He stepped back. “Well, let me tell you something, Lyriana, as someone who’s been there before—been there more than once—you’ll never suffer enough. You’ll never hurt enough to defeat the pain, or ease your heartbreak. I know. I know that it will never be enough.”
“Auriel, stop! Just stop it.” I clutched at my chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My breath was coming in short, painful gasps.
“I remember what this feels like. I felt the same way when I lost you the first time. When I buried you in your tomb.”
I scoffed. “And did you promise Asherah you’d save her before she died? Did you swear to her, promise her with everything you had when she was dying in your arms, that nothing else would hurt her? Did you swear to protect her and then fail? Promise to heal her, seeing the hope in her eyes, only to abandon her to monsters? To let her become one herself? One you have to find and destroy now? Because if you didn’t dothat, didn’t do what I did to him, didn’t allow what I let happen to him,” I shouted, my entire body shaking, “then you don’t understand. You don’t!”
“No.” His eyes widened, watching me carefully, his body still. His eyes filled with tears, and he swallowed roughly. “I didn’t.”
I ran for the stairs, my stomach twisting. I needed to get out of there. Out of the fucking basement. Away from him. Away from Auriel. Because if he spoke again, I was going to lose it. I was going to fucking lose it. Already I couldn’t stand to hear him speak, to hear the way he sounded like Rhyan—but not. I couldn’t stand to hear his tone, and his humor, and warmth. Couldn’t stand to hear it all come together into this perfectly packaged, completely familiar voice—one that called out to my heart and my soul. Identical in every way, except for one thing. Rhyan’s accent.
He was him. He was him. But not him. Not him. Not even Rhyan was himself now. He was gone. He was …
“I can’t breathe. I feel like I can’t breathe!” Bile was rising up my throat, and my chest was pounding painfully. I practically fell up the stairs as I ran, my hands grasping for the next step as my feet stumbled behind me.
The door at the top of the landing opened suddenly. Sean appeared, torchlight flickering behind him.
“Lyriana?” he asked, startled. But immediately he reached for me, helping me up the last few steps, and pulling me to my feet.
“Sean, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I cried, my words rushing together. “Please. Please, I need to get out of here. I need—I need air. I need to—” I gasped, still finding breathing difficult.
“All right, it’s all right,” Sean said quickly. “It’s okay. I can get you some fresh air.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, leading me back to the kitchen.
I looked over my shoulder, back downstairs. Auriel had folded his arms across his chest at the base of the stairs. He looked away, but his aura reached for me. It was vibrating, bright and fiery with anger. But also, something that felt like it went beyond sadness.
“Sean, is she safe up there?” he asked, his words clipped.
Sean nodded. “For a little while, Auriel, yes. Ka Kormac is still out there. They’re searching homes in the neighborhood, but they came by here already a little while ago. I think we can risk a short visit for her upstairs with protection.”
I shook my head, still crying. “I’m sorry.”
I’d totally forgotten why I was in the basement to begin with. The soturi were looking for me. And not just soturi from Bamaria—but every soturion in Ka Kormac. Every wolf. And every servant of the newly anointed Emperor. And they were coming here, interrogating Sean. Shit. He’d already been punished for hiding me. Sent to the pole by Turion Kevel. And I’d slept through it. Fuck. It wasn’t enough that I’d failed Rhyan. Now I was hurting Sean, the family he loved and trusted most.
I took a step back, suddenly barely able to face him. To take in his curly hair, to hear his accent, to see his green eyes. The subtle ways I could tell that they were related. But beyond that, I could see the way he held his shoulder stiff and in pain. And the haunted look in his eyes. I’d done that. I’d caused that.
“I should go,” I said, turning back. “You’ve done enough for me, Sean—risked so much already. I should just leave?—”
“No, Lyriana,” Sean said, extending his hand to mine. “Everything’s okay here. Branwyn can arrange a ward for you. We have eyes on the streets—friends looking out for us. Remember how we got here—going through all those homes? Every single person whose home we entered is watching out for our best interest. If there’s a problem, we’ll have far more warning than we did the last time.”
“But I’m putting you in danger,” I gasped, still struggling to breathe.
“That’s my job, Lyriana. I’m a soturion,” Sean said. “And I swore my oath to more than just Bamaria. I swore to Ka Batavia. I swore to your father. All of that extends to you. My oath still stands. Protecting you, Your Grace, is an honor I gladly accept.”
My eyes watered—for a whole new reason this time. No one had called me “Your Grace” in months. “I’m no longer an Heir to the Arkasva,” I said quietly. “Not here, nor anywhere. Not anymore. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Rhyan loved you.” He pressed his lips together, like he was trying not to cry. Then he nodded. “And you need my help. I have more reason than I need to offer my protection. Now, come with me.”
I stumbled into his arms, and sobbed against his armor, breaking down so utterly and completely, I thought my heart would shatter. I hadn’t let Auriel be there for me. But suddenly, I couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was seeing my father in my dream, or just the sheer weight of everything I was carrying. But I gave in, letting Sean take some of the weight.
He tightened his arms around me, hugging me to him. His hand smoothed the back of my hair, like something my father used to do when I was a child. I sniffled, realizing he smelled like pine. Like Glemaria. Like Rhyan. It made me cry harder.
Sean waited a moment, letting me sob, then took my hand. “Let’s get you that air. Hmmm?”
I nodded weakly and let Sean lead me through his house, into a sitting room, and then up another flight of stairs to the second floor. He led me down a long hallway, dimly lit by candlelight, and knocked on a door. “Love? It’s me, and Lady Lyriana,” he said.
Branwyn opened the door at once. I realized that this was their bedroom. Their private space.
I stood back, immediately feeling like I was encroaching on someplace intimate. Someplace I didn’t belong.
