Page 29 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Twenty-Eight

H is dark eyes were penetrating as he carefully looked me up and down. “Rhyan?” He frowned.

“Arkturion Aemon,” I said, my throat dry.

His lips quirked, and he lowered his head, almost a bow, but not. “You greeted me at the border of your country, I suppose it’s only fair I greet you at mine.”

I tried to nod, but tremors darted through my body. My hands were shaking at my sides. The adrenaline of the fight was starting to wear off, and the reality of what I’d done, what I’d accomplished—what I’d lost—was all sinking in. Garrett was finally gone. Finally at peace…if those who became akadim ever found any.

“Was that your first kill?” he asked, both eyebrows narrowed. “First akadim kill,” he amended.

My heart sank. “First akadim kill.” Second time killing Garrett.

He stepped around me, examining the body, his hands fisting at his sides as his dark energy swirled around me. He removed a vadati from his belt. “Harren.” The stone clouded with white mist before it glowed blue.

“Aemon,” came the rushed voice of Arkasva Batavia. Of Lyr’s father.

“Your Grace, the threat is over. I’m with the soturion who killed it.” Aemon nodded at me once more.

“By the Gods,” said Harren. “I’ll alert Eathan.”

“I'll tell Dairen.”

“Very good. Bring me the soturion,” Arkasva Batavia said. “I’d like to thank them myself.”

Aemon’s eyes narrowed on me, a calculated look on his face.

Throat tightening, I waited for him to tell Arkasva Batavia who I was. A forsworn. A criminal. A murderer. For Arkasva Batavia to change his mind. To demand my arrest instead. To bring me back to the Shadow Stronghold and keep me prisoner until my father arrived.

Instead, Aemon said, “Of course. I’m at the border, but I shall see you within the hour.”

I felt overly aware of Garrett’s body. Of my torn tunic, my scar, my long hair…of the vorakh thrumming just beneath my skin. Had Aemon seen me travel?

The stone turned white and Aemon tucked it away.

“Take a breath,” he said, gathering my discarded cloak and armor from the forest floor. “An akadim kill can bring forth a lot of emotion.” He looked uneasy, almost mournful at the body. “Especially if you knew him.” His aura darkened, shadows pushing against me.

“It was Garrett,” I said shakily.

Aemon nodded. “I know. I understand what happened.”

My chest heaved, I felt like I was going to panic. Like I was going to travel or faint. Maybe all three.

“I killed him.”

Aemon clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Then, you did what you were supposed to do.”

“I’m forsworn,” I said.

“I knew that, too.”

“So,” I said helplessly. “Will I be arrested?”

“You just defended all of Bamaria from a monster. Any arkasva would thank you for that alone. And as a forsworn, you are legally allowed to enter the country and request protection. I believe you have a very good chance of earning sanctuary here. Your uncle recently returned to Bamaria. He can vouch for you. And you have me as a witness.”

“You saw me kill him?” I asked, my heart thundering. How much had he seen? I needed to know. The warning bells had gone off before he’d arrived…but who had seen us?

“As soon as I realized what was happening, I sounded the alarm. When I got to you, I saw you make the final blow. I am sorry I didn’t get here sooner. But it seems like you had everything under control.”

My stomach twisted. The timeline didn’t feel like it made sense. Then again… nothing did anymore.

“Come,” Aemon said. “I have an ashvan waiting a mile down the road. We’ll ride to Cresthaven together and make your case. I assume you still want to be part of the Empire?”

My chest tightened. “I don't...” I thought of my father. Of the horrible things he’d done. To me. To my mother. To all of Glemaria. The North. Being part of the Empire meant still being a part of that in some small way. And though I knew Arkasva Batavia was nothing like my father, the thought of being bound to another ruler made my stomach turn.

Aemon arched an eyebrow. “You don't?”

My thoughts jumped to Kenna. To Sean. To Dario and Aiden. To Lyriana. Always, always to Lyriana. “I don't want to...not be part of it.”

The corner of Aemon’s mouth twitched. “And in this Empire, you don't want to not be a part of, do you still want to be a soturion?”

My chest heaved. “I am a soturion. I know nothing else.”

Aemon slapped my cloak and armor against my chest. “Then dress yourself, Soturion, and follow me.”

