He cast the ropes, covering Rhyan’s body in them.
“Well?” I asked.
“Perfect,” Rhyan said. “I don’t feel a thing. Now bring me the shard, and he can do yours.”
A moment later, we were both glamoured with ropes.
Rhyan still clutched the glass in his hand.
“Lord Grey,” Rhyan said. “I meant what I said. Anything happens to Lyr, anything at all, it’s over.”
But before Tristan could answer, the scuffle I’d heard earlier had returned. Louder. There was a fight happening outside. Soturi were yelling. Someone smacked against the wall, and I could hear the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh. And bone.
“Wait for my signal,” Tristan hissed, and opened my door.
Dario was in the middle of a Five. He’d broken free of whatever hold they’d had on him. And now he looked like he was fighting every single soturion in our hall.
Already there were three knocked out unconscious. He didn’t even have his weapons. Just his own pure, brute force.
He swung a punch at his opponent and another kick. “You boys have been away from the arena too long,” he growled.
“Told you he was dangerous,” Rhyan said, and sprung forward, no longer needing Tristan’s signal. I was next, flinging myself at the first soturion I saw. He was so startled, he never noticed my fist.
He went down, and immediately, I went in with another punch. Breaking noses was apparently my specialty now.
Rhyan’s opponent fell, his head smacking against the wall. He turned, the false ropes flying off him and vanishing as he raced for two more soturi. Someone came up behind me, and I spun hitting before thinking.
From the corner of my eye, Dario kicked a tall soturion, who loomed over him, and suddenly something blue flashed in his hand. A vadati.
I dodged a hit, and then another, ducking under my opponent’s arm and running. I turned at the last second, and raced back for him, jumping and kicking him square in the chest. He stumbled back, and I used the opportunity to run behind him. Another jump and my arms were around his neck, choking him out.
A minute later, all of the Emperor’s soturi lay strewn across the floor, unconscious, some bleeding, some with broken bones. But by the looks of it—all alive. “What the fuck is going on?” Dario asked, retying his hair. He stood for one second, taking us in, and then he slammed Tristan against the wall, his hand around his throat. “What do you want with them?” He looked him up and down. “You’re Lord Tristan, aren’t you? Imperator’s lap dog.”
“Emperor’s now,” Tristan coughed.
“Dario, let him go,” I said. “We’re going with him.”
“The fuck you are.”
“Dario,” Rhyan said. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done. For what’s between us. More than you know. But—” He cracked his knuckles, preparing to fight.
Dario shoved Tristan aside. “For fuck’s sake, Rhyan! I’m not in your Godsdamned way. Whatever the fuck you’re doing now, I’m coming with you.” He held the vadati to his mouth. “Aiden,” he said. “Get to Lyr’s room. Bring Meera.”
I froze. “Why do you want Meera?”
“You don’t want to leave your sister behind, do you?” he asked. “I mean, she’s part of the plan. Isn’t that what’s happening? I figured we have to accelerate our timeline. And then … it’s not like we’ll be able to come back here for our things, or anyone. We need to be together, and stick together.”
“We’re not doing the plan,” Rhyan said. “It’s off. This is something else.”
“Fine, then I’ll come as Lyriana’s escort.”
“Dario, enough. Stop. We need to go,” Rhyan said. “And I don’t want to fight you on this. Tell Aiden to protect Meera, and that I’m sorry.”
“Fucking hell,” Dario said. “You can tell him yourself.”
Aiden appeared, rushing down the hall with Meera right behind him. He was carrying a large leather satchel that looked almost too heavy for him.
“Courtesy of Lady Kenna,” he said, tossing the satchel on the ground.
