Page 10 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Arianna remained composed as ever, smiling politely at the intruders. Had she not noticed the insult? Or was she simply keeping the peace? I debated glaring in response—a debate I squashed quickly. I knew what day it was, what was at stake. I forced a smile, thinking of the old saying,Never wake a sleeping wolf.Two wolves from the hills of Korteria stood before me now, both very much awake.
“Arkasva Batavia awaits you in the Seating Room,” my aunt said. “I’ll join momentarily.”
Imperator Kormac bowed, and his chin-length blonde hair fell over his face as the Bastardmaker moved forward, his watery eyes lingering too long on me.
Once the sound of their footsteps faded, I reeled on Arianna. “What are they doing here? Since when is Ka Kormac invited to sit in the private Council meetings of Bamaria?”
“Keep your voice down,” my aunt hissed, her blue eyes moving back and forth to be sure we were alone. She placed her hands on my shoulders, walking me backward behind a column. “Of course, they’d never be invited to the Council. They’re here for a safety meeting. With recent events, the Senate wished to revisit our plans for border protection protocol when the university’s in session. The Emperor himself signed off on it.”
My stomach twisted. Of course, he had; the Imperator was the Emperor’s nephew. “But we’re in Bamaria. It’s a Bamarian issue.”
She shook her head. “Students are arriving today from every southern country in the Empire, and while they are enrolled in the University of Bamaria, their protection needs extend beyond the Soturi of Ka Batavia. As long as we keep our doors open for students across the Empire, the issue is bigger than us. And as Master of Education, I could hardly refuse a Senate-requested meeting about student safety.”
“We’re not allowing more soturi from Ka Kormac inside Bamaria, are we?” In recent years, they’d been granted permission to guard the university and Urtavia, the city surrounding it. No other country tolerated foreign soturi to be armed within their borders. But ever since my father had come into power, we’d had to endure it. All my life, I’d watched with increasing dread as Ka Kormac’s presence grew in numbers; year after year, more of their soldiers arrived, all under the guise of student safety.
“I must attend the meeting to find out,” she said. “With the recent attack, Lumerians are nervous sending their children here. Your father must appear strong enough to protect them.”
“He must appear strong enough? Who thinks him weak?” I bit my lip.
Arianna’s nostrils flared in frustration. We both knew the truth: many thought him weak. Riots and protests had broken out when he became Arkasva seventeen years earlier. It had been the country’s greatest scandal—the first man ever to rule Bamaria, the first male Arkasva Batavia. Never before had the country been ruled by a High Lord. Traditionally, the line had always passed to the next woman in the Batavia bloodline, from mother to daughter, or sister. Power did not pass from wife to husband. But Meera was only four when my mother died, too young. Tradition would have had the Seat of the Arkasva pass to Aunt Arianna, but my mother’s will had named my father as Heir Apparent.
Despite his best efforts to quell the unrest and defeat the rumors of will tampering and a coup at my mother’s deathbed, he’d been unsuccessful. During his first public appearance, protests turned into a mob of frenzied Bamarians out for his blood. He’d doubled the soturi’s efforts to police Urtavia against riots. But his limp reminded everyone of what had happened. The claims of illegitimacy had never left him, even after he named Meera as Heir Apparent and agreed to abdicate to her once she finished her schooling.
“Our borders haven’t been attacked in years,” Arianna said. “Bamaria is strong. We defeated the monster. The people know this, but they need reminding. We must control what they see.”
I swallowed.Control what they see.It was the lesson Arianna had forced me to learn when Jules was taken, and what I’d done every day since. I’d become the most perfect Heir to the Arkasva. Always dressed in the latest fashions, paying attention in temple, earning perfect grades and saying the right thing at the right time. I told witty jokes, performed the most fluid water dances, and never appeared with even a pin out of place. If Meera was shy and frail, I was bold and strong. If Morgana drank too much and slept around, I was the pure, virtuous lady by strong and handsome Lord Tristan’s side. I strangled rumors, covered missteps, and danced day and night to keep everyone’s eyes on me and not my sisters. I couldn’t lose anyone else I loved.
I tried to consider the perception of what was happening now with our borders. An increased presence of soturi might make people feel safe after an attack—ifthe soturi were from Ka Batavia. But when we relied on soturi from another country, loyal to a foreign Ka and Arkasva, didn’t that make us look weak?
Arianna smoothed my cloak. “Be careful out there today.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Meera and Morgana aren’t joining you?” Something in her tone hinted at far more than her question—a sneaking suspicion.
“I’m meeting Tristan, and they have other plans.” My skin itched, my blood oath scars suddenly irritated. I wrapped my hand around my wrist even though I knew she couldn’t see the marks. A week after my arm had stopped burning, I’d gone with Meera and Morgana into Urtavia for a tattoo. In case anyone realized the skin there was permanently mutilated, I could blame it on the tattoo artist. Meera had gotten a sun, Morgana the phases of the moon. I’d chosen the Valalumir and inked the sigil of Ka Batavia inside the seven-pointed star. When Morgana’s vorakh had appeared the following year along with a twin blood oath to scar my skin, I’d added smaller stars on either side, extending from my elbow to wrist.
Arianna nodded, offering me a quick, tight hug. “I’ll see you tonight, my dear.”
The doors flew open as she waved, heading down the hall, and I felt that familiar twinge of guilt twist. I’d wanted to tell her about Meera and Morgana so many times to bring her into our circle and seek her comfort and advice.
The tattoos felt inflamed beneath my hand, irritated, almost feverish. The blood oath sensed my desire to break my promise, warning me of the consequences if I should speak. Father’s words about Ka Azria that first night rushed through my mind.
They made a very grave error. Too many knew.
Arianna should’ve been told, she should’ve been sworn in. But every time the oath was sworn, its power weakened.We four keep this secret. We four die by this secret.
I walked quickly past Euston and Rhodes, still as statues guarding Cresthaven’s doors, and denied my escort as I headed down the waterway. Soturion Markan frowned and walked forward from beneath the shade of a tree where he stood guard. Again I denied him, offering an obscene gesture. He stood back, technically unable to refuse my dismissal, or so I liked to think…we both knew I was only trading my personal escort for Tristan’s. Otherwise, Markan would have gone to my father to intervene or followed me anyway. Fucking bastard. Himself to Moriel.
With the sun at its peak, the waterway was full of glittering blue ocean waves running beneath the clear glass. I watched the stream rushing past, trying to keep up with its flow until I reached the seraphim port.
Tristan stood waiting, handsome as ever in a teal blue tunic with a silver sash low on his hips. His sandals laced up his calves, the black leather glistening with silver thread.
“There’s my birthday girl. I was about to storm the fortress to find you.” His lips were on mine instantly, his hands running up and down my back, tangling in my hair. I froze, and my lips stilled. A second later, I kissed him back. I’d had a delayed response to his touch every day for the last two years.
“Sorry I was late,” I said.
“No escort today?” Tristan took in my cloak, black and what he would have considered poor-quality material, along with my bare forehead. No golden diadem in place. He shook his head. “Lyr, you are an Heir to the Arkasva. It’s not a bad thing to act like it.”
“It is when the Arkasva forbids his Heirs from entering the city.”
“Forbids without an escort,” he countered. “Just bring one, then there’s no need to hide. Come on, I can practically hear Soturion Markan pouting.” He made his own pouty face. “You’re making his job obsolete.”
