It was eerily quiet. My stomach twisted.
Then Dario’s voice sounded in my ear. “Lyriana.” I touched the cool vadati stone with my fingers, feeling it warm as a blue light glowed in my peripheral vision.
“Dario.”
“Everyone’s in place,” he said calmly. “Showtime.”
“I’m on my way inside.” I turned in Rhyan’s arms, reaching for his face, still blurred and difficult to see with my illusion spell. But I knew where his lips were, I had his face memorized, and pressed a light kiss to them.
“Partner,” he said, his hand stroking over my waist, fingers running over the hilts of my weapons, and then down to my hip where he gripped me. “Remember, strike first, think later. Whatever happens in there, we survive this, and we leave together.”
“Together,” I said, my heart pounding.
He lowered his hand to my thigh for one more squeeze before I felt him frown against me. “Did Dario sound a little strange to you?” Rhyan asked, his voice formal and devoid of his accent.
“I don’t know,” I said, sweat beading at my brow.
“The blood contract,” Rhyan hissed.
“If he’s compromised,” I said, “I have to get in there.”
“Fuck.” Rhyan stilled. The blue light hadn’t gone away.
“Lyriana, everything’s fine,” Dario said, but he sounded even stranger than before. His accent softened. His lilt was usually the thickest of the three, devoid of any attempt to use the more formal accent of the nobility. The kind meant to mimic Devon’s lack of a lilt.
Rhyan shook his head. “Something’s wrong.”
My pulse quickened. But Meera and Jules were inside. I had to get in there.
“I’m going.” I pressed one more kiss to Rhyan’s lips. And then I descended, my boots slamming down on the stone beneath us.
I pulled out my stave. One more spell.
And then I brandished my sword and I ran inside. I tore through the front hall, expecting it to be empty. That was the plan. Our soturi should have taken care of any guards, clearing the way. But then someone called out to me from behind.
“Stop!”
I heard two sets of boots. I didn’t wait to see who it was. I ran, but only a moment later, two Glemarian soturi wearing black leather armor, silver gryphons stitched into the torso, seized me. My sword clattered to the floor as they grabbed my arms, and shoved them behind my back.
No!
It had been hours since I’d called onRakashonim.My glamour must have faded as soon as I entered the fortress. And my strength, that had faded, too. Fuck! I gritted my teeth and struggled against them, but their grips were like iron.
“Lyriana Batavia, you’re under arrest for trespassing in Seathorne, and conspiracy to assassinate His Highness, Imperator Hart. You’re coming with us.”
“NO!” I screamed. “NO!”
“Lord Dario and Lord Aiden have already turned you in. They confessed everything. Between that and your crimes against the Empire, it’s time to accept, it’s over for you.”
Tears filled my eyes. “No. No!” Fuck! The fucking blood contract.
They gripped my arms tighter, pulling me down the stone corridors, past the giant gryphon statues that lined the walls. My feet dragged, and I tried to stop them by digging my boots into the floor, trying to break free of their hold. It was no use.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“To the Seating Room. His Highness is very eager to see you,” said the soturion on my left.
My throat dried and before I knew it, we were at the familiar double doors leading to the room where Imperator Hart ruled. Where he’d killed Rhyan’s mother. A gryphon with his wings outstretched had been carved into the wood. I met the herald’s eyes, and then he stepped back, the doors opening wide.
