even a singular ship. It is a crime perpetrated by the Maarin people.”
“And what crime would that be?”
Uncrossing his arms from behind his back, Vibius tossed a book on the table. “Paganism.”
Lydia stared down at the book, a sour taste filling her mouth as she recognized the cover: Treatise of the Seven. A slow horror took hold of her, the memory of Vibius catching her sneaking back into the library after her meeting with Teriana on the beach. Of her inadvertently tossing it at his feet. Of her hiding it on the shelves in her library, foolishly certain that no one would have cause to look for it.
“Recognize this, Lydia?” Vibius’s expression was feral. “I brought it to Cassius’s attention, feeling that he should be aware of your entanglements. Imagine my shock when he was able to translate enough of it to reveal that your possession of this book was more than just a social infraction.”
“Lydia?” Her father turned toward her. “Who gave you this?”
Her throat tightened. There was no explanation that would win her free of this.
“Cassius was willing to forgive Lydia’s eccentricities,” Vibius said. “But I suspect his forgiveness might disappear should you choose to interfere with his plans, Uncle.” He shook his head, tsking softly. “Please consider Lydia’s future before you make any … rash decisions.”
The spark disappeared from her father’s eyes, his shoulders slumping. As fond as he was of Teriana, as much as he admired the Maarin, Lydia knew he’d do nothing that would jeopardize her safety.
Which meant it was up to her.
Snatching up the book, Lydia slammed into Vibius hard enough that he staggered, and then bolted to the back of the house. She needed to reach the ocean so that she could contact Magnius. He’d be able to warn Teriana and her mother—warn them to sail as far away from Empire waters as they possibly could.
Her feet slapped against the tiles, as did those of the men her father ordered after her. Shouldering open a door, she ran into the dark gardens, focused on reaching the gate leading to the path down to the beach.
Then a hand latched on her arm, jerking her back so she landed on her bottom, her spectacles flying off into the foliage. Spurius stared down at her, his expression grim. “I’m sorry, Domina.”
She lashed out at him, trying to pull from his grip, but he only caught her other wrist, pinning her to the ground. Seconds later the rest of the household was on her. “She’s hysterical!” her father shouted. “She needs to be sedated!”
“No, I need to warn them!” She kicked and struggled, but Spurius’s grip was relentless. Someone took hold of her face and poured a foul-tasting liquid in her mouth. She spit it out, but they only did it again, pinching her nose so that she was forced to swallow.
The drug took immediate effect, her vision doubling. Still, she tried to crawl toward the gate. If she could just get a little bit closer. “Magnius,” she tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper. “Magnius, the Cel are coming for them. You have to warn Teriana. You have to warn…”
Spurius picked her up. Carried her toward the villa. It was possible Magnius had heard her, but even in her drugged state, Lydia knew it was wasted hope.
She had done too little, and she had done it far, far too late.
15
KILLIAN
The crystal dining room had vaulted ceilings from which hung three enormous crystal chandeliers that glittered with candlelight. The walls were papered in muted silver stripes, the floors a polished white oak imported from Katamarca. The tables were covered with silvery-white linen, the plates made of frosted glass, and the silverware polished to a shine. It made Killian feel as though he sat in the midst of a very balmy snowstorm, for Malahi insisted the twin fireplaces be kept roaring with flames.
He helped the Princess into her chair, then sat at her right, glancing over the primarily female guests seated around the large table, before scanning the room to ensure all the young women who formed Malahi’s bodyguard were where they should be.
Gwendolyn and Lena had been the first girls he’d hired, but once word spread that Killian Calorian was training young women to serve as Princess Malahi’s bodyguard more had followed. Farm girls and tavern wenches. Seamstresses and prostitutes. Merchants’ daughters and soldiers’ orphans. Most of those who came to him seeking employment Killian declined, for while they were fine fighters, they hadn’t