Page 38 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
I folded my arms around myself. I’d somehow forgotten we were still touching—it had seemed natural, as natural as breathing. “No, it’s probably best no one sees us like that.”
He winked. “They might take away my title of neutral party.”
A door at the end of the hall burst open, and Tristan strode through, his stave held high and emanating a white glow to light his path. Thunder rolled off his aura with such force, I swore I saw lightning strike in the corner of my eye. Four Grey escorts followed with staves drawn.
“Are you leading a parade, Lord Grey?” Rhyan leaned against the other side of the hall, as far from my bars as possible, arms crossed and one knee bent with his foot resting against the wall like he’d been there all along. How had he moved so fast?
“Shut your mouth, forsworn.” Tristan swept past Rhyan to my cell. He jerked his chin at his escorts, and two approached Rhyan, staves aimed at his throat.
I froze, chest heaving. “What’s happened?” I asked.
“Seriously,” Rhyan said, “you don’t need to point so close. Just doing my job.”
The escorts sneered.
“Lyr, stand back from the bars. We have one minute before the Shadows come,” Tristan said. “I paid them to close their eyes.” The remaining two escorts flanked him.
“What? Tristan!”
He began to chant, his stave glowing blue. These cells were well protected; I didn’t believe he’d actually succeed. But what if he did? Where would we go? What would we do?
What would happen to Meera and Morgana? I couldn’t leave them behind. I couldn’t run.
I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears. “Tristan, no.”
“Lyr, I’m almost there—just hang on.” And indeed, the lock was starting to grind, the metal pushing against itself, his power fighting through the magic. His face was red from exertion. Something clicked. The first level unlocked, but there were more. The walls seemed to breathe behind me, the Shadows growing restless. But Tristan sent out a blast of light that hushed them.
By the Gods. He was going to do it. He was going to get me out of here.
“Come on,” he muttered, twisting his wrist, his arm shaking as he pushed more magic through.
I looked to Rhyan, my expression pleading, desperate. He had to help me. He had to save me—by keeping me in prison. Of all things.
If I left, the Imperator would search for me. He’d turn his eye on Meera and Morgana. Even if I got to safety, I’d never let that happen. I’d never let them be exposed.
Please, I thought, staring past Tristan to Rhyan, still against the wall.Stop him!
Rhyan’s eyes met mine, his jaw tensed.
I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.Don’t let Tristan take me.
One eyebrow lifted as he frowned, asking if I was sure. I could barely move for fear Tristan would notice and gave Rhyan the barest of nods.
And then, just like that, he spun into action. Silent. Deadly. He moved so fast, I couldn’t make out what body parts had gone where. One second, Tristan’s escorts were holding their staves to his throat, and the next, they were both flat on their backs, unconscious.
He raced for the two by Tristan’s side.
One saw Rhyan first. He whirled on his heels, his stave already emanating magic—magic he turned on Rhyan, wrapping it around his body. Grunting, Rhyan burst through it as though the magic were a flimsy piece of parchment. The escort joined the others on the ground.
Only then did Tristan realize what was happening.
“I will end you,” Tristan seethed.
Rhyan only smirked, even as Tristan raised his stave in time with his final escort, both ends pointed at Rhyan. A thunderous blast shot forth, the magic from the two staves joining and entwining, creating a hurricane-like gust of wind. Rhyan ducked and rolled. Lightning flashed, and there was a scream and a grunt of pain. When the light returned, the final escort lay unconscious.
Tristan leapt back, snarling at Rhyan, who ran for him, dodging each burst of power that shot from Tristan’s stave until they collided. Rhyan knocked Tristan’s stave from his hand before pushing him to the ground.
“No!” I yelled. “Don’t hurt him!”
