Page 93 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
Rhyan’s father released me. “You’ve told me all I need to know.” I felt him move from behind me, but I didn’t look back. I could barely move. I was too worried about Rhyan and what his father had revealed to me—that he had another weapon to use against us.
As the music slowed and servants entered the room with fresh goblets and decanters full of wine, Morgana appeared beside me and grabbed my arm. “Lyr, are you okay?”
“I need to talk to him. Now,” I said, not taking my eyes off Rhyan, who was still raging at the door, his face turning red as he yelled at Aemon.
“Get him out of here,” Morgana said. “Go to the door. Tell Aemon you want to go home. Too much wine. He’ll believe it. He wants Rhyan out before he causes a scene with his father. I’ll cover for you with Arianna.”
“Thank you,” I said and rushed for the door. I walked right up to Aemon and said the exact words Morgana had given me.
Aemon kept his hand on Rhyan’s armored shoulder, literally holding him back from charging. “You’re on duty then, Hart. Immediately.”
Huffs of breath came from Rhyan’s mouth, his expression feral. “I just returned from a week of hunting. I have another kill to my name,” he roared, practically spitting as he spoke. His accent was so strong, so full of rage, it was hard to understand him. I’d never seen him this angry before. I had to get him out of here and calm him down.
“Yes, Hart, I’m aware. Congratulations. Add another notch to your belt. But right now, you need to calm the fuck down. Take the lady back to her apartment. Go! And I better see you on the track tomorrow morning, ready to train with your attitude in check.” He turned to me. “And you, too, Soturion Lyriana.”
I nodded.
Shivers ran down my spine. I felt that utterly familiar sensation of being watched from behind. I turned toward the dinner party and immediately found the source of the feeling.
Rhyan’s father, sitting back at his seat like he was on a throne, openly watched us both like the nahashim he was deep down inside. He had his hip turned so the hilt of his sword faced me, and his finger traced the shape of the curved star as slowly as it had the rim of my wine glass.
Behind him was Arianna, her eyes narrowed into slits, an assessing look on her face. She disapproved of my sudden departure, and looked ready to call me back.
We had to get out of here.
“Rhyan, take me home,” I said.
He’d barely acknowledged me, his face still red and his green eyes blazing as he stared back at his father. I’d thought the Ready looked like a god of death on more than one occasion, but in that moment, if vengeance were a god, it would be Rhyan.
“Rhyan! Take me home,” I ordered. “Now!”
“Get out of here.” Aemon grabbed both of the doors to the ballroom and slammed them shut behind us.
Alone in the hall, I grabbed Rhyan’s hand. His skin was ice cold, his entire body shaking and angled toward the doors like he was two seconds from breaking them down and storming inside.
“Hey,” I said, standing before him. “Rhyan, look at me. Look at me.” I reached for his chin and pulled his face toward mine. “Rhyan!”
His chest heaved, his breathing was erratic, and his eyes were wild, barely seeming to see me. Then his fingers tightened around mine, and his other hand gripped my waist as he walked me back into a wall.
“Rhyan?”
His eyes searched the hall, the tendons in his neck standing out. Nostrils flaring, he turned suddenly. Vanishing to the other side of the hallway. His fist slammed with such violence into the wall, a small crack appeared.
“Rhyan!” I hissed, running for him. But he was before me in an instant. His face red, his shoulders shaking as he pushed me back again.
“Take me home!” I demanded.
His eyes were roving up and down my body, his eyes full of rage and fear as he pressed his hips against me, pressing me harder into the wall. His arms wrapped around my waist. “Ready?” he asked, his accent still heavy.
I blinked before I realized what he meant. He needed to get away from his father so badly and quickly, he wasn’t capable of simply walking away. We were traveling. This was risky, but it seemed like the only thing he could do.
With a nod, I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers interlacing behind his neck. His hands pressed into me, pulling me even closer to him, his chest rising and falling against my breasts. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling the familiarity of his pine scent, full of musk from his rage and a day’s worth of traveling with our soturi across Bamaria.
He exhaled sharply, his breath hot against my face, as I felt my feet leave the ground. There was a sharp tug on my stomach and a dizzying sensation that left me nauseated before my feet hit the floor of his apartment. Rhyan stumbled back from me, slamming into the wall of his bedroom.
Faint torchlight came through the window, just enough for me to see him sink to his knees.
“I’ve got you,” I said, rushing to his side and wrapping my arms tightly around him. “Rhyan, it’s just me. He’s not here. We’re safe. We’re home. You’re okay now, you’re okay.”
