Page 11 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“It’s easier this way,” I said. “I don’t have to worry about any extra attention.”
Tristan pulled me closer. “Why do you care so much? Lyr, you’re perfect. In every way. You put too much pressure on yourself.”
I swallowed. Tristan knew me too well, knew how much I performed for the public, acted for their approval. He said I had a face I wore when I was Lady Lyriana and one I wore when I was just Lyr. I always worried he’d begin to understand my true motivation and my underlying fears behind my masks—that Ka Azria’s fate could be mine, that my sisters would end up like Jules, and that, above all, he’d be the one to turn us in.
“Are Galen and Haleika at the festival?” I asked, changing the subject.
Haleika was Tristan’s cousin and a good friend of mine, along with Galen, a member of Ka Scholar. We’d been in school together since we were all five and Tristan was eight.
Tristan nodded. “They went hours ago.” He spoke low, his voice full of intrigue. “They are spending quite a bit of time together lately.”
“Really?” I said in mock surprise. “Well, that is…just the most surprising thing ever.”
Everyone knew they liked each other but were too afraid to admit it, and it was just the sort of mindless gossip I needed to distract me from my sisters.
Tristan laughed. “I bet you three kisses that Haleika caves first and tells him how she feels. Five kisses that it happens this month.”
I frowned. “You think very highly of your kisses.”
He playfully swatted my arm then pulled me close to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Maybe I should bet you something bigger?” he asked, voice low. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him.
“You also think very highly of your—”
“Shhh!” he said, kissing me. “Anyway, I didn’t say where those kisses would be.”
I forced myself to relax under his flirtation and deepened the kiss.
He pulled back and laughed, his gaze falling behind me. “Where are Meera and Morgana?” His brown eyes passed down the waterway to Cresthaven. The fortress’s gold and blue tiles glistening beneath the sun had the appearance of waves rising from the ocean. “Surely they’re not going to miss it.” There was an air of disapproval in his voice. Lately, he’d been noting how infrequently they appeared on the social scene.
Why couldn’t we continue talking about Haleika and Galen? Flirting and kissing? I was so tired. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, I lied for them. They were fine. Just going later. Working hard on some birthday surprise for me. Nothing to worry about. Tristan held me close, as if I were the dearest thing in the world to him. And yet…if he discovered Meera’s secret, or Morgana’s, I knew he’d turn us in. I knew he’d believe he had to. Tristan was a loyal Lumerian, and a fierce vorakh hunter.
I squeezed his hand. “The seraphim’s ready. Let’s go.”
Tristan nodded and waved to the two mages who formed his personal escort.
The great white bird with wings of pure gold feathers lay flat on the ground before us. The blue carriage strapped to her back, adorned with mosaic tiles, glittered in the sun. I climbed aboard after Tristan; his escorts followed and closed the door.
The floor shifted beneath my feet as the seraphim rose, causing wind to swirl through the windows. As the bird’s giant wings flapped, her golden feathers gleamed with sunlight. A tilt of the carriage, and we were off. Just as the seraphim began to soar, Tristan closed the windows and the partitions, giving us privacy from the escorts. Again, he asked about my sisters. Was Meera feeling well? She’d looked rather frail the other day at dinner.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Part of me wanted to cry. To tell Tristan everything. For him to hug me and hold me and tell me it would be all right. I wished for him to know the truth and still believe I was perfect and worthy of his love. I wished for him to say my sisters were also worthy of protection and kindness. I wanted him to soothe the scratches on my skin and kiss away the cuts of Meera’s nails, the bruises that purpled my back. I was tired of bandaging my own wounds. Sick of icing my bruises in secret after I’d taken care of everyone else. Exhausted from determining which dresses and jewels hid and concealed our scars and always making sure I was in the dark or partially clothed when Tristan and I were intimate. I wanted to tell him my secret and for him to promise he’d protect me. But I couldn’t. We were on opposite sides of a deadly wall.
With Tristan I always had two options. Lie to him. Or distract. Today, I chose distraction—needing it for myself as well.
I crawled onto his lap, my lips on his. I was stiff at first as usual, as the memory of Tristan telling me that Jules had to die bubbled to the surface. It always held me back, kept me from completing our relationship physically, though we came close. I willed my lips to soften over his.
“Hey,” he said, eyes darting to the partition concealing his escorts. “Are you all right?”
I bit his lower lip. “Why are you still talking?”
His breath quickened, and his hips lifted, pressing against me. This wasn’t the quick flirtatious touch we’d had outside. Warmth filled his aura, wrapping like a cocoon of lust and sensuality around me.
I closed my eyes as he pulled back my cloak, his mouth seeking my neck, tongue hot against my skin, arms holding me even closer, hips rocking against mine, and I pretended that he did understand, and that everything was all right. I pretended that he didn’t just know me but understood me, the real me, and that everything was perfect between us—and it was, as long as he kept touching me. As long as I kept my eyes shut.
CHAPTER THREE
ASTHESERAPHIMlanded,Tristan’s escorts pulled back the partition, heading straight for the litter station. I rearranged my dress, smoothed back my hair, and pulled my hood up once more. Tristan coughed, readjusting his tunic and belt.
Urtavia, the biggest city in Bamaria, was overflowing with people. The sun combined with the population left the air blisteringly hot compared to the fields and waterways outside Cresthaven. My hooded cloak only made it worse, and I cursed myself for having such a recognizable appearance. The air was thick with the scent and taste of spices. Lumerians from all over were speaking in multiple languages, as singers and musicians appeared, loudly announcing the celebration of Auriel’s Feast Day. Energy swirled over the streets, auras mixing and pulsing together, creating one expansive, chaotic flow that consumed the city.
