Page 102 of Guardian of the Drowned Empire

“Use any means necessary,” I said.

Deep silver shined against his throat, my name glowing on the blade in golden letters.

“Well done,” he said, his jaw tensing as we both stood there, dagger to neck, eyes boring into each other.

I exhaled, my lips tingling, before I relaxed my blade and drew my dagger back.

Rhyan cocked his head to the side, a smile barely forming on his lips before my world turned upside down.

I was flat on my back, Rhyan kneeling on top of me.

“You forgot,” he said. “Never ever assume your opponent defeated. Ensure it’s been done.”

I stared up at him, breathing heavily. His arms caged me in, and his legs, so thick with muscle, were flattening mine into the mat. I twisted and grunted, trying to shake him off, but he was too strong. I stilled, offering a look of surrender. Rhyan’s eyes dipped down, assessing my next move, but his gaze seemed to linger on my breasts before returning to my face.

I struck quickly, kicking out my legs and wrapping them around his waist. I locked my ankles together, forcing him down until his body was flush against mine, pressing into me. Intimately. Too intimately. Exactly where I needed him as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his face into my shoulder, choking him.

I flipped him onto his back, pinned his arms down, and held a second of victory before he flipped me again. The movement was fast and violent, but his hand rested behind my head, softening the blow, cushioning me.

“That was your best yet,” he said, pulling his hand away from my head. I could feel his fingers catching in my braid, pausing. He stilled, hovering above me, watching. The bells were sure to ring any second. Lunch break. And then the written exams.

But he didn’t move. He stayed like that, poised above me. One second too long. Then he slid back, jumping to his feet and extending his hand to help me up. I grabbed hold, pulling him down onto the mat. He landed beside me.

“All right.” He released a groan. “I deserved that.” He turned on his side to face me, rubbing the back of his neck. “How do you feel?”

I turned toward him. “Like if time travel was a vorakh, I’d wish for it, consequences be damned. I just want to get to the end of two days from now. For my test to be over. And to know I either passed, or I—” My eyes burned, my stomach roiling. “At least I won’t have this feeling in my gut much longer.”

Rhyan’s good eyebrow was drawn in, sympathy in his eyes.

After Days of Shadows, the shock of having broken my blood oath had caused one of my worst panic attacks. It had been made only worse when I’d learned my father had paid a price to protect me from the blood debt.

Meera, Morgana and I had confronted him the morning after, when the threat of the Emartis riots had been quelled. He had refused to speak to us about it except to try and reassure us again and again that he’d paid a fair price to remove our debts, and we were not to worry.

But as we’d gathered back in the Seating Room for Aemon’s full report on the Emartis, a gnawing feeling had begun to grow in my stomach, and a month later it hadn’t subsided.

No price paid to the Afeya was fair, especially not one to Mercurial. And combined with the countdown to my test, Rhyan’s more frequent trips to hunt akadim, and whispers of the Emartis’s next move, I’d basically accepted the ball of nerves that lived and breathed in my stomach. Even our morning meditations couldn’t release the tension.

At least in two days’ time, the ball would burst, either because it was all over or because…. I sucked in a breath. Well, one way or another, it was about to be over.

Rhyan stepped forward. His hand reached for me then closed into a fist as he replaced it at his side. We’d been extra careful with our touches since we’d kissed. If we weren’t practicing combat or training, anything like hugs or pats on the back had become off-limits. It was an unspoken agreement we seemed to have come to after Rhyan had left my bedroom that night.

“You’re going to your security meeting after this?” I asked.

Rhyan nodded. “We expect the Emartis to make a move with the Emperor in town. It’s going to be chaotic and crowded and confusing.”

“Their favorite combination,” I said dryly.

“Plus,” he bit his lip, his gaze giving him away as he looked out the window and then back to me, “there’s the possibility of support from the Imperator. And with his uncle in the country—I don’t want you to worry, though,” he added fiercely.

“It’s fine. I’ll just add it to the worry list. It’s only a mile long. I doubt I’ll notice.”

“Lyr,” he said.

“It’s nothing new. Nothing we haven’t suspected all along.”

The morning after the Emartis riots, Aemon had announced that a dozen Lumerians had been arrested. They’d spent the past month in the Shadow Stronghold awaiting trial. But what was really happening was my father and Lady Sila were waiting for one of the prisoners to break. So far, none had said a word. And it wasn’t customary for Bamaria to use torture though I suspected the time was getting close.

For the attack that had occurred that night, and the fights that had ensued across Bamaria, Aemon estimated at least five hundred members of the terrorist organization had been present, yet we’d only arrested a dozen. Tani was not one of them. Every single arrest had been made by one of Brenna’s soturi, the Soturi of Ka Batavia. Not one arrest had been made by a soturion of Ka Kormac despite the fact that they’d outnumbered Ka Batavia soturi that night two to one. If it had seemed farther than Lethea to believe Ka Kormac was behind the Emartis before, it seemed perfectly reasonable now.

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