Page 123 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
He let out a huff of amusement. “My best friend, Dario. Often finds himself with a great need to drink more than everyone else and remain unconscious when he should be getting up for training.” He sat down beside me. “Ready?”
I reached up between the press of the bed against my torso for the hem of the tunic bunched around my collarbone and pulled it down my belly. “Ready.”
“All right, partner, onto your side, up you go.”
I turned over, and Rhyan scooped me into his arms. Weakly, I wrapped my arm around his neck, my head falling against his chest as he stood. The motion left me dizzy. And impressed. How did he still have strength left? He hadn’t been hurt, but he’d torn through all his energy stores, giving them to me, and then he’d cared for me all night, even using what was left in his aura to freeze out my fever. He blew out the candles as he passed them. A tug of nausea pulled in my stomach, and I clenched my eyes shut, breathing deeply through my nose. I couldn’t get sick again, not in his arms.
Rhyan headed for the door, and somewhere in the hall of his apartment building, I passed out again. I woke to my apartment door unlocking. There was a loud click, and we were inside. But we weren’t alone.
The entire place had been lit up—there were candles and floating torches everywhere. Even floating amethysts had been spelled to light up the way they did in the Great Library.
“Aren’t you two cozy?”
I startled, nearly falling out of Rhyan’s hold.
Lounging on my couch, his feet propped up against the arm, was the Afeya, Mercurial. His blue skin had taken on a warmer hue than before, more of a midnight color against the flames.
“What are you doing here?” Rhyan asked, backing over the threshold.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Mercurial scolded. He swept his silken black hair over his shoulder, gathering the gleaming locks into sections that he began to braid. “I wouldn’t go out there into the hall, not with the sun so close to rising. Soturi waking from their beds, stumbling to use the bathing chambers, seeing our forsworn apprentice and his novice entangled in each other’s arms after a night alone together. Most forbidden.”
I could feel Rhyan tensing against me, standing straighter and holding his ground.
“Come back in here,” Mercurial crooned. “You know I’m right. Plus, it’s so warm.”
As if on cue or perhaps some machinations of the Afeyan, a door opened down the hall, the sound of it followed by muffled, sleepy voices.
Rhyan stumbled forward, and my front door slammed shut behind us.
“Much better,” Mercurial drawled. “Welcome to the party.”
“Put me down,” I said, heart pounding. I couldn’t face Mercurial like this. Even weakened, I needed to be on my own two feet.
Rhyan released his hold on me at once, setting me down. I stumbled, dizzy and disoriented. It took me a moment to find my balance. The brew he’d given me was starting to wear off, and a fresh bout of pain, sharp and biting in my back, elicited a gasp.
“Her grace looks like she is in desperate need of her bed. I believe she was in desperate need of it all night. But, based on the fact that I see from it here it is empty—how scandalous.” His lips formed an exaggerated “O” shape, and his eyes widened before he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I think we can safely assume that the Lady Lyriana Batavia did not see her own bed tonight.”
“She’s hurt,” Rhyan snarled. “And you shouldn’t be in here.”
“Shouldn’t I?” he asked. He wiggled his nose, and green vines formed within the braid he’d created, tying themselves off at the end. Red flowers bloomed across the vine, shining against his black hair. “It seems you both are in need. And I have a great ability to satisfy such…cravings.”
“We’ll alert Arkturion Aemon you’ve trespassed,” Rhyan said. “It’s one thing to approach us in temple. But this is her grace’s private apartment. Get out. Now.”
“So rude,” Mercurial said, snaking his hips as he stood. He sauntered over to me, running his fingers over the arm of the tunic I wore—Rhyan’s tunic, at least three sizes too big for me.
“What a fashion statement,” Mercurial crooned. “Did this come from the private collection of Lord Rhyan Hart?”
“Still not a lord,” Rhyan seethed.
“My mistake. Did this come from the private collection of his not-lord?” Mercurial stepped in front of Rhyan, close enough that their noses nearly touched. “Any in my size?”
Rhyan shook his head, rolling his shoulders back, but he held the Afeya’s stare. “Arkturion Aemon will be hearing about this.”
Mercurial burst into laughter, the sound just as hypnotic and bell-like as it had been that first time in the temple. “I expect he will. But I am here right now. Let us have a little chat. My dear, Lady Lyriana. What do you know of the Afeya?”
I swallowed. This was a trick. He was trying to lure me into asking him a question, into making a deal. Rhyan caught my eye, shaking his head ever so slightly.
My eyes met the Afeyan’s. His were dark, hypnotic. I swayed a little on the spot, grabbing for a side table, blinking until my head was clear. “I know what I need to know,” I said carefully.
