Page 125 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I was going to get us out of here. And then I was going to scrub my skin and hair raw. For a week. And burn my clothes. Maybe even cut my hair. Whatever I had to do to get the feel and stench of this place off of me.
I sucked in a breath, pointed at the torches above the pool, and made the final incantation: “Ani petrova lyla.”
Darkness spread across the water. The akadim started yelling and cursing, their voices grating my ears.
I wheezed, doubling over in pain, my eyes widening in shock—an akadim had punched my stomach.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t get air. By the Gods. I opened my mouth, trying to inhale, trying to find oxygen. Meera screamed.
A light flickered to life behind the akadim. It had red tufts of hair. This was Meera’s, the one who’d taken orders before.
“You thought magic would save you?”
It slapped my hand, and my stave fell and rolled across the floor.
Growling and baring its fangs, it wrapped its hand around my neck and choked me as it lifted me from the ground. My feet kicked for purchase as my back slammed into the wall.
Desperately, I clawed at its hands, pinching and striking with my nails, trying to get even one finger to pull back. I still couldn’t breathe. My vision was going in and out of focus.
“Fuck it,” said the akadim. “I want them.” It reached forward. Its nail poked the center of my collarbone before it pushed its claw into my skin. I kicked and punched, some animal-like sound coming from me as it slid its nail down my sternum, cutting through my skin. Blood trickled down my chest. When it reached my dress, it kept cutting, slicing me, piercing through the fabric.
My voice returned, and I screamed.
It dropped me, and I slammed to the floor on my ass, scrambling to find my way to my feet. Meera was on the ground, lying on her belly, half conscious.
The akadim reached for me again and swiped its hand across my dress, touching my blood.
I lurched, about to pass out, seeing stars from the pain.
But instead of cutting me deeper, it scowled, crying out.
I’d hurt it. But how? It’d only touched my blood.
“Too much trouble,” it said in disgust before it stomped toward Meera, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her onto her back while pushing her dress up her legs.
“NO!” I screamed, running at it without any thought.
It released Meera at once when I crashed into its arm. Smoke began to sizzle on its skin—right where I’d made contact with it—and the akadim made an agonized screech.
I remembered now, the akadim that had attacked Lyr had recoiled when it touched her armor—not because of the armor, but because of the blood inside it. Blood that Lyr now had inside her.
Was it possible…?
I swiped my hand across my chest, smearing it with my blood, then smashed my hand across the akadim’s face.
It roared in pain, as smoke sizzled from its cheek. The scent of burning flesh filled my nostrils. Recoiling from my touch and holding its burned skin, it bolted back down the hall.
The akadim who’d kidnapped me had done something similar in the carriage. It’d grabbed my arms, making me bleed, and afterward, when it’d touched me, it’d looked like it was in pain.
A memory from over a year ago flashed in my mind as I grabbed my stave, sheathing it at my side and reaching for Meera.
That first night he’d spoken to me in my mind, he’d told me, You’re powerful. Perhaps more so than any other vorakh I’ve met. Your power comes from something far deeper than your bloodline and name.
Was my power fueled by something other than my bloodline, or was it my blood itself that was powerful?
I hoisted Meera to her feet, her head falling back.
We had a short window—the majority of the akadim were distracted, and I’d scared off one, but not the one who’d captured me.
