Page 20 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
But within seconds I couldn’t see him. I could barely breathe as the mob drew closer, stinking of unwashed bodies. Sweat mixed with the putrid herbs from the anti-akadim bracelets, a thick scent that filled my senses and coated my skin.
I threw out my arms in defense, but they were brushed aside. A mass of bodies descended on me, pushing me back and to the ground. An elderly man fell on top of me, his arm crushing my chest. I gasped, choking for breath, pounding on him to get off. But someone else toppled on him, pinning down my arms. Panic rose, my breath shortening, and a twisting, shredding feeling cut its way from my heart to my stomach. I was being crushed, everything caving in. I couldn’t breathe….
And then…the pressure released. The bodies were flung off me. I gulped at the sudden onset of air, and breath filled my lungs. Tristan stood there, one hand reaching for me, the other wrapped around his stave, holding the crowd back. A man charged at us, and with one flick of Tristan’s wrist, he flew backwards, crashing into the mob behind him. Tristan pulled me to his side, and his stave released a white light that domed over us. A protective wall of silver glittered beyond it. His escort behind us also pointed their staves, reinforcing Tristan’s dome with extra shields of protection.
I squeezed Tristan’s hand, my fingers gripping tighter than they ever had before, and stood.
“Lyr!” Tristan’s voice was a strangled whisper. He pulled back, his eyes scanning me for injury, lips pursed in concentration as he held the protection spell around us. “By the Gods, Lyr. I could have lost you. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not. Just surprised,” I said, willing my voice to sound even and calm. Automatically, I twisted from his hold, so used to hiding my injuries from Meera. My knee buckled, but I shook it off, determined to look strong. Part of me was ready to run back into the litter and home to Cresthaven, but hearing the fight continue made my blood boil. I’d come this far, and now that I’d seen it was Rhyan out there, I wasn’t leaving without him.
It was five against one, but as I looked closer, I saw Rhyan wasn’t defending himself. He was on the offense. He knocked two wolves to the ground and was circling a third. These were anointed soturi, trained to be the toughest warriors in Lumeria, skilled and strong enough to kill akadim. And they were being taken down by Rhyan, half their age.
With a swift spin, Rhyan knocked the soturion before him unconscious. The two remaining soturi’s faces were red. The closer one grabbed Rhyan’s arms from behind, turning him to face me. His eyes locked with mine.
My heart pounded, and I stepped forward. “I said, release him. You’re unlawfully holding his grace, Lord Rhyan Hart, Heir Apparent to the Arkasva, High Lord of Glemaria, Imperator to the North.”
Tristan stiffened beside me. I could practically feel his eyes wandering over Rhyan’s disheveled appearance and finding him lacking as a lord and Heir. “Shit…Lord Rhyan? Lyr, he’s dangerous.”
“He’s not,” I seethed. “I know him.”
“So do I,” Tristan said darkly.
Rhyan bowed formally, with an elegance seen only in those groomed to be High Lord. “Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the….” He stood, waving his hand with a flourish of dismissal. “Well, we all know who you are, your grace. I had hoped to see you! Though I wasn’t expecting to in the streets. And while we’re discussing titles, I must inform you of the error you’ve made with mine.” He wriggled his nose. “It’s just Rhyan now.”
“You stupid girl,” shouted the soturion.
My hands fisted. “I believe you’ve mispronounced your grace.”
The soturion sneered. “This gryphon-shit here is forsworn,your grace. You know the law. Forsworns must be punished upon crossing the borders of the Lumerian Empire—especially this one. We’re giving him justice.”
“You are a watchdog, not a judge! And you’re on my land now, where I am Heir. Only the Council of Bamaria can give him justice.”
“Watchdog!” The soturion growled, tightening his grip. His gaze moved past me, and I knew what he was planning. But I was faster.
Before he could appeal to the crowd, I shouted, “Any forsworn that enters these lands may first seek sanctuary with Arkasva Batavia. Clemency may be granted, especially on such a holy day as Auriel’s Feast Day! As Heir, it’s my duty to bring him before my High Lord. Bamarians still have a great sense of justice, and I will uphold it.” I lowered my voice. “You have no jurisdiction here. Now, unless you want to be considered forsworn yourself and reported to your arkturion, you will release him to me.”
“Lyr, no!” Tristan yelled behind me.
I walked forward, leaving behind the protection of Tristan’s magic, took Rhyan’s hand, and pulled him to me.
His soturion captor was too surprised to hold onto Rhyan with any real effort. That was the problem with these wolves, they always underestimated Bamarians. And women.
“Seriously? What are you—” Rhyan started.
“Suit yourself, your grace!” called out the soturion. “This here shit killed his mother.”
Rhyan stiffened, becoming a deadweight that I had to literally tug forward. He twisted around and spat at the soturion. “I’ll kill you next,” he snarled.
The crowd was closing in on me again, but I was faster this time. Tristan’s escort created an opening for me to pull Rhyan through, into the dome of light. My hand still tight around his, we emerged back into safety. It was like stepping into fresh air—air tinged with Tristan’s fury. His anger spilled out from his aura and threaded itself into the shield.
“Lyr,” Tristan hissed. “This is a bad idea. He’s forsworn.”
“He’s an Heir,” I snapped. But I was starting to doubt my choice.
“Pardon me,” said Rhyan. He spoke with a light northern lilt I hadn’t heard in years. “But while I was an Heir to the Arkasva and Imperator and so on, I’m not now, and cannot be addressed as such. I am forsworn, as Lord, um—sorry….” Rhyan paused, scrunching up his face at Tristan. At last, his gaze fell upon Tristan’s ring, and he smirked. “Ah, of course. Dripping in silver, I see. I am asLord Greysays I am. A forsworn bastard, at your service.” He bowed deeply, the movement gracefully at odds with his words and appearance.
I glared. “Whatever you are, you’re coming with me. End of discussion.” I took Tristan’s hand. “You too, Lord Grey.” I dragged both of them back to the litter.
