Page 2 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Our party reached the outer wall of the fortress and our personal seraphim port. A dozen of the giant birds, covered in cloudy white feathers with wings of pure gold, lay in waiting, their topaz blue carriages strapped to their backs. We split into three of the jewel-encrusted carriages. Jules, Morgana, and I piled into the last one with our three escorts.
Soturion Markan sealed the doors and retreated behind the partition with the other escorts. The floor shifted beneath us as our seraphim stood. She flapped her wings, rattling the windows as we took flight.
Once we were soaring, Jules sighed happily. “I’m so glad this happened on your birthday, Lyr.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful she formed an alliance between Ka Batavia and Ka Grey to be sealed in marriage,” Morgana said dryly.
“I’m seventeen,” I said, startled. “No one is getting married.” Not yet. There weren’t even talks of Meera finding a match, and she’d be the country’s High Lady within years.
Morgana narrowed her eyebrows. “Lyr, get your head out of your scrolls. Tristan’s twenty. Which is young.” She held up her hands. “But not for Ka Grey. They’re so Godsdamned old fashioned, Lyr. If he kissed you, then the proposal we’ve all suspected for years is coming.”
“No, it’s not. That’s ridiculous,” I said.
Morgana scoffed. “Lady Romula doesn’t letLord Tristan Greypiss unless it makes her more money or furthers her position in Bamaria.”
“Ew, Morgs.” Jules tapped a finger against her chin. “Though fair point.”
I frowned. “But Lady Romula is already Master of Finance. What higher position could she possibly want?”
“Grandmother of the groom to Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria, third in line from the Seat,” Jules said slyly. “As soon as your father passes the Laurel to Meera, you’ll be second from the Seat, Lyr. It’ll be tempting for her.”
I shrugged, glancing out the window. The beaches and countryside had already given way to the city of Urtavia and the Temple of Dawn, an ancient building designed in the shape of the Valalumir—the seven-pointed star. But the effect was only visible from above. Our ancestors desired everything to be aesthetically pleasing from the sky, spending so much of their day flying on the backs of seraphim.
We landed at the entrance to the red ray of the temple, the private door used only by my Ka. My father and his guard, along with Meera and Jules, both wearing the ceremonial white robes, were to enter the temple first—since all three had important roles to play.
Jules turned to yell back at me and Morgana. “See you after! And Lyr, I hope you’re not planning to spend all night with Tristan, because my magic and I have big plans for us! You too, Morgs!”
Morgana rolled her eyes as I grinned stupidly. Jules and I had been concocting all sorts of mischief for the night. Months of planning had gone into it. Elaborate spells, and jokes to play on all the guards at Cresthaven. And sneaking out to the city.
“No sleep!” I yelled back.
“None!” Jules threw her hand over her mouth and blew a kiss. “Love you!”
I threw one back and waved her inside. A sharp gust of wind blew my hair over my eyes and tangled it in my diadem. The wind was caused by the flapping wings of another seraphim bird landing. The descending topaz carriage was adorned with a giant flag boasting the sigil of Ka Grey: silver seraphim wings beneath a full silver moon. The carriage doors opened, and four mages exited followed by Tristan, looking breathtakingly handsome in a new blue tunic and bright silver belt. His stave was tucked into a silver scabbard hanging elegantly from his hip. My stomach tightened at the sight of him. His hand rested on his belt, the hand which had run down my back, over my hips, and across my breasts just an hour ago.
“Four escorts?” Morgana sneered. “I’m second to the Seat, and I only came with one.”
“Stop,” I said. “Lady Romula has always been…a bit extra. Tristan’s different.”
“Right. And I’m the Empress of Lumeria.” Morgana shook her head disdainfully and with her single soturion escort retreated into the Temple of Dawn.
Tristan ran his hand through his floppy brown hair—hair that I now knew was as soft as it looked. He strode toward me with the unapologetic confidence of a lord who would one day rule his Ka. A lord who would one day take a highly coveted seat on the Bamarian Council.
I took his hand and led him forward. Before any of our escorts could catch up, I settled us into a dark corner of the temple’s outer alcove, my back pressed against the cool stone. I licked my lips, slid my hands around his waist and pulled him close. One more kiss—one more moment just for me and my birthday before we had to put on our masks and present ourselves as pure, chaste nobility. His tongue slid against mine and for a moment, it was pure bliss. Until the shuffled footsteps of our escorts made themselves known and we sprung apart laughing.
Everyone who was anyone was inside. Nobles from ancient Kavim gathered in the aisles, admiring each other’s dresses and jewelry while gossiping. Beyond the inane chatter, anticipation hung in the air. Today there was an Heir Apparent in the Revelation Ceremony.
We gathered in my family’s pew in the red ray, closest to the raised circular dais of Auriel’s Chamber. On the lower stage, the soon-to-be mages and soturi sat cross-legged. Ropes glowed blue, sizzling with magic, creating a barrier between ceremony participants and those who’d come to watch. Just past the rope was the Seat of the Arkasva, my father’s golden throne.
With all the initiates in place, Arkmage Kolaya rose onto the dais, standing beneath the eternal flame. She was ancient, with dark brown skin and white hair that fell in twisted braids to the floor. As she began the opening prayers, chanting in High Lumerian, Tristan took my hand, his finger rubbing small circles into my palm. I angled toward him, and our knees bumped together. Grinning, Tristan leaned over, pulling my hair back to plant a kiss on my neck.
I shivered.
“For Gods’ sakes, Lyr. Everyone is looking at you,” Morgana hissed.
Peering over my shoulder, I found Aunt Arianna offering an understanding but stern look of disapproval. We were in public, at a state affair. A holy one at that. Every other teen in the back rows of the pews were doing Gods knew what with each other, but I couldn’t. I had a role to play. Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria. A paragon of virtue; pure, proper, and polite at all times. My relationship with Tristan would be endlessly scrutinized. As noble heirs to the heads of our Kavim, it was a matter of state, a political alliance. I could sense it now, the penetrating gazes of the nobility, their speculations.
Was Ka Batavia going to ally with Ka Grey?
