Page 104 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
“Go!” mine ordered, clearly the one in charge.
My mind raced, as I desperately tried to piece together what I knew. Akadim didn’t work together. They killed and tortured for food and pleasure. But they had been organized lately—forming nests and assigning leadership. This was what had kept Rhyan going to Elyria.
My carriage door opened, and I was tossed in. I curled into a ball, shielding my face in my arms and sliding my body across the floor and beneath the bench. Water dripped from my body, soaking the floor beneath me. I was shivering, my teeth chattering, whether from fear or cold, I couldn’t tell anymore.
The floor shifted beneath me, the wood panels groaning as it accepted the akadim’s weight.
I stayed curled on the floor in a ball, too afraid to move—too afraid of what might come next. Rape. Death. Losing my soul.
The seraphim squawked, and I felt the sinking feeling in my stomach that signaled liftoff.
My captor was breathing heavily, its red eyes bloodthirsty and on me. It licked its lips and reached an arm across the carriage until its clawed hand found my neck. It pressed into my skin and slid down to my belly.
I tensed.
Its eyes widened, as it pulled its hand back like I’d burned it. It reached again, but just before it made contact with me, it changed its mind, shaking its head and muttering to itself. “No. For master. Maraak.” It stared out the window, tapping its claws against its naked and dirty knee.
I stayed curled beneath the bench, realizing in horror I’d wet myself when it had touched me. I wouldn’t have expected that would be a deterrent for it.
“For master,” it said again, this time like it was trying to convince itself. “Maraak.”
Maraak? That was High Lumerian…it meant king.
I squeezed my eyes shut, lying in a puddle of urine, ocean grime, and tears. Fuck. Fuck. We were flying faster now, and there was no escape, no spell I could use to get off this seraphim.
I could try to crash the carriage or throw myself from the window, but I needed to live. For Meera.
And for Jules. I was the only one who knew she was alive and where to find her.
I stared from beneath the bench at the monster, who still looked like it was trying to convince itself to follow orders to deliver me unharmed. But to where? To who? And why?
I reached out to its mind, but I got nothing. My head hadn’t been this quiet since before my Revelation Ceremony. Akadim were unaffected by magic, and I guessed that meant they were invincible to vorakh.
I coughed, catching its attention. Its red eyes narrowed on me.
“Who is your master?” I asked.
It reached for me again and hauled me out from beneath the bench, my soaking wet boots dragging across the floor as its nails drew blood through my sleeves.
I cried out.
Then it screamed in pain, staring at me with venom in its eyes.
“Moriel,” it said.
It slammed me against the wall, and my world went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LYRIANA
I sat alone in the stadium, listening to the fires flicker overhead and the crowd cheer for the apprentice clinic. Galen sat a few rows over, looking toward me every now and then as if reassuring himself I was there and safe. But, true to his word earlier, he didn't come sit with me.
I suddenly missed Haleika fiercely, missed the way she bounced in her seat, the way she would have been so annoyed at the presence of Imperator Hart in the arena. The way she would have been screaming at every foul hit and punch thrown inside the rings.
Rhyan was fighting, running and attacking every soturion he faced. After seeing his father in the stands this morning, something had snapped inside of him. He’d become more focused and determined than I’d ever seen. During the run, he’d raced across the track at a speed I’d never have thought possible—even for him. His legs had been like a mirage, and a cloud of dirt had followed his tracks. I ran in his shadows, terrified he’d slip up, lose control of his emotions, and expose his vorakh. But his speed had been all him, all of his training and years of work. He hadn’t traveled once, and for the rest of day, including lunch and our afternoon training, he’d been in the same intense mood. When we’d picked up our swords to spar, he’d done so with such focused vigor, we’d both ended up sweaty messes on the mats.
At dinner, I’d eyed him across the dining hall—his hair wet and curled from his second shower that day. His aura still felt cold and hard, even from across the room. He’d barely touched his food. I hadn’t dared go over to him, not when Viktor Kormac and his wolves had been watching me more boldly than ever before, and certainly not when Devon Hart had stridden through the dining hall pretending he’d wanted a tour of the Katurium. Rhyan had stilled the moment he’d sensed his father’s aura, his knuckles whitening and his scar reddening as if answering some unspoken call from the man who’d made it. I wished I’d had an aura so I could have sent some calming energy toward him. He’d given me one piercing look before all of the apprentices had been ushered outside to prepare for clinic.
