Page 6 of Son of the Drowned Empire

Chapter Five

I remembered in that moment the Oath Ceremony one year ago. We were in the Seating Room at Court, and we’d heard the announcement of Jules’s arrest, the naming of her vorakh. Garrett’s face had paled; he’d stared at me with what I’d thought was accusation in his eyes. I’d been trying so hard to keep it together, to remain neutral. I was desperate to not show how affected I was by the news of what had happened to Jules, and the way Garrett had watched me had left me so nervous. I’d been on edge the rest of the night, paranoid he knew my secret.

Terrified that if he did, he’d betray me. It would have been so easy. One word to his father, to Turion Efraim.

Now I understood. He’d looked like a ghost at the news of Jules’s vorakh because he was vorakh, too.

And I understood the urgency with which he’d used it now. This was deeper than saving my life, deeper than saving his. It was about saving everyone else. Akadim were already the greatest threat we faced, with their strength and brutality, their lack of souls and a conscience. But an akadim who’d been vorakh when alive… one who could travel. They’d be a monster nearly impossible to stop.

Before me now, bleeding, pale, exhausted, his boots soaked with river water, Garrett fell to his knees, his arms outstretched, muscles tensed. “Aiden won’t understand,” he said sadly. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding open the pathetic remains of his armor and tunic. “Do it quickly, Rhyan. Just… do it.”

“Do what?” I stepped forward. “Garrett, what the fuck? Stop holding your shirt open and let me help you up.”

He snapped his gaze to me, his mouth open. “Rhyan, I’m—”

“You’re vorakh,” I said.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice frail and helpless.

With the sudden onset of emotions the night had awakened inside of me—the terror, the grief, the actual fucking longing—it all combined with the need to let Garrett know that he wasn’t alone. Not the way I’d felt alone for so long.

Watching him carefully, I let go. I felt it happen. I let it happen.

My stomach tugged violently after going so long without using my vorakh, and my boots lifted from the rocks. My body vanished, and I reappeared a few yards back, my feet landing on the roots of a moon tree, the leaves glittering with silver.

Garrett’s eyes widened.

“Me, too,” I said, my heart pounding with an almost foreign intensity.

“By the Gods.”

“By something,” I said dully. If the Gods had done this to me, then, it was just another level of their cruelty I’d been destined to experience in this life.

My chest heaved, sudden exhaustion coming over me even though I’d only traveled a few yards. I was so out of practice. Watching Garrett closely, I did it again, this time returning to the rocks, bracing myself so I wouldn’t slip. Finally, he took my hand, and I pulled him to his feet. With our hands clasped together, our eyes met as our realizations truly sank in. We were both cursed, both hiding the same deadly secret. And now we had to decide what to do about it.

Garrett released my hand.

“How?” I asked. “How did you conceal it at the Revelation Ceremony?”

Garrett frowned; his eyes distant. “I didn’t. It developed a few months after. The first time it happened, Gods, I was so pissed. Ended up in the woods, nearly falling into a pile of gryphon-shit. I tried to get back the same way I came, but I couldn’t do it again and stumbled home before I passed out. Weeks went by, and it didn’t happen again. I thought I’d imagined it or had been too wasted to really know if that was what had happened, thought maybe Dario was pranking me. Or I’d gotten fucked up over a shit batch of moonleaves. I was always too afraid to ask in case I was wrong. Then, it began to happen again, to take me away, over and over. It’s been months, and I can barely control it most days. But Aiden… he grounds me. How did you hide it?”

“I was…um…unbound. Early.”

Garrett’s eyes widened. None of my friends knew that at my Revelation Ceremony, I had still been bound when I’d showed my first sign of strength. I’d had two bindings on me, and the arkmage had only removed the first. The second had been taken off so as not to interfere with the creation of my kashonim at the Oath Ceremony, but then my father had rebound me again and again until I had nearly complete control over my power. Until I couldn’t feel anymore.

