Page 13 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Twelve

Q ueen Ishtara stepped forward, her movements swift, delicate, and entirely inhuman and un-Lumerian. Where Mercurial was cat-like with his facial expressions yet snake-like in the way he moved his neck and hips, the queen seemed to move too quickly and slowly at once, like she was not truly of this world. She seemed to turn her head the same way I’d observed the birds in Bamaria doing. It was like she was a seraphim trapped in a woman’s body.

Twirling her wrists at her sides, she drew back her stars, and I tried to look at her directly, to see not just how she moved, but what she actually looked like. No matter how hard I focused, her features were impossible to grasp. No one part of her hair, her skin, or her clothing was without glitter or light.

“Shall we?” she asked, holding out her arm to my father. “I should like to attend dinner. It was not a long nor an arduous journey, as we have long been close neighbors.” Her voice was unusual, melodic like a crystal: sharp, delicate, light, yet expansive. “But I would like to eat now. And my tongue has a taste for some wine.” Her sparkling eyes flicked to me, and she blinked slowly.

My throat went dry.

“Hmmm,” she purred, a sly smile spreading across her lips. “Or something sweeter. Something with honey.”

Like mead? I thought.

She nodded.

Shit. I tried to empty my mind of thoughts. If Afeya had the ability to travel, they no doubt possessed the other vorakh as well—visions, mind-reading. I’d already had Afeya in my head before. I didn’t want her in my mind. My memories.

“Of course,” my father said, strolling through the aisle of standing nobles to reach her side. He took her arm in his, his smile widening. The Afeyan Queen never visited, barely deigned to treat with Lumerians, and now he had her in his country, in his fortress, and on his arm. He was going to be insufferable.

We all bowed again as he walked past, his soturi on high alert, everyone’s swords out. She remained alone; I suspected she was accompanied by escorts, but I doubted we’d see them, not unless she wanted us to.

That also left me uneasy, as if there were ghosts flitting among us, ready to strike at any perceived threat to her name. Very little between the Lumerian Empire and the Afeyan Courts kept us from war. Our main compromise had been for Lumerians to occupy the lands that allowed us to mine starfire and for the Afeya to forge the steel into weapons.

I knew we traded. I knew they fed off of us, making deals with the desperate and the forsworn who’d lost their status to exile. We stayed away from their lands, from the places that still connected deeply to the Lumerian Ocean. We did not interfere with the strange magic of Lumeria Matavia that still ran through their veins. But despite all of my education, all my years of study, all of my time in Court, I understood very little about our treaty. And I didn’t trust them one bit. My distrust had been drilled into me as a boy and reinforced as a man. I’d seen it with my own eyes in Bamaria. They had a plan.

But for tonight, I had to lay low. Not stir trouble, get in Kane’s way, nor allow my father to lose his temper—not if I wanted to survive tomorrow.

And if possible, I needed to get to Kenna. To see if she was all right.

I walked to dinner beside my mother, her arm linked through mine. It was the rare opportunity where we could be together without my father’s eyes. For once, everything between us felt unpressured, easy, like we were just mother and son, despite the occasion.

My mother looked up at me; I’d long outgrown her height. “You look handsome tonight, Rhyan,” she said in her unapologetically thick Glemarian accent. She smiled one of her rare and beautiful smiles. Bowen moved beside us, and she offered her smile to him as well, before returning her gaze to me.

“Different?” I asked, wondering if perhaps Aiden had gone too far with his reconstructive glamour.

My mother’s eyes searched mine, and she smiled wider. “More handsome than ever. But that’s because of who you are inside, my heart. You know I’m proud of you, Rhyan. So proud of you. Who you are. Who I know you’ll still become.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding in acknowledgment. She was in a good mood for once, she seemed somehow free, relieved of my father. I didn’t want to break the spell. But my throat was constricted, and tears were welling. I so infrequently heard this, heard her use the nickname she’d used for me when I was boy, when we’d sit together for hours in the temple and she’d tell me stories. Every day she’d called me, “my heart.” It hadn’t been until I’d been seven years old that I’d understood she meant heart and not Hart. She’d laughed so hard when she’d realized I’d thought she’d been calling me by the name of our Ka.

