Page 1 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
THE FIRST SCROLL:
SEKHIUM
CHAPTER ONE
MORGANA
(One year earlier: the night of my Revelation Ceremony)
I thought I’d known pain before. I was wrong.
My knuckles matched the white of the marble banister beneath them. I stood at the edge of my balcony outside my bedroom. My shoulders were tense and my gaze unfocused on the crashing waves of the Lumerian Ocean. A full moon cast light on the fortress of Cresthaven, but the headache pounding through my skull blurred my vision, making the familiar towers appear foreign.
In the distance, a seraphim squawked, and the rolling sounds of waves rushed forward over the sand. I swayed, dizzy from the pain. Still, I gripped the banister. Harder. Harder.
The clocktower began screaming the new hour. Ashvan fled to the sky, riders on the backs of the jewel-toned horses scouting over Bamaria.
It’s late. So fucking late.
When I’m done here, shit’s going down!
Buy more rice tomorrow.
I slammed my hands on the railing. The Godsdamned voices. I couldn’t escape. I’d been hearing them for hours now, ever since Arkmage Kolaya had removed my Birth Bind. The blinding torment of the incessant thoughts had begun on the dais in the temple, and it was unrelenting. Nothing seemed to relieve the pain; nothing stopped the noise. I couldn’t hide, couldn’t find a moment of fucking silence. My own mind was no longer safe.
The backs of my eyes burned. Shit. Shit. The voices were coming faster now. Louder. Interrupting my own thoughts. The ashvan riders in the sky were too close for me to ignore.
Fucking Ka Batavia, stupid blue palace.
If I ever get to Lady Morgana…skirts going up….
I released the banister, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. I would not cry. I would not cry. Between my two sisters, enough tears had been shed tonight, enough tears for an Afeya’s lifetime. I wouldn’t add one single tear more. Tears didn’t change shit. Tears didn’t get you what you wanted. They made you weak. They forced you into a ball on your bed with your fingers digging into your belly as you sobbed in agony, crying like a child, waiting and waiting while no one came to help.
I’ve kept the secret this long….
The voices pounded through my thoughts.
They don’t know she’s a traitor. Soon they will.
Fly faster, you Moriel-horse. Fucking tired….
I covered my ears. It didn’t help.
Shekar arkasva!
I pressed harder into my temples, pushing back the tears. I could see my father’s dagger in my mind’s eye, covered in my blood, in his blood, in the blood of my sisters.
Picking up the dagger and sliding the blade down the skin of my wrist—slicing off the scars of my second blood oath—had been on my mind all night. The thought overwhelmed me, its grip like a vice on my soul.
I hadn’t done it. I wasn’t stupid. The act would be nothing more than useless violence with no result. The magic my father had invoked ran far deeper. I could cut off my arm, and I’d still be bound for life.
Even without the oath in place, I would remain vorakh. I was doomed to this pain.
I shut my eyes, leaning forward against the cool stone of the banister, listening to the waves crash in the night.
Need a Godsdamned drink.
Final shift tonight. Thank fuck.