“Aiden doesn’t know?” I asked.

Garrett’s jaw tensed. “No. No one knows.” His eyes fell on his boots. “Gods, I love him. So, so much. He helps. But he doesn’t know. He’s such a stickler for the rules.” He sucked on his lower lip, frowning. “I can’t tell him.”

I bit the inner corner of my cheek. Aiden loved Garrett fiercely. I tried to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t protect him, wouldn’t understand if he knew his secret. Then, I remembered the world we actually lived in. The one where Lyr had watched Jules be taken away. The one where no matter how much love Aiden held for Garrett, no matter how much he’d want to protect him, he might not be allowed to, not if he wanted to live. And I understood.

Garrett’s eyes ran back and forth across my face. “Even if I thought with every bone of my body he’d understand,” he shook his head, “I still couldn’t do that to him. Force him to carry a secret like this, one that would endanger him.”

I nodded. “I’d never endanger him either.”

“And I can’t risk my family.” Garrett’s voice cracked. “My father’s position, our Ka, it’s so new, so fragile. I couldn’t do that to my mother, or my sister. Her future…”

Ka Aravain was not noble. Garrett’s father had risen in the ranks due to his skill. But Efraim was the first member of Ka Aravain to earn a place on the Glemarian Council. It had allowed Garrett to attend school with me. To become my friend. And Aiden’s, and Dario’s.

His vorakh would ruin them. Ruin his sister’s future—whether or not they escaped the Empire’s scrutiny. They weren’t nobles, but if his family was suspected of keeping his vorakh secret—they could still be killed. Ka Batavia as far as I knew was still an exception and not the rule—much as my father abused the knowledge of what had happened to manipulate me.

Garrett wrung his hands together. “Fuck.”

“We’re okay,” I said. “We’re alive. Neither of us are akadim. Neither of us are going to become so.” I was sure of that. We’d been cut, beaten. But they hadn’t gotten to our souls. If they had gotten to those…sucked them out from our hearts to eat…we’d be turning forsaken. Half-alive. Half-dead, even if we were breathing. Even if our bodies were intact, our minds still working…the black mark would be spreading across our chests, waiting for the next nightfall when we’d become the monsters we feared.

Luckily, that wasn’t happening. That would never, ever happen. Not as long as I could help it.

Garrett bit his lip, still looking unconvinced. “But…the vorakh?”

“We promise,” I said. “Right here, right now. Neither of us will say a word.”

“Swear,” Garrett said.

I pressed my fist to my heart. “I swear. Me sha, me ka. I won’t tell a soul.”

Garrett shook his head. “No. The words of Ka Hart aren’t enough. Not for this.” He stilled; his eyes set on me. “We need a blood oath.”

I balked. “A blood oath? Garrett, no. No.” I couldn’t imagine any circumstance where I’d expose Garrett or where he’d expose me. But blood oaths were dangerous. Breaking one meant death. And sometimes…sometimes secrets had a way of coming out, whether willingly or not.

“Not to keep this secret, not exactly,” Garrett said, as if reading my mind. “One day I might—might need to tell Aiden. Might have to. I don’t know. And you?” He shrugged. “Maybe you’ll need to tell Kenna. But we both know we have a target on our backs the minute we fuck up. The minute we lose control and vanish. The minute we face akadim again. Just knowing what we know puts us at risk. So, we swear to protect each other from danger—protect each other and protect our own. We protect our Kavim. And we protect Dario, Kenna, Aiden…no matter what.”

A cold breeze left shivers on my skin.

My aura suddenly felt unfamiliar, overpowering me with its strength. My heart was pounding, my blood coursing through my veins. I was feeling more than I had in months. My emotions were overwhelming me. But right now, the main feeling was fear.

