Page 10 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Nine

T he sun shone too brightly through the windows of Seathorne’s breakfast hall. I sat at the long wooden table, my back stiff, across from my mother and father, their diadems shining. My own was a heavy weight against my temples. Garrett had joined us, along with his father, Turion Efraim. We were sandwiched in between Arkturion Kane and Arkturion Aemon. There were enough personal escorts between us all to form a private legion.

The soturi stood restlessly, lined up along the walls, in full armor that reflected the morning light. Golden armor—usually unseen in Seathorne broke up the wall of black leather. With the sun so bright, the starfire blades of each soturion’s sword were alight with flame, the fires sparking from their holsters. The flames danced over the shadows on the wall, spreading across the green velvet tapestries.

Servants walked in and out, their staves pointed as they floated fresh mugs of steaming spiced coffee and beer. The air carried notes of cinnamon, cardamom, and ginger layered over the deeper scents of the savory breakfast cakes that were typical Glemarian fare. Plates of scrambled eggs, freshly harvested fruit, and smoked meats joined the mix, as well as anything else that was requested, all of which were delicately floated onto the table.

I could barely stomach anything in front of me. My body was at war between wanting to travel far away with Garrett, scream at my father, and tackle Kane for hurting Kenna. But I had to remain calm.

Garrett and I had already discussed in detail the story we’d have to tell. Once Garrett had made his kill, we had suddenly been surrounded by two more akadim. Fighting back-to-back, the akadim hadn’t attempted to separate us but instead had fought each other for the chance to claim us both. We’d used the small moment of their turning on each other to escape from their reach. But before we could circle back and stop the threat, we’d seen the anointed soturi of Ka Hart finally approaching. We’d stayed back to give them a clear path to their target, not wanting to interrupt their formation, and once the threat had been stopped, we’d sought medical treatment.

We’d rehearsed this story a dozen times in my apartment, our voices hushed before the fire, while Kenna had remained fast asleep beneath my blankets. I’d sent for breakfast and fresh coffee to be delivered to her in my bed before I’d left with Garrett, and now we just had to recite the story back to Aemon and hopefully be done with this.

“You haven’t had many akadim in the South, have you, Aemon?” Kane stabbed his fork through a sausage as he spoke, not looking up at the Bamarian arkturion.

“We’ve had our share,” he said politely.

“And what’s your kill record?” Kane asked.

A dark shadow swept through the room. Aemon’s aura. He glared at Kane, his mouth tight with derision. “I imagine far less than yours. One must, of course, add in proximity to the threat as well as years lived.”

Garrett coughed uncomfortably beside me. Aemon was decades younger than Kane. Even Efraim, Garrett’s father, who usually remained neutral, smirked at this.

“I might ask you how many rebellions you’ve ended?” Aemon winked.

“Glemaria has no concern for such things since we have strong leadership already in place.” Kane’s eyes remained thin slits, and I saw an infuriatingly smug smile spread across my father’s lips at the exchange.

“I simply want to be prepared for when the threat does rise,” Aemon continued, his voice polite and proper, but that underlying anger was still filling the room.

“I imagine you’ll be quite ready,” my father said, his voice lightly teasing.

“Tell me,” Kane grunted, “since you have so much experience with rebellions, how was it that you were so ready for Tarek’s?”

Everyone knew the story of the rebellion that had almost unseated Lady Lyriana’s father after he had taken the Seat of Power when Lyr had still been practically a baby. Tutors had explained it to me many times during my years of study as a boy. Arkasva Batavia’s brother-in-law, Tarek, had believed the Seat was to pass from Lyr’s mother to her sister, Lyr’s aunt, Arianna. Tarek and his supporters had attacked Arkasva Batavia in the streets. But the Arkasva had survived. He walked with a limp that plagued him to this day because of it, a limp I’d observed myself. Aemon had quickly stopped the attack, earning him his infamous nickname the Ready, and a reputation amongst the soturi of the Empire that rivaled even Kane’s—something both Kane and my father resented.

“It’s almost like you knew in advance,” Kane said conspiratorially. “To act that quickly, be that prepared.”

Aemon’s eyes flashed. “What exactly are you accusing me of? Performing my duties?”

Kane shrugged. “You came very far north to learn how to fight our demons. I’m simply asking how you fought yours.”

Aemon took a long sip of coffee, his eyebrows furrowed. “I do my homework. I prepare for every possible attack and outcome. A dramatic shift in the line of succession was never going to occur smoothly. Not with how long-standing the tradition had been before Arkasva Harren. I knew I couldn’t rely on established allies and enemies. I was right. And I will be just as prepared if your akadim threat decides to move from your lands to mine, which by all reports is exactly what’s happening.” He looked pointedly across the table at me. “The very reason why I’m here.”

All eyes in the room turned to me and Garrett. His throat bobbed nervously, and I could feel his leg shaking beside my chair. He was a mess. He’d never been comfortable with nobles or the formalities of Court. Was always insecure about his Ka’s origins. Add on his vorakh…

“One might ask,” Aemon said, his gaze now intent on my father, “how the akadim in question got so far past your borders before the warning bells went off. I’d be curious to know what happened with your security protocols that night. How exactly did it come to the point that novice soturi were on the frontlines?”

Dark, cold energy swirled across the table, the hurricane of my father’s aura. He was insulted and going to make sure everyone felt it.

I had to end this. I couldn’t take much more of my father’s anger even when, for once, it wasn’t directed at me. And I knew Garrett couldn’t stand the tension.

