Page 3 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

My heart pounded, sweat dripping from my neck to my collarbone.

Who are you? I asked.

If I won’t let you see me until I want you to, you won’t know my name either. Until I want you to.

What will make you want to?

He was quiet as my mind raced.

How do you do that? I asked desperately. Go silent. Stop thinking. Tell me.

That wasn’t what I came to teach you tonight. Nor was it my intention to see you. Or to tell you my name. You must learn patience first. For some time now I’ve been watching you, listening, and I know you have none, Morgana.

I shook my head. He’d been spying on me. How long? How many thoughts had he stolen from me? My family?

You go too far when you speak my name informally, I thought.

I didn’t speak. And all things considered, I think we’re far past formalities. Don’t you?

What do you want? I asked.

He was silent again. I couldn’t tell if he’d decided to end our conversation or was refusing to answer.

I bit my lip, fighting back the anger inside me. I don’t want to play games. Speak, or end this now. I see no point in you revealing this much of yourself if you don’t intend to help me.

You dismiss games too easily. Games can be fun. This is all so you know you’re not alone.

Gryphon-shit! I stared again at the empty shore, the abandoned balconies. I’m still alone!

If a thought could translate into a shrug, he’d done just that. You’re powerful, he thought. Perhaps more so than any other vorakh I’ve met.

I sneered. I wouldn’t exactly call this a meeting. And I’ve been vorakh mere hours. How could you know anything of how powerful I am?

Because of who you are.

Ka Batavia? So?

Your power comes from something far deeper than your bloodline and name.

I returned to the edge of my balcony, staring at the waterway beneath. A smooth sheet of glass covered the running water that fed magic from the Lumerian Ocean throughout Bamaria. I wasn’t too high up. If I drank myself into unconsciousness, that would solve tonight. But tomorrow, I’d still be here. And hungover. I eyed the glass, calculating the distance below, my leg already lifting to straddle the ledge. Maybe it was far enough. I eyed my tower. Maybe I could climb until I inevitably slipped—

Stop! the voice shouted. Put your Godsdamned foot back on the ground.

Why? I shifted my weight back until both feet touched the floor. I don’t want this—this life, this pain, this whole conversation with you.

You’d rather break all your bones? That’s all that will happen if you jump. You won’t die. I’m sure of it. If you think you’re in pain now, just wait until you’re healing every single broken bone in your body, feeling them mend and reshape, all while listening to the endlessly inane thoughts of the healers caring for you day and night.

Go away, I sniffled. It was too much. It was all too much.

I can take your pain away.

I froze.

But only briefly, he thought. There are ways to manage vorakh. They don’t want you to know, they don’t want you to hide from them, to learn their secrets. I can help you. I don’t mind, especially for someone with your…qualities.

There was a seductive edge to his words.

Are you going to bring me a glass of wine to numb my pain?