I clasped Garrett’s shoulder. “You know I’d always protect you and yours. I protect my friends. Without question.” I wanted to get back to the fields, to fight the akadim, to find Dario and Aiden, to see Kenna and hold her, to make sure everyone was safe. I didn’t know how we were going to get back without being seen or revealing that at some point we’d abandoned the fight. And every inch of me was rebelling at the idea of the oath.

Blood oaths were my father’s territory—his way of controlling everyone around him. Even Uncle Sean had fallen prey to them. When I’d seen him two summers ago, he hadn’t been able to speak fully about my father’s doings because of his oaths. An oath was also the reason why Bowen had never ratted me out for using vorakh to anyone but my father. And it was the one punishment, the one weapon of control, my father hadn’t used on me.

For some reason, despite all of his abuse, all of the times I had disappointed him, all of the times he’d told me I was nothing, that I was no better than gryphon-shit—I knew this much—my father wanted me alive. Bowen had told me so.

“Garrett, listen to me. Please,” I said. “I’ve never broken an oath before.”

The wind blew, pushing his blond waves back, his eyes set with determination. He looked suddenly older than his years, his face haggard. “I know you haven’t. That’s how I know you won’t break this one either.”

I watched the blood still dripping down his stomach and chest, forming pools on his leather belt, his Valalumir stars shining and bloodied.

Garrett unsheathed his dagger.

It was the middle of the night, and we were all gathered in the Seating Room, tensed and silent save for the crackling torches spitting light across the aisles. Protocol demanded all nobility gather in Seathorne and stay there until the grounds were cleared. The threat had been stopped hours earlier that night, but we were still bound to the fortress and wide awake. And my father had decided to go ahead and call Court into session. Any other Arkasva would have waited for morning to assemble a Court after a night of horror, but not ours.

Mages were floating potent glasses of beer and wine to the gathered nobles. We’d suffered many attacks over the years. Akadim were nearly as native to the north as gryphons. But five akadim at once was a lot; coupled with the ongoing and increasing appearances of the Afeyan gryphons, all of the Glemarian nobility was on edge. Their auras flinging out across the Seating Room, crashing and bouncing off of the others, were making me nauseous.

But not as nauseous as I’d felt over the knowledge of what I’d done. What I’d promised. And what I’d endured afterward.

I stood tall on the dais, before the Court, trying desperately to maintain my posture, but the skin on my back still itched and burned like hell where Garrett had cut me. We’d tried to pick a spot on my body that wouldn’t be noticeable, and considering how often I was lashed, no one would think twice if I had a raised scar there. Honestly, it was stranger to find unblemished skin on my back at this point, with my father and Arkturion Kane’s penchant for torturing me.

My father had made sure I was no stranger to pain. It took a lot to rattle me. But something about the cut of Garrett’s dagger for the blood oath had hurt far worse than I’d expected, worse even than what happened after. It’d been as if I were feeling not the sting of his blade as it sliced through me, but the weight of my oath.

I felt sweat pool at the nape of my neck, my hair beginning to curl more tightly. I lifted my chin and pushed my shoulders back, knowing all eyes were on me. I’d be punished accordingly if I failed for even a few seconds to appear in proper form as the upstanding and strong Heir Apparent before my people. On the opposite end of the dais, separated by the Seat of Power, stood my mother, her skin still pale from learning I’d fought and barely escaped the beasts.

My father’s reaction to this news had been quite different than my mother’s. He’d known I’d run from the fight—he just didn’t know it had been against my will. Despite his taunts of my cowardice and stupidity, my failure to control my emotions, and the sheer force of his hits, I’d done nothing. I said nothing. I could not defend myself without giving up Garrett.

So, I’d been lashed—right on top of the blood oath that had still been smarting—three times. A new insult from my father had roared into my ears with each swing of his whip alongside reminders that he was doing this for my own good and I was lucky to be the one on the receiving end of this pain tonight, as opposed to my mother.

I was lucky he wasn’t renouncing his claim on me, lucky he wasn’t finding my mother’s replacement.

