“Here,” she said, handing him a leather pouch, the kind used to transport scrolls. “Something happened,” she shook her head. “Kenna went to great trouble to get word to you. As did I.”
Dario shook his head. “What do you mean something happened? Why is Kenna sending me letters? What is this? What’s going on?”
“It’s all in there, Dario,” she said, turning piercing blue eyes on him. “Everything.” Her mouth tightened. “Just read.”
“Bri,” he begged, shaking his head, “Just tell me. Tell me, please.”
“Brianna?” Aiden asked, his voice oddly formal despite the emotion wavering beneath it.
But the soturion, Brianna, shook her head again, and closed Dario’s fingers around the missive. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay. Not even a minute. I have to get back to her quickly, before I’m seen. The Palace is in lockdown. The whole capital. I barely made it out. My lady needs me. Just … just read. Okay? And do what she says.” She nodded at Aiden. Then her blue eyes glanced sadly around the room. “Be careful. Be safe.” And then she rushed back down the hall.
“Bri!” Dario yelled, but Aiden closed the door and leaned back against it, his eyes closing slowly, his face drawn.
Dario silently went to sit back on the bed, staring at the case, turning it over in his hands.
My heart raced, my stomach churned. The answers were in there. The answers we needed, that we were fighting over.
I wanted to throw up.
“Well?” Tristan asked. “Read it!”
“Dario, please,” Meera said. But he was still, turning it over again and again.
Aiden approached slowly, kneeling down before his friend.
“Dar? You want me to?—”
“She sent it to me,” he snapped.
Aiden nodded. “Okay.” Something unspoken passed between them. “Okay.”
Taking a deep breath, Dario opened the case, and pulled out Kenna’s letter. A minute later, his hands opened, the parchment falling to the ground as he stared ahead, his eyes vacant.
Rhyan was an akadim. Rhyan was an akadim.Rhyanwas an akadim.
The minute Dario dropped Kenna’s letter, Aiden had picked it up, trying to read it out loud. But he couldn’t finish it. His voice broke mid-sentence as his emotions took over. So Galen had to read as Aiden stumbled back against a wall. He seemed glued to it now, minutes later, unable to move, unable to speak. He wasn’t even blinking. Just standing eerily still, his face pale as a corpse.
Dario’s eyes were watering and red, and his hands were trembling, the tendons in his arms taut. Without a word, he walked over to the nightstand by the bed. He stood with his back to all of us, his shoulders tensing, and then his fist flew, smashing through the wooden table. He pulled his hand out as blood and shards of wood fell to the floor. He’d hurt himself. Some pieces of wood were sticking out of his palm. But we were silent with him. Like grief had stolen our voices. The only sound in the room had been the remains of the table collapsing.
Meera was the first to spring into action, tending to him—pulling out splinters, and demanding Galen bring her a damp wash cloth to clean the cuts across his fingers and knuckles. Dario just stared blankly, his face turned in my direction, while Meera applied sunleaves.
I slumped back onto the other bed, numb and unsure what to do. The news about Rhyan was too awful to comprehend. And yet, somehow, there was still even more than that to digest. Vorakh—so many more than just me—had escaped, and akadim had attacked. Akadim had breached the capital. Akadim who’d managed to kill beneath the sun, who’d come out before it was night. Akadim who had targeted Rhyan. I couldn’t decide which felt less believable. That Rhyan had been attacked, or that it had happened in the daylight.
And then … there was Lyr.
Lyr was missing. Vanished.Gone.
Gods. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my heart was twisting in on itself. I tried to convince myself that it was a good thing that no one knew her whereabouts. Because if the Emperor had captured her, if the worst had happened, Kenna would have known. I was sure of it. Emperor Avery would want everyone to know he had her—especially since he’d long been obsessed with her. The little game between him and Imperator Hart had been going on for years—both wanting to dominate her, to possess her. I had to trust in the fact that no news coming out of Numeria about Lyr meant they still didn’t have her.
And yet if the Emperor hadn’t captured Lyr, if Imperator Hart didn’t have her—why hadn’t she come back here? Why hadn’t she gotten word to us herself? Why had it taken a message from Kenna for any news to reach us at all? Lyr knew where we were, knew we needed her, and that we’d be waiting, worried. Where the hell had she gone? Or was she hurt? Lying helpless somewhere? Had an akadim dragged her off as well? Gods. Had she gone after Rhyan?
Again, I reached for my ring finger, desperately feeling for the thin scar. I traced the line, again and again. Over and over, searching for comfort, for strength. A reminder of what I’d sworn.
I needed it now. Needed to remember the promise I’d made to him.
But already I could feel the pain in my heart, and of my companions, crashing down on me like the waves of the ocean in a storm.
Lyr was gone. Lyr was gone. And so was Rhyan.