Since I’d stopped going to her—since the day I’d poured out my soul to her about Lyriana and she’d offered nothing—our interactions had been fewer. Now, I was sorry they had been. I didn’t know it, but I’d been so angry with her. Blaming her. I’d needed her these last two years, and I suspected she’d needed me. Maybe she wasn’t perfect. Maybe she hadn’t protected me the way she should have. But maybe that had been impossible. Maybe she had protected me in the best way she’d known how, with the few resources that remained to her, just as I had tried to do for her. For everyone.

Sometimes the ones you most want to protect, they are the very ones you can’t—the ones who need to save themselves. Kenna’s hushed words in the dark raced through my mind. I didn’t want to believe them. But maybe I had no other choice.

At least there was this—this moment. If all I got were these words from my mother tonight, a reminder that I was still “my heart” to her, I could accept it and take it for the blessing it was. I had so few.

“Be still,” she said suddenly, her voice barely a whisper. Her hand reached down between us, slipping into the leather pouch on my waist.

It was subtle, but there was an additional weight at my hip. Without a word, she pulled her hand back to rest on my arm, looking proper and elegant, the wife-consort of the Imperator.

“What was that?” I asked.

“A gift,” she said. “To help you tomorrow. To help you do what you must. You’ll know what to do. Only open that with your friends. Do not speak a word about it to anyone else.”

We paused outside the dining hall beside Arkturion Kane. My hands immediately tensed into fists.

“How’s your nose, Your Grace?” he asked.

My mother’s hand tightened on my arm, a light restraint. I knew then she knew what had happened in my bedroom that morning.

I readjusted my thumbs across my fingers, fists tightening, itching to repay him for the pain and for so much more, starting with what he’d done to Kenna. But not tonight.

I recomposed myself, forcibly relaxed my shoulders, and schooled my face to a neutral expression.

“My nose?” I laughed. “Since when did your arkturion duties give you leave to ponder the features of my face?”

“Looked better earlier,” he snarled.

“I didn’t realize it was my job to make my face so pleasing to you, Arkturion. Would you care to come to my room tomorrow morning and try again for the look you so desperately desire? We could play with another feature. Maybe change my hairstyle.”

“Arkturion,” my mother said sweetly, “I was just admiring your daughter’s new dress. It’s a beautiful shade of green. Very becoming on Lady Kenna.”

Kane’s eyes turned to slits, and then he walked inside the ballroom, breaking protocol by walking ahead of us.

My mother pulled me toward her. “Don’t start,” she chided. “You need your health for tomorrow.”

Senator Oryyan entered the room along with Thorin, looking pompous as ever. His aura was one of pure violence. In fact, half the auras in the room were beginning to feel that way, feeding off everyone’s bloodlust and excitement for the tournament.

But the violence in Thorin’s aura felt more extreme. Ka Oryyan was vocal about their desire to rule. It was far more common in the North for power to swap amongst the Kavim, for the Kavim to go to war over the Seat of Power in each country. Maybe my father ruling for so long was actually something to celebrate.

“Watch out for Ka Oryyan. Thorin in particular,” my mother said. “He gives me a bad feeling for tomorrow. Look out for his cousins, too.”

I nodded. She often expressed tiny premonitions. They weren’t visions, nothing that concrete, but her words sometimes made me wonder if she was something like a vorakh. It had always been believed to run in families though there’d never been definitive proof. If there were, far more than Ka Azria would have been wiped from Lumeria Nutavia by the Emperor.

“He wants to win,” I said, glaring at Thorin.

“He can’t,” she said quietly.

“Because I have to.”

“Not at the cost of losing yourself,” she said, her tone suddenly serious.

“What about the cost of losing you?”

“You won’t.”

“But father…” I trailed off. She knew his command. And she knew the consequences that awaited her if I failed.

“Forget his demands,” she said, her voice far graver than I’d ever heard. Her accent heavy.

“Mother,” I said, desperately. “I can’t.”

“Rhyan, my heart, listen to me. If you hear nothing else, hear this. He may rule my country, he may rule over your life and mine. But he is not all-powerful. He does not rule over your heart, your mind, or your soul. Do you understand me?”

“But he threatened—”

“I know very well what he’s threatened. And I am not concerned. I have endured it all. I know what it’s cost you to protect me.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to cry.

“I know you don’t think I can protect you. But I can do this much. I can at least do what’s right. Do not give in to his demands. Don’t let him ruin the best parts of yourself—not for my sake. Swear to me.”