I sat forward, pushing my chair back. Its legs scraped roughly against the floor, and everyone’s attention was on me again. “You’ve come a long way for answers, Arkturion. I think we should do the interview now.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, looking me up and down before he took a long sip from his mug. “You seem rushed, Rhyan. Did you have somewhere more important to be later? I can’t imagine anything more honorable for you to do than to serve your Empire by relaying all you know to Arkturion Aemon. No one is asking you to lay down your life,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “just have a conversation.”

“I am trying to relay that very information by actually having that conversation now, Your Highness,” I said.

“A shame,” Kane said, glaring at me, “that you were too slow and weak to kill one yourself.” His eyes flicked to my father, a challenge in his gaze.

Garrett’s leg shook harder, and as I glanced down, his ankle began to fade. Shit. Shit! He was going to travel from nerves alone if we didn’t get this over with soon. Garrett may have been the son of a turion, but his father didn’t know about his vorakh and wasn’t protecting Garrett’s secret like mine was. And Garrett had had far less practice controlling it.

I straightened in my seat, sliding my foot across the floor to find Garrett’s. His shaking increased, and I inched closer, placing my heel over his toe, trying to still him. To keep him here. Keep him grounded.

Garrett’s father looked over, a note of worry in his light eyes, before he brushed back his hair—wavy and blonde like Garrett’s—and resumed eating.

I glared at Kane, who seemed to be waiting for my response, as if not killing one of the deadliest monsters in Lumeria—one nearly impossible to kill without years of training—was something to be shamed for. As if beating your own daughter, humiliating her and, leaving marks across her backside because your ego was bruised by the Ready, wasn’t the true crime. A flash of Kenna’s injuries raced through my mind, and I exhaled sharply, hands fisted in my lap.

“Considering I select my fighting opponents to be only those who are my size or larger,” I said pointedly, “by the Gods, I expect my kill record will be quite high. I mean, once I’m as old as you. Luckily for all of us, while Ka Hart’s first legion, under your command, Arkturion, was nowhere to be found that night, Garrett here was present at the fight. Garrett did kill an akadim. He did what many of your best could not. And while we’re on the subject, let’s not forget the dozens of soturi who bravely ran into danger and fell fighting the beasts while your legion failed to answer the call. I was there, making sure the mages present were escorted to safety. And I stayed. I fought three akadim. Three. And I lived. So, we’re happy to provide what information we can to Arkturion Aemon. But otherwise, we’re both rather preoccupied with training for the Alissedari in our great Imperator’s honor.”

Kane’s nostrils flared, his aura heating with irritation.

My father, on the other hand, despite my insolence, grinned at me like he’d just won some game. As if he’d wanted me to lose my temper. He leaned on his elbows over the table to speak with Aemon. “Arkturion, do the Heirs of Ka Batavia speak to their Council with such… fervor? The three young ladies?”

I stiffened. He knew what he was doing—dangling Lyriana in my face, trying to unsettle me.

Aemon laughed good-naturedly though I couldn’t shake the intensely violent anger still burning under his energy. It was starting to nauseate me, all the intense auras pushing for power against each other, half of them directed at me. The room felt too small, suffocating.

“Of the three heirs, our poor High Lord is most likely to receive an attitude from his second daughter, Lady Morgana.” Aemon smiled as he said her name. “She has quite the, shall we say, rebellious streak for one of her station. And since she celebrated her own Revelation Ceremony last month, she has become far more defiant…and powerful.”

My father’s eyes flashed to me and then back to Aemon. “And what about the youngest heir? Lady Lyriana Batavia? She made quite an impression the last time I visited. Is she as, let’s say, fiery , as her hair turns in the sun?”

Kane leaned forward, suddenly looking interested, and my heart sank. Was it possible they were still plotting to have her married? Gods, no. She was with Lord Tristan. His stupid station, money, and Ka were all I was relying on to keep her out of my father’s reach. But it had been one whole year that they’d been courting, and there was still no word of an engagement. And I had no one to explain why. My heart panged… Jules. She would have told me. She would have… Fuck. I missed her. I could have really used one of her letters these last few months. I just prayed the delay in Lyriana’s engagement was for good reason.

“She is fiery, always was, but since you’ve seen her, she really has matured and become a model daughter of the Empire. Absolute perfection. I don’t think she’d dare speak against her father out of turn.”

Images of Lyr drowning in my nightmare flashed through my mind—the serene way she’d looked and spoken as her doom had swallowed her whole, the way she’d so casually named Tristan as the reason. The way she hadn’t even tried to fight back.

“And what of her courtship?” my father pressed.

My mother touched his arm. “Devon,” she chided lightly. “I thought we were discussing akadim.”

“We are. But akadim are not simply isolated issues. Their presence can be influenced by all sorts of things. In the end, I think it all connects. It’s all worth hearing, wouldn’t you say, Rhyan? After all, knowing whom Arkasva Batavia’s daughters will wed affects not only the politics of Bamaria, but all the Empire as well. Lady Lyriana’s affairs are no exception, certainly not to me.”

I stiffened in my seat. I was going to throttle him when I had the chance. Garrett was still shaking beside me. I sighed. I didn’t think Garret or I could take much more of this.

“I would very much like to hear the accounts now,” Aemon said.

My father lifted his hands as if in celebration. “Of course, of course. Go on, conduct your little interview.”

Garrett took a deep breath at my side, his eyes flicking to his father, and then he stilled.

Aemon asked his first question.