My ashvan touched down inside the walls of Cresthaven. Soturi stood on guard, still as statues.

Aemon signaled to the guards, jumping from the back of his horse.

I followed suit, my boots stepping once again on the waterway leading to the Bamarian fortress. The ocean rolled in gentle waves against the shore in the distance, the sound soothing. Familiar. It brought me back to three years ago.

To when I was still Lord Rhyan Hart. To the moment when I’d see Lyriana Batavia for the first time since we were kids. To the moment when I’d fallen in love.

But that wasn’t going to happen again. It was well after midnight. I expected all three heirs would be in their rooms under careful guard, following protocol for a threat.

And I had to remind myself, Jules wouldn’t be here…

The moonlight reflected in the running water beneath my feet. We had fewer of these in Glemaria. The mountains made them difficult to lay down. For a second, I felt dizzy watching the stream pass beneath me.

Aemon strolled ahead; his walk purposeful as he approached two men on guard before the double entrance doors.

“Evening Euston.” Aemon nodded. “Rhodes.”

Both soturi nodded.

“Arkturion,” Euston said, as he opened the door behind him.

“And?” Rhodes asked, looking me over, his eyes falling on the snags in my cloak, the dirt caked on my boots.

Aemon lifted his eyebrows, clearly waiting for me to answer. For me to state not only who I was, but to own it.

“Soturion Rhyan,” I said.

Our names were shouted in the Great Hall, and I stepped inside, seeing the grand staircase again. The columns that depicted the arkasvim of the past. Lyriana’s ancestors.

I took a deep breath. Last time I’d been here, my father had dragged me inside after weeks of being trapped in his litter. He’d tried to humiliate me, weaken me on this very floor.

But I realized with a lightness in my chest and shoulders, he wasn’t here now. After tonight, I didn’t need to fear him the way I had. I’d be free from his reach.

And when I was announced into the Seating Room, it would only be my name shared. Not my title. Not the long, extended name he’d given me. I was no longer his to control. No longer his property.

Aemon continued walking briskly. The fortress was nearly empty. Almost eerily so. Last time, servants had been busy, rushing around the halls even in the middle of the night.

Considering the hour of the akadim attack, the nobility would have been home, tucked into their expensive villas and beds. It would have been deemed too dangerous for them to leave to come here for protocol. But even so, there was still a stark, almost ghostly feel to the hall that left me on edge. Something was wrong. Despite my circumstances coming here, more people should be around, running about Cresthaven, completing all those silent tasks rarely seen by nobility.

Aemon paused before me, and I recognized the door to the Seating Room. This time when the herald asked for my name, I offered it proudly.

“Soturion Rhyan Hart.” My heart still pounded as I stepped inside. Arkasva Batavia could still say no.

The room was beautiful, ancient, and elegant. Far warmer in appearance than ours ever could be. And it was calm. The Arkasva here didn’t push his aura out, didn’t make it difficult to walk. Red silk tapestries lay elegantly against the walls as warm incense burned in the corners. It left an ache in my chest. After all these months, I was homesick. Strange that a home that was the opposite of mine in every way had evoked these feelings. I felt a wistfulness for Seathorne and Glemaria, but not for how it was. How it could have been. If my mother had ruled. If Bowen had…

My throat felt dry, and my face tightened.

I longed for a life that had felt like this all along. One that had been less harsh. A childhood where I’d met my friends as children, laughing as we ran through the halls together. Less years of my life alone. A life where my days hadn’t been filled with fear.

I wasn’t naive. The horrors of the Empire were present here, too. They were in every corner of Lumeria. Bamaria wasn’t perfect. Ka Kormac was far too powerful and invasive. But I knew in my soul as I approached Arkasva Batavia on his golden Seat, his laurel shining against his dark hair, that the horrors I’d experienced at home weren’t here.

And more than anything, I knew I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

I had a sudden, urgent desire for Bamaria to be my home. And at the same time, for Glemaria to have been everything it could have been. Everything it wasn’t.

Maybe that’s how it always would be. Yearning for a place that didn’t exist. For friends, I couldn’t reach.

For a lover, I could never touch.

Arkasva Batavia hobbled from the raised dais down the aisle, the limp in his leg as prominent as ever. He looked older than last time, still somewhat severe, but honest. And, as far as arkasvim went, kind.