“Please.”

“Just survive tomorrow,” she said. “Do that, and no more. Many will target you. But you’re stronger than all of them. You have nothing to prove, nothing to win. Do not lose yourself for his vanity. Just survive. Live. But be careful.” Her eyes flicked back to Thorin and then to me.

I understood her message, loud and clear. But I still didn’t know what I was going to do. If I could live with the consequences of killing. If I could live with the consequences of not. Both options felt impossible.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, taking my seat.

We were at the head table along with Arkturion Kane and Arkmage Connal, my absolute favorite people, and, of course, my father and his guest of honor, Queen Ishtara. Though they’d been the ones to lead the procession to the ballroom for dinner, they were last to enter, once again prompting everyone to stand and bow or curtsey until they were both seated. My father looked overjoyed and clapped his hands, signaling everyone to sit and for the servants to enter. For once, his aura was light, drunk on the attention of his power play.

Soon bottles of wine and mead were freely flowing between the tables, plates of cheese were pausing before each guest, and bowls full of steaming bread and oils were making their way from the kitchen.

My mother leaned toward me, about to speak, but my father snapped his fingers, and her words were cut off by Bowen, now standing between our chairs.

“Your Grace, Lady Shakina,” he said reverently, as if standing there were the most natural thing in the world, and not a plot of my father’s. “You look lovely tonight.”

My mother nodded. “I thank you, soturion.” Her eyes darted to me, apologetic. Guilty.

But she had nothing to apologize for in that moment. It was my father.

I bit the inside of my cheek. My fucking father. Our Godsdamned Imperator. Couldn’t even allow us a moment of peace at dinner. Had to have Bowen interrupt.

I was forced to entertain several guests who walked to the table to pay their respects. Several dignitaries from the northern countries who’d flown in the for tournament. There was a faction from Hartavia that had me holding my breath.

But the senator wasn’t present. Instead, my mother’s sister, Lady Sheera and my Uncle Marcus approached, bowing and curtseying to my father. They both spent several moments with my mother, but upon some rather annoyed glances from their Imperator, they said their goodbyes, coming to my side.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Uncle Marcus asked.

“As ready as I can be,” I said.

“To bring back the Alissedari .” Aunt Sheera shook her head, clearly disgusted with the event. Her eyes flicked angrily from my father to her sister, before back to me. She looked so much like my mother, their hair the same exact shade of brown, their eyes were a match as well. Though Aunt Sheera’s were sharper and more alert. I watched as my father looked up, sensing her distaste.

All at once Sheera’s face changed, devoid of emotion, her opinion swallowed by the expectations of nobility. By the expectations of an Imperator. She rested her hand on my shoulder. “I hear you’ve become quite the warrior, Rhyan. Strong like your father,” she said, nodding back in his direction.

He smiled at this; his face disgustingly smug.

“I’ve done my training,” I said, knowing I couldn’t contradict her compliments to my father, but unwilling to give him even an ounce of credit.

“Well, I certainly hope no gryphons are harmed tomorrow. Though I doubt that will be the case,” Aunt Sheera said.

Uncle Marcus gave her a small nudge, and she straightened.

“Rhyan, if you should ever want to visit Hartavia again, our home is always open to you.” Sheera’s eyes glanced back to my mother, her sister, then to me. And with a quick curtsey and acknowledgment of the queen, she and my uncle excused themselves.

A light sparkled in my periphery and I felt the queen’s eyes on me. Bowen shifted his weight, and my mother leaned forward, drawing her attention.

“Your Highness, we are honored to welcome you. I do hope you will enjoy your visit as well as the festivities for my husband,” my mother said cordially.

She spoke in statements rather than questions, as questions could prompt the Afeya to answer, and answering had a price. A dangerous one.

“I shall try,” the queen said, that crystal-like voice leaving shivers down my spine. “It has been ages since I visited Lumeria. Glemaria in particular. But I felt prompted to do so.”

“You could not resist my invitation to such an auspicious event,” my father said jovially. He lifted his glass to her.

The queen snapped her head toward him, the movement so birdlike I was startled to see her human features.

I expected her to respond to him—everyone always did, everyone always appeased him—but she only sneered and turned her head back to my mother.

The chill down my spine intensified. There was something between the queen and my mother. Some mental conversation happening. I was sure of it.

