Furyborn (Empirium 1)

“Father?” Audric’s voice carried a new note of worry. “What is it?”

Rielle glanced up at the king. He held a small, curled slip of paper—a message from the royal aviary—and on his face was a stark absence of expression. He had retreated somewhere; he did not want to be reading this note in front of an audience.

“Three attacks,” he said flatly, “along the border. Castle d’Avitaine. The Castle of the Three Towers. Castle Barberac.” He paused, his mouth in a hard line. “Seventy-three Celdarian soldiers have been killed. Six—two from each post—survived and fled south to the nearest villages.”

“My God.” Queen Genoveve’s hand went to her throat. “Did their reports include what attacked them? Or who?”

“‘It came during the night,’” read the king. “‘It came without sound and without warning.’”

An eerie silence bled through the room.

King Bastien stopped reading. Audric snatched the note from his hands.

“Audric—” snapped the king.

“‘I’d turn in the dark,’” Audric continued reading, “‘and another would fall. White as bone their faces were, and still, like they’d been caught in the middle of a scream.’”

The king stormed around the table, ripped the note from Audric’s hands, and crumpled it in his fist. “These northern posts are bitter and cold. A pale face is no strange thing.”

Audric watched him gravely. “Two survivors from each post can be no coincidence.”

“Can’t it? Don’t start raving at me about your mad theories, Audric.”

“The signs have been clear for some time now.” Audric ignored his father and addressed the entire table. “The longer we wait to face them head on, the deadlier the consequences will become.”

“Signs!” Bastien laughed harshly. “Storms and revolutions in distant lands, soldiers being killed on a border between unfriendly nations. Yes, indeed.” His voice took an unfamiliar, sarcastic turn. “I’ve never heard of such things happening. Truly, we are at the brink of some magical undoing.”

“And what about Lady Rielle? You cannot look at her performance in the trials and call it anything but extraordinary.”

“He has a point,” said Tal quietly. “I’ve worked with Rielle for years, and the prophecy—”

“Magister Belounnon,” King Bastien snapped, “until I have asked for your opinion, you will take care to remain silent in my presence.”

Tal met the king’s gaze with only a little flare of defiance, but it was enough to make Rielle’s heart swell with love for him.

“Yes, my king,” Tal replied.

“The prophecy,” King Bastien continued, looking around at all of them, “cannot even be dependably interpreted. How many official translations of Aryava’s words exist? Twenty? Twenty-five?”

“Thirty-four,” replied the Archon at once, “though the differences between some are minimal.”

“But even a single word can mean the difference between a prophecy”—the king shot a dark look at Audric—“and an entertaining story that no learned man takes seriously.”

Magister Duval’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Majesty, this is rather bold of you to say, in front of the entire council and the Archon himself.”

“All of whom answer to me, I’ll remind you.” Bastien stalked away to stand before the windows and look out at the setting sun. When at last he turned back around, he looked weary but resolute. “I apologize for my outburst, Your Holiness. I do not think the prophecy a mere story, nor do I think the intelligence of you and your magisters to be anything less than exceptional.”

The Archon inclined his head. “You are most gracious, my king.”

“I’ll speak no more of this tonight. Armand?”

Rielle’s father rose from his chair and joined his king. At the doors, he glanced back once at Rielle, and she saw a flicker of concern in his gray eyes.

The look frightened her.

Ever since the trials had begun, with Rielle’s life imperiled every week, her father had kept himself closed off from her, even more than usual. She saw him only during their mornings at the obstacle course, and sometimes in the halls of Baingarde. Encircled by her guards, she would greet him politely, and he would return the sentiment with a mere nod.

And so even the smallest change in expression on that hard face was of note.

Something about the message from the north, and the king’s reaction, had pricked at the inconquerable Lord Commander Dardenne.

As the council rose with rustlings and murmurs, Audric turned to Rielle, then glanced at Ludivine. “We must speak in private,” he said quietly. “Now.”

“Audric, my love?” Queen Genoveve extended her hand toward him. Her brocaded gray gown caught the red light of the setting sun and cast strange, harsh lines across her face. “Come with me. Your uncle and I thought we could all enjoy some tea together.”

“So you can scold me again and speak ill of Lady Rielle?” Audric said it loudly enough for everyone still in the room to hear. “I have far better things to do.”

Then he threw his mother a swift, angry look and left the hall.

Rielle nearly burst out laughing at the affronted expression on Queen Genoveve’s face, but before she could, Ludivine took her firmly by the elbow and rushed her out of the hall.