I fell to my knees, my heart pounding. Fear coursed through me. I’d wanted to come here for safety, because it made sense. Because of Sean. Because of her.

But now—now I felt like I needed to be here. Every inch of my body felt like it was pulsing with the need to be accepted, the need to finally be told yes, you can stay. To hear yes, we want you here. I didn’t know what I would do if he rejected my plea.

“Soturion Rhyan,” he said, sounding uncertain, as if he wanted to make sure he had my title right. He shared a quick look with Aemon who nodded and then to me, he said, “Welcome back to Bamaria. It has been a few years.”

“Arkasva Batavia, Your Grace. It has.” My voice shook. “And this time, I come to you, humbly, begging for shelter. I wish to request sanctuary in Bamaria, Your Grace.”

His golden sandals were before me, and suddenly two lightly tanned hands reached for mine, helping me to stand.

Auriel’s bane. Please. Let me stay.

He shook his head, and my heart stopped.

“It is I who should be kneeling before you.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“You have kept Bamaria safe. Protected my family and Ka. I am in your debt, Soturion Rhyan.” His eyes lingered on my scar, and I fought the urge to pull my hands from his, to brush my hair over the mark. But then his gaze flicked back to mine, and he smiled.

No arkasva had smiled at me for as long as I could remember. Arkasva Taria had mocked me. The others in the North had always deferred to my father to determine my treatment.

I’d forgotten a ruler didn’t have to be cruel. Didn’t have to insult to maintain his ego.

“Come. Join me at the Seat.” He turned, his sandals slapping against the floor as he limped, his black arkasva cloak floating behind him. There was no golden border. A reminder that he didn't have full jurisdiction over the South. It was both a blessing and a curse. For Imperator Kormac had the power. Still, he wasn’t my father. I was beyond his reach.

Back on the dais and seated, Arkasva Batavia requested water be brought to me and Aemon. He also sent for a plate of fruit, flatbread, and hummus. He waited patiently for me to drink, asking if I was hungry for anything else.

I could barely believe it. Not only had I not been tied up this time, but I was being fed. Being cared for.

“I hear your title is… no longer in use,” he said cordially when I finished drinking.

“Yes, Your Grace. It was taken by his highness.”

Arkasva Batavia frowned. “I’ve heard many things in the past year. Many rumors. Some highly unsettling stories, most of them about you.”

I exhaled sharply and stared back. “I would imagine you have.”

“Imperator Hart is a formidable man. I cannot dispute the claims of another arkasva for an issue I was not present to observe. You understand?”

“I understand,” I said, my heart sinking. Maybe this was just a thanks. A small moment of kindness before he rejected my plea and sent me on my way. “His power has far reach, as does his voice.”

The Arkasva nodded. “I can do very little for a soturion not sworn to me or my country,” he said carefully. “However, I can offer you sanctuary, and my full protection.” He paused. “If you were to become a Bamarian.”

My pulse quickened. He wasn’t rejecting me, he wasn’t going to cast me out just because of who I was. He was trying to work out the legalities of protecting me.

“I would have to swear my oath to you?” I asked.

He nodded.

My stomach twisted.

As much as I wanted this, I could still see my father standing over me, demanding my oath, ordering my complete and total obedience. I could see Bowen's wrists, his blood oaths, and the line he always had to walk between them. I could see Garrett, holding out his dagger, the fear in his eyes, after he'd traveled with me away from the akadim. And I knew no matter how desperately I wanted sanctuary, wanted to stop hiding, wanted to be part of the world again, I couldn't give my oath to Arkasva Batavia.

I was done handing my life over to powerful men. Even if they were far kinder than the others. Garrett had died because of my father’s rule. Kenna was tortured for the same reason. I understood now that Bowen had died, not just to save me, but so I could save all of Glemaria. Sean had known one day I’d want my revenge. And I knew it, too. Somehow, I would find a way to save my people.

I couldn’t do that by letting go of where I’d come from—or forgetting the duty I still had to everyone left behind.

“I'm sorry, your grace. I cannot become a Bamarian.” I bit the inside of my cheek, barely able to believe I’d said that after everything I had gone through to get here. But in my gut, I knew it was right.

