Page 6 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Markan, are we going to find Jules?” The words came out rough; my throat still felt dry.
“We’re flying to Cresthaven, your grace. Your father ordered you and your sisters’ immediate return.”
“No.” My stomach twisted. “What about Jules?” I eyed his vadati stone, now white and clear.
“I protect you, your grace. Not cursed vorakh,” he said, voice gruff.
“Vorakh! Jules is my cousin and your lady, you gryphon-shit bastard! You’re going to help me get her back now! Or you’ll answer to your Arkasva with your life.”
“Forgive me, your grace. I am answering to my Arkasva.”
I turned and ran, my arms pumping at my sides as fast as I could make them. Markan’s sandals slapped against the ground behind me. I ripped off my diadem and flung it back at him, but Markan was on me in seconds, grabbing me from behind and scooping me over his shoulders. I yelled and punched his back, squirming to escape, but he was nothing but thick, corded muscle, his body as strong as a stone wall. He walked outside to our waiting seraphim; the carriage doors were already open.
I couldn’t let him take me away from here, away from Jules. If I could escape, I could run. I could find her.
“Markan! Stop! I order you to release me! Now!”
“Your father ordered me first.” Markan pulled a golden cloth from a belt pocket.
“No!” I kicked, struggling against him. “We have to get Jules. Markan!”
But Markan was done talking. He covered my mouth and nose with the cloth. The scent overpowered me.
“No, no, stop—” My world went black.
I came to, my vision groggy and head pounding. I was in the Seating Room, where the Council met and made state decisions. Ropes fabricated of pure light secured my wrists to my chair. Dizzily, I turned and found Meera and Morgana tied up beside me.
Morgana was staring straight ahead; her body erect with tension. Meera watched me carefully. Her usually perfect hair was unkempt, her expression wild.
My father entered, limping toward his Seat. His energy was off. His aura was dark and swirling. He pointed his stave at the small side table. A dagger appeared on the smooth surface.
“Father,” I asked, gripping my chair. “What’s going on? Where’s Jules?”
He grabbed the dagger’s hilt, pointing his stave at it until the blade shined black as onyx glittering with silver sparks. The dagger hummed low as he sheathed his stave. The ropes around my wrists vanished, reappearing around my waist. My father approached; the blade pointed right over my heart.
“Hold out your wrists. All three of you will swear to me now.”
“Swear what?” I asked. “Father! Stop! You’re scaring me.”
“Do as he says, Lyr,” Meera said. There was an underlying command behind her words, a new force in her aura I hadn’t felt before, like glass shattering, rain pouring.
“I don’t understand. What am I swearing?” I sobbed.
“Meera is a vorakh,” my father said. “Like Jules.” His voice broke on her name.
I swayed in my seat, my hands grasping hold of the edges of the chair.
“The Seat of the Arkasva is within the magic boundaries protecting the ceremony,” he said, voice low. “With Jules…it was too late. I had to make a choice. I chose Meera, I took control of her body, used my own magic to hide hers. If anyone finds out she’s a vorakh, finds out I interfered in the Revelation Ceremony, we’re dead. Dead as Ka Azria.”
“Ka Azria?” I asked, feeling sick to my stomach. “I-I don’t understand.”
His eyes jumped between us. “You know what happened to them. But do you know why everyone in Ka Azria was killed?”
Ka Azria. They were a scary story, a campfire tale used to terrify noble children. Ka Azria had been powerful, rich, and beloved in Elyria, a neighboring country in the Lumerian Empire. Then one day, they were all killed—by order of the Emperor. I wracked my brain, realizing I’d only ever known they’d been executed. It had been before I was born. I’d never once thought to ask why the Emperor had ordered their deaths. Having grown up with the story, I’d never questioned it. Never asked why. Never needed to. A chill ran down my spine as my stomach twisted. Just like that, I knew.
My father confirmed it. “An Heir of Ka Azria was vorakh. They thought they could keep her condition secret, keep her safe. But they made a grave error. Too many knew, too many were sworn to silence in their fortress. They were betrayed. We will not make their mistakes. No one else will know. No more of the Ka, no one in our household, not even a single escort in our service. The stakes are too high. We four keep this secret. We four die by this secret. Swear it. Your arms. Now!”
Tears streamed down my face as I turned up my left wrist, revealing pale, sensitive skin that had never seen a scratch or blemish. The skin of a noble. I held my arm steady with my hand, as it shook with fear of the coming pain, fear of everything. My father slashed my wrist, striking fast and violent, a snake claiming its prey.
