He swallowed roughly. His eyes moved past me, sliding back and forth. His hair had started to dry, and in the morning sun, the curls shone with gold. His eyes were even more green in the light. More like the green of Rhyan’s eyes. My heart thundered.
“I believe,” he said slowly, his voice shaking, “that you’re standing right in front of it.”
I spun around. The Guardian of Bamaria. The gryphon! All those years, Rhyan and I had wondered, researched, speculated. All the theories of what it could mean. I had thought it might be possible last night, thought there was some significance to it, some reason I’d come here of all places. To the symbol most closely associated with Rhyan, and with the God he once was.
“Auriel,” I said, a small surge of hope beginning to simmer in my chest. “Do you think there’s a reason I came here last night?” A thousand more questions filled my mind. But before I could ask any of them, a dark shadow swallowed the sun above us. A shadow moving fast. There was a screech in the air. A sound I hadn’t heard in months.
A seraphim. It landed not far from us, its golden wings gleaming in the sunlight. A blue jeweled carriage sat atop its back. The bird settled and the carriage door sprung open.
I tensed, instinctively moving in toward Auriel, my hand snaking to the blade at my hip.
Five soturi jumped to the ground, their boots thudding into the sand. The silver armor of Ka Kormac was strapped to their chests. And in each of their hands, a starfire sword flickered with flames.
“What are you doing out here?” came a shout. One soturion stepped before the others, his aura blasting with a predatory viciousness. His beady eyes immediately marked him as a close relative of the Bastardmaker. “We have reports of a disturbance at the Guardian. Hands up, now!
Both of you.”
“Shit! Look!” shouted a second. “Look at the hair!”
The first one’s eyes narrowed. I was sure that he was the leader of the five. The turion amongst them. “Myself to fucking Moriel.” His hand tightened around his sword. “That’s Lyriana Batavia.”
Auriel angled his body protectively in front of mine. His movements were slow and methodical. His eyes never left the five soturi.
“Can I borrow this?” he whispered. His hand was warm on my hip, his fingers closing around the hilt of my dagger.
I was already going for my sword, our hands brushing together.
“Apparently,” he hissed, “this version of my mortal body wasn’t accessorized with a blade.”
“Take it,” I said as the metal scraped against my sheath. “You remember how to use it?”
Something in his aura darkened as he tossed the dagger into the air, and caught it with expert precision, his fingers tightening together as he thrust the blade forward. “I remember.”
“Lady Lyriana Batavia,” barked the soturion, “you are under arrest, by order of His Majesty, Emperor Avery for the murder of Arkturion Pompellus Agrippa. You are accused of orchestrating the murder of Emperor Theotis, for inciting an insurrection, breaking your oath as a soturion, colluding with vorakh, and for a whole fucking list of treasonous acts too long to recite.” He jerked his chin and the others began to stalk forward. “Don’t even think of running. You’ll be dragged before His Majesty, and may the Gods bring justice upon you. Now, hands in the fucking air. Seize them!”
Chapter
Eight
LYRIANA
“I’ll take the fuckers on the right, you go left,” I hissed.
Auriel jerked his chin in agreement. “I’m at your command, Lyriana.” Then he cried out, emitting an ancient warrior’s call as he sprinted with a speed that only Rhyan could rival. My dagger gleamed in his hand, ready to strike.
His opponents lifted their swords as Auriel moved between them. There was glee in their eyes as they watched him race into what should have been a trap. But I could see what the soturi had been too slow to realize. He stilled, allowing the soldiers to close around him. He’d done it on purpose, letting them believe he was trapped.
Auriel spun on his heels, his elbow bent, arm lifted to shoulder level. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed it. By the time he’d turned in a full circle, he’d slashed the throats of both soturi. The wolves dropped instantly, their blood splattering red onto the golden sand.
At the sudden realization of what he’d done, the soldiers that were headed for me ran faster, their auras spiking with anger.
One wolf snarled, his boots kicking sand behind him, “Drop the sword, girl.” He was Ka Kormac, but with a rare show of dark hair, cropped short.
“Now!” shouted the second, his hair fully shaved off.
“Drop it!” said the first. They were both before me, spreading apart, attempting to trap me between them. “You were warned. We have orders to kill you. And we will gladly carry them out.”
“So did the Blade,” I sneered. “Now he’s dead.” I caught sight of Auriel racing toward the leader. The turion drew his arm back, then threw his sword like a javelin, aiming straight for Auriel’s heart. He ducked. The sword soared over him, the blade just barely skimming across his back before it smashed into the Guardian. There was a sharp clanging sound, before it fell to the sand.
