Lyr had saved me from the stripping because she was my soulmate, and because of our kashonim. It had linked us. It had brought me back. And the collar I wore had linked me to Morgana.
“The night Morgana left,” I said, my voice hushed, “she wanted to make sure that her commands were followed, that the force of them remained strong, even while she was far away. So a new kashonim was made.”
Lyr’s eyes narrowed. “To you?” I nodded slowly, my heart racing.
“Every akadim drew blood and it was mixed into my collar, and in exchange, a drop of mine was given to them. Lyr, I think when you called me back, when you called back my soul, I think—I think it brought everyone back. Everyone tethered to my blood.”
“By the Gods,” Lyr breathed.
“You were a good Arkturion,” Harman said, pulling my attention back.
Several others began to yell out their agreements, affirming his words, some even clapped.
“You were fair,” he continued. “You kept us in line. You didn’t hurt anyone unnecessarily. You only killed when we were assigned to … assigned to feed.”
I closed my eyes, my stomach roiling. I could still taste it. Taste blood and flesh on my tongue. I wanted to vomit. Especially when I remembered the taste of Lyr’s.
“You never killed others,” Harman continued, “except whenMaraaka?—”
“Morgana,” Lyr hissed. “Her name is Morgana. And she’s no queen.”
Harman lowered his chin. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Lyr shook her head, but I stayed her hand. He was right to refer to her as Her Grace. That was her appropriate address, no matter the status of Bamaria.
“You only killed,” Harman continued, “when she ordered you to. And then never again. Not once during all those weeks we were digging and mining. You didn’t hunt any innocents, and you didn’t go after any of us. You didn’t beat us, or kill for fun. You only killed … when you arrived, my lady,” he said quietly. “But even then, I know you were protecting Lady Lyriana. Even until the end, you were fair, as fair as an akadim could be. Not kind maybe, but not cruel either.”
I exhaled sharply. Not kind, but not cruel. What a way to be described. Though I supposed for an akadim, that was high praise.
“Well, I thank you for that,” I said, awkwardly.
“For an akadim,” someone shouted. “You might as well have been a saint.”
“Arkturion,” came a new voice. A blond man stepped forward, he was tall, towering over even me, with lean muscles, and a look that reminded me of Leander. I blinked, suddenly seeing his face as an akadim’s.
“Brandes?” I asked. “Ka Daquataine?”
Brandes’s face broke into a wide grin. “Yes, Arkturion.”
“Just Rhyan,” I said. “That’s all I am.”
“No,” Brandes said. “What Harman and all of us are trying to tell you—is—” He clutched at his own collar, staring down and turning it in his hands over and over. “We were gone. Our lives were forfeit. We had been damned to a fate worse than death. To walk the world as a demon. Hunting. Killing. Doing what—what akadim do—what I know we all wanted and felt driven toward—what happened with you and Parthenay that first morning?—”
I paled, feeling ready to retch. I’d do anything to forget that morning, to undo it. I looked at Lyr, afraid she’d run, or want tovomit as well. But she looked so steady and sure, and confident. Confident in me. Trusting in me. I didn’t fucking deserve her.
“I’m sorry,” Brandes said. “To mention it. What we’re trying to say is—we all of us—Fuck.”
“He kept you from committing the worst crimes,” Lyr finally said. “None of you committed rape.”
My chest tightened. And for a second, I felt like I couldn’t breathe again. Because I’d been close. Morgana had put me in position, riled me up. It wouldn’t have started without her. But it didn’t change the fact that I’d still participated, that I’d almost done it. That I’d been willing to. Only her command had stopped me.
Not me. The akadim. But still—the memories were mine.
“Yes, Harman said. “And so much more. Not only did you keep us from doing the worst things akadim could do, but you brought us back. You gave us another chance at life.”
And several more former akadim began to shout in support.
“I don’t know how it happened,” someone called out, “but we owe you our lives.”
