Page 21 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
We drew the curtains, sitting tensely and separately, our eyes moving back and forth between each other. Outside, the crowd still shouted, but their calls sounded distant, blurred by the protection Tristan’s escort continued to shine around us. Tristan released his spell on the dome, but he still held his stave, pointing it at Rhyan, the tip aimed at his throat.
“You understand if I don’t trust you,” he said.
Rhyan smiled. “Hold your toys as long as you like, Lord Grey.”
Tristan glared but turned his attention on me, holding his stave steady like a knife. Rhyan rolled his eyes at the protective stance, but now Tristan’s anger was focused on me.
“Well, Lyr, in case you were wondering, your plan to not draw attention to yourself worked brilliantly. You might as well have forgotten the cloak and worn your diadem instead. Next time bring Soturion Markan and the Arkasva’s entire personal guard. Maybe hold a flag and walk behind a string of musicians. I’ll hire someone to release fireworks spelling your name.”
“Enough, I get it.” I sank back against the pillows.
Rhyan shifted in his seat, his knees angled toward me. “Oh, that was you being discreet?” He lifted one eyebrow—the one without the scar. “I must ask you for tips on how to do so in the future—seeing as how I’m a depraved criminal on the run from the law and Emperor and all. Now, personally, I thought it would be best not to shout your name and title to the crowd you were trying to hide from, but what do I know? Please, enlighten me.”
“I wouldn’t speak if I were you.” Tristan cocked his head, shifting closer to me. “We just saved your life.” He lifted his stave to Rhyan’s neck, suggesting he could end it as well.
“Saved me? From what? Those Kormac pups?” Rhyan grimaced and leaned back, coolly pushing Tristan’s stave aside. “I don’t love things pointed at my neck, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind.”
Rhyan smirked. “I assure you, your threat is just as strong from here…unless your magic only spans a few small inches?”
Tristan glowered but pulled his hand back, his grip tightening around the stave.
“Anyway,” Rhyan continued, as if we were old friends having a casual conversation, “maybe you couldn’t see from behind your fancy curtains, but I had it under control.”
Tristan scoffed. “And those pups had you on your back.”
I sat forward. “There were five of them on you.”
Rhyan rolled his eyes, a look of derision spreading across his face. “Typical mage ignorance—no offense. But five on one is standard for a soturion. I trained with tougher opponents before I could shave.”
“Tougher than the one you killed in your father’s tournament?” Tristan asked.
“Tougher than you imagine yourself in your dreams,” Rhyan said, his voice low, his aura pulsing, warmer than I’d expected of someone who’d been so cold. “You truly shouldn’t have bothered. I could have taken them all down if I wanted. But unlike you,” he slowly pushed Tristan’s stave, which had wandered back toward his neck, aside, “I was actually trying to be discreet. A few more minutes, and they would have tired of me.”
“And with your little plan to wait them out,” said Tristan, “you drew a mob.”
“Well,” Rhyan said with a shrug, “I can’t say every plan I have has worked out for me. Obviously, since I’m forsworn and all.” His right eye narrowed while the left with the scar remained still. The scar was still red. I wondered if it was a recent injury. As if he noticed me inspecting it, he mussed the curls on his head and pulled his hair forward, obscuring the uppermost part of the mark. So, he was embarrassed by it. Odd—most soturi showed off their battle wounds.
“Was it also your bad planning that caused what happened with your mother?” Tristan asked.
With a snarl, Rhyan leapt from his seat, arm swinging, before he caught himself and sat back. A blast of heat from his aura pushed me flat against my seat.
Tristan was on his feet instantly, a burst of red shooting from his stave and pinning Rhyan against the wall. “I have half a mind to toss you from this litter and call out to Ka Kormac.”
“But you won’t,” Rhyan said through gritted teeth. “Because she wishes me here.”
“You’re very confident for someone on the run from their own Ka and country. Remember that right now, your life is in my hands.”
Rhyan folded his arms across his chest. “You barely made it two feet without needing your escort, Lord Grey.”
Tristan seethed. “I just took down a vorakh.”
I stiffened in my seat. Rhyan stilled, too. His eyes darkened, watching Tristan carefully. “I saw. Very brave of you to unhand the little girl.”
“You’ve never seen a vorakh kill, have you?” Tristan snarled. “You’ve never seen it tear someone apart limb by limb. Seen the violence and madness that erupts like a storm.”
I dug my fingers into my hip. I’d seen it, felt it that morning with Meera. My back still ached where she’d drawn blood. My arms stung all over.