I took her wrist in my hand.

She didn’t notice nor break eye contact with the queen.

“Mother,” I said, worried.

Still nothing.

What in fucking Lumeria?

I glared at the queen. “I would love to hear of your last visit to Glemaria, your highness,” I said, trying to pull her attention away from my mother.

It didn’t work. The queen still watched my mother in silent communication.

You’ll get your turn. We are already aware of you. We have been for ages, the crystal-like voice rang inside my mind.

Then, Queen Ishtara looked to my father, raised her glass, and took a long sip of wine. “I said I shall try to enjoy myself. But I fear I am longing already for the Night Lands.”

My father was no longer pleased. “You might give Glemaria a chance, Your Highness. I am sure they are no Night Lands. There are far less stars here than you’re accustomed to. But we have many beautiful sights. And the Gryphon Pits restoration is magnificent. I am sure you will find tomorrow’s tournament in honor of my birthday and anniversary as Arkasva to be quite the enjoyable spectacle.”

“I have no doubt,” she said icily. “That still does not mean any of this will appeal to me.”

My father’s aura flared. A biting blizzard. Freezing, all directed at me. He wasn’t getting anywhere with Queen Ishtara, so, naturally, it had to be my fault. Like everything else was.

“And I shall tell you why,” the Afeyan Queen continued.

Guests in the room began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Glasses clanged as they were set on the table, forks dropped, and plates pushed back.

“I am extremely concerned. And that is the reason for my visit. Did you really believe the birthday, the anniversary of an Arkasva, of an Imperator—a mere mortal who lives for a blink of my eye, who holds their position for a time that is even shorter—would be enough to draw me, a queen and high lady, from my lands? Did you believe you were important enough to summon one such as myself?”

I bit my cheek. If my father wasn’t important enough to summon the queen, no one was.

“We would never presume to summon. We extended an invitation,” my father gritted through his teeth.

“I’ve been reading context for centuries. It was a summons. But I have not answered it despite my presence here tonight. I came for another purpose. Your pride has made a grave error, Your Highness.”

That was a threat. I glanced at my mother, but she seemed serene, at peace, as if she had no idea of the war that had just erupted at our table. Already, my father’s soturi were on the move, their swords withdrawn, their fighting stances enacted.

Sweat beaded at my neck. We had a legion of soturi a foot away, but I didn’t doubt the queen’s ability to attack if that was her intention. And if she failed… I didn’t even want to ponder the consequences of the Afeyan Courts’ retaliation. No doubt all of the Night Lands would be at war with us.

My mother took my hand under the table, sandwiching it between hers. It was a steadying hold, one with a strength I hadn’t seen from her in years. And I felt Bowen move in, somehow no longer between me and my mother, but standing guard as if he protected both of us. He was a shield, closing us in. A small look passed between them, and then at once, both of their gazes were on my father.

“I do assure you,” my father said, aware all eyes were on our table and every second that passed, someone else understood the Afeyan Queen’s disdain toward him, “I invited you here with honorable intentions. We are neighbors. We share a problem along our borders.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “We do! And do you know the difference between us? We offered a solution. You shot it down.”

“We shot it down,” my father said, careful to avoid phrasing a question, yet everyone could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “I am unaware of such a solution being offered in the first place, nor shot down.”

The Afeyan Queen stood, pushing back her chair. My father’s escorts inched closer, and her aura was flung out to every corner of the ballroom. Shadows darkened the space, and just as quickly, silver glittering stars appeared, spinning against the ceiling, faster and faster until I felt dizzy.

Bodies appeared, coming in and out of focus—Afeya of every skin color, size, and shape. Some had human faces, some had the faces of animals: deer, eagles, lions. I’d been right. She was extremely heavily guarded, and we didn’t stand a chance.

Queen Ishtara snapped her fingers, and the bodies disappeared. “For some time now, the akadim in our region have been a growing concern of mine. Their numbers are greater. Their ability to organize increases. They are working together for the first time since the Drowning. They are not simply hunting easy prey. They are hunting for the best. They have plans. They have targets—Lumerians with power.”

The akadim that night… Garrett and I had both seen the monsters pass by dozens of victims, of prey, of food. They had their goal in mind: Garrett and me. They were hunting vorakh.

It went against everything I’d learned, everything I’d seen before.

