Page 28 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Ramia’s necklace glowed beneath the eternal flames, which flickered from purple to red. Batavia red. Each diamond radiated starfire, sparkling and shimmering beneath the light. Hushed voices came with several noises of shock at its garishness, as well as awe at its splendor.
I could just make out the word “necklace” being whispered from the corners of the room. Even the Imperator’s eyes were drawn to the jewels across my chest and shoulders, his mouth agape. Morgana gave the slightest nod of confirmation. My distraction was working. She bit her lip. We were close, so close to finishing this game. I just had to play my role a little longer.
I handed my robes to the Watcher and turned toward Kolaya’s dagger. The cut came swiftly, shocking me. I nearly turned toward the soturion flames. The mage’s bowl, once pure with ocean water, was now filled with blood. I held my hand over it, adding my own.
“My oath begins here.”
And then my stave was in my hands. My stave! My heart leapt. The smooth wood felt cool as my fingers tightened around it. I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I’d wanted this, desired it. I’d been so worried, I’d forgotten I would receive my stave, and I, too, would be able to perform magic. The golden sphere of light, blazingly bright and warm, descended, illuminating my body in a golden glow and blinding me.
My necklace heated against my skin, and in the distance, I thought I saw an image of the goddess Asherah, her red hair in long loose waves, a finger pressed against her lips. The image along with the golden light faded into the floor, disappearing beneath my feet. Fire erupted down my stave, andLyriana Bataviawas carved in bright red, flaming letters as smoke wisped around me. My heart pounded both with fear and anticipation. My Birth Bind was gone, but nothing had happened.
Meera had immediately fallen into a vision when her magic was revealed. Morgana’s head had seared with pain as the inner thoughts of everyone in the temple pushed into her mind. I experienced neither. I hadn’t traveled anywhere; I was still standing exactly where I’d been. No vorakh! By the Gods! Tears welled in my eyes. I was safe.
But as I stared out into the crowd of Lumerians, their faces a mix of scorn and suspicion, doubt crept in. I didn’t have a vorakh, but I also felt no magic. No impulses or inspiration. I’d heard it described as a buzzing, pulsing, almost burning sensation inside, one you had to release. After nineteen years with the Birth Bind, the magic trapped inside could hardly be contained. Most Lumerians went stir crazy in the weeks before the Ceremony, unable to withstand the sheer level of power trapped within themselves. I hadn’t noticed. But I’d been distracted.
I looked at the paintings of the Valya decorating the temple walls. Everyone else tonight had done so after their magic was revealed. The paintings should have come alive for me; the stories should have been moving and unfolding their secrets. They were still. Was my father’s hold on me so strong I couldn’t see our moving pictures or feel my magic?
Maybe that was it. Maybe his hold on me had even put a hold on my magic. And maybe I wasn’t safe. Not yet. Heart hammering and vision blurring, I was aware of the silence turning to uncomfortable murmuring. Suspicion was growing. Something had to happen. My father had to do something. But my father was not acting. I could feel his power, but instead of showing magic, he’d frozen me.
I could just make out the faintest blue glow emanating from the stave in his black robes. My arm shot up, and then fell like a deadweight at my side. The light blinked out, his hold on me vanishing completely. I stumbled forward.
A soturion of Ka Kormac had bumped into my father, knocking his stave from his hands. The stave rolled across the floor to Imperator Kormac’s sandal. He picked it up.
“How dare—” my father’s voice rang out.
“Arrest the fool,” the Imperator commanded, wiping my father’s stave with his cloak. He took careful, measured steps across the temple, holding my father’s stave close. “Arkasva Batavia, forgive Ka Kormac for this soturion’s clumsiness. He’ll be punished severely.”
The Bastardmaker signaled, and the man was dragged away by one of his own men. The Imperator now stood right next to my father, too close for him to help me. Tears burned my eyes. Myself to Moriel. He’d known! He’d fucking known. He’d guessed what my father was up to, and he’d planned his own diversion to catch us in the act.
“My apologies for the commotion, your grace,” the Imperator said, finally returning my father’s stave. “Go on.”
I lifted my stave, arm shaking as a new fear took hold of me, one I hadn’t considered in my wildest dreams. Even without my father freezing my body, without the Birth Bind in place, I felt nothing. No sensations, no impulses.
There was no magic in me. Nothing was happening.
“Lady Lyriana Batavia…LADY LYRIANA!” Imperator Kormac’s voice cut through me. “I don’t know what game you’re playing. But it ends now. By order of the Senate and Emperor Theotis, you will show your magic. Now.” Anger tinged his voice, but there was also an excitement in it that made me sick.
His aura pulsed, unleashing his fury on me, two years of having been denied his prize and having his suspicions unanswered. A predator finally catching his prey.
“I….” Tears welled in my eyes as the realization began to take form. “I can’t.” My eyes fell on Tristan’s. He was already red, leaning forward in his seat, his mouth half-open in fear. I shook my head at him.It’s not what you think.But his nostrils only flared in response.
“By the order of the Senate and Emperor Theotis, you will express your magic now,” said the Imperator. “If you do not, you will be arrested for attempted concealment of vorakh, and upon examination we will determine if you’re hiding the first, second, or third.”
Lumerians were standing up, shouting through the temple. Everything looked and felt like it had two years ago when Jules’s vorakh had been revealed.
Arm shaking, tears blurring my vision, I held my stave high, but I knew it was futile. Nothing would happen. I was empty.
“Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria, by the order of the Senate and Emperor Theotis, for the refusal to show your magic and the attempted concealment of a vorakh power, you are under arrest.” His eyes flicked to the Bastardmaker. “Seize her.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
IWASLOSTinpanic, falling in and out of consciousness. Fuzzy, disconnected images tinged in darkness appeared as I sank beneath the weight of shadows.
A powerful-looking mage with a silver wolf sigil stalked forward, his stave drawn, before Tristan rushed at him, throwing the man to the ground.
“No!” he shouted. They wrestled, rolling across the floor until Tristan straddled his chest and punched him in the face. The mage drew his stave, thunder bursting forth, pushing him back. But Tristan met him with his own magic storm as he screamed, “I’ll do it!”
Tristan knocked him out with another sweep of his stave before staggering to his feet.
