Rhyan growled low in his throat, his jaw tightening, then suddenly, he paled and turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed. “Lyr, I’m sorry.”
I shook my head.
The doors opened, and the herald announced our names as an aura powered with a hurricane-like force flowed into the hall. And then, we entered Imperator Hart’s Seating Room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LYRIANA
The Seating Room of Imperator Hart was cold, sterile, and plainly decorated, with little more than rows of benches made of simple wood to fill the space. It reminded me of the hall. Not adorned with jewels, or anything ornate. It was not befitting of the fortress of an Imperator, save for the fact that it was large and expansive. The gryphons, both real and carved, had been the emphasis in the fortress entrance, the symbol of Ka Hart’s power. I thought this room meant to convey the same. With the exception of green tapestries, each adorned with the silver sigil of Ka Hart, the walls were bare. The layout and simplicity of the room forced my attention ahead—and that’s when I realized the true aim of the decor. To make the one point of interest the dais and the Seat, to force everyone’s attention onto its occupant.
Imperator Hart.
His dark beard was neatly trimmed, his eyes amused, dancing with the vicious cruelty I’d come to expect from him. He wore his golden Laurel of the Arkasva, and the black cloak with the golden border that marked him as Imperator. The hilt of his sword gleamed as did the Valalumirs on the straps of his soturion belt. The sun remained faint as it beganto snow again outside, but the torchlights made him glow, highlighting every ornament of his power.
Only one thing was missing from his array of adornments—the red key to Asherah’s tomb. The key Rhyan had stolen.
The closer we got to the Imperator, the harder my pulse thrummed. Beyond the lack of decor, the room was unnaturally empty. No nobility. Not even Imperator Hart’s personal guards were present. Which meant only one thing—he didn’t want witnesses.
My heart beat harder, my rage and fear beginning to boil and fester in my gut.
Rhyan had been walking beside me, his steps keeping pace, but as we made our way to the foot of the dais, and the air thickened with his father’s power, he pushed ahead of our guard. His hands clenched at his sides, his body angled protectively in front of me and Meera. A movement his father’s eyes clocked, but immediately ignored as he nodded to Aiden and Dario who both bowed low.
“Lord Aiden.” Imperator Hart’s voice was deep. “Lord Dario. Rise.” Then with a flick of his eyes, he disdainfully added, “I understand bindings make bowing and curtseying difficult. But it does not excuse you from such formalities.” He coughed, leaning forward, his eyes narrowed as Meera and I made attempts to curtsey. Rhyan however remained standing upright. But the Imperator ignored Rhyan. Instead, he gestured for Aiden and Dario to join him at the base of the dais.
They stepped forward with straight backs, and in unison uttered, “Your Highness.”
Imperator Hart’s lips lifted into an unamused smile. “I did not expect the capturing of a reckless, weak forsworn, and a powerless girl would require such effort. Nonetheless, you two shall be rewarded for your services.” He leaned forward even further, his hateful eyes finding mine before raking me up and down.“Welcome to Seathorne, Lady Lyriana. I am pleased to see you have found your way here. It seems you’ve taken up my offer to host you after all. A good thing. I didn’t spend as much time with you as I would have liked in Bamaria. I believe we had more important things to discuss. But our dance, if I remember,” his glare fell to Rhyan, “was quite rudely interrupted. You are blocking my view, Rhyan. Move aside.”
Rhyan shifted his weight between his feet, the only sign of his agitation, but he remained standing before me. The Imperator snapped his fingers. Suddenly Dario appeared next to Rhyan, and with a grunt, shoved him, leaving me directly in Imperator Hart’s eyeline.
I sucked in a breath, watching as Rhyan’s hands fisted, his knuckles white with tension.
“Now my lady,” Imperator Hart continued, “as I was saying, I desired more time with you. Something we can now achieve.”
“I thought we’d spent more than enough time together,” I said, infusing as much sweetness as I could into my voice, but even I could hear the undertone of my hatred. “I had no idea I left you wanting.”
He made a noise low in his throat—something between amusement and disdain. “Your courtly charms are just as I remember, my lady. However,” he drummed his fingers against the Seat, “let me also remind you that as much as you do not wish to be here, plainly evident by the dour look on your face, I do not care. It will help your cause greatly by remembering that you’re in Seathorne now, not Bamaria. Such impudence may have been tolerated by your dead father, but you will address me as ‘Your Highness.’ Every time you speak.”
I glanced around the room, eying the tapestries. “Trust me, the …decoralone is enough reminder of where I am. Your Highness,” I practically spat.
“May I ask, how your grip is?” His voice was unsettling in its casualness. He was holding his hand up and stretching his fingers as if to demonstrate his meaning—as if I couldn’t understand his words—or recall what he referenced. “Improved since last time?” he asked.
My fingers flexed uncomfortably, viscerally remembering the pain he caused at Arianna’s ball. Fucking bastard. He had no idea the strength I possessed now. I could throttle him right then.
But Rhyan turned to me, a swift warning in his expression, his head shaking.
I relaxed my hands at my sides.
“Perhaps not?” his father asked.
I lowered my chin, my insides boiling. But he had already moved his attention to Meera.
“Now, I did not expect to see you, Lady Meera. I have prayed for your safe return. A miracle that you stand before me now. May I ask?” His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “How is it you stole away from your captors alive? And … with your soul still intact?” He stroked his beard. “It’s been my understanding that if akadim take prisoners, those taken do not remain prisoners for long. And not because they find freedom.”
I tensed, and felt Rhyan’s body still beside me. We were getting into dangerous territory.
“I thank you for your prayers, Your Highness.” Meera smiled, speaking in a voice I’d heard her use a thousand times before in Bamaria—the practiced, calm voice of the Heir Apparent. But now there was a force behind her words, as if she were Arkasva. “They proved most effective by evidence of my being here. To answer your question, I admit, I was not conscious for most of my captivity. A miracle in and of itself to spare me of the many horrors I could have witnessed. I believe there was a plan in place for me, one thatcreated a delay, and fortunately did not come to fruition. I was rescued first.”
