Page 101 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Unfortunately,” I said. I was drinking it black, and though it tasted like shit, I kept drinking. It was the only thing keeping me semi-conscious.
Galen laughed. “That’s no way to talk about your extra-curricular activities with Tristan.” He shimmied his shoulders.
“Galen, gross!” Haleika stuck out her tongue. “He’s my cousin.”
“You’re right. How about we discuss your extra-curricular activities?” Galen’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Only if you want to talk about yours!” Haleika smacked his arm.
I crossed my eyes in my half-awake haze. Were they actually together now? Or was this just more teasing? I’d started to lose track weeks before, and neither of them ever confirmed or denied anything.
Haleika turned toward me and lowered her voice. “Are you ready for tonight?”
I shrugged. “I can throw a punch now. But so can everyone else. Rhyan showed me some more avoiding tactics for the five and how to use the silver ring against my opponents.”
On a rare day when he’d seemed more talkative, he’d admitted that I had been holding my own during the first part of my clinic, and that it had been brilliant to use the Ka Kormac soturion’s strength against him. He had me practice evading, standing still, and letting him run at me until he gained full momentum and jumping away at the last second. It had been a nice moment between us. But then I’d missed my cue, and instead of leaping out of the way, Rhyan had leapt on me.
We’d crashed onto the mat, his body pressing mine down, both of us breathing heavily, our eyes meeting. Then he’d rolled off to the side and announced we were back to our regular training protocol. His ice shield back up.
“Lyr, you know it’s not just regular clinic tonight. It’s a habibellum. Everyone is fighting in the arena, and the apprentices are observing.” Haleika’s brown eyes flicked across the room to land on Leander.
I swallowed. “Habibellum? So we’re all…all of us?” I gestured around the room.
Galen looked excited. “The Katurium mage sets up like a dozen silver rings, and some of us go in, and others are out. Then the mage will release and create new rings as they see fit. But if you’re out of a ring, any soturion is game for a fight.”
Shit. It was bad enough that I had to participate in the clinic and that Rhyan would be there, but this…fuck.
I took a very long sip of coffee, my gaze landing on Rhyan. He looked up like he’d immediately sensed me, then returned to the scroll he’d unraveled at his table and continued to read alone but with that air of power and purpose. Everything in his body language still said he was a future high lord. Though the wolves of Ka Kormac still watched him, they never did more than circle him—not since that first day.
We shuffled onto the field for the morning run. My sandals sank into the grass, and within seconds my feet were soaked. It had rained all night long, and fog blanketed the entire city of Urtavia, leaving no sign of the sun. Mist swirled through the arena, leaving the air damp. Another storm was coming and would probably be here by the end of the night.
Despite not speaking to each other, I’d been running beside Rhyan lately. As I was wiping the mud off my sandals and stepping onto the track, he signaled for me to join him. I threw my head back, almost dizzy with exhaustion, and managed to place my dagger into the ground beside his.
I was supposed to begin the stretching protocol he’d had me memorize the week before, but I simply stood there, yawning, hunched over with my hands on my knees.
“Lyr,” Rhyan hissed. “Hey!” He snapped his fingers in my face. “Wake up!”
I rubbed at my eyes, realizing I’d fallen asleep standing up. Myself to Moriel. I should have downed another cup of coffee. My head was pounding. “I am awake.”
“Not enough,” he muttered. “Fuck. Lyr, open your eyes.”
I did, but barely. Rainy, foggy days always made me want to curl up in bed for the day and either sleep or read a scroll. My current exhaustion levels weren’t helping.
He shook his head. “Just keep your eyes open. No more sleeping on the track.”
I glared but took position, only wobbling slightly before the bells rang. Aemon appeared in the field, sweeping his arms overhead. The bells sounded louder and louder, and in the sky, the ashvan horses raced over clouds on their patrol. Blue lights glowed faintly behind the fog in the sky.
It was time for the run to start, but Aemon didn’t call it.
A strong gust of wind blew across the arena, powerful enough to push me back. I stumbled into Rhyan’s arms. His hold on me tightened instantly. There was a rumbling sound in the sky—not quite thunder but similar. The wind picked up strength, and the fog seemed to grow thicker.
I expected to feel raindrops falling, but instead it looked like the fog was moving, almost like clouds. There was another crack of that thunderous sound, and a shadow appeared in the fog, pushing against it. The shadow blackened, the color deepening until little lights sparkled through.
A black seraphim, glittering, majestic, and so completely wrong emerged from the haze.
The Emartis.
“Get the mage!” Aemon screamed. His vadati stone glowed blue at his ear as he began barking orders too low for me to hear. Turion Dairen’s eyes widened, and with his hand on the hilt of his sword and a nod to his arkturion, he raced through the nearest entrance.
