I stilled. I knew what he was looking for. The key to Asherah’s tomb. The shard of the Valalumir.
“Take it,” Imperator Hart ordered. Dario stepped forward, retrieving the tray and presented it to Kenna.
We were forced to wait in stillness as Soturion Baynan left the room, and then Imperator Hart removed the cloth, revealing all the armor and weapons his soturi had stripped from us. Including the stave holder Rhyan had bought me with my initials inside. And my stave.
He took it in his hand, twirling the mix of dark sunwood. I resisted the urge to run up there and claim it. It had been mine for centuries—for lifetimes. The source of my power and my magic, the power I’d been denied.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his eyes wide and mocking as they waited for an answer he knew I’d refuse togive. And when I remained silent, he said, “Fine. I care not.” He tossed it onto the tray. He picked up the key to Asherah’s tomb, the red jewel, and he pocketed it in his belt pouch. “I have a use for you, my lady, one we shall discuss in private.”
“You don’t need her,” Rhyan said. “You want me. Let her go, and you can have me.”
“Dario.” Imperator Hart waved. “Restrain him.”
“He’s … he’s already bound, Your Highness,” Dario protested.
“Are his feet?” Imperator Hart snapped. “He’s like a wild animal. Now hold him back.”
Rhyan seethed, baring his teeth as Dario’s blade pressed against his neck. “Afraid I’ll tear through your ropes. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Yes. Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Imperator Hart turned to me. “Would you like to play a game, Lyriana? To prove your worth here as a guest? And to save Rhyan from further harm?”
“Guest, Your Highness? I thought I was a criminal.”
He shrugged. “You certainly have been in bed with one.”
I stiffened.
“Rhyan will go into the dungeons where he belongs. But you, Lyriana, you have an opportunity here to remain above ground, to sleep in guest quarters. Something I think you will want. Because it’s the only way you’ll see your sister again.”
I exhaled sharply. “What must I do?”
“Tell me the truth. You took something else from the statue. Where is it?”
The shard. Sweat beaded the back of my neck. “I don’t know. It was stolen,” I said. “I don’t have it.”
“Someone else does,” he said.
I nodded, shaking.
“Who? Answer, and do not play dumb with me.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I swear.” And I was telling the truth. I had a damn good idea. But I could honestly say that I didn’t know if the shard lay in Morgana’s hands or Aemon’s.
“Perhaps someone can help you find the information in your mind?” He looked over his shoulder. “Arkturion?”
“No!” Rhyan shouted. He tried to lunge forward, his lips pulled back, but Dario restrained him, digging the knife into his neck.
“Dario, stop it. Don’t hurt him!” I yelled.
Rhyan seethed, his chest heaving. “You traitorous bastard!”
Dario growled, “At least, I’m not a murderer.”
“Fuck you,” Rhyan said, his voice low and defeated.
A back door behind the dais opened, and a tall, looming figure emerged.
Arkturion Kane.
