Page 17 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
My stomach twisted as I drew back the curtains. Mages wearing the silver sigils of Ka Grey wings and moons on their tunics emerged from the shadows. I should have spotted them; known they were there. From the knowing look on Tristan’s face, I realized he’d been fully aware. That was why he’d let me win and stay out—his own backup had been rampant in the city.
“Tristan,” I said, grabbing his arm.
He quickly kissed my cheek before he positioned himself at the door of our litter. “Wait here, you’ll be safe with my escort.”
“Tristan,” I said again, voice trembling as I fought back tears.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, mistaking my worry for his safety.
He leapt from the litter to the ground, drawing his stave from his silver scabbard.
In a flash, he was racing through the crowd, his mages appearing in formation behind him. The vorakh in question, thesituation, was one of the dancers we’d seen earlier from Ka Daquataine—the one who’d been so fluid, so free with her movements, I’d thought she was the lead dancer. Now, she was standing still, her eyes widening in fear. An edge of cold breezed through the curtains and wrapped around me until I was shivering. I knew that cold. The cold of visions. The girl’s face was a perfect mirror of Meera’s. Her fellow dancers surrounded her, their stances protective, but wary. They hadn’t been watching her earlier for dance cues; they’d been watching to see if she’d have a vision.
But as Tristan fought his way through the crowd and the other mages appeared, staves drawn, the dancers backed away. There was no saving her. Just as there had been no saving Jules.
The girl thrashed and screamed, her eyes turning feral. Tristan slowed, widening his stance, as he pointed his stave at her throat. My body went numb. I was frozen with the chill eking off the force of the vorakh, the fear I felt, the cowardice, and the weight of the mask I wore every day.
Everything in my body shouted at me to move. To help her. To save her. To jump on Tristan’s back and stop him from what he was about to do. I wanted to shout at her friends to defend her, tell them they were cowards. But how could I when I was no better? I couldn’t save her. I’d stood back when it had happened to me. And I’d stand back now, no matter how sick I felt. If I didn’t, I might damn my sisters.
Tristan moved like a mountain cat, smooth and quick. Lethal. He was already one of the most accomplished mages in Bamaria.
“I am Lord Tristan Grey.” The fierceness of his conviction, the fire of his anger, and the rage and hatred he held against those with vorakh—especially those with visions—burst from him. He could not control his temper, not when it came to this. Those who remained in the crowd slowly backed away, offering a wide berth between him and his prey. “You have been accused of possessing vorakh in the first order, the power of visions. I will bind you and hand you over to the Soturi of Ka Batavia, where you will be arrested and sentenced by his Highness, the Imperator.”
The girl screamed harder, her entire body convulsing. The crowd was shrieking in support of Tristan, condemning her.
“Vorakh! Vorakh! They all must drown!”
He stalked forward and thrust out his stave. She ran at him, her fingers pulled back into claws, swiping at Tristan. But he was faster. Stronger. Black shadows unfurled from the tip of his stave, coiling and uncoiling, until they snapped like snakes around her body, glowing a violent, bloody red, before settling into glittering black. The girl’s scream stopped as the binding took hold, her arms trapped by her side. Her power was no longer hers to touch. Her mouth remained open in horror, eyes widened, as she slumped forward, eyes rolling back. The girl fell into Tristan’s arms. He hoisted her over his shoulder, her body limp, and carried her over to some nameless soturion of Ka Batavia. He took her with ease, tossing her over his golden-armored shoulder like she was nothing more than a sack of rice. Then the soturion was off, and Tristan stood in the crowd receiving applause while tears streamed down my cheeks. I slumped back in my seat in the litter, every inch of my body shaking.
CHAPTER FIVE
“GODS,LYR!”TRISTANclimbedback into the litter.
I hastily wiped the tears from my cheek, panic swelling inside of me. Tristan had taken that girl down so easily, without a second thought. Like she hadn’t mattered.
Jules hadn’t mattered…not after everyone saw what she was. It had been the same.
“Lyr?” He crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his. “It’s all right now. It’s over.”
I swallowed, nodding. Right. It was all right. It was over. Tristan had been the hero, not the villain, in that scene. I couldn’t be crying for that girl, just as I hadn’t been allowed to cry for Jules. I had to be Lady Lyriana again. My chest heaved as I drew up the words I needed to say, tasting the bile of them on my lips.
“I was worried for you,” I said in a hushed whisper. There was still too much emotion inside of me to use the full force of my voice. “She was so violent.” I thought of Meera. Of the map of cuts and bruises that wounded my entire body. Of the scratches down my back from today alone due to the unnatural strength that came with her vorakh.
“Lyr, I’m all right,” he said, cupping my chin. “I was never in danger.”
“I know, but….” I trailed off. Tristan’s physical well-being had never been in doubt, not with his skill and strength. But emotionally, vorakh affected Tristan as much as they did me. Just for different reasons. “I hate when these things draw up bad memories for you.” When he was a small boy, his life had been destroyed by vorakh. He’d seen something no one should at any age. From then, his Ka had made hunting vorakh their pride, along with silver.
His eyebrows drew together in concern, his eyes shining as he leaned forward and kissed my right cheek, then the left, before his lips found mine, tasting of the salt of my tears.
I learned long ago that as much as I’d been bred a noble and Heir, raised in a court of charmers and liars, I couldn’t always wear a mask clever enough to disguise my feelings. As much as I hardened my heart, there was a part of me that couldn’t lock away my emotions. And when my heart threatened to reveal the traitor I was, I knew the only way to hide a lie was to reveal a truth. It was true that Tristan was affected by this, and as much as what had just happened made me sick and want to throw myself out of this litter, I did care for him. Deeply.
Our kiss deepened, and I slid off the bench onto his lap where he still crouched on the floor. “I love you,” I breathed.
“I love you.” He braced himself, one hand holding onto the bench, the other snaking around my waist, and kissed me with a fierceness I’d rarely felt. I’d seen how powerful he was as a mage. I knew what he did, what his family stood for. But I’d never witnessed it in action or felt the ferocity running through him right after, a ferocity that ran through the part of his body very much at attention between his legs.
Vorakh hunting, the arrests…they left him in a heightened state. Excited. I’d known this, but I’d never been with him so close after one. I was going to be sick. But if I pulled away now—after I’d initiated so much physical contact, after I’d expressed how much I cared….
I sucked in a shaky breath and pressed against him, closing my eyes, willing my sadness and fear and anxiety and disgust to transform into something else entirely. My hips rocked against his. Gods, he was so hard. I bit my lower lip, and ground against him as I forced an escaped sob to sound like a moan. Tristan inhaled sharply.
