Page 58 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“First Messenger of Her Royal Highness, Queen Ishtara,” he corrected, his head rolling side to side, eyes watching us. “The pleasure’s mine. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, your grace.” He winked at Rhyan.
Rhyan smiled tightly. “We’ve not met before.”
“You wouldn’t remember,” Mercurial purred. “You’d understand so much more if you knew what I could see. And I can tell you. All you need to do is ask the First Messenger.” He stretched his neck, rolling his head like a snake about to strike.
“See what?” The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them. Rhyan grabbed my arm, but he was too late. The question had been asked.
“Aha.” Mercurial smiled. He held out his palm, the star glittering and spinning in its center. The golden light pulsed around the star. “I know your questions. Where is your magic power? How do you find it? How do you help…them? They all connect, but not in the way you expect. And, Lord Rhyan Hart, why do you—”
“Good night, Mercurial.” Rhyan was on his feet, sweeping his cloak over his shoulder. He still wore his tattered uniform, but in that moment, he appeared as powerful as an Arkturion. His aura vibrated with power and strength. Any opponent would have cowered before him, but Mercurial seemed only more determined.
I stood, my stomach twisting. I’d never been this close to an Afeyan before, much less spoken to one. The fullness of his aura was overwhelming, along with his sinuous, seductive movements. I knew it was wrong, but I was so deeply entranced. It was unsettling.
“You dare walk away from the First Messenger of Her Royal Highness, when I have so generously offered my help?” He tossed the Valalumir into the air, the light vanishing before it fell and nestled into his hair. “It was you who destroyed my home. Your greed for starfire, your desire for war, your mortal folly. You left my people with nothing but rocks in an ocean of death that swallowed your land whole. Then you have the audacity to name your homes Cresthaven and Sea Tower, as if you were victorious. You’re descended from the Gods, but you can’t walk on water without glass beneath your feet. You’ve forgotten how to fly without borrowed wings and can’t even remember the secrets within the Guardian of Bamaria. You’re nothing more than children of a drowned empire. Your prized light was shattered into pieces. Betrayed by your own. While your home…your true home lies beneath the ocean. And it is all…” he stepped closer, “your...” another step, “fault.”
Rhyan stiffened. “Her grace and I must go. We have to prepare for the Oath Ceremony.”
Mercurial burst into laughter. “Oh! The oath you shall swear. Swear and forswear again.”
Gripping my arm, Rhyan led me outside. Thunder crashed, and lightning lit the sky. The ashvan horses took flight, circling amidst sparks of blue light. The timekeeper rang the bells, marking an hour that signaled dawn on the horizon.
For a moment we stared at each other, our faces drenched. Then Rhyan yelled, “RUN!”
We ran without stopping, his hand reaching for mine, helping me navigate the watery ground without slipping, until we reached my apartment building. He released my hand, and I leaned back against the wall to catch my breath, my heart racing.
“Do you think he really had answers about my power?” I asked.
Frowning, Rhyan brushed raindrops from his hair, letting them splatter with the rest of the rain on his cloak. “I don’t think it’d matter after hearing his asking price. I know you have questions. I do, too. But I’ve gotten this far without answers.” He folded his arms. “It took me a while to learn that. I don’t need to know everything. Answers are nice, but they don’t solve your problems. You do that.”
“I suppose,” I said slowly. “But magic would really help.”
Rhyan shook his head. “Leave immediately if Mercurial approaches you again. He knows you’re desperate. He’ll use it against you. I’ve seen it happen—forsworn who went to the Afeya for help out on the road. They prey on forsworn all the time. But no matter what he offers you, it’s not worth it—never is. Find a way to get through the next five minutes without answers. When you get through them, get through five more. Enough of those minutes become a day, and before you know it, those days become weeks. I’ve survived for months like this. It’s enough.”
“Enough for me to survive training?” I asked.
He bowed. “Get a full night’s sleep first.”
But that wasn’t going to work, not this time. I was too full of energy, too on edge about my Ka and sisters and training and Tristan—fuck! I’d forgotten what a mess I’d made.
Heart pounding, I rushed upstairs and checked my apartment, but he was gone.
Meera had been right—I shouldn’t have seen him tonight. I hadn’t been thinking straight. But I couldn’t let this fight between Tristan and I go until morning. I had to erase my actions. I had to erase what I’d said.
I turned abruptly, walked out of the apartment, and snuck down the Urtavian waterways to the nearest port. I dodged the glimpses of silver and gold hiding in the bushes—the camouflaged soturi in wait.
Markan was nearby. I always knew where he was better than he knew where I was. And as I climbed into my carriage, he emerged, scowling, realizing his mistake. I flipped him off and took to the sky.
My seraphim soared over the city into the greener, lush fields of Vertavia where Ka Grey’s central villa stood.
We landed in a port not far from Tristan’s home, and I rushed through muddied lands onto the waterway until I reached the walls of the villa and found him sitting on a stone bench, back hunched over, elbows on his knees.
I sat beside him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me tonight.”
“Lyr,” he said, his voice full of surprise. He sat up, staring at me. Then he nodded. “It’s all right.” He wrapped me in his arms, and I willed my body to relax beneath his touch. “You’ve been through a lot. Do you want to come inside?” It looked like another burst of rain was about to fall.
I took his hand, silent as he led me toward the entrance, past the sentries on duty and quietly up to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him. My heart pounded. My body was so alive, so irritated and desirous…too many things. But I had to make things right with Tristan.
I kissed him without hesitation, running my hands through his hair. My arms wrapped around him so tight there was a sound of anguish and relief from his lips, and our kiss deepened. Before I knew it, I was pushing him backwards onto his bed and straddling his hips. “I’m sorry,” I said, writhing against him, sliding his tunic over his head, my hands exploring his bared chest. He was so lean, just enough muscle to prove how easily he could overpower a vorakh. I ran my hands over his belly, moving lower, and lower.
