Page 87 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
“I found something out. About Meera’s vision,” I said. “I think Rhyan was right. It was definitely Glemaria, and I think—”
Before I could say more, the herald announced, “Arkturion Aemon Melvik, Warlord of Bamaria, and Turion Dairen Melvik, Second.” The Ready was here.
Aemon entered the room dressed in his full armor. His eyes immediately fell on Rhyan’s father, and his aura darkened as a sneer fell across his lips while he crossed the room.
Auras of the nobles around me began to crackle, filling with palpable tension. Everyone felt alert, expectant, as if preparing for a fight. Their postures remained proper while their necks strained and their eyes watched, eager to bear witness to this new development.
“Are they all reacting to Aemon?” I asked under my breath, knowing Morgana felt the change in auras, too.
She nodded solemnly. “Everyone is remembering the rebellion, how he got his nickname. I think some are wondering if he’ll do something else. Earn some new title in the process.” Morgana rolled her eyes. “Not likely. For that to happen, there’d need to an open declaration of war. But the snakes are in the shadows.”
“Anything new there?” I asked, voice low. “Have you learned anything else?”
Morgana narrowed her eyes. “This is so strange. I’m so used to hearing you.”
I remained silent. Even though any unexplained change to my body or to Morgana’s vorakh was concerning, I didn’t mind this one side effect of the Valalumir in my heart. For once, I didn’t have to review all my thoughts in front of Morgana to make sure I wouldn’t upset or offend her. And it was comforting to know my conversation with Rhyan last night would remain a secret between the two of us. She’d been privy to too many of our intimate moments already, and that one…no one needed access to that one. It was ours, for us alone.
“Let’s sit,” she said. “Arianna’s about to start talking.”
I let Morgana lead me to my chair, aware of Imperator Hart’s eyes still on me. I’d selected a green dress for the night, and my armor covered the star over my chest. I wore my usual arm cuff and the golden chain around my waist with the vadati. A silver belt lay on top—I’d chosen silver to impress Rhyan’s father, not Ka Grey, for once.
Arianna stood up, holding out a glass of wine. She toasted to us, her three nieces—the nieces she grieved with for the death of our father.
Gryphon-shit.
Then more congratulations were offered to Naria and Tristan. There was a lump in my throat as they stood together, hand in hand. Sorrow filled Tristan’s brown eyes, but I no longer felt anything toward him.
At last, Arianna welcomed Rhyan’s father.
“Your highness, Imperator Hart,” she said. “Welcome back to Bamaria.”
He stood, a wide smile on his face as he turned toward my sisters and I and lifted his cup. “It’s good to be back. I have missed this country and her people. And while I am saddened for your loss, I am looking forward to the next steps in the development of our relationship. To the future of Glemaria’s continued friendship with Bamaria.” He spoke in the formal, educated way of the nobility, the way I had perfected and that Rhyan spoke when needed. Not once did I hear the lilt of Glemaria escape his lips. The perfection of his tone somehow made him feel even colder, like there was something completely unnatural about his entire person.
Imperator Hart turned, his black cloak sliding behind his shoulder to reveal the belt at his waist and the hilt of his sword. The handle was thick, covered in shining black leather like the armor of Ka Hart, but right in the center was the exact symbol my mother had drawn into her journal—a Batavia-red star with seven points, each one curved like the rays of the sun. The key.
He gulped down his wine, finishing his glass in one go, before he delicately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned.
Several of the nobles cheered, but most of the amusement in the room came from the soturi, as if they respected him for this. Despite how formal and cold he was, he seemed like he truly wanted to please the soturi in the room, to be considered one of them.
His eyes found me again, and he lifted his empty glass to me then sat down, as Arianna called for the feast to begin.
I sat with my shoulders tensed, my back straight, slowly eating and wondering what to do. Maybe I didn’t need to talk to him. Maybe I only needed to find a way to steal the key from his sword. A theft would be simpler, and if done properly, I’d have no interaction with him.
“What are you plotting?” Morgana asked, as the musicians used a volume-enhancing spell on their instruments. They’d stopped playing the slower, quieter music used for dinners and had begun to play a dance. Drums beat in the corners of the hall, their rhythms quickening. I recognized the music at once, a popular water dance. One I used to perform, and as if on cue, water dancers in gold and red silk costumes with blue ribbons tied to their ankles streamed into the room, their hips shimmying to the drums.
We hadn’t had water dancers perform in Cresthaven for more than two years. My heart panged.
I took a deep breath, knowing we had the cover of the music to speak. It was time to fill in Morgana on what I’d learned and to start plotting a way to get the key.
But Turion Dairen and Aemon appeared before us.
I barely held back my sneer as Dairen bowed to me and my sisters. He’d never showed such respect in the Katurium.
Aemon’s eyes were on me, dark and shadowy. “The Imperator’s task force has just returned,” he said. “Your security team will be back in full force very shortly.”
I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. He meant Rhyan. Rhyan would be back.
But I carefully schooled my face to remain neutral. I couldn’t let on what it meant to me or how excited I was after a week apart to see him.