I felt Garrett’s nerves across the room, his aura reaching out to me for reassurance. My back burned.

“We are aware of their growing numbers,” my father said. “And we are concerned, as well. But they are not becoming smarter, nor more organized as far as I can see. Maybe that is what you think you have observed. But I have not. I have yet to see an akadim army that can rival my legions. Glemaria boasts some of the greatest akadim killers in Lumeria. My soturi only recently killed five. And we have more warriors coming into the world every day. There are no soturi better trained to hunt the beasts and squash their numbers than those here in this room.”

“And yet, these efforts are no more effective at stopping the akadim than staves and crystals. Especially with faulty borders.” Queen Ishtara’s voice grew louder, sharper, more crystalline and intense as she swiveled her head, her sparkling eyes falling on each person in the room in that strange bird-like manner. “We have made true efforts. When we saw the rising population, we began to train our gryphons to hunt them down. Unlike you, we are civilized. We do not merely use the gryphons for transport of riders. Nor are they ridiculed and humiliated in your infantile tournaments and games. They are not insulted by fighting in Alissedari. For years now, we have been sending our gryphons to your lands to kill the beasts. And what you have done? Shot them down. Even the babies.”

The red baby gryphon. The increase in the appearance of Afeyan gryphons. Gods. Right before the attack, we’d seen an orange one. Auriel’s bane.

I didn’t trust the Afeya. They were always up to something, plotting, trying to make a bargain. And her messenger and that strange female I’d seen in Bamaria, they were after Lyriana. But in this instance, because of what I’d seen, what I’d experienced, I believed Queen Ishtara. All along, they’d been helping us—helping fight the akadim—and we’d been spitting in their faces and killing innocent animals in the process.

Her soldiers flickered in and out again, their bodies visible for barely a second.

My mother slid her chair closer to me, her hands still holding mine. Bowen took a step back, offering us both some space. “Calm, my heart. You’re safe,” she said quietly. Her reassurance made me realize how tightly I was gripping her hand. I released my hold, but her words did little to calm the pounding of my heart.

“You, Your Highness,” the queen chided, “you have missed the pattern. All to Glemaria’s detriment.”

“The pattern you speak of,” my father said slowly, his hands straining at his side, desperately trying to appear calm and in control, “I am unaware of its meaning.”

“And you shall remain so. As the High Lady of the Night Lands, I cannot interfere with these events directly—no more than I already have. As much power as I possess, I, too, am bound by the earthly laws of magic and the celestial oaths of the Gods. As well as their curse. I did what I could to mitigate the growth, the threat you so often say you wish to stop. You’ve undone our efforts. And far worse.” She turned her head again, her gaze landing on the table where Garrett, his father, and Arkturion Aemon sat.

Aemon scowled, shadows filling his aura.

Queen Ishtara pulled back her lips in a sneer and snapped her head to my father. “You have allowed the enemy into your quarters. A day will come when you will regret that you did not act faster, that you did not stop the unleashing of more power and destruction than has been seen in the Empire since the Drowning.”

My throat tightened, a memory surfacing.

You’ve made a huge mistake. That girl has the potential to unleash more power and destruction than anyone in the Empire ever has. You will rue the day we did not control it.

Those were the words my father had said to me in Bamaria right after I’d convinced him to stop negotiating for a marriage contract between Arkturion Kane and Lyriana. I’d never understood what he’d meant. I still didn’t. But I didn’t like how closely Queen Ishtara’s words were to his nor the implication that Lyriana was somehow involved in our political plans and events and that, in the end, I hadn’t actually saved her but left her more vulnerable.

Queen Ishtara’s eyes fell on me, and she nodded.

Yes. We are quite aware of her, too. There are others you need to worry more about. But not yet.

She offered one more patronizing look to Aemon, and I wondered if she was warning him of the danger Lyriana could be in. Gods, I hoped so. And I hoped he listened, protected her.

The queen set down her glass, smiled at my mother, and fixed her sparkling Afeyan eyes on my father. “Happy birthday, Imperator. Tovayah maischa on your long rule.” Queen Ishtara’s words hung in the air, echoing through the room. Then, she vanished.

My father rushed us through the rest of the evening’s ceremony, embarrassed, his ego hanging by a thread. He called the dinner to an abrupt halt the moment the final cup of wine was served–wanting to distance himself from his failure with the queen as quickly as possible.