I’d thrown up afterward, and now I had to stand tall as if everything was fine. As if I were a brave fucking hero.

I wasn’t.

But, despite everything, Garrett was. He’d run right into danger when others had run in fear. And he’d killed an akadim, a feat that hadn’t been accomplished by a novice in over a decade and before that, half a century.

Hours earlier, I’d been berated for that, too. How dare I humiliate my father by not killing one myself? How dare I let a friend, a lesser man who wasn’t even noble—the mere son of the Turion—beat me to it? If any novice was going to be the one to break the record, it should have been me, the son of the Imperator, the son of the most powerful soturion in Glemaria.

But it hadn’t been me because I was weak and embarrassing, I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. I wasn’t trying as hard as I liked to believe. I’d been slacking, growing cocky and lazy, showing my true colors, proving I had no potential. I was a failure, an immature child, not a man, not a soturion. And once again, I’d brought shame to Ka Hart. Maybe I wasn’t truly his son; maybe my mother had cheated on him. How else could the Imperator have birthed such a weakling, a creature with such strange green eyes?

Maybe my father should have accepted the truth—and finally free himself of the shame of us—end my mother’s life right there on the spot. Now. Tonight.

The verbal assault was endless.

His escort watched, silent, and unmoving as he withdrew his sword. Bowen stood beside them, still, though his face had been contorted with fury, his eyes glancing worriedly between me and my mother.

Before my father could swing at her, I’d stepped between them, taking the hit and then another—the second one had been for interfering in his affairs.

Then, the lashings came.

No matter what my father said to me or how many times he grabbed my hair, ripping chunks of it out and spitting on my cheeks, I couldn’t fight back. Not since Jules. Not since I no longer had any leverage to hold over him. With that knowledge, he was making up for the one year I’d found a small semblance of rebellion against him.

At least tonight it was me and not her. At least I’d saved my mother from him tonight. One fucking night.

I eyed Garrett in his seat several rows from the dais. He gave me a single, curt nod, a small acknowledgment of how everything between us had changed tonight, a look reinforcing that no matter what happened, neither of us would dare break the oath we’d sworn.

He had a black eye forming, a gruesome gash across his cheek. Deep, ugly scratches marred his neck between bruises. He’d covered the rest of his wounds in bandages and wore a freshly laundered tunic. Aiden was holding his hand in both of his. On the bench beside them was Dario, his arm around Kenna, his hand massaging her shoulder. She still looked shaken, but there was something else in her expression, something stubborn, like she was trying to find her courage.

Once my father entered and formally announced the threat was over, Garrett would be invited to stand, and he’d be named a hero before the entire Glemarian Court. Seeing Garrett honored instead of me—having to say the words himself—was going to leave my father in a horrid mood that I expected to last at least a month, if not longer. Tonight’s torture session had been only the beginning.

Of the remaining four akadim who’d attacked, two had been dispatched by Arkturion Kane, which would no doubt leave him even cockier and crueler than usual when training began anew. The fourth akadim had been killed by Dario’s father, Turion Ronan, and the fifth by another lesser soturion of Ka Gaddayan, another nephew of Arkturion Kane and one of Kenna’s many cousins.

No deaths. No forsaken. Thank the Gods. It seemed to be the only thing keeping the nobility from rioting. Not having a single death was a miracle considering there had been five beasts. Not having a single death would have been a miracle with one akadim. But tonight had been strange . They hadn’t been acting like normal akadim; they hadn’t done anything I’d observed in the past, anything I’d been taught. Akadim were simple creatures. They wanted food, and they went for the food that was easiest to eat. They hunted whoever was in their path, but last night they’d bypassed so much prey…almost as if they had been on a mission. A mission to do what though? I had no fucking clue.

The only soturion they’d seemed determined to finish was Garrett.

And me.

But why? Why us? Why no one else? The question left a sinking feeling in my gut that I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to.

