“I can climb back out the window. The second we hear anything at the door, I’ll be gone.”
I nodded.
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It felt like the time we had together was going far too quickly.
But then there was a commotion and yelling outside my door. I opened the window.
“Wait,” Rhyan said, his entire body alert. “Something’s not right.”
“I will go in by myself,” shouted a voice outside. “I am the Emperor’s lawful messenger, and you are to obey.”
“And I,” roared Dario, “am the lady’s personal escort! You go in, and I go with you.”
“Guards,” said the first voice. “Seize him.”
“Dario!” Rhyan hissed. He looked ready to bolt through the door and fight for his friend.
My door swung open and Tristan entered. Alone.
“Lady Lyriana,” he said, his voice overly loud. “I come on behalf of His Majesty, Emperor Avery, High Lord of Lumeria Nutavia.” He slammed the door shut behind him, his stave pointed at me.
Several things happened at once.
First, I realized what he’d said. Emperor Avery. Not Emperor Theotis. There was only one ruler with that name. Which meant Imperator Kormac was no longer Imperator. He was Emperor. Like Rhyan’s father feared. Like I’d always feared.
A sinking feeling washed over me. A sense of absolute dread.
And then Tristan realized I wasn’t alone in my room.
Just as Rhyan lunged for him.
The two seemed to growl simultaneously and crashed into each other, tumbling to the floor, wrestling, and punching.
“You touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Rhyan hissed.
“Godsdamnit!” Tristan punched. He started reaching for his stave but Rhyan knocked it from his hand. “Forsworn bastard.” Tristan rolled out of Rhyan’s hold, grabbed the stave, and started to chant. Black ropes began to form.
“No!” I was across the room in seconds, diving for the stave and wrestling it from Tristan.
I shook off the spell, and pointed it at both of them, still tangled up and fighting. Tristan threw a punch, catching Rhyan’s ear, just as Rhyan kneed him in the stomach.
“Get up,” I snarled. “Both of you.”
Rhyan glared, his chest heaving, his aura full of fury. He slammed Tristan on his back, pinning him to the floor.
Surprisingly, Tristan surrendered. “Been a minute,” he said casually, sucking on his lower lip. It was bleeding. “I know we used to joke about being happy to see each other, but I didn’t expect you to throw yourself on top of me so easily.”
“Shut your mouth,” Rhyan said.
Tristan coughed. “I’m pretty sure Lyr wanted you to get up.” He let his hands fall open, making it clear he was no longer fighting.
“She wantsyouto get up, Lord Grey, and I’d be careful trying to tell me what you think she needs.”
“Auriel’s bane,” I said. Rhyan snapped his head toward me, and I knew it was for more than my use of the expression. “Sorry,” I said quickly, then I lowered my voice. “I want you both to get up.”
Rhyan’s mouth tightened, accepting my decision. But instead of moving, he forced Tristan’s hands up over his head, holding them in place with one hand.
“What in Lumeria?” Tristan shouted.
