Page 63 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
Rhyan’s hand grazed my hips, his breath hot on my shoulder as he kissed his way to my collarbone, his other hand sliding between my legs. I was so wet, so ready for him, I was pulsing. I thrust my hips forward to meet him. Yes. Gods, yes.
“Lyr,” Tristan moaned my name. Tristan. Not Rhyan.
My eyes snapped open. Brown eyes, not green, stared into mine. I shuddered. I’d fallen into a full fantasy of Rhyan, a memory of our actual first kiss mixed into what Tristan was doing to me now. Gods. I’d been so absorbed…I had no idea I was still kissing Tristan. My entire body felt cold as I tried to blink the images away.
“Are you all right?” Tristan asked, nipping a soft kiss on my cheek.
I nodded and sucked in a shaky breath. “Don’t stop.”
Tristan kissed his way to my neck, and I stared out at the field, afraid to close my eyes again, afraid I’d forget whose arms I was in.
Naria had spotted us in the distance, finding our location even through the trees, and watched with vitriol in her eyes. She didn’t see Pavi coming. The soturion jumped, her body colliding into Naria with such force they flew several feet across the grass, crashing onto the ground. Naria landed roughly on her back with Pavi over her. I winced, but Pavi easily rolled off, and Naria bounced to her feet.
These were unskilled novice soturi—without any training. But their strength was clear. If they decided to attack, they’d kill me. If I suffered a fall like that, it would kill me.
I felt cold all over with fear over what was waiting for me in the morning. My first option of becoming Ka Grey was on hold, and I couldn’t approach the Afeya for answers. Mercurial terrified me too much.
That left one last option for help. The library. Thousands of scrolls were above and underground in the pyramids…somewhere in there had to be answers.
I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t stay at this party any longer, not when I’d just be counting down the hours until I’d be in the arena with Naria and Pavi and Viktor and the other soturi. I needed more information, and I needed to start now—even if it was almost the middle of the night. Either way, I wasn’t going to get any sleep.
“Tristan,” I said. “I think I’d better go.” I pointed his face toward the five still going strong. Another girl from Ka Elys entered the makeshift arena, standing proud in the center. Tani Elwen. She wasn’t noble but seemed to have latched onto Pavi.
Pavi threw a brutal punch into her stomach. Tani stumbled, gasping for breath, but quickly recovered.
“That’s what I face tomorrow,” I said, watching his eyes widen.
He turned to me, pressing his forehead against mine, and exhaled slowly. Wordlessly, he nodded, our heads still touching until he pressed a kiss to my forehead. Deftly, he began to reassemble my cloak into the pleats and folds Rhyan had created.
Hand in hand, we crossed the field, stepping over the bodies of the passed out soturi who’d called on kashonim and worn themselves out. We passed the shows of magic from the mages. Viktor stood off to the side of the excitement with several of his wolves, all clearly drunk and sloppily holding goblets in their hands, sloshing wine onto the ground.
“Lady Asherah.” He howled like a wolf. His men howled in response. “Don’t ride him too hard tonight. Save some for us in the morning! Arrrooo!”
Tristan tightened his grasp on my hand, and we hurried along. I wished he’d leave me to go to the seraphim port on my own, but I couldn’t explain where I was truly going. He’d try to convince me to stay in my apartment and rest, and I’d lose time arguing with him.
At last, I left him at the front door with a long, deep kiss.
As soon as he turned, I made my move. Quickly, I pulled the excess material of my cloak over my head like a hood—Ka Batavia style—and disappeared into the night. One benefit to my situation: I now had the ability to camouflage into my surroundings, and Tristan had never been good at spotting soturi.
Only one available seraphim remained at the port, looking a little sleepy. I grabbed a treat from the attendant and fed her, giving her wing a long stroke before I climbed aboard the carriage. We were airborne instantly.
My nerves were jumping as I arrived on Scholar’s Harbor, the site of the Great Library. Every scroll that survived Lumeria Matavia after the Drowning and every scroll that had been recorded since were stored here in three pyramids made of golden bricks. The Scholars, a Ka that had remained mostly isolated since the Drowning, were completely committed to the preservation and sharing of knowledge. Very few left the pyramids or Harbor to seek other passions. Arkmage Kolaya was one exception. Galen was another.
Soturi of Ka Batavia stood guard outside the golden pyramids, and Scholars raced across the golden beaches that surrounded the pyramids on the backs of ashvan horses, scarves covering their faces and scrolls tied to their backs. Some raced on the wind, soaring above the tops of the pyramids, while others raced across the sand, dust clouds exploding behind them. This was where ashvan came when they grew too old to fly high. The oldest ashvan were grounded on the beach, shooting blue sparks from their hooves as they galloped across the sand dunes, lifting their heads and throwing back their manes as the younger horses ran across their backs.
The golden pyramids glowed bronze beneath the waning moon. The first had been built when the Scholars arrived on these shores. It was over three stories tall above ground. Beneath it was a second underground pyramid where the most ancient and delicate scrolls were kept. An inordinate amount of magic had been needed to construct it. Because magic often changed the land, it was actually the construction of the first pyramid that had transformed the landscape into a desert. When my ancestors arrived, the ground was lush and green. The first pyramid had seemed overly spacious for what scrolls existed at the time and had been mocked as a ridiculously large, indulgent structure by the Senate. But soon the pyramids both above and below ground were bursting with newly written scrolls, and a second pyramid, even larger, had been built, drying the land even further as they dug deep. The third had only been built in the last hundred years, and it too was already running low on space.
I needed the smallest, most ancient pyramid, the one which housed the texts in High Lumerian. Two soturi, each over six feet tall with nearly black skin, stood on either side of the doorway, their swords crossed. Eger Scholar and Apollon Scholar, brothers who’d trained under Turion Brenna, now dedicated their lives to the protection of knowledge. They both tended to guard late at night—when I’d made many of my research visits in spite of Markan’s grumbling.
Eger lowered his chin. “Welcome, your grace.”
Apollon nodded in welcome. If they were surprised to see me tonight, knowing I was a novice about to begin soturion training in the morning, they did not show it. They pulled back their swords, allowing me to enter.
I smiled in return, greeting them each as I crossed the threshold, surrounded by the golden bricks of the ancient pyramid.
Nabula Kajan, one of the lead librarians, jumped from behind a long table overflowing with scrolls. She’d been closely reading a tiny parchment, still stiff in her hand. Quickly, she rolled it up and sealed it into a small leather case tied around her right arm. Several more cases appeared on her left arm, and larger cases hung from her waist, belted over a flowing white gown. In my arm cuff, I wore the parchment keeping Meera’s secrets. But the librarians wore scrolls all over their bodies, letting knowledge adorn them like jewels.
“Lady Lyriana, congratulations.” Nabula bobbed her head up and down, grinning in a way that accentuated her pointed chin. Then her eyes took in my attire, and she gasped. “You chose the path of soturion!”
