Auriel. His golden armor shining as bright as the curls on his head. And behind him, illuminating his body in the gold of a God was the sun.
He held a sword in each hand, half a dozen akadim surrounding him, another half dozen laid out on the floor. His face had twisted with the fury of battle. But his eyes found mine immediately.
“Lyr!” he yelled.
I gasped, so relieved that I stumbled, tripping over a rock. I slammed down onto my hands and knees. Rhyan threw himself on top of me, crushing me.
“Get off her,” Auriel yelled. And without warning, he’d barreled into Rhyan, grabbing his shoulders and throwing him back.
“Come on,” Auriel said, reaching for my hands. I gripped him, terrified of letting go as he brought me back to my feet.
Then his eyes flashed with green as they eyed akadim Rhyan, and I could see the moment he realized that my sword was on his back.
“The shard,” he said, his voice panicked.
But I shook my head. There was no time. More akadim were already coming down the tunnel, rushing to defend their Arkturion—and hungry to attack me. And I was out of weapons. Auriel had gotten this far—but he couldn’t take on all of these akadim alone.
The fight was leaving me … I was starting to weaken. I stumbled, and Auriel caught my arm, holding me up.
“Rakashonim,” I spluttered. “Running out. Need to go. Now!” Before I fainted. Before I fell over and lost myself to my injuries.
Auriel’s nostrils flared, torn between me and the shard, but he lifted me into his arms, and then we ran out into the light, and didn’t stop running until we were back at the inn, back in the room, the doors locked and barricaded.
Rhyan and the other akadim had stopped giving chase at the edge of the Wall of the Prince—perhaps under some order by Morgana not to reveal themselves in the town.
But we weren’t taking any chances.
“Fuck,” Auriel said, sitting me on the bed. “By the realms.” He pulled back my hair, taking in my slashed-up tunic, the cutson my arms, and the bruises everywhere else. “What did he do to you?”
I shook my head and burst into tears, feeling Asherah’s power—myRakashonim—running out at last. The effects of my injuries were now exploding across my body.
But worse, worse was the realization of what had just happened. What Rhyan had been like.
I couldn’t answer Auriel. Couldn’t bear to say it out loud. To make it a reality, to admit what the akadim version of Rhyan had been like, had done to me.
“It’s okay,” Auriel murmured. “It’s okay. I’m here now. We’re going to take care of this. You’re going to be all right.” I met his eyes, my vision blurred by my tears.
“Lyr, I’ve got you,” he said, his voice so soft, so quiet. So like something Rhyan would say. I looked away, trying not to think about the pain. Trying not to think about anything.
Auriel worked quickly, cleaning my wounds, slapping sunleaves over my cuts and scrapes. He eased me out of my ruined tunic, leaving me in my short-pants and breast bindings. But he found a fresh shirt for me to wear and slid it over my head and arms. Before long, I was covered in bandages.
Except for my neck. He placed the final bandage there, leaning in close, my body shaking. I’d been trying so hard to hold it in. To be strong. To fight what I’d seen; what had happened. And how again, I’d failed. I’d lost my weapons, and every chance I’d had with the red shard, I’d been unable to take it.
The moment Auriel sat back, the dam burst and I let out a sob.
“Lyriana,” he said, pushing my hair out of my face. “You’re going to be okay. These injuries are nothing next to what I’ve seen on you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s everything else.” I looked down, staring at my hand. “It’s the way he was.” My voice came out as a whisper.
“He wasn’t himself,” Auriel said firmly. “That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Rhyan. Rhyan loves you. He would never ever hurt you. You have to remember that.”
“I know, I know, but …” But he did. And it wasn’t him. Not his body, not his soul, and yet … it still felt like he had. Hurt like he had.
“Shhh,” Auriel said. “It’s okay, Lyriana. It’s going to be okay.”
“He was so cruel, and mean,” the confession started pouring out of me, “and … I know it wasn’t him, but the things he said, the way he acted … he has Rhyan’s memories and he was using them against me. Taunting me, reminding me. And …” And my Godsdamned fucking body betrayed me.
He’d even done the worst thing he could—ripping off my clothing. Rhyan knew better than anyone how that affected me after Vrukshire. Rhyan had been the only one I trusted to touch my clothes after that. And even when he was cutting my tunic open, my body still acted like it was him, like it was okay.