Only one possibility came to mind. That Garrett and I were different. More powerful. We were vorakh… Had akadim learned to detect that? Fuck.

Lord Draken, my father’s Second, stood in his full soturion armor before the golden Seat of Power, which was still empty of the Imperator. Every second my father made us wait for him, I could feel the auras of the nobility tensing, tightening, strangling me with their force. I was too tired, too beaten to block them out or push back. I focused on Lord Draken, who was giving a lascivious look to my mother. My nostrils flared. My father’s Second possessed his exact likeness in almost every single way despite hailing from a different Kavim. Once he’d been kind. Once he’d taken me to the gryphon stables to learn to care for them, letting me trail him on his duties as Master of the Horse.

That ended years ago. Now he was just another copy of my father.

My father who was insisting on keeping us waiting for him to appear.

I shifted my weight between my feet—the pain and pressure of standing so still becoming unbearable. My skin itched, my legs ached, and my eyes were beginning to droop.

At last, the doors creaked open, and the Court members released a soft hush of breath as they stilled and turned their heads in respect.

“His Highness, Arkasva Devon Hart, High Lord of Glemaria, Imperator to the North.”

Everyone shuffled their feet, bowing and curtseying as my father entered the room, bringing a darkly heavy auric power that seemed to snuff out all the others.

Lord Draken bowed low and retreated through the back doors while my father stepped up onto the dais and took his place, standing proudly before his Seat. The Court’s forced adoration and his ability to command his audience left him pleased, but his chin twitched, revealing his simmering anger, snuffed beneath the surface of his being. It was a small movement I’d learned to watch for, one I knew to take as a warning.

“Be seated,” he commanded. The room obeyed, save for me and my mother, expected always to stand at his side, along with the soturi. They remained at attention, their faces alert, their hands on the hilts of their swords, and their feet wide, ready to break into a fight at any moment.

My father’s eyes narrowed in acknowledgment before he gave his full focus to his audience. “Thanks to the quick acting and powerful force of the Soturi of Ka Hart, Glemaria is safe. The threat of the akadim tonight was stopped. And it was done so miraculously without a single death to our people.”

The nobles cheered.

He continued, “I know how upsetting it can be to live through these experiences, but I want you all to know that it’s going to take more than five pathetic akadim to defeat our soturi.”

More cheers followed.

“Governed by my ruling and trained by Arkturion Kane Gaddayan and his Second, Turion Efraim Aravain we have once again proven that the strength of Glemaria, Ka Hart, and the Northern Lumerian Empire, should never be underestimated.”

“What about the gryphon?” came a call from the back of the room.

My father froze, his aura snapping. “Shot down,” he said. “As all of the Afeyan bastards have been.”

Dario’s father, Turion Ronan DeTerria, stood, his hair shorn severely short, the opposite of his son’s dramatic styling. “Our soturi have been closely monitoring the concern of the Afeyan gryphons crossing our borders. There is no cause for concern. It has been dealt with.” He offered a nod at my father, who only acknowledged Dario’s father with a quick flick of his eyes in his direction.

“And an invitation to Her Royal Highness Queen Ishtara has been extended,” my father said, his mouth smug as he absorbed his audience’s reaction.

I narrowed my eyebrows. We never invited the Afeyan Queen to Glemaria. I was under the impression she wouldn’t accept any form of invitation were it offered.

“I know what you are all thinking,” my father continued, “but I have put together some happy news to ease the pain of what we experienced tonight. As you may know,” he said coyly, “I have a rather special anniversary approaching. One I know you’ll all be eager to celebrate.” He stood, clearly loving the drama, his fingers stroking the ruby hilt of his sword, his hips pressed forward as he strutted to the end of the dais.

My mother sucked in a nervous breath beside me as a sense of foreboding ran down my spine.

