done.”

“Like hell it is! It should have been me. This was my fault. I should have stayed. I should have—”