Arkasva Batavia frowned. “That will complicate things. May I ask why not?”

“You may not be free to speak against my father.” I took a deep breath. “But I am. I am already forsworn. And I am guilty of many crimes. I regret many things. But I am not guilty of what he’s said. And yet, his lies about me are nowhere near the worst things he’s done. Not to me. Not to my Ka or my country. He is not fit to rule. I intend to be there the day he loses power. I cannot do that if I swear my allegiance to another.”

I waited for the anger to come, for Arkasva Batavia to yell and scream. Instead, he sighed deeply.

“You understand that in refusing me, I cannot offer the level of protection you may require should he demand your return. I may refuse his initial request. But should he decide to challenge me, I may have no choice. My people will not be pleased to see another foreign armed soldier in our country. They would rebel if I entered into conflict in your name.”

My stomach twisted.

Aemon stepped forward. “That is all true. But I believe there is a way for him to be accepted.”

Arkasva Batavia nodded.

Aemon continued. “I believe we need him. Tonight alone proves the reports I’ve made to you are accurate. Akadim are growing in alarming numbers. They are becoming stronger, more cunning. They’re more organized. And while I have faith in our soturi, I would feel much better knowing an akadim killer is in our service. Perhaps he is not here as a Bamarian sworn to you. Perhaps he is here offering a service as a private citizen—one we have a sudden and desperate need for. One that our Council can stand behind.”

“And if Imperator Hart demands his return?”

“We are under no obligation to the North. We can refuse on account of the service Rhyan is providing. It would be Imperator Kormac’s obligation to make the final call. If the people see Rhyan as a protector of Bamaria, even if he is not Bamarian, then we can protect him from any summons to Glemaria.”

Arkasva Batavia considered, looking me up and down. “We would need Imperator Kormac’s cooperation. He would need to publicly declare it.” He frowned. “Refresh my memory, Rhyan. Your last visit was three years ago, correct? You hadn't begun your soturion studies yet.”

“You are correct. I should be an apprentice now, taking on my own novice.”

“Do you wish to complete your studies?”

That pang returned to my heart. The homesickness, and longing for something that never existed, and in some ways never would. But I wanted to train, to fight, to run. Gods, I wanted to study, and read. To share what I knew with others. To become even stronger than I was. To make sure not a single akadim entered Bamaria.

To keep everyone else I could from Garrett’s fate. And to free any of his victims that were now roaming the South without souls.

“Yes,” I said.

“Your strength is certainly impressive,” he continued. “And we are in your debt. Rumors of the North do reach our shores, yet you are not so ill-thought of that we cannot make this work. But you must be aware, right now, Bamaria is simmering with distrust. It is no secret that my rule has been contentious for many. Many still feel I am illegitimate.” He gestured at his foot.

“Keep his identity secret until Auriel’s Feast Day,” Aemon said. “It is tradition to present a forsworn for forgiveness. We can do that and at the same moment announce he is the hero who slayed the beast.”

Arkasva Batavia’s face was thoughtful. “Imperator Kormac would be present. He’d have no choice but to agree.” He stroked his chin, a small, but nervous smile on his face.

“But that means you must remain hidden until then. No one may yet know you are here.” He frowned. “You will need a relative to vouch for you.”

“My uncle, Sean, is a soturion in your service. He’ll speak for me.”

Arkasva Batavia nodded again.

“And finally, you must also submit to a Bound Five,” Aemon said, a sudden darkness in his aura.

I stiffened. “What?”

“It’s traditional,” Aemon said, his shadows retracting. “If you’re not willing to offer your oath, this shows you are willing to submit to our laws. Then, we can swear to Imperator Kormac, and anyone else who might question your presence, that you have done so. It will serve in place of your oath to Bamaria.”

My hands felt clammy. The idea of being bound again so soon made me ill. But if this is what it took? “I’ll submit.”

Arkasva Batavia looked pointedly at my armor. “I have no wish for you to deny your roots, or hide where you’ve come from—you are too well known. But, would you be willing to accept new armor, with a new sigil? Something that is honest about who you are, but also where your loyalties lie?”

“Can the new armor still be styled the same way?” I couldn’t imagine fighting in anything other than my style of leathers.

“That can be arranged,” Arkasva Batavia said carefully.

