Page 27 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“A full investigation is unfolding, as you know,” my father said pointedly.
“Yes, well, as lucky as he was to slay an akadim by himself,” the Imperator said, his voice full of skepticism, “no lost soul may be accepted by a new Ka in whatever way you’re allowing admittance without being spoken for by someone of his home Ka and country.” The Imperator glared at Rhyan. “You’re on the wrong side of the Empire, boy. I’m afraid we don’t have many northerners here.”
“I vouch for him.” A soturion sitting in the green ray stood suddenly, walking into the aisle for all to see. He had light brown hair that curled like Rhyan’s, only his held specks of gray. “I am Soturion Sean of Ka Drona in Bamaria. But I was born into Ka Hart. I am first cousin to Imperator Devon Hart. Does that satisfy you?” He spoke with a heavy northern accent.
The Imperator gave a curt nod. “You recently married and relocated to Bamaria?”
Soturion Sean pressed his lips together. “Yes, your highness.”
“How convenient,” drawled the Imperator. “Felicitations.”
“And if it pleases his highness,” my father said, “Soturion Rhyan submitted to the Bound Five, further proving his strength and willingness to submit to our rule. As you can see,” he gestured to Rhyan, “he survived remarkably unscathed.”
This led to several hushed gasps. A Bound Five was used as punishment in soturion training. The warrior’s hands were bound behind their backs while five soturi attacked them. Death was a real possibility. If they fell, they were not mourned, only deemed unfit to fight.
Suddenly, Rhyan’s cavalier attitude at facing five soturi in the streets made sense. He’d already killed an akadim and faced down five soturi with his hands tied behind his back.
I wasn’t sure if Rhyan was a murderer or not. But I knew without a doubt he was a dangerous enemy to have.
The Imperator laughed. “Killed an akadim, survived a Bound Five, and not a single mark?” His eyes ran up and down Rhyan’s body. “I would have liked to see this myself. I’m surprised a show of such importance was done in secret.”
“I do believe,” Aemon said, “five members of your own soturi can testify to his strength. Perhaps five who were set to guard during today’s festival?”
Imperator Kormac smiled, descending to his seat. “I’m sure I will have the opportunity to see the great akadim slayer in action one day.” His eyes fell on me. “We shall proceed with the ceremony. I know how eager tonight’s participants must be. Especially the Lady Lyriana.”
My throat tightened from the attention shift. Rhyan walked solemnly to the back pews, selecting a row at the end of the red ray. The ceremony began.
Kolaya moved so quickly, everything felt like a blur. I barely saw anyone’s magic revealed. Every second it seemed white robes vanished from beside me. So many mages showed beautiful bursts of power—strikes of lightning, heavenly music. Soon the only initiates left were from the head families of the noble Kavim.
Lady Pavi from Ka Elys went next, revealing a dark purple dress as she became a soturion. Then Viktor Kormac approached the Chamber.
“Soturion,” he said, dropping his robe on the floor. The Red Watcher was forced to walk around her table and retrieve it, her veil skimming the floor. He rudely shoved his hand at Kolaya and bled into the flames before snatching his dagger, still smoking with his name.
Then it was just me and Naria. She stood and dropped her robes beneath the flames.
“Soturion,” she said loudly.
My jaw dropped. Naria was becoming a soturion? Since when? Naria had never shown any interest. Plus, she’d be under the orders of the Ready, and she hated him. When her father had rebelled, the Ready had been the one who’d slaughtered him on the street.
Naria bled into the fire and revealed her magic, leaping into the air. She twirled gracefully, levitating mid-spin, before landing with tiny blue sparks, earning a round of applause.
Then I alone wore the white robes of the initiate. All chatter stopped, and all eyes were on me, the youngest daughter and Heir of Arkasva Harren Batavia and the late Arkasva Marianna Batavia, the High Lord and High Lady of Bamaria.
The Bastardmaker leaned forward, his hand stroking the hilt of his sword as his eyes moved up and down my body. Beside him, the Imperator shifted with a wolfish grin.
Eyes carefully averted from my father, fearing I’d give us away, I took a deep breath.
But the air never came. I was cut off mid-inhale and left feeling as if I would choke. My face tightened painfully, and I was forced to look calm by an outside force. My feet moved, stepping forward against my will, my right foot heavier than the left. I couldn’t turn my head or change my pace. My father had already seized control of my body like he had with Meera and like he had with Morgana a year ago. I caught Tristan smiling at me from the corner of my eye in his seat. He mouthed, “I love you.” But I couldn’t react, couldn’t smile or mouth that I loved him back. The light left Tristan’s eyes which filled with hurt and rejection.
Awkwardly, my foot stepped forward, unbalanced. My heart skipped; I was fearful I’d trip. I wasn’t in control of my body. A sudden jerk of my head caused a spasm in my neck, and my diadem banged against my forehead. My gaze fell on Viktor Kormac. As if to compensate for my strangeness, my father forced a silly smile across my lips—a smile aimed at Viktor.
Auriel’s fucking bane.
“Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria, what path do you choose?”
My father’s control over me loosened, and I took a deep breath.
“Mage.” I let the word hang in the air before I slipped my robes off my shoulders.
