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She looked like she’d just had a vision.
No. No one would think that. They’d think she looked like an Heir Apparent, one who was scared to learn we were under attack. That had to be what everyone was thinking. But even then, she was showing too much fear, too much emotion. Heirs were taught to appear neutral in such situations. She had been groomed to be our future Arkasva, to be a leader, fearless and courageous. I prayed my father would keep his talk short and release us. Meera and Morgana had to be out of sight, away from prying eyes for as long as possible until I could do something about their appearances. Morgana at least seemed able to manage to sit straight, but I could see the concern in her eyes from here—concern for my safety, for what breaking my oath would do to me.
I had to tell my father my oath was broken and what Mercurial had told me—that the debt could be changed.
I took Tristan’s hand in mine, entwining our fingers. At another bite of pain in my wrist, I squeezed. Too hard.
Tristan made a sound under his breath. “Lyr? You okay?” he whispered.
“Sorry,” I whispered back. “Nervous.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he assured.
I wasn’t so sure. Meera wasn’t going to have a vision now, but she needed to leave before too many people took in her appearance. Morgana also had to exit the room as quickly as possible. This many people together…it was going drive her farther than Lethea. Too many people were here. It was too much noise for Morgana. There were too many opportunities for people to suspect either of my sisters.
My arm itched, and the blood oath reddened, visible to my eyes for the first time since I’d bled from it. My skin felt hot, and the itch traveled up my arm, until it burst into flames beneath my skin. I bit my lip hard enough to draw tears as I sucked in a painful breath. The room spun, I sucked on my lip, tasting blood, and pinched my waist, taking a deep breath. I had to stay in control. I had to control what they saw…just a little longer.
“Right now, the terrorists previously led by Tarek Kasmar, the traitor, have come out of hiding, calling themselves the Emartis. They are currently engaged in a terrorist attack in Urtavia,” my father said. “The group has been engaging in a sort of explosive magic—dangerous fireworks in the form of black seraphim—which are threatening our own seraphim and ashvan from their duties. This comes right as we begin the bridge to winter, which we all know brings longer nights and the possibility of drawing akadim south.”
A scared hush came over the room.
“Bamaria has nothing to fear. Our soturi are protecting the border at full strength. But akadim have been spotted recently south of the capitol. We are closely monitoring the situation and do not believe Bamaria has any reason to be concerned about akadim at this time. But these displays from the Emartis, these acts of terror, interrupt our safety efforts, interrupt our students’ abilities to finish training, and are a direct threat to our culture, our art, and our lives in the city of Urtavia. Their increased use of fire to send a message is also of great concern. Turion Brenna’s soturi are working to make safe the city as we speak while Arkturion Aemon and the Soturi of Ka Batavia are hunting down these spineless criminals, and I have no doubt they will stop the threat very soon.” His lips tightened. “An attack like this forces our safety protocol for the Bamarian Council into action. We are currently opening every room in the fortress and our guest homes for overnight stay—until Arkturion Aemon returns victorious, the terrorists bound.”
Fuck. The entire nobility was here. And Tristan…Tristan was going to be required to spend the night. I had to keep him from my sisters. Keep him from me. I needed to speak to my father. My heart was hammering wildly in my chest, and another spike of pain in my wrist had sweat beading at the nape of my neck.
My father dismissed the assembly, giving everyone permission to reign free through Cresthaven’s walls and the first floor of the fortress until the guest houses on the grounds were ready.
Morgana. Get Meera and yourself upstairs now. You look horrible.
Morgana immediately took Meera’s hand and dragged her away from the other Council members before they could swarm her and ask questions. As the rest of the room began to empty, I noticed Rhyan hanging back, watching me and Tristan.
Warning bells rang. The second time tonight.
Sentries from my father’s personal guard burst through the doors into the Great Hall.
“Everyone is to take shelter in their rooms now,” yelled the commander. “Another display has been spotted a mile away. You’re all safe. There’s no need to panic, but we’re taking maximum precautions.”
Immediately, the nobles behind us burst into nervous chatter, saying goodnight and wishing each other well as they dispersed to find their families and their rooms.
Members of my father’s staff emerged, helping to direct and escort everyone.
“Tristan,” I said, “you should help your grandparents. Make sure they get settled.”
He nodded, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “How are you feeling? Not too shaken?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Should I try to sneak up to your room after?” he asked. “Check on you?”
Gods, no!I schooled my face, trying to look like I was disappointed in what I was about to say. “I think we better not try the patience of my guards any further tonight, not with the fortress so full. No one will be allowed access upstairs.”
He gave me a pouty smile. “I had to try. Be safe. And while I know you’re well protected, I’m here, too. I’ll find you first thing in the morning.” He kissed me again and stood, hand on his silver scabbard, and exited the Seating Room.
Rhyan, who had been watching from the shadows in a back corner, emerged, making his way to me in quick, urgent strides.
“How are you doing?”
Sweat was beading across my forehead, running down the nape of my neck. I wasn’t going to last much longer. Either the blood debt would find a way to finally strike me down, or the pain in my wrist would soon be enough to end me.
