Page 34 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I stood between my sister and cousin, feeling the Imperator’s attention closing in on us. “She said she won’t address you as her grace until you wear a diadem. You’re not an heir yet. Don’t expect to be treated like one.”
“And yet you’ve already bowed to me.” She reached forward, brushing her hand against my forehead, her velvet-clad fingers on the golden circlet centered over my forehead. “Hmmm. It was pretty.” She pulled her hand back, waggling her fingers in my face. “Shame it will be destroyed.” She moved toward the double doors with such a lift in her step, she looked like she was skipping—the way she’d walked through these halls as a girl. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, batting an eye at the Soturi of Ka Kormac.
I looked to Arianna. Naria taunting us over Father’s death left me feeling sick but didn’t surprise me. Naria had turned on Jules before I’d processed what had happened at her Revelation Ceremony.
But for her to touch my diadem—it wasn’t an offense written down anywhere I could cite because it was not something ever done. Such a breach in protocol was unfathomable. Even without a specific law forbidding such a thing, we both knew she’d deeply insulted me and my station.
And nothing was going to be done about it. Arianna taking power last night was also unheard of. Every breach of protocol, every change and transition away from tradition, put me in danger. I was standing in the room with my father’s killer, trusting civility because of custom. I realized how much I was relying on my safety to come from Arianna’s desire to be legitimate. But I was feeling less sure of that game by the second. How far was this going to go? How quickly was I going to have to act, to find my power?
How soon would it be before Rhyan determined the danger too great and demanded we run?
“I’m so sorry, Lyr,” Arianna said, looking truly embarrassed. “I will speak to her. She will be punished for her rudeness.”
I stared down at my boots. My aunt was lying—I knew that now. So much of their relationship was becoming clear. My aunt had trained and groomed Naria to act this exact way. Of course, she had. The woman was a master at appearances, at controlling society’s perception of her every move. Someone like her didn’t have a wild, uncultured daughter. Every word out of Naria’s mouth had always been carefully calculated. Naria, her loyal servant, had acted out and played with treason purely so Arianna had a constant excuse to remind others of her position. Thanks to Naria’s antics, Arianna had been given a daily excuse to separate herself from the one person who looked just like Tarek—the man who’d been blamed for the entire treasonous rebellion. All while Naria attracted those who shared her viewpoint, finding a safe place to exercise their treason.
Another set of soturi entered Cresthaven. Ka Kormac. Armed.
“Your escort,” drawled the Imperator.
“Arkturion Aemon’s in charge of our escort,” I blurted.
The Imperator grinned. “He is. But not this morning. Crowd control has become an issue once more.”
Meera stepped forward. “Then perhaps this is not the right moment for such an announcement to be made. I will show my support for this transition of power—but not at the risk of my life, or my sisters.”
Father’s warnings about crowds had never felt more important than in that moment.
Arianna’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps my niece is right.”
“No. I have an entire legion dedicated to your safety this morning. While I remain in Bamaria, no harm shall come to a single member of Ka Batavia.”
The words were spoken with honor, but I was shivering from their threat. We wouldn’t be harmed only because we were needed. But when Arianna was legitimized and when the Imperator left for the capitol….
The soturi sneered, and within seconds, we were surrounded. I was separated from my sisters, forced to walk with soturi on either side of me while Meera and Morgana were marched in front of me down the icy glass of the waterway and into separate seraphim carriages.
Markan joined me along with three soturi belonging to Ka Kormac.
I remained silent, refusing to look at any of them, even the one who sat behind the partition as was custom. It was becoming clearer by the second. They were not my escorts. They were my jailers.
My sisters and I had been taken prisoner the moment Meera had abdicated, but no one could see our chains or bonds.
We landed in the Urtavian port, yells and chants pounding through the carriage walls.
I peeled back the velvet winter curtains to look at the city, shaking a little as our bird settled onto the ground. “I thought we were going to the temple.”
One of my guards raised an eyebrow. He’d unevenly shaved his face, and random blonde whiskers stood out as he sneered. “We are.”
The carriage door opened.
“Then explain to me why we are not before it,” I said carefully. We were about a mile away.
“Because we’re not,” he said, his eyes dipping down my body and landing on my soturion boots peeking out from the hem of my gown. “Lucky you wore your boots today.”
I was tugged to my feet and ushered out of the seraphim before I could protest. Roughened hands gripped my arm, pulling me forward until my boots hit the ground. The badly shaved soturion’s fingers dug into my bicep, and he growled, hitting the arm cuff I wore.
“What in the—!” He squeezed my arm, fingers wrapping around the imprint of the metal through my sleeve.
I froze. “Take your hands off me,” I demanded.
