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But not about Meera and Morgana. Not what had just happened in Rhyan’s bedroom.
“We didn’t burn the bed. But it has been removed. I think you’ll sleep easier tonight. Brand new frame, mattress, all the fixings you’d expect for an Heir to the Arkasva.”
“This doesn’t go against my deal with the Imperator?” I asked. “No missing training? No comfortable bed sheets without severed heads in them?” My voice shook.
Rhyan’s eyes locked with mine behind Aemon’s in the kitchen, and then he quickly turned around, gathering spices.
“You’re being threatened outside of the Academy and threatened for being an heir. That is outside of his jurisdiction.”
“Are you sure?” I asked bitterly. He’d managed to step in every other time, twisting whatever happened to me into a national emergency that required both his hand and further occupation by Ka Kormac. “Seemed like his entire legion was there last night, exercising his jurisdiction.”
“I know,” Aemon said.
“And while we’re on that topic,” I said, my eyes flicking briefly between Rhyan and Aemon, “would you enlighten me as to why we’re receiving reports of growing akadim activity in the south, and yet with a spare legion of soturi—of southern soturi—not one of them is being dispatched to deal with the issue?”
Aemon growled at this, his hands flexing and fisting on his lap, the tendons in his forearms straining against the golden cuffs at his wrists. “I am negotiating as best I can,” he said. “Unfortunately, the chain of command in Bamaria comes second to the command of Lumeria. And I think you know exactly where the Imperator sits, and who his legion is answering to.” His expression hardened. “Which is why we are going to keep what happened in your apartment last night quiet. We’re lucky that this time they decided to send a private message to you.”
“Finding a severed seraphim head under your blankets is not exactly what I would call lucky,” I seethed.
“Would you prefer those heads falling from the sky for everyone to see? To give the Imperator a reason to return?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.” He stood. “We are looking into the breach. You’re to have two escorts with you at all times moving forward until this threat is stopped. No more running off to Scholar’s Harbor unless you’re bringing a team with you. You will only be unescorted during Academy hours. And then you’ll have Hart. Be on your guard, both of you.”
I shivered. “I know what they want, but…why me? Why am I being targeted? Why aren’t they attacking Cresthaven? I’m not Arkasva, I’m not even Heir Apparent.”
“I think, your grace, it’s because they can. You’re the most exposed.”
I bit my lip, hating that answer. They thought me weak, powerless, expendable. So they planned to take me out first.
“Don’t let this distract you,” Aemon said. “You have one month to go, and you’re making great progress. Do not lose that—do not lose sight of your goal. The Emperor is already making preparations to arrive.” He sketched a quick bow and turned for the door. “Hart, good work. I need you on tonight. Days of fucking Shadows.”
And then he was gone. I slumped onto Rhyan’s couch, my mind reeling.
The scent of Rhyan’s spiced coffee wafted to me. I looked up to find a steaming mug on the table in front of me.
Rhyan’s eyes were wide as he watched me, his mouth tight. I looked up, not sure what to say or do. Minutes ago, he had been removing my underwear, kissing me like I was his air and he’d have died without it. And now…I felt like an ocean stood between us.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“What areyouthinking?” I replied.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know,” he groaned, “I know what lines I just crossed.”
“We crossed,” I said.
“We crossed.” He sighed. “I’m your bodyguard, your kashonim.”
“I don’t need a list.”
“And you’re with Tristan.”
I closed my eyes. It was hard to breathe with the weight of everything settling over me.
“Lyr, I never should have—”
“Don’t,” I said, holding up my hand. “Don’t.”
