Page 5 of Guardian of the Drowned Empire

You must let her go. She has to die in Lethea.

I pushed away the memory of Tristan holding me back and whispering those hateful words into my ear when Jules had been arrested.

I fixed my hair into long, loose waves, the way my hairdresser used to before we’d sent her away. I watched the locks transform from dark brown to bright red whenever I shifted into the sunlight. I couldn’t make it look as good as my stylist could, but it wasn’t bad either. I draped my diadem across my forehead for the first time since my seventeenth birthday and applied makeup, watching the gold center catch sunlight between my dark eyebrows. I looked beautiful and calm. The perfect Lady Lyriana Batavia, Heir to the Arkasva, High Lord of Bamaria.

Giving myself a final once over, I realized I only had one flaw: a scratch on my arm from Meera. Shit.

The cut ran across my bicep. I turned in the mirror to look more closely at it, gasping as I realized there was another wound from her vorakh. I had a bruise forming on my back as well. No one could know, no one could suspect. My hair was long and thick and hung in loose waves—it would cover the bruise—but I grabbed a black shawl that matched my dress just in case. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake; I couldn’t afford one misstep. My status in Bamarian society and the future of my Ka was at stake.

But the cut…I couldn’t bandage it to hide it. Tristan would notice. I needed some other way to keep him from seeing it. I wandered into Jules’s room, the room she’d occupied since we were girls. She’d moved in after her parents had died. It hadn’t been touched since she’d been taken.

My eyes watered, but I blinked back the tears and schooled my face. I couldn’t ruin my makeup.

On her dresser lay an assortment of jewelry we’d collected over the years. Birthday jewelry, we’d called it. Our own little tradition. Gold necklaces, jeweled rings, bracelets, bangles, earrings, waistlets, anklets—they were spread out in disarray rather than neatly arranged in her jewelry boxes and on her jewelry stands as if she’d been trying on different pieces to see their effect with her dress before her Revelation. While she’d been looking for the perfect accessory for what was supposed to have been the best night of her life, I’d been outside at the pools, kissing Tristan.

I inhaled and exhaled sharply, focusing on my mission, and examined the pieces, trying not to recall the days we’d purchased them or the occasions on which she’d worn them. In the center, under a larger golden necklace, was what I’d been looking for. It was Jules’s favorite piece: a golden arm-cuff styled like seraphim wings.

I picked up the bracelet and watched it shine in the light, feeling how smooth and cold the metal was. I slid it over my arm, past my elbow, and up to my bicep. It fit perfectly, complementing my diadem, and most importantly, hiding the cut.

I nodded at my reflection and retreated through the halls of Cresthaven, using the kitchens to access the waterways behind the fortress that led to the garden underneath my balcony. Everything I owned lay in a giant pile. I flagged down one of my father’s sentries. He’d been watching me and eyeing my dirty clothes with a mix of curiosity and disdain. But he hadn’t said a word, and he wouldn’t, since as far as he could tell, I did not appear to be in any danger.

“Your grace,” he said, lowering his chin. He paused on the waterway, his golden armor gleaming in the sun.

I smiled sweetly. “Can you have one of the fortress mages burn this?”

“Burn? Your grace.” His tone was condescending. I could read his expression as easily as a scroll. He thought I was being a silly, dramatic little girl. Spoiled. Ridiculous. It was exactly what I’d expected him to think. It was unbelievable sometimes, the way men, even those employed by my father, thought they could judge me when I was the one manipulating them.

I lifted my chin. “Did I ask for your opinion?” I used my haughtiest, most affected voice—the voice of an heir, of a girl who far outranked him and dared him to question her.

“No.” He bowed. “My apologies. But it appears to be your entire wardrobe, your grace.”

I laughed. “And it’s all entirely last season. Some pieces even several seasons old. I can’t have that, now can I? Wearing clothes that have fallen out of style? What would people say?”

The sentry looked confused but also like he’d decided it wasn’t worth arguing. “I will see it done.”

I nodded, turning on my heels. “I’ll be checking in to see that it is in fact done.”

“Your grace,” he called. “Shall I alert Soturion Markan you wish to leave the premises? Venturing into the city, I presume?”

My fingers curled at my sides. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “I’ll have the escorts of Lord Tristan Grey accompany me.”

Moments later, I sat in a seraphim carriage with Tristan’s arms around me as I willed my body to relax and not shake under his touch. I had to get over this, this weird feeling I had whenever he touched me. His escorts, mages who kept their staves ready at all times, sat behind the partition to give us privacy. It made Tristan bolder, his hands already on me.

The floor shifted beneath us as the seraphim stood and took flight. A cold breeze hinting of fall’s longer nights and darker days blew through the window as I watched Cresthaven move farther and farther away from me. Curls of black smoke rose above the glittering blue mosaic tiles of the fortress walls, dancing and licking at the sky before fading into white wisps.

I sucked in a breath. I’d shed my last tear for Jules. I’d fallen apart for the last time. If I was going to protect Meera, if I was going to fulfill my blood oath and my Ka was going to survive, I couldn’t break character again.

I turned to Tristan. His brown eyes were full of affection, the wind lightly brushing through his hair. He had no idea of the turmoil thrashing inside me.

I conjured up the memory of our first kiss. Of the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Of the way that sensation had moved lower when he’d drawn me closer, of the gasp of pleasure I’d made when his knuckles had grazed across my breasts and my nipples had hardened. I remembered the excited beats of my heart and the way he’d looked so handsome beneath the stars, the soft sprinkling sounds of water flowing into the pools. I remembered how I’d waited weeks for him to kiss me, enduring our flirtations and teasing until it all came together in what had felt like such a pivotal, explosive moment between us.

I pulled that memory forward as if I could wear it like armor. I’d desired him once with my entire being. I willed that desire to cloak me, to seep into my skin.

I traced the line of his jaw with my fingers as the carriage tilted. “Do you know how handsome you are?” I brought my lips against his, softly, slowly, tentatively, and closed my eyes, as his mouth opened to mine. I tensed, a feeling of panic surging through me, and then it passed. The faint scent of smoke wafted into my nose, blending with Tristan’s scent, a mix of mint and the salt of the ocean.

His fingers pressed into me as my tongue swept past his lips. Our kiss deepened as my old life, the old me, burned to ash, and a new fire stoked inside of me.

CHAPTER TWO

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