Page 87 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Waryn will escort you back. I know soturi-in-training don’t require escorts,” he snarled, “but novices don’t come banging on their Arkturion’s doors at midnight either.”
I froze, unsure how to respond, because he was right. And I didn’t know what role I was playing anymore. I was either Lady Lyriana—a role that I’d been nearly forced to forfeit—pulling rank and demanding to see a member of my father’s Council. Or I was breaking the third rule of being a soturion, which was following orders. At the least…he seemed unaware I’d already broken my promise.
The Imperator broke into a wolfish grin. “Shall you accept my generous offer of a personal escort home now?”
But the Ready entered the room in a dark shadow. “Lady Lyriana, we shall meet. Good night, Imperator. Arkturion. Thank you for your visit.”
The Imperator swept past me for the door. “Come, Waryn, let’s retire. We’ll leave her grace to her very important business.” He pushed aside Aemon’s sentry, leaving the soturion scowling at the foreign warlord. The Bastardmaker stepped outside, but the Imperator turned to me suddenly. “By the way, your grace, did you ever learn the first rule of being a soturion?”
My mouth opened…it was there on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t will myself to submit to his game, even just to prove that I knew it.
The Imperator’s lips curled as he crossed the threshold. “They told me she was smart.”
Aemon gestured me to his side. “Your grace, it’s late. You shouldn’t be here now—nor should you be outside at this hour.”
“I had reason.” I fished for the scroll in my belt, stepping into his shadows. Aemon took it without question. “All the noble Kavim received this message, and I found over a hundred of these in my apartment building tonight.”
“Fucking Emartis,” Aemon said as his eyes reached the bottom of the scroll. His aura pulsed, dark, thundering, weighing heavily on me. I’d never want to be on Aemon’s bad side.
I cleared my throat. “I thought someone should check the Mage Academy for these. They could very well be in every apartment and home in Urtavia.”
Aemon withdrew his energy, and the dark thundering cloud evaporated. He shook his head, looking disgusted. “Every last one will be destroyed by dawn. You did well to come to me, but you’ve done enough. This is for me to worry about. You know what your job is right now. I’ll have one of my guards escort you home.”
“Aemon,” I swallowed, throat dry. “Lady Romula said my life is in danger. Am I a target for the Emartis?”
“Yes,” he said, voice dark. “But you’re an Heir to the Arkasva. You’ve had more targets on your back since the day you were born than you’ll ever know or should be aware of.”
I shuddered. I’d grown up constantly shadowed by soturi…always thinking them a nuisance. It hadn’t occurred to me—since I’d never known otherwise—that they were keeping me safe. If anything, I’d felt the opposite about them after Jules.
“And now?” I asked. “How many targets are aimed at me?”
“Enough that you have round-the-clock protection circling your perimeter—but not within your classes at the Katurium,” he snarled, as if he’d wanted it to be otherwise. “You have to learn to protect yourself there. I can’t protect you from your classmates. But every time you step outside the university borders, I have shadows on you.”
“Markan?” I asked.
Aemon pursed his lips together. “Your grace, you have to stop making obscene gestures every time you see him.”
I glared.
Aemon rolled his eyes. “Fine.” His expression softened to one of concern. “Don’t fear the Emartis. They can’t touch you now. But the Imperator….”
“What was the Imperator doing here?” I asked angrily.
“You have other concerns to worry about. Like getting enough sleep for training tomorrow. I know what time you came home last night. Tonight’s hardly different. You can’t keep doing this. You have a full day of training, classes, and clinic—there isn’t time for you to do anything else. But since I know your tendency to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong…the Emperor just approved an additional five units of Ka Kormac’s soturi to guard Urtavia.”
“Five?” My heart stopped. “Are they to come all at once?”
Aemon nodded. “And now I need to station those fuckers in places where they won’t cause more trouble.”
Each unit was known in High Lumerian as an eshayim. One hundred. Five eshayim meant five hundred Korterians were marching on Urtavia right now, and when they got here and joined the already full camp of soturi, we’d have two thousand foreign soldiers. A legion. An armed legion in our country.
“Soturion Tarum,” Aemon called. “Escort the Lady Lyriana to her apartment.”
A sentry rounded the corner into the foyer and saluted Aemon. “At once, Arkturion.”
“You’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone,” Aemon said. “And, your grace, be ready. With a legion of Ka Kormac watching us, I will not be able to save you from Academy punishment again. Whether you deserve it or not.”
My stomach knotted, my mind flashing to Pavi’s back being torn open, her arms tied helplessly to the pole. I followed his sentry into the darkness.
