Page 98 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

“Outer ring,” he said. “Look to the stadium, not the field.”

Roars from the stadium’s seats caught both of our attentions. I realized, to my horror, that Rhyan’s father, along with his entire Glemarian entourage, had come to watch the morning training—much like Ka Kormac viewed our habibellums.

Rhyan paled, his eyes zeroing in on his father.

“Rhyan,” I said.

He continued to stare ahead, a look of pure horror on his face, his aura flaring, cold and explosive.

“He’s just a rope,” I said urgently. “Just a fucking rope. And you know what we do to those.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a sharp breath before looking back at me. “We tear them the fuck apart.”

I nodded. And then we separated, taking our spots on the track and falling into position.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MORGANA

I sat across from Arianna at dinner, silently sipping my third glass of wine. She was tense, uneasy about some decision she'd just made.

What that decision was exactly, I had no clue. I’d hated and railed against my vorakh for the better part of the nearly year and a half it had afflicted me, but not being able to read someone’s mind—not being privy to their thoughts when I wanted to be—was driving me farther than fucking Lethea. I also couldn’t get a read on who Arianna’s fellow conspirators were; I knew they were most likely using the mind-shield or had trained themselves to control their thoughts.

There were only a few people whom I felt certain were in the clear, judging from their minds and actions. I knew Eathan could be trusted, as could Aemon. Turion Dairen was out as a possible conspirator simply because he did whatever Aemon supported. Brenna was also out, which meant Bamaria’s former Second and current Arkturion, Turion, and Master of Peace were all non-traitors. But the rest of the Council—the majority of them—could have been supporting Arianna.

Like silver-tongued Lady Romula. I didn’t see her as being particularly loyal to Arianna, but she was one to turn her back on a losing side, and we had lost. That said—and even though she was an old bitch and I didn’t trust her—she was someone I could see easily switching her loyalty back to our line of succession if she felt we’d win. And if there was something in it for her.

Then there was Lady Sila, Master of Spies. I could never read her properly. Her thoughts were as slippery as the camouflage cloak she wore. I had a suspicion she’d change allegiance depending on circumstance, too—not to be amongst the victors of the war like Lady Romula, but to join the side that would make the least work for her, the side that would cause the least chaos in the land.

Senator Janvi Elys was definitely a traitor—I didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know that. Ka Elys had happily slid their way into power after the Emperor had murdered Ka Azria in Elyria. The Bamarian branch would be no different. The way Lady Pavi followed Naria like a lost little puppy and had targeted Lyr in training was evidence enough that Ka Elys could not be trusted.

Arianna adjusted the silver laurel on her head, the leaves glinting and glittering as she offered a scrutinizing look to Naria. My bitch-cousin was currently fawning all over Tristan. Could she be any more disgusting? Lyr had had to practically hypnotize herself into half-fucking him, but Naria was stone-cold sober and still wanted him. What the hell was her excuse? To top it all off, she was still fucking the son of the Imperator, Lord Viktor fuck-his-face Kormac. I certainly didn’t judge her for the number of lovers she was taking, only the choice of who she was allowing into her bed. And the fact that Bamaria now saw Naria as pure, as if that mattered, but not Lyr…Gods people were stupid.

I took another sip, wanting this night to be over. The wine was doing its job, and I was looking forward to falling face forward into my pillows and closing my eyes, sinking into utter mindless oblivion.

But I couldn’t leave until Arianna dismissed us.

The herald walked through the room and announced Imperator Kormac’s arrival. Fuck. At least Imperator Hart was spending his evening at the Katurium, though that did not bode well for Lyr. Or Rhyan, who I assumed was with her.

I glared at his entrance. “Asshole.”

You said that out loud, Meera thought, offering a staged smile to Lady Kiera across the room. The Master of Law, a cousin on Eathan’s and Father’s side, lifted her glass, lips pursed together.

“Oops,” I said, my head swaying. I waved back at Lady Kiera. She’d never liked me. I was too loud. Ka Ezara was too prim and proper for their own good.

Morgs, pull it together.

“Fine,” I said, reaching for a piece of pita and stuffing it in my mouth. “To sober up. Just for you.”

It’s for all of us. Meera took a dainty sip of water, somehow gracefully performing even the smallest of tasks. I swear Mother and Father passed all the qualities of a proper noble to her and left none for me. Well, no, they had some leftover, and those they gave to Lyr.

The Imperator took a seat beside Arianna, ever the predatory glint in his eyes. She immediately leaned toward him.

I still couldn’t decide whether or not they were already fucking. Like daughter, like mother. Not that either truly wanted the other—this was a game. They were allies. There was no doubt about that. But even a child could see that the Imperator would screw her over if it benefited him. It was only a matter of time. He’d fuck her one way or the other.

I narrowed my eyes, watching their body language, their knees turned toward each other. I was still undecided, and my own nightly exploits were getting in the way of spying on hers.

“It is done?” the Imperator asked, his thoughts completely in line with the words coming from his mouth.