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37
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I could not takemy eyes off of Imrys's hand. The way his fingers slid between Tatyanna's thighs every once in a while, making her squirm. It made me want to kill him with my bare hands. I had no idea how she could keep her face so icy calm as she endured it. But her eyes remained aimed at some place on the wall over my head, and only the flare of her nostrils gave away the secret rage burning inside her. It seemed that the note had done nothing to ingratiate him to her.
A movement in the shadows caught my eye and I turned to look. At first, I thought it was Kiango, with his heavily muscled biceps and dark armor, but as the shape moved out into the light of the room, I realized who it really was. Silas. He'd come back.
I fought to keep my composure, pulling my legs back up and averting my eyes. Every muscle in my body contracted, afraid that I would give him away.
"See something of interest?" Imrys mused, his voice taunting.
I bit my lip and refused to meet his gaze, but my refusal was as good an answer as any. Before Silas got any closer, Imrys was hoisting Tatyanna off his lap and pushing her aside. She lost her balance and fell to her hands and knees, just as I had. Imrys was up in a flash, whirling to face the shadow behind him.
As I watched, the two men faced off with Tatyanna between them on the ground. I waved her over to me, begging her to move before things turned violent, but she was too slow. Imrys lashed out, kicking her in the side.
"Get out of my way, you insolent whore."
I clapped a hand over my mouth. But she remained where she was, an obstacle in Imrys's path, however insignificant.
The room had fallen silent. All eyes were on the Guardians. Silas's scales rasped against each other, a flutter of anticipation as he stared down his opponent.
"I heard you thought you could take the throne. Is that true?" Imrys taunted again. "You thought I would let myself go down so easily, and you could just slide right into the throne? I've been preparing for this moment for years! You're nothing but a foolish boy."
As Imrys spoke, Silas's eyes slid to mine and he gave me one long, pleading look. I had to do something. Crawling forward, I reached out for Tatyanna, begging for her to come with me. Silas moved away from me in a slow arc, directing Imrys's attention and placing the throne between them once more.
Finally, I was close enough to reach her, and despite her resistance, she moved to join me. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing she was safe, but also knowing that Imrys's path to Silas was now clear. Whatever he had in mind, he was free to act.
"I never intended to take the throne," Silas said calmly, twirling the scepter casually in his hand. "It is as meaningless to me as your life."
Imrys flared with anger, his scales raising and snapping back down with an irritated click.
"You don't mean that," Imrys insisted. "You and I, we are one of a kind. We are the last of Re'Utu's true blood. That is why you're standing here today instead of lying in a pool of blood like your beloved mentor."
Silas's expression grew grim, and I caught the concerned glance he shot my way before returning his attention to Imrys. I wanted to tell him Kiango would be okay, but I still wasn't sure of that. And in any case, I wasn't sure I could convey the message with only my eyes. For now, we both had more important things to worry about.
"So that's why you did all this? You believe your flesh contains some kind of blood special in Re'Utu's eyes?" Silas's curt laugh was enough to enrage Imrys.
"I know it does. And yours does, too. Refusing to see it doesn't change the facts, Silas. We were born different from all these others. Kiango was an orphan with mixed blood. He didn't belong here, but Trydan took him in anyways and placed us at the same level. It was an abomination. But Trydan had a soft spot for Kiango that I will never understand."
"And so, you had him killed?" Silas guessed, sounding bored.
That earned him another ruffle of Imrys's scales, but the man shook his head. "No. I don't know where the little rat ran off to. But I'm not worried. Trydan lied, cheated, and stole to get his throne in the first place. He didn't deserve it any more than you did, and the people know it."
Another murmur passed through the room, suddenly reminding me that we were not alone up here, and a sly smile crept across Imrys's mangled face.
"So,my grandfather was not wrong, even if he didn’t know the whole of it?" he said softly, his indifference faltering.
Imrys shrugged. "I'm sure the old man got some of it right. He was quite incensed when he lost the throne and was forced to retire, wasn't he? But you see, the problem was that I knew he would never put me second in command."
Seeing that Imrys was enjoying himself too much to make a move, I bent my head toward Tatyanna and whispered in her ear.
"We have to do something."
She didn't react at first. Or at least, she didn't answer me. But with a slow movement, she withdrew her hand from her robe. At first, I couldn't make out what it was, but as the light caught the jagged edge of the green glass, it started to make sense.
I placed my hand on her wrist, stopping her from moving too suddenly. If Imrys caught her, he would slice her throat with the broken bottle himself. I grasped the makeshift blade and closed my hand around it, careful not to cut myself. For several long moments, I was afraid she would not relinquish her weapon to me. She had been planning this for who knew how long, and this was her moment. I couldn't blame her for not wanting to entrust it to me.
But I felt her grip loosen and the weight of the glass was in my hand. I tucked it into my sleeve and tried to get a better hold on it. To my relief, she had thought to wrap a rag around one end, giving me a safe place to grip. Still, I feared that even the wicked edge of the glass would not be sufficient to get through Imrys's armor. Was that why she hadn't used it when she was sitting in his lap?
It didn't matter. Imrys's speech was drawing to a close and he had already started circling the throne, trying to close the distance. As I gripped the rag, I shuffled my feet, trying to find a good position from which I could launch myself at the man's back if he made any sudden movements.
Silas wasn't moving. He didn't have many options, either. Unless he changed direction, he had backed himself into the corner of the room with only one possible escape. Every once in a while, I caught a reflection off the scepter as he swung it idly in front of him.
Imrys took another half-step forward, and I caught Silas's eye. I couldn't tell if he understood the message I was trying to project at him, but all at once, he was charging forward with the scepter raised in both hands like a bar across his chest.
Imrys reacted immediately, but Silas was fast. Their bodies collided and Imrys stumbled back, pinned against the throne's tall back. Silas growled, leaning into the scepter as he pressed it across Imrys's throat, fighting for every inch. Imrys was too busy grappling with him to fight back, although I imagined the studded burrs of his armored fists could do some damage if Silas wasn't careful.
But I wasn't waiting any longer. I was on my feet, rushing forward with the makeshift knife drawn and pointed straight ahead. Twice, I almost tripped over the hem of my robe and had to slow down until I gained my footing, but the distance across the dais was short and I was at Imrys's side before I could even consider what I planned to do next.