“Then yes.”

Arkasva Batavia nodded. “That should satisfy all possible complaints, and believe me, I must satisfy them. It is… a rather tense time for the Council. Understand, this will require me to fight some battles on your behalf.”

“I will forever be in your debt.”

“You will,” Arkasva Batavia said slowly. “I am willing to do this because I do know something of Imperators.”

I could sense there was more. That he was leading up to some new demand or condition for my sanctuary.

There was a cunning look in his eyes, and my stomach twisted. He may not have been my father, nor Arkasva Taria. But he was still an arkasva.

“I shall require your sword in my personal service. I have Arkturion Aemon monitoring the threats beyond Bamaria. But my concern right now is for those inside. Whispers of rebellion have grown louder. I have been targeted my entire rule. But now I have heard word of threats made to my daughters.”

I stiffened, immediately on alert. “What threats?”

“Hopefully empty ones. But despite her distance from the Seat, I have become increasingly concerned for the safety of my youngest. Lady Lyriana.”

My heart pounded just from hearing her name.

“You met her on your last visit.”

I nodded slowly. He had no idea the extent.

“Your father was interested in a marriage contract between her and his warlord. I did not desire the match, and when your father retracted his offer… I always suspected you had something to do with it.”

“I did not desire the match either,” I said carefully.

“That interest has not died down, nor has it been relegated to just Glemaria, despite her well-known courtship. And now with rebellions being whispered, I…I worry for her. Lately, she has been revolting against her constraints. Threats are coming from too many directions, some outright, some sinister in their secrecy. In exchange for my protection, I would trust you to keep her safe.”

I shook my head. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to be her bodyguard, join her escort team. Protect her.”

The words spilled from my mouth before I could think. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

His dark eyes were piercing, looking me up and down as he decided to believe me, to trust me. He clapped his hands together, a symbol of finality and authority. It was done.

“Then kneel, Soturion Rhyan Hart.”

I knelt before him.

“You will swear your sword to me. You will attend the Academy and complete your studies. You will help us hunt akadim and make sure my daughter remains safe. You remain a member of Ka Hart, a citizen of Glemaria, and shall be granted the freedom to return to Glemaria for whatever purpose you choose. While you remain inside our borders, you will be given the protections all Bamarians are afforded. Do you accept these terms?”

“I accept,” I said.

“Rise, Soturion Rhyan. You shall submit to the Bound Five at once. If you survive, you will be under my protection and rule.”

My heart thundered so loudly I could hardly hear as Aemon summoned select Council members from their beds to enter the Seating Room. To witness my submissions.

He called on five soturi as well.

Only three Council Members came to witness. But with Arkasva Batavia and Aemon, they had five.

I remembered the arkasva’s Second, a quiet unassuming man with a kind face and graying hair. Lady Shavo, the spymaster arrived next. She wore a cloak that made her nearly invisible. And then finally, my heart paused for a moment as a striking woman with red hair entered the room. Lyriana’s aunt, Arianna. Her hair was paler than Lyr’s in the sun, and though her face showed signs of age, her likeness to Lyr was startling.

Lyr. I was going to be her bodyguard. Gods… I’d be close. Watching her. Protecting her.

But never touching her.

They’re together now. Officially.

She was still with Lord Tristan. But with this agreement…even if that weren’t the case, despite what hope Sean had tried to give me, I knew the truth. As her bodyguard, I could never be with her. And if I refused to be her bodyguard, her father had little reason to continue offering protection.

I listened silently as Arkasva Batavia made his case for me, and Lady Arianna created a silver ring around us. My opponents spread out, surrounding me.

“Now for the binding,” Arianna said.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, bracing myself. Sweat formed at the nape of my neck. I felt caged, panicked...my stomach turning as if I was about to travel. Suddenly, it was all too much. What I’d agreed to, what I’d given up, what I had suffered just to be here.

But as she pointed her stave at me, it wasn’t black glittering rope that sprung forth. Not the burning binds I’d suffered for years.

I exhaled, blinking rapidly, and almost laughed in relief.

It was just rope. Just a simple piece of rope. Like something we’d use on our gryphons back home

I knew exactly what to do with it.

Arkasva Batavia clapped his hands. “Begin.”