We’d all been rushed onto the field in the center of the Katurium’s arena. Thrown into line behind a bannerman for each of our Kavim. Dario was behind the largest line for Ka DeTerria. As the ruling Ka, Ka Hart had been announced last which meant I’d been forced to stand in the dark of the arena’s inner halls with Bowen breathing down my neck for over an hour. We lost Garrett early due to his Ka’s status, and I’d ended up forced to bear Ka Oryyan and Thorin’s glares at me as I waited. My mother’s warning flashed in my mind again and again. When at last I could walk out into the arena, Arkturion Kane’s voice boomed across the stadium.

“His Grace, Lord Rhyan Hart, Heir Apparent to the Arkasva, High Lord of Glemaria, Imperator to the North.”

The crowd cheered as I walked into the field, turning in the center, looking back at all of the Glemarian nobility who’d come to see the spectacle. They filled the stadium seats in a way I hadn’t seen before–not one inch of free space. Everyone was holding up sigil flags, waving them over their heads.Only my aunt and uncle from Hartavia, representing Ka Telor seemed displeased.

My heart hammered as I caught sight of my father in the stands, the Imperator’s seating sectioned off and surrounded by his personal guards. His grip was tight on his sword, freed from the hilt, the point burrowing into the ground between his legs. A push of his anger made its way to the field, nearly knocking me back and adding to the already intense chill in the air.

My mother looked calm for once, and it left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Her aura had diminished over the years, becoming something soft and submissive, a shadow against my father’s anger and force. But just then, I could feel it almost reaching for me, calming the energy of his.

Arkturion Kane glared down at me from beside him. And sitting stiffly in the seat next to my mother was Kenna. Our eyes met, for the briefest moment, before she looked down in her lap, the braid in her hair gleaming beneath the flames.

My name was shouted again and again. And I watched nobles handing over gold and silver coins.

Bets had been placed.

I bowed as expected to my father, and walked solemnly to the pyre before me, the flames shifting color like the eternal flames of our temples. When it reached green, I pulled out the scroll I’d been handed, my name scrawled across. And then I tossed it into the fire, watching it spit and smoke, turning to nothing but ember.

“I, Lord Rhyan Hart, enter the Alissedari,” I shouted, my voice rising through the Katurium, carried by a magic that seemed to emanate from the flames. Arkmage Connal stood on the other side, his mouth grim, and for a second, I felt the ropes, felt the binds snaking around me. The binds that were always too close, too present.

I swallowed, and continued. “I enter this tournament with honor, to bring glory to Ka Hart. I enter to celebrate the great ruling of my father, His Highness, Imperator Hart, Imperator to the North, High Lord of Glemaria. And I fight alongside my friends.” I found Garrett and Dario standing beneath the sigils for Ka Aravain, and Ka DeTerria.

Then, I stepped back. Arkmage Connal tipped his stave forward, and a blast of glittering rope sprang forward.

I jumped back in terror—my stomach hooking as laughs sounded from my classmates.

It was a binding. But not the ropes I feared. This was simply a single silver cuff that wound itself smoothly around my wrist like a bracelet. Something to tie me to the tournament, to my promise to enter with honor. And it would be a way to find me if my gryphon didn’t return to the Gryphon Pits.

I was now officially part of the Alissedari, whether I wanted to be or not. And I still didn’t know how I’d proceed. If I could follow my father’s orders, or risk my mother’s request.

Then, I faced the rest of my opponents, all lined up and down the field, their eyes full of ire and violence.

Their auras were like a poisonous gas reaching for me. And with my mother’s warning ringing through my thoughts, I realized that when the fights began… I might not have a choice.

Following the ceremony there had been another toast in my father’s honor as well as a performance by water dancers, before every warrior wearing a silver band was sent home.

As far as I knew, the celebrations, and the attempts to soothe his ego, and praise him on the eve of his birthday would go on all night. They would continue until the festivities resumed in the morning, and last until everyone arrived at the Gryphon Pits. There I assumed further entertainment would be provided as the nobility awaited each gryphon rider to enter the arena.As they waited for death.

We’d crowded into Dario and Garrett’s apartment with Aiden. I’d tried to get Kenna’s attention to bring her with us, but she’d refused to look at me. Instead, she’d silently followed Arkturion Kane back to Seathorne.