“The week of my fiftieth birthday, and my twentieth year as your Arkasva and Imperator, will occur next month. And I thought, what better way to show you all how much I love being your leader and how grateful I am to our strong soturi for laying down their lives than to host a rather special event? One grand enough for even the Afeyan Queen to attend.” He chuckled, as if she were ridiculous for not having attended any of our previous events. “It shall serve as the perfect moment to address the concerns we have with the Afeya’s current activities.”

My father paused, his aura crackling with energy, and the doors to the Seating Room opened. Artem walked inside, his piercing gaze on my father before his eyes flicked to me. He slapped his thigh in acknowledgment then attempted a more structured bow to my father.

“Arrangements have been in the works for some time, thanks to Lord Draken and our noble gryphon handlers.” My father raised his hand in acknowledgment to Artem, whom he hadn’t bothered to name. Soturi ushered him aside, and all eyes returned to the dais, as my father’s chest puffed out. “Next month, beneath the full moon, I am proud to announce we’ll be holding an Alissedari .”

I tensed as an awed hush danced across the room. I’d only ever read about Alissedari in scrolls. It was an outdated form of entertainment considered rather barbaric by the current standards of the Empire. Many over the years had spoken out against this type of soturion tournament. It was fought for the pleasure of the Arkasva, based on the games fought in Lumeria Matavia for the kings and queens of old. But there were two major distinctions about an Alissedari that separated it from other tournament games.

The first was that it was fought on the backs of gryphons. Not just a gryphon that you plucked from the stables or knew well; you had to go out into the wilds to find one, often traveling for hours deep into the untamed forests, the places where the gryphons flew without rules. There, you had to convince a gryphon to let you ride it and then have the strength to direct it into battle. Half of the tournament’s players never even made it to the fight, as the Alissedari was often over by the time most soturi were able to mount and direct their gryphons. If there were even enough for each rider, forget there being enough willing to fly.

And second, the Alissedari only ended with one victor. To win the tournament, you had to either outlast the others in a show of stamina, become the last soturion riding their gryphon or, be the first to make a kill.

Soturi were precious to Glemaria—too many resources were thrown at their education and training to have them be killed so easily, and in a game no less, not when the threat of akadim continued to grow in the North. But every year in Academy classes—one was killed. Killed as a warning—as a reminder to the novices and apprentices of what was at stake—what happened if they did not train seriously, did not give the Academy their all.

Many soturi were injured, some to the point of dropping out, remaining maimed for life.

There was no doubt in my mind how the Allissedari would end.

With one kill. With the one kill allowed in the Academy.

One kill, and you won the Alissedari.

On receiving a single brutal look from my father, I already knew. I was to win. Or else.

It was the ultimate test, the ultimate show of strength for the Heir Apparent.

Perhaps I’ll find myself in need of a new Heir Apparent. And a new wife to make him with…

My father’s threat one year ago had been a constant shadow on my days. On my choices. On my every interaction with him.

I’d tried to get my mother out. Many times. I’d sworn I would. But I’d failed.

The best I could do was keep her safe—keep her alive. Keep her in her position of power.

But this… this felt like something else—something final in our unspoken agreement. I’d noticed a shift in my father’s demeanor recently. And couldn’t shake the feeling that this had all been planned for a long time, and that it was some kind of final test.

At the Alissedari, I was to bring my father honor.

Or…

I couldn’t even imagine the thought. I brought my attention back to the crowd before me.

I suddenly understood why Artem had been ushered here in the middle of the night—he’d had the job of releasing the untrained gryphons into the wild and confirming enough of the creatures existed for there to be just too few for those who desired to participate.

I expected nearly everyone at the Academy would.

Glemaria would be chaos from this moment forward. Soturi from all over the North would come to see the Alissedari. And every soturion at the Academy and in the Soturi of Ka Hart would be throwing their sword into the arena.

Dario, Garrett, and I would have no choice. Three sons of the Glemarian Council, three sons to men who held their positions of power through their show of strength.

