Page 181 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
But the air smelled fresh. Like pine. Like Rhyan. And that softened my feelings toward Glemaria by a considerable degree.
We hiked through lunch as the late afternoon sun faded. The Soturi of Ka Hart were extremely present, but none seemed to venture too deeply into the woods. Rhyan’s father may have warned them to look for his son, but he was never going to reveal Rhyan’s vorakh and the likelihood of him getting into the country the way he had, so him entering these woods unseen was probably beyond the realm of their thought.
The woods filled with shadows as a fresh bout of snow began to fall. I huddled as close to Rhyan as I could, my soturion cloak hooded over my face, catching the snowdrifts.
Just as the sun set—the sky darkening with the night, the gryphons on patrol, and the snow falling even harder—we reached the bottom of Gryphon’s Mount. The giant creatures glided through the sky, and the nearby chatter of soturi trying to distract themselves from the plummeting temperatures could be heard easily at the mountain’s base.
Rhyan sucked in a breath, scanning the horizon. We couldn’t just travel to the seraphim. We were going to need to travel in small bursts, checking for soturi at every landing to see just how many guarded the statue.
“I’m not sure if we’re going to get through this without more blood on our hands,” he said quietly. “So fucking stupid. My father using them for this.”
I followed his gaze up. “We’ll do our best.”
Wrapping me in his arms, Rhyan closed his eyes, and we took our first jump.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
MORGANA
My eyes flew open, and immediately I knew I was lying in a bed—a proper bed with pillows and sheets and blankets, not scraps of hay tossed over a pile of dirt. My chest tightened as I stared up at the ceiling.
Rock.
My eyes burned, a pit sinking low in my belly. I was still in the cave, still prisoner, still trapped. I squeezed my eyes shut, shivering. Fear and cold were consuming me. I was freezing. The air felt so much colder than it had before. Damper, too. My arms were covered in goosebumps, and my teeth chattered as I tried to get my bearings.
Gods, I wished I were still sleeping. That had been my only reprieve since I’d been taken. I’d had no dreams or nightmares. In my sleep, I had ceased to exist. I had been in nothingness, which was far more preferable to my reality.
Strange. I used to fear the idea of nothing, of being an unformed soul, of the world not yet created. Now I’d take that over this, over being captured by akadim, in a heartbeat.
How long had it been? Days? Had actual days passed? A week? I’d spent so much time sleeping and waking in the alcove where I’d been tied up, I had no concept of time.
My stomach roiled. Nerves. Terror. And I was starving. When was the last time I’d had food? Two days? Three? Longer? I knew I hadn’t eaten a thing since I’d been taken. I vaguely remembered dirty water being shoved down my throat when I’d been half-conscious on the rope. I’d nearly gagged, it had been so disgusting. But I’d been thirsty, my throat so dry I’d thought it’d kill me.
How long could a Lumerian survive without food?
And where was Meera?
I pulled my hands through my hair. My fingers got stuck; my hair was a knotted, tangled mess.
Groaning, I pulled my hands out, my broken fingernails tearing some strands from my scalp. I wiped them off on my dress, which was caked in dirt and sand and bodily functions I was becoming far too fucking aware of by the smell wafting toward my nostrils. I pressed my fists against my temples, trying to breathe through my mouth. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t have a headache—it was literally the only thing I hadn’t suffered from since my capture.
Where had this bed come from? Did I dare leave it to find Meera?
The girl I’d seen earlier flashed in my mind. Naked. Assaulted. Tortured. Probably an akadim by now. She’d be taller, her body full of red stretchmarks, her skin paler, her nails elongated into claws.
I stared down at my own hands, dirty and disgusting but human. Lumerian. Not the hands of a monster.
My shoulders shook. If what had happened to the girl I’d seen in that alcove happened to Meera, I’d never forgive myself.
I pushed back the covers and stood. My legs wobbled, weak, not used to bearing weight.
Then a thought entered my mind, clear and sharp, painful.
Morgana?
It was Meera. She was awake. She was alive.
My whole body was sore, and walking felt foreign, but I moved from the alcove, too afraid to call back and draw attention to myself. I had to get to her. I had to find my sister.