“What the fuck happened back there?” Dario asked, as soon as we shut the door. “Do you think the queen was telling the truth?”

Aiden shook his head. “I’m not inclined to believe the word of an Afeyan. But I think it matters little, not as much as what happened with your father, Rhyan. This will put a strain on the relationship between our countries.”

“Understatement,” I muttered.

“We can’t worry about that,” Garrett said.

“Easy to say from the son of a turion,” Dario snapped.

“Hey! My father’s on the Council, too!”

“And mine’s the fucking Arkasva,” I said. “But Garrett’s right. We need to worry about tomorrow.”

There was a knock, and a small parchment was pressed beneath the door.

Aiden flicked his stave, floating the parchment to Garrett. It had been sealed with the symbol of a gryphon. It was from Artem, the seal identical to the one that’d been on his letter from a year ago.

“It’s instructions,” Garrett said, his eyes flicking across the parchment. “All who are entering the Alissedari are to be in their beds by one in the morning—dressed in their boots and armor and with their supplies ready to go.”

“That’s in a quarter of an hour,” I said, biting my cheek.

“Why now?” Dario asked.

Aiden took the letter from Garrett, reading it over himself. “Probably to even the playing field. Have everyone stop plotting and planning at the same time.” He frowned. “No guests allowed.”

“Can you handle a night alone?” Dario teased, wrapping his arms around himself like a lover, his hands roving up and down his sides.

“Shut up,” Garrett snapped, but he was already looking longingly at Aiden.

Aiden sucked in a breath. “Be safe tomorrow. I don’t care if you win. You don’t need to be the hero—just survive.”

It was so like what my mother had said.

“I will, Ai,” Garrett promised. “You’ve seen me on gryphon-back. Don’t be worried.”

Though Garrett was the warrior, Aiden pulled him onto his lap, his hands cupping his face for a kiss. Within seconds, Garrett’s hands were tugging at Aiden’s dark auburn locks, the passion between them as potent as ever.

Dario’s eyebrows narrowed, and he released his arms as he watched me uneasily from across the room.

“One of us is going to die tomorrow,” he said heavily.

“Dario!” I yelled. “Don’t fucking say that.”

Garrett broke his embrace from Aiden. “Seriously, man. What the fuck? No one’s going to die tomorrow.”

“You know it’s true,” Dario said. “You didn’t feel the bloodlust back there? No one’s going to wait this out. Half of the Academy’s been thirsting to kill for weeks. It’s going to be over quickly.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to be one of us,” I said, though some small part of me wondered—would things be easier if it were me? Simpler? Then, I wouldn’t have to choose–wouldn’t lose myself. Wouldn’t have to take a life. No. I couldn’t entertain those thoughts. It had been a long while since I had, and tonight was not the night to do so. Not when the part of me that had felt asleep for so long had awoken, had wanted to live. Not when I had an oath to fulfill. To protect my friends.

“It’s not going to be any of us,” Garrett said confidently.

Dario made a sound low in his throat. “I bet every other alliance of soturi is saying the same thing right now.”

“One of those alliances is wrong,” Aiden said quietly.

“But not us,” Garrett said vehemently.

Aiden’s throat bobbed. “No. Not us.”

The tension between the four of us was suddenly too thick, too real. I needed to get out of there, to calm my mind and body, to find a way to rest. I had a sinking feeling that if we were wrong, it was going to be me. I could still feel Thorin’s eyes on me. The mark his Ka had put on my back. My mother’s warning.

I was always going to be the main target. I was the strongest soturion at combat clinics and habibellums, and everyone knew it. And I was the Heir Apparent. If one was going to prove themselves in the Alissedari, it wasn’t going to be by killing the weakest soturion or going for the easiest kill. They’d target the most powerful. They’d target me.

Could I do it? If it came down to it–could I take a life? My stomach twisted at the thought just as it had every other time I’d considered it since my father’s announcement.

I opened my belt pouch for my apartment key, and then I remembered my mother had put something in there. Fishing around, I felt the unfamiliar objects almost at once and closed my hand around them.

“What?” Dario asked, he’d been scrutinizing me since I’d opened it.

I opened my hand. My eyes widened as a gasp escaped my lips.

“Vadati stones!” Aiden said.

“Myself to Moriel.” Garrett jumped up.

“There’s three,” Dario said. “How did you get those?”

