CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LYRIANA
The next day, as the clock towers finished their hourly call, I was marched to Seathorne’s Seating Room. I looked out the looming windows, my heart half-expecting to see ashvan horses, the blue glow of their hooves in the sky. I’d been away from Bamaria for so long, I was starting to feel homesick. There were no ashvan here, no glittering waterways reflecting the sky. No warmth in the air carrying the scent of spices. Just endless stretches of gray skies and gryphon wings blocking the faint light of winter’s sun.
Dario stood by my side, my new personal escort, his hand on the hilt of his sword a useless gesture when a dozen soturi lined the hall ready to strike. Not that I had any more plans to escape. Not when Imperator Hart had my name signed in blood, and my promise to do his will. Not when Rhyan’s, Meera’s, and Jules’s life hung in the balance.
The Imperator had already called his Court into session. He had a busy day ahead. Addressing the newly reported akadim threat, Glemaria’s participation in the upcoming Valabellum. Parading Meera around so his people could ogle at the survivor of an akadim attack and praise their Imperator for her rescue.
And he had two betrothals to announce. Mine.
And Rhyan’s.
Not to mention, Rhyan’s acquittal for having been named forsworn.
Meera’s part would be finished by now. I was to be presented next. Then Rhyan would follow. The grand finale.
I could hear the announcements around Meera coming to a close. There was a round of applause, then cheers.
“They’re ready for you,” Dario said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”
His hand flew to his heart, his head falling back as if he’d been stabbed. “Pardon me for forgetting that you know how this works. You must know everything thanks to your once noble status.” He straightened, adjusting the leather tie around his curls. “But all the same, you better be ready in there. You know what’s at stake.”
The cut on my skin still burned, and I could still feel the way my blood felt against the parchment as I signed my name.
“I’m ready,” I gritted through my teeth, and nodded at the herald. “Go ahead. Announce me.”
The doors swung open, and I was hit with the force of hundreds of auras at once—excited, curious, searching. And judging. A wave of dizziness washed over me as I withstood the assault.
The herald called my name, and Dario shoved me across the threshold.
All at once, the noise and laughter of the Court turned to hushed whispers as hundreds of eyes turned to me.
I kept my gaze forward, to the dais, where Kenna stood. Where Imperator Hart sat back in his Seat, daring me to falter.
I wouldn’t. I’d signed my name in fucking blood.
And no matter who sat on the Seat of Power in Bamaria, or who tried to claim it, nothing could take away thefact I was still Lady Lyriana Batavia. The reincarnation of Asherah, Goddess of the Red Ray. A Guardian. A Warrior.
I walked down the center aisle, aware of every eye turning toward me. Aware that Meera was somewhere in the room. But I never took my eyes off the Imperator’s. He’d caught me off guard yesterday, caught me weak. I wouldn’t give him the chance to do it again.
This was war.
“Your Highness,” I said when I reached the front. I curtseyed low and stood, my back to the nobility.
“Lady Lyriana Batavia,” Imperator Hart said. “Or shall we call you, Soturion Lyriana?” he asked with a chuckle.
The Court laughed in response—a sort of immediate, expected sound that I assumed they’d been trained to do for decades under his rule. Laugh when he made a joke. Believe him when he lied.
“Come, my lady,” he said. “Join us up here on the dais as I introduce you. Lady Kenna shall be your companion.”
Rhyan’s ex-lover. Of course.
But also, my new ally.
“I am honored, Your Highness,” I said sweetly, and picked up my sea of green skirts, prepared to step onto the stage. Surprisingly, Dario was by my side, his hand on my elbow, steadying me as I made my way. He waited until I was balanced enough to drop my skirts. Then I stepped to the left, moving respectfully beside Kenna.
