Page 40 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
I twisted away from the Imperator, wrenching myself against his arms. The Bastardmaker was nearly at the door, his red cloak swinging out behind him. Jules’s dress lay discarded on the floor of the temple. But Jules was gone. In the Bastardmaker’s arms was Meera. Her diadem fell to the floor, smashing into a thousand pieces, and then Morgana appeared in his arms.
And then me. I was screaming. I knew I was screaming, I could feel the vibration, the anguished rage rising inside of me, but no sound came out. I had no mouth. Only a black hole. I was trapped in Meera’s painting. Tristan pointed his stave at me, his face full of menace.
“I’m sorry, Lyr. I have to do this. It has to be me.”
No!
The Bastardmaker threw me on the floor, his body pressing over mine.
“Lyr!”
I bolted upright on my cot, my hair coated to my cheek in sweat. Rhyan was wide awake, sitting up against my prison bars, his arm stretched all the way inside. His gaze rolled over me as I stirred, halting when he met my eyes, one brow lifted in question.
I looked down, only then noticing his hand wrapped around mine.
I lay back down, feeling the scratchiness of the blanket over my arms, the rush of cool air as I pulled my hair back from my face, and Rhyan’s eyes, bright and emerald, watching me. Our eyes locked, holding each other in silence. Our hands still touching through the bars.
“I’m here,” he said again, squeezing my hand. “Sleep.”
My lids finally closed. Only then did I hear him shift, though his hand remained in mine.
CHAPTER TEN
DAYSPASSED,DREARY,endless,full of seemingly impossible moments to survive. Nights were worse—longer, restless, and what little sleep I managed came with disturbing dreams. The Imperator ordering me to be arrested. The Bastardmaker taking me. Taking Jules. Taking my sisters.
My only entertainment was to pace my cell and practice making a proper fist. Rhyan hadn’t been on duty when I’d awoken that first morning, and every guard I’d had since had been silent, refusing to speak to me beyond basic grunts if I needed to use the bathing room to relieve myself. No one else came to visit, not even my father. And so I paced. And I punched. For days.
The seventh morning I woke in prison, Turion Brenna took over guard duty. She’d come into my cell with me, the first of my guards to do so. Word had come that the examiner had arrived. When the timekeeper called for late afternoon, a message came through her vadati stone, glowing blue in her palm. She nodded toward the corridor’s entrance. “They’re ready for you, your grace.”
My throat tightened. “Do you know what will happen?” I asked.
“The examiner will explain. I’ll fix your hair.” She sat behind me, gathering my locks into a braid.
Brenna had coarse black hair she wore in a regulation soturion braid down her back. I could feel from her sectioning that she was creating a similar style for me.
I tried to relax into the soothing feeling of having my hair brushed and braided, but my stomach was twisting. “Should I be worried you didn’t answer my question?”
Brenna gathered another section of my hair, her fingers working the braid tightly against my scalp. “I’ve heard stories, your grace, but I can’t say for sure.” It was a bad sign when my father’s Master of Peace was lying to me.
My eyes closed, and I tried not to lean too much into her touch. She was my first human contact in a week. My last touch had been Rhyan, holding my hand. She sealed off the braid and patted my back.
Footsteps pounded against stone, and the doors creaked open, revealing my father, the Ready, Imperator Kormac, and the Bastardmaker. The last to enter was the examiner from Ka Maras. The only way to describe him was in triangles. Black pointed eyebrows loomed over a sharp triangular nose. His mustache fell below his lips in a long upside-down V, and his black beard tapered to a sharp point.
I stood as the men approached, my father moving slowly with his limp. The examiner nodded at Brenna. She unlocked my cell, and he stepped inside. The bars clanged, echoing down the corridor, as she sealed the two of us within.
“I am Kunda Lith, the examiner. Lie down.” Kunda carried a large black box and set it down in the center of my cell. He watched me intently with a hungry look in his eyes as his aura pulsed with a slippery, slimy energy: curious and invasive. He wasn’t standing close to me, but the bars of my prison were suddenly too near, the cell too small.
I shook the feeling off, and my eyes landed on the box. “What’s that for?”
“Remove your dress and lie down.”
“Father!” I turned, nearly reaching through the bars for his hand like I was a child.
“Kunda?” my father asked. “Is undressing necessary?”
The examiner coughed. “It’s protocol. I need to be able to see the exam process thoroughly. Otherwise, if there’s a mistake, it will have to be repeated.” He clicked the box open, and I heard movement, like skin sliding against skin over a quiet hiss.
I remained focused on the box. What in Lumeria was inside?
