CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LYRIANA
“Rhyan,” I gasped, just as I was swallowed into his embrace, his arms tightening around me, his hands pressing into my back, his fingers tangling in my hair. For a moment, we just held each other, breathing each other in. Our hearts pounding, seemingly as one.
“Lyriana,” Rhyan murmured into my hair. “Lyriana.” He breathed me in, his aura intensifying. “By the Gods. We’re not safe here.” His hold on me, already possessive and strong, tightened.
“We’re not safe anywhere,” I said, thinking of everything that had happened just within the last day. My talk with Mercurial. What Rhyan’s father had revealed. My conversation with Imperator Kormac. There was so much happening, so much we had to worry about, to think through.
I pulled back, just so I could look him up and down. I was drinking in his features, the small details in his face I’d been unable to stare at for the past month. The way his cheeks flushed pink against his pale, northern complexion. The dark stubble nearly always present around his jaw. The soft pout of his lips, the way they always looked so damned kissable, and the pattern of soft curls in his hair that I just wanted to run my fingers through.
“Rhyan, we need to talk.”
“You’re not hurt?” he asked, his eyes searching mine. And I realized he’d been drinking me in, too. “I’ve been worried. Ever since we arrived—since you fainted. I wanted to come to you. But I—I couldn’t.” He looked so guilty as he admitted that.
“It was the shard,” I said, my voice shaking. “It made the light flare.”
“I thought so.” He shook his head, but then his hand slid to my belly, rising slowly up the front of my shirt, until his palm rested between my breasts. Over my heart. Over the mark of the golden Valalumir. “Anything?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”
I shook my head. “No. And now that I was near it, hopefully it got that first meeting glow out of the way.”
Rhyan’s expression tensed, his eyebrows drawing together. “I can’t believe what just happened back there.”
“I know.” The soturion had struck out of nowhere. But I’d been close enough to the front of the room to see the blade enter the Emperor’s stomach, to see the sword push in, and then up.
Exactly what I’d done to Brockton.
Rhyan sighed. “I don’t know what we’re going to do now.”
I bit my lip, the backs of my eyes burning. “I never thought I’d be praying for the Emperor’s health.”
“Praying?” Rhyan’s face hardened. “I’m not. He deserved a lot fucking more than that. After all that he’s done. He can burn in hell.”
“But the Valabellum—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said gently. “Something tells me, whether he lives or dies, it won’t make a difference. Even if there’s a new Emperor named tonight—Lyr, there’s not going to be a Valabellum tomorrow. There’s going to be a whole slew of other events coming instead. And a lot more Godsdamned security.”
“Who do you think would replace him?” I asked.
Rhyan ran his hands up and down my arms, before settling on my hips. He blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck if I know. It could be any of those bastards.” His throat bobbed. “We have to pray it’s not my father.”
If Devon Hart became Emperor, I didn’t know what that would mean for our bargain. I wouldn’t have to steal the shield. I knew that much. It would be his by right. He could simply take it, order it to be stored in Seathorne. And Jules would be his—he’d have all the access to her in the world.
And he’d have utter and complete control over me. Over Rhyan.
Just as he’d been planning all along.
My heart pounded now for another reason.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Rhyan said, quietly. “We’re both trapped in these apartments at least until morning. I can’t travel, and we can’t get past the guards—there’s too many. And the Throne Room’s off-limits for the foreseeable future.”
“Maybe we can still get the shard,” I said, hopefully. “After the Throne Room empties.”
Rhyan frowned. “Lyr, listen to me. Our plan to steal the shield was risky enough. Our odds of succeeding were slim. And that was after a month of planning. Everything we prepared was based on a specific event with a specific schedule and protocol. With what just happened, there’s too many unknown factors to account for.” He shook his head. “There’s no way we can do this. We need to wait.”
I shook my head, pulling back. “No. NO! We didn’t just do all of that planning and suffering for a month. Not for nothing.” My chest heaved. “Fuck!” Tears pricked my eyes. “I did not just spend a month missing you. Missing Meera, being taunted and tortured by your father. Being fuckingtouched and kissed by that Godsdamned monster. All so we could fucking fail in the end.”
I didn’t even realize it until then just how much the end of the mission was keeping me going, giving me the ability to fight through all my moments of misery and disgust. My lonely nights, my constant humiliation and worry—I’d barely handled it, but I had. Because if it meant saving Jules, it was worth it. But if we couldn’t even do that … if it had all been pointless …
