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Going to bed at night was getting harder.

I could feel Arianna’s magic protecting my apartment, hear her essence in the buzzing of the wards. I slept in Rhyan’s clothes each night, rewearing what I’d borrowed, but his scent had become so faint, I could barely feel him. I had found the only way to fall asleep was to wrap my arms around myself and pretend they were his.

And then the dreams came. The nightmares. I was back in the arena. Watching my father die. Watching Haleika die.

Watching Rhyan die.

I woke up crying every time, hand clutched to the vadati against my waist, wanting to call him. I didn’t know what to do, how to get through to him. He’d done this before—shut me out when he was scared—when he’d thought it would protect me. But this time felt different. The hurts between us far greater than they’d ever been. This time was leaving a hole in my chest.

“That is good news,” Aemon said, breaking me from my thoughts. He sat across the room from us, close to Arianna. I suspected he was trying to maintain his position as arkturion. Morgana had confirmed as much. Arianna was within every right to replace him, but so far, thank the Gods, no announcements had been made.

I had a feeling she was dying to put one of her lackeys in his role, but despite the years of turmoil, the Ready remained a beloved warlord, and replacing the man who’d ended the first Emartis rebellion immediately following a second uprising was going to look bad in ways even Arianna couldn’t control or rectify. Not yet, anyway.

“The Soturi of Damara have always been talented fighters,” Turion Dairen said. “That’s two akadim kills for….” He trailed off. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. May we slay many more in the coming months.”

Aemon’s eyes fell on me. Two akadim kills for Damara. The first had been Leander—the kill we didn’t acknowledge, that didn’t count because Leander had broken his oath, because Haleika had become forsaken.

Because Rhyan and I had let that monster go.

This was why Rhyan was risking his life to hunt these monsters. Why he’d left me alone.

“He’s alive,” Morgana said quietly. “Calm down.”

I nodded, staring ahead as Lady Sila stood, her camouflaged robes making her body invisible. And just like Rhyan had predicted, she announced that the suspected members of the Emartis, arrested the night of my father’s murder, had all been released. There hadn’t been enough evidence to hold them.

My stomach dropped.

Arianna looked genuinely disappointed at this news, frowning with slanted eyes. “Then we must do better. We must find more evidence from the guilty party. We must find those responsible for taking our Arkasva from us too soon.”

There was a round of applause, and servants emerged with fresh bottles of wine. Eathan sat in a corner by himself, looking stoic, his face drawn and eyes downcast. There was a clear air of sadness in his aura, gray and clouding around him. When a servant offered him a fresh glass, he declined.

I was not in the mood for anything to drink. Tristan was in my line of sight, and Naria had her hands all over him. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest and teased their way to his belt. Her engagement ring flashed with every turn of her hand as she played with his hair.

We hadn’t spoken since that night in my apartment. He’d given me a nod and a look of sympathy when I’d entered the hall. His brown eyes had lingered on me for a long moment before Naria had taken his hand. And I’d felt a pang in my chest. Missing him—not as he’d been for me—but as my friend. The boy I’d once trusted and grown up with. We had a unique bond, so much history, but we had also been torn apart, and nothing more than a nod would be allowed for some time.

The usual gossip began to stir—discussion of the Emartis’s next move, how the Imperator’s task force was doing, possible picks from Arianna to become the next Master of Education on the Council, and, of course, when Tristan and Naria would formally become husband and wife. Every mention of dress designs and cake flavors made me sick.

“Almost done,” Morgana said quietly.

Meera reached behind her chair to squeeze my hand. She was looking a little better than she had after she’d first learned the truth about Aunt Arianna. But she never truly looked like herself, not with her vorakh ravaging her.

“Soturion Lyriana,” Aemon said, “training begins again in a few days.”

I nodded. “Yes.” There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t go back to training. Not in the arena. Not where it had happened. Not without Rhyan. Not without any answers. I hadn’t been back to the Katurium since that first call to him. Every time I thought about running the track in the place where I’d killed Haleika and where my father’s body had fallen, I wanted to vomit.

“Are you ready to return?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He leaned toward me, his armor gleaming with firelight. But there were also bags under his eyes, clear signs of exhaustion. I’d imagined he was working every hour he could to maintain order, and keep the additional legion of Ka Kormac soturi under control.

“Do you want the honest answer?” I asked, voice low. “Or the one I’m expected to give?”

He smiled grimly. “That is answer enough. You appear to be without an apprentice at the moment.” His eyes roved beyond me, no doubt picking out the members of my security detail still present. Then his darkened gaze was back on me. “I do expect him to return soon, but in the meantime, as a precaution, I’m going to pair you with Soturion Galen and his apprentice for training.”

My heart sank. I hadn’t seen Galen since the arena. I had no idea how he was doing after losing Haleika, after learning she’d loved someone else. I should have reached out to him, but I’d been too afraid.

“I don’t need to remind you,” Aemon said, “of what’s at stake. You know I am sympathetic to all that’s happened. I support you, and I’d give you far more time to recover were I in charge. But, just as before, we cannot afford to make any mistakes. The Imperator and now the Emperor are still watching your every move. Closer than before in some ways,” he added darkly. “Understood?”

“Understood.” I was to be Soturion Lyriana again. To suck it up. To prove I was strong even without magic. To expect no special favors. It was all I could do to maintain my position, to keep Imperators from negotiating marriage.

“I’m making a call to the Imperator,” Aemon said, “to bring Hart back at once. By now, he should have shared all the knowledge he has and led enough of the hunts—especially considering his age—that he has done enough. I believe his services here are required. Especially now that the rebels have been freed.” His hands fisted at his sides, his eyes moving to Morgana and then Meera.