Page 31 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I stood in the arena, dressed in my soturion uniform. The Valalumir stars on the straps of my belt all shined. I reached down, trying to pull off one of the seven-pointed stars. I needed it. There was an enemy. And I needed to kill. To protect.
But the star cut me. I hissed, blood gushing from my finger. I sucked it into my mouth, feeling cold. Snow was falling. But it didn’t feel like snow. It was thick and heavy and wet.
I gazed around the arena. The snowflakes were red. Blood red.
An akadim growled, its teeth gnashing, and I spun, trying to find it.
“Asherah,” Haleika growled.
I threw my star, watching in horror as Haleika jumped to the side. The star hummed, spinning past her. Rhyan was there, bound and tied up.
“No!”
The star flew past him, flying back at me, piercing my heart. I screamed as my chest exploded with a bang.
I sat straight up in my bed, a terrified cry on the edge of my lips. My balcony door had flown open, the sound of it crashing into the wall having woken me. Wind howled, and a gust of winter air burst into my room. I turned to the side, my hands sliding against empty sheets. Still warm. Rhyan couldn’t have been gone long.
I slid out of the bed, taking a blanket with me around my shoulders to close the balcony.
Before I could reach it, I stumbled over a black leather case on the center of my floor. It didn’t belong to me—nor to Rhyan. I’d never seen it before.
I checked my door. It was still closed. Locked.
Had someone thrown this in through the balcony? I ran out, searching the horizon. No one was there. No one was below, no one was in the sky, not a single ashvan or seraphim was in sight.
I came back inside and closed and locked the balcony door, shivering and pulling the blanket closer.
I picked up the case and unhooked the lid. Parchment fell into my hand. Unfamiliar handwriting was inked across the small scroll.
Your Grace,
Now the phrase “shekar arkasva” has true meaning. Not all support the illegitimate black seraphim. You’re not alone.
131189114141
I read the number sequence twice, trying to understand, to find a pattern. But the signature didn’t make any sense—it was just a meaningless group of numbers. I rolled up the parchment as tightly as I could, sliding it into my cuff where I kept Meera’s vision log.
I crawled back into bed, shifting to where Rhyan had been, inhaling what lingered of his heat and scent as I wrapped the blankets around me.
You’re not alone.
I closed my eyes. At least I knew one thing. There weren’t just traitors on the Council of Bamaria or supporters of the Emartis around me.
Someone supported me, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A loud knock rapping against my door made me jump.
I turned from the mirror above my dressing table. It was morning, but the skies were gray and full of the promise of snow.
“Just a minute,” I called. I was supposed to be downstairs at the end of the hour, ready to face Bamaria for the public announcement of Arianna’s ascent to the Seat.
The knock sounded again, harder, more urgent this time.
“Morgs, what?”
“You’re decent?” Markan, my ever-present shadow and guard, growled from the hall.