I swallowed, not sure I could be beholden to one more forced oath or secret. Having these in my possession was illegal in every sense of the word. The fact that my mother had them was grounds for arrest if she were ever betrayed. Very limited numbers of the talking stones had survived the Drowning, and the possession and use of each stone was registered with the Empire and highly regulated. Except for these, which were unreported, handed down for generations in my mother’s Ka as an heirloom.

“I have my ways,” I said finally to my friends. “They’re on loan. Just for tomorrow. For us.”

Aiden shook his head. “They’re illegal.”

Dario grunted in annoyance. “Your point?”

“Aiden, I know,” I said. “But we need them. We can use them tomorrow—stay in contact through the tournament, warn each other of danger, have each other’s backs.”

Garrett grinned. “That’s perfect.”

“And illegal!” Aiden snapped.

Garrett frowned, his hand shifting uncomfortably over his belt.

“I’m sorry,” Dario said, “so fucking what? Don’t you want your friends and the great love of your life to have a way to call for help? To stay in contact?”

“I…” Aiden looked chagrinned. “I don’t want anyone to get into trouble. The consequences could be far worse. And you’re all more than capable warriors.”

“Everyone’s going to cheat tomorrow one way or another,” I said. “This doesn’t hurt anyone. It only helps us. And we won’t get in trouble. We’ll only use this for emergencies, if we’re separated.”

The tension in Aiden’s aura finally dissipated, and he nodded in agreement.

“Good, then it’s decided.” I stepped forward, placing one stone in Dario’s opened palm and the third in Garrett’s. A moment of heavy silence passed between the four of us before Garrett handed his to Aiden.

Aiden frowned. “But I’m not in the tournament.”

“No,” Garrett said, “but before we enter the rings while we’re out claiming our gryphons, if we run into trouble, we’ll have you. The three of us are going to stick together. I’ll share with Dario. We’re already in the same apartment, we’ll most likely go together.”

Aiden’s fingers closed and opened around the stone, like he was still unsure, and I thought of how worried Garrett was about him knowing his secret— our secret. Rules really meant something to him. And Garrett truly did respect that about him. But at last, Aiden nodded and secured the stone in his belt pocket, sweeping his blue mage robes over it.

I shared a quick look with Garrett as I placed mine back in my pouch. The bells began to ring. The day was over. I thought for a moment about telling them. Telling them the truth. I needed to win. I had to win. And I needed them to help me.

But I couldn’t. Because I knew what it meant, knew what it would cost to ask them to support me in that. We all knew what we were getting into…but planning it in advance like this…planning to kill to win felt wrong on a level I couldn’t even explain.

Just survive. That’s what my mother had said.

“I need to go,” I said. Luckily, I was already in my armor. I could fall into bed.

Aiden pulled Garrett back onto his lap, his fingers twisting in his blonde hair. They both seemed to gasp at once, their auras mingling, fusing together into something unique, something powerful. It was rare to see auras do that. Only when the connection was truly deep did auras join. Garrett pressed against Aiden, trying to hide a moan. I’d seen my friends kiss a hundred times now, but never like this, like it was their last.

Something heavy settled on my heart. My kiss with Lyr, it had been our first. Had it also been our last?

I stepped back, not wanting to intrude. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Dario said, his pressed his fist to his heart. “We’re going to get through tomorrow. All three of us.”

“On my life,” Garrett swore.

“ Me sha, me ka ,” I said, feeling the weight of my words sink down on me.

A moment later, I was in my apartment, straightening my armor, securing my belt, my weapons, my gloves. The bells had just stopped ringing. Heart heavy, I lay down on my bed, positive I wasn’t going to get even a full hour of sleep.

I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath. At some point, I fell into a dreamless sleep. When I woke, it was daylight, but it felt like barely a moment had passed since I’d lain down. My door burst open.

I was on my feet in an instant, hand reaching for my blade, my eyes searching for Bowen’s presence, but he was nowhere to be found.

Two dark figures crossed the room. I widened my stance, watching both, trying to decipher their identities, but they wore masks beneath their hooded cloaks.

I opened my mouth to call for Bowen, but the strangers were on me too fast for me to react. One hand held my sword, the other brandished my dagger.

A cloth covered my mouth, stifling my yell. Too late, I recognized the overly sharp scent.

My eyes began to close, my vision blurring as I was taken from my room.