Page 4 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Tristan whispered something harsh and unintelligible in my ear. But I couldn’t think, I couldn’t hear—because his highness the Imperator had stood up.
Fear and dread washed over me. His seat was already front row, but he walked forward, standing just outside the magically protected borders of the ceremony. The Imperator stopped behind my father. He stood casually, sweeping back his cloak, black and bordered in gold. But there was nothing casual in his face. He was a predator, as dangerous as the wolf on his sigil. The powerful magic coursing through his body swirled in a dark aura around him.
Morgana shook, inching closer to me, still clutching my bleeding hand. Tristan sat forward, cocking his head to the side. Since he’d been a boy, that had always been his tell that he was angry. He no longer touched me. His lips, which had been so soft when we’d kissed, formed a harsh frown, and he turned toward his grandmother, and then the Imperator, offering a signal I didn’t understand. A black cloud settled over my heart. His aura pulsed with darkness, with vengeance, and with hatred.
Jules screamed louder, and I stood. I had to reach her, to protect her. She was my cousin, my sister…my best friend. But Morgana grabbed my waist with an unnatural violence. My back smacked against the wooden pew, shooting daggers of pain up my spine. Fresh tears formed.
Arianna’s fingernails pierced my shoulder from behind, pinning me down. “Still, Lyr,” she said sharply. “Be still.”
Jules’s cries shattered through me as my tears fell. She was thrashing at the air, clawing at some invisible opponent, making sounds that were more monstrous than human. I’d never seen her look like this. Something was so very wrong, and it was scaring her. We had to help her, go to her. But I was trapped, pinned by my aunt’s nails.
Tristan stood along with the rest of the temple. The Imperator took another step toward Auriel’s Chamber, his black eyes on my cousin. He strode in front of my father, breaking through the ceremonial ropes. I’d never seen them crossed before. I didn’t think it could be done. But the Imperator was no ordinary Lumerian. He was the only man in Bamaria who outranked my father; he was the Emperor’s own blood.
“No,” the word rushed from my lips.
“Shut up, Lyr,” Morgana hissed. “Shut up!” She turned to me so slowly I couldn’t tell if she’d halted her movements or if my mind was slowing down the event. “Don’t move,” she mouthed.
My whole body trembled, my vision blurring, throat tightening.
“Why?” I croaked, knowing in my heart what was wrong, but not ready to admit it. “What’s wrong with her?” My voice was desperate, weak, the voice of a terrified child.
Morgana’s dark eyebrows were drawn together, her chest heaving. “Vorakh,” she hissed.
My head swam as black spots obscured my vision, and confirmed what I knew.
Vorakh. Taboo magic. Forbidden.
The Senate and Emperor had forbidden the vorakh centuries ago, marking the magic as taboo. There were three powers named, all uncontrollable, dangerous, and volatile. First was traveling, the ability to vanish and reappear in a new location. The second, mind-reading. The third, visions, the ability to see into the future. Anyone found in possession of them was immediately bound and arrested. They sometimes developed in mages a few years after revealing their magic. But the most powerful mages revealed their abilities immediately. Tristan’s family, Ka Grey, specialized in hunting vorakh, in bringing those that escaped the Revelation Ceremony to his Highness, the Imperator for justice.
The Imperator stepped onto the stage. Initiates scattered quickly, scurrying out of his way. Behind him was his lackey warlord, the repugnant man known as the Bastardmaker. He was said to have fathered half of the Soturi of Ka Kormac—by force. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword.
“Lady Julianna Batavia.” The Imperator’s voice echoed like a death march drum.
“Stop them!” I cried.
Arianna leaned forward, her voice like a knife in my ear. “You’ll damn us all, Lyr, if you don’t shut up. Control yourself now. You must control what they see. Especially him.”
My vision went in and out of focus, and my breath caught. The temple walls felt like they were closing in on me, the ceiling ready to cave in. I felt certain I was going to die and the temple was going to fall and crush me. I couldn’t actually be seeing what I saw—Jules having a vorakh, the Imperator and Bastardmaker approaching her….
“Lady Julianna Batavia, by order of the Senate and Emperor Theotis, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia, you are hereby under arrest for the possession of vorakh, in the first order, the power of visions.”
The room roared, drowning out my screams. Every member of the nobility was calling for her arrest, for her blood, when just minutes ago the hypocrites had watched her with awe and respect. Even the Watchers stepped back, their veiled faces cast down.
The Imperator’s eyes flicked to the Bastardmaker. “Seize her!”
I searched for my father, trying to get his attention. He was Arkasva Batavia, High Lord of Bamaria. How could he allow this to happen? How could he allow his niece to be taken?
He sat in the Seat of power. He was still as a statue, his expression full of neutral indifference. I wanted to run and jump on him, claw at his skin until he did something, rip the golden wreath from his head and shove it down his throat until he remembered he wore the Laurel of the Arkasva. He had power. Why wasn’t he saving Jules?
The Bastardmaker moved swiftly, his meaty hands closing around Jules’s wrists as he tugged her over his shoulder. Jules screamed harder when his arm clamped over her legs as he hauled her over to a spidery looking mage from Ka Kormac.
“Bind her,” snarled the Imperator.
The mage lifted his stave. Black shadows uncoiled into long ropes around her, glowing red before settling into a glittering black. Jules slumped forward, silent, eyes rolling back before the Bastardmaker dragged her outside. The temple doors closed with an ominous slap, the sound thudding across the walls of the seven rays. They’d gone out through the red entrance—a door meant to be private and reserved for use only by my Ka, my family. Jules was gone, already out of reach, and we remained behind, trapped in the temple.
“She’ll be kept in the Shadow Stronghold and bound until transport to Lethea can be arranged,” announced the Imperator.
“Lethea?” I struggled for air that would not come. One did not come back from Lethea. Jules didn’t deserve to go there—she wasn’t a criminal. She was a nineteen-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her. My cousin. My best friend. The kindest, sweetest, funniest person I knew. She couldn’t go there. We couldn’t allow it.