My throat remained dry as my father began to announce the night’s heroes. He called up Arkturion Kane, whose cold, cruel aura lashed out at me as he stepped up onto the dais. He was honored and revered, praised for his strength and for his killing of not one but two of the monsters. And then his nephew, Kenna’s cousin, was called. Then, Dario’s father. And finally, Garrett.

He moved slowly, more injured than he was letting on, more shaken and afraid by the night’s events than he’d ever admit.

Our eyes met again; our promise reaffirmed as he stood on the dais with me. The sacred words we’d said earlier raced through my mind.

Ani dhara me sha el lyrotz.

I give you my oath in blood.

I will protect your life, and your Ka, from now until my last breath.

Me sha, me ka.

My back burned with fresh pain from the cut, as if remembering the words had sliced me open again. The longer I stood, the more I ached from my beating, and the more my soul hurt from my father’s words as my palms itched with ropes that were no longer restricting me. But I could still feel them—I could always feel them.

The nobility cheered. Aiden was clapping harder than I’d ever seen, and Dario looked ready to cry, the fight he’d been in earlier with Garrett completely forgotten. Further back stood Garrett’s mother, and his little sister Vanya, emotional, supportive, full of pride. They loved him so much, and showed it so easily in their faces. They still lacked the formal training of nobles, lacked the ability to withhold all show of emotion.

And then there was me… I just stood there, hardly cheering, barely able to smile.

Auriel’s bane, I couldn’t even be proud of Garrett, knowing all the ways this would be used against me. And maybe…maybe some deep secret part of me was bitter. He’d been the one to show weakness this time. Not me. He’d been the one to take me away. It was his fault I’d been robbed of my chance to prove myself.

After the heroes were acknowledged and seated, promises were made by my father that we were all once again safe. Court finally came to a close. Almost in time for breakfast.

Slowly, the room emptied until there remained only myself, my father, my mother, and my father’s personal escort, a dozen of his most loyal and vile soturi, their backs against the walls of green tapestry. The same bastards who’d watched him brutalize me just before without so much as a flinch.

“If you embarrass me again,” my father snarled, “if you run like a coward from this fight or you let some barely noble soturion beat you to it—” He grabbed my mother.

Bowen stiffened.

“Stop!” I yelled, as she cried out.

“Prove you are worthy of the name I gave you,” he said, his voice low.

I blinked back the tears in my eyes, watching the soturi in my peripheral vision not moving, not reacting.

“Twenty years,” he said. “Twenty years I’ve ruled. And what do I have to show for it?” He pushed my mother aside.

My heart jumped into my throat, but at least he didn’t have his hands on her for the moment. Bowen held out an arm for my mother until she regained her composure.

“Rhyan,” my father said, his voice now gentle and soft, full of love. He shook his head, his eyes drooping like he was speaking to a small child.

I felt my gut clench. The shifts in his demeanor never stopped leaving me feeling off-center, half-mad, and farther than Lethea.

He squeezed my shoulder. “You know what you must do. You know what is at stake if you fail. You will do whatever you must to win this tournament.”

He thrust his arm around my mother’s waist, and she offered me one sparing look, her eyes watery, before they headed for the Arkasva’s exit.

I stood trying to catch my breath beside the Seat of Power, alone with a dozen soturi—soldiers loyal to my father and my father alone.

Gods. Nothing was enough. Nothing was ever fucking enough for him. Losing the girl I loved. Taking to bed every noble he wished me to. Remaining quiet when he hurt my mother, standing by his side for hours upon hours without complaint. Taking the brunt of his hits, his punches, his lashes in silence.

I’d given my life, my blood, my soul to Glemaria. To his rule.

And now…now he wanted me to do the unthinkable.

Win the Alissedari . Not just give my life in his service and honor—but take one. Kill.

Win.

Across the room, the doors to the hall remained open, and Garrett stood in the threshold. Our eyes met, my back burning still, as he gave me one final look.