My heart skipped a beat as I took him in. The first time I’d seen him in his new armor—just last night, I’d recognized it at once. I had seen it in my dreams, in my memories. It was Moriel’s original chest plate and vest and like all soturion armor, and my shield, it contained blood inside. Enough for Aemon to form his ownRakashonimwith his God-self. He could now call on the power of Moriel, embodying him. Fighting with the combined force of the strength of the Ready and ferocity of his past life as a God.
When he decided to call on it again, I pitied whoever faced him. For now, he truly was a God of death made flesh.
He looked exactly like Moriel. Just as he was banished by the Council of Forty-Four, and forced to dwell here.
The armor he’d worn when this all began would be the armor he wore when we finished what had been started.
I carefully eyed the indigo shard—hisshard. Aemon held it triumphantly in his hand. It was the shard I’d kept in my possession for over a month, withholding it, using it to bargain. I’d used it to dig deeper into my dreams, into my powers, building up my mental walls, learning how to push out thoughts where I wanted them. And now, I was able to push out pain, and pleasure. Whatever I needed. It showed me how to work with the akadim, and reminded me of how Ereshya took control of her legions. Something I knew had to be done. Because I had seen the bigger picture, unraveled the secrets I’d needed to win, thanks to our other ally.
Andromeny, Aemon’s older sister. She was the vorakh responsible for murdering Tristan’s parents, and until recently, she had been the Emperor’s most powerful and coveted chayatim. She saw not just one future, but all potential possibilities, and the Palace had honed her accuracy until she was elite. It was the same reason Aemon had chosen Parthenay to join us. She had been the Palace’s most advanced mind-reader, an equal to Andromeny.
Already I could feel myself surpassing Parthenay’s skill; nearly matching Aemon’s. But, as far as visions went, I understood something most didn’t. I’d learned from Meera that even if a vision appeared as a scene that made sense, as a scene that could logically unfold—there was always a deeper meaning disguised within. Some hidden outcome that needed to be interpreted. And now, I realized I could interpret Andromeny’s visions. I had the tools I needed to get what I wanted. I had my crown. I had my army. My shard. Ereshya’s blood.
Soon, I’d have everything.
My revenge. A broken empire beneath me.
At the moment, Andromeny was in charge of rounding up the vorakh we’d freed and keeping them in line. There were around fifty of them. Fifty former chayatim. Mages and soturi who’d been enslaved in the Palace. Some for decades. They ranged in age and Ka, but they all carried the same look, similar to the one that Andromeny and Parthenay had worn when I first met them.
Exhaustion and worry paired with a brokenness that only came from a life of pain and unspeakable acts. Having come from the dungeons, the chayatim were also filthy, their tattered clothing hanging from too-thin, malnourished bodies. They were bruised, scarred. Some looked exhausted after their march through the night to safety. And I could already tell that many, particularly the women carried wounds that could not be seen. Wounds I would not reopen with the presence of my akadim.
Jules would look like that, I realized, and my stomach twisted. She’d escaped. But I didn’t get to see her face. Didn’t get to see if she was at all okay. She was with Lyr now, and the thought made my heart pang. I was looking for her, too—using all my resources to find her. For the last year and a half, I did nothing else. And now—I didn’t even get to see her free. Nor did I have a chance to see Meera. Gods. For all the foresight I had, and access to secrets and the future, I hadn’t expected that—for Lyr to be the one to liberate Jules. For her and Meera to end up on Lyr’s side—and not mine. Especially after all I’d done. For all of them.
My chest felt tight, remembering my last meeting with Lyr in the Throne Room. She was half-crazed in that way she got when she needed to protect someone. When she couldn’t accept the way things were. Couldn’t accept the cruelty of the world.
I’d only seen her like that a handful of times before. At the temple when Jules’s vorakh was revealed and she’d been taken away screaming. When Rhyan had been dragged into the arena,his fate already sealed. Whenever anything threatened to reveal the truth of Meera’s visions.
But not, I remembered bitterly, when my vorakh was revealed.
Still, there was nothing I could do for Lyr now. She didn’t know the truth. She hadn’t seen Andromeny’s vision like I had. She couldn’t accept that it was inevitable that Rhyan would die. That it had been prophesied and fated by a string of events threaded together long before we were born. She couldn’t know that nothing she did in that moment, and no amount of power I shared with her, or strength she’d acquired would change the end. I’d seen what would happen. I’d seen that he would awaken as the most powerful and dangerous akadim the Empire had ever known. And I had seen that because of this shift, a spark would ignite. One that would grow into a raging flame. A fire that would engulf all of Lumeria. I could still see the images Andromeny had shown me. The army of akadim. The flames. Rhyan at the head. Arkturion over an army of the dead.
Lyriana would understand eventually—when it all burned down. When the fires flared. And if she didn’t—then … Well, the sides were chosen. It wouldn’t change anything for me.
But maybe Jules would come around. My throat dried. Maybe Meera.
I pushed thoughts of them away, willing the pinching in my heart to stop. Because missing them didn’t matter. Because missing them only hurt. And right now, my feelings about them, about everything, were of no consequence. The mission was more important. It had to be more important. As was the outcome. And I had work to do. It would be a long road ahead.
I rolled my shoulders back realizing I’d gotten too lost in thought. A mistake I knew better than to make, particularly with the present company.
The eyes of the vorakh, the former chayatim, were on me now, taking me in. They were remembering I was there when they were freed. I could hear my name in their minds being whispered, repeated and moved through dozens upon dozens of thoughts. Some of the vorakh were in awe of me. Some were confused. Mostly though, they were scared. They feared the akadim who stood guard behind me. Little else mattered to them beside that.
Soon, their fear would dissipate. They would relax when they saw the demons work beside them. And their loyalty and strength to our cause and to us would grow when they were fed and clothed and treated fairly. Aemon and I would heal them, we’d give them what they needed, and protect them. It wouldn’t be long now before they became the most powerful network of mind-readers and visioners in Lumeria. I smiled to myself. A weapon the Empire hadn’t seen coming.
Particularly in Rhyan.
Andromeny had though. But she’d kept that vision secret. Hidden the outcome from the Emperor in a sea of potential outcomes.
Me Maraaka,Aemon purred into my mind, looking over at me. His dark eyes swept down my body, then back up, stopping at the crown on my head, and then his gaze shifted beyond me. To the akadim.
He grinned, pride in his eyes and aura as he extended his arms, inviting me to join him. His freshRakashonimscar was red against his left wrist. A second, smaller scar ran beneath it.
Ah, my kitten has become a queen. Come. Admire our army with me. And let them worship your beauty. Let them see what I am fortunate enough to worship in the dark.
And in the light,I thought.
He smirked, and I could already imagine his thoughts. The two of us on display. Fucking in front of all of them—a captiveaudience who couldn’t look away. My gasps and moans would fill the sky as our army and court tried to silence their groans, watching us in their own barely masked desire. Aemon taking me from behind—everything on display, everything raw.
My core heated and my stomach tightened, suddenly seeing it clearly, unsure if the thought or images had generated in my own head or his. He could push his own thoughts out. Not just in commands to akadim, but to other Lumerians. Something I realized only recently, he could do for some time. But he wasn’t the only one now.