Only once in the familiar quiet of Audric’s rooms did Rielle’s nervous laughter finally escape. She collapsed on her favorite chaise by the window, a shabby old thing so comfortable that she forbade Audric from ordering another.

Ludivine sank into her own favorite chair by the fire. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Rielle.”

“What isn’t funny? The fact that Audric insulted his mother in front of the entire council? Or that your father looked like he was trying to make me drop dead using only the force of his stare?”

Or that even as the king scolded me, she thought a little wildly, I was talking to an angel in my head?

“Please don’t make light of my father’s anger,” Ludivine said. “It won’t serve any of us well.”

“And then,” Rielle continued, “there’s the fact that Audric and I nearly… Well.” She flushed, losing her nerve. “And yet here we all are, acting as if nothing has happened!”

Audric tensed. “Rielle, can we please not talk about that right now? I know you and Ludivine have discussed it, but there are political ramifications of any changes made to the agreement between our families.” o;Father?” Audric’s voice carried a new note of worry. “What is it?”

Rielle glanced up at the king. He held a small, curled slip of paper—a message from the royal aviary—and on his face was a stark absence of expression. He had retreated somewhere; he did not want to be reading this note in front of an audience.

“Three attacks,” he said flatly, “along the border. Castle d’Avitaine. The Castle of the Three Towers. Castle Barberac.” He paused, his mouth in a hard line. “Seventy-three Celdarian soldiers have been killed. Six—two from each post—survived and fled south to the nearest villages.”

“My God.” Queen Genoveve’s hand went to her throat. “Did their reports include what attacked them? Or who?”

“‘It came during the night,’” read the king. “‘It came without sound and without warning.’”

An eerie silence bled through the room.

King Bastien stopped reading. Audric snatched the note from his hands.

“Audric—” snapped the king.

“‘I’d turn in the dark,’” Audric continued reading, “‘and another would fall. White as bone their faces were, and still, like they’d been caught in the middle of a scream.’”

The king stormed around the table, ripped the note from Audric’s hands, and crumpled it in his fist. “These northern posts are bitter and cold. A pale face is no strange thing.”

Audric watched him gravely. “Two survivors from each post can be no coincidence.”

“Can’t it? Don’t start raving at me about your mad theories, Audric.”

“The signs have been clear for some time now.” Audric ignored his father and addressed the entire table. “The longer we wait to face them head on, the deadlier the consequences will become.”

“Signs!” Bastien laughed harshly. “Storms and revolutions in distant lands, soldiers being killed on a border between unfriendly nations. Yes, indeed.” His voice took an unfamiliar, sarcastic turn. “I’ve never heard of such things happening. Truly, we are at the brink of some magical undoing.”

“And what about Lady Rielle? You cannot look at her performance in the trials and call it anything but extraordinary.”

“He has a point,” said Tal quietly. “I’ve worked with Rielle for years, and the prophecy—”

“Magister Belounnon,” King Bastien snapped, “until I have asked for your opinion, you will take care to remain silent in my presence.”

Tal met the king’s gaze with only a little flare of defiance, but it was enough to make Rielle’s heart swell with love for him.

“Yes, my king,” Tal replied.

“The prophecy,” King Bastien continued, looking around at all of them, “cannot even be dependably interpreted. How many official translations of Aryava’s words exist? Twenty? Twenty-five?”

“Thirty-four,” replied the Archon at once, “though the differences between some are minimal.”

“But even a single word can mean the difference between a prophecy”—the king shot a dark look at Audric—“and an entertaining story that no learned man takes seriously.”

Magister Duval’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Majesty, this is rather bold of you to say, in front of the entire council and the Archon himself.”

“All of whom answer to me, I’ll remind you.” Bastien stalked away to stand before the windows and look out at the setting sun. When at last he turned back around, he looked weary but resolute. “I apologize for my outburst, Your Holiness. I do not think the prophecy a mere story, nor do I think the intelligence of you and your magisters to be anything less than exceptional.”

The Archon inclined his head. “You are most gracious, my king.”

“I’ll speak no more of this tonight. Armand?”

Rielle’s father rose from his chair and joined his king. At the doors, he glanced back once at Rielle, and she saw a flicker of concern in his gray eyes.

The look frightened her.

Ever since the trials had begun, with Rielle’s life imperiled every week, her father had kept himself closed off from her, even more than usual. She saw him only during their mornings at the obstacle course, and sometimes in the halls of Baingarde. Encircled by her guards, she would greet him politely, and he would return the sentiment with a mere nod.

And so even the smallest change in expression on that hard face was of note.

Something about the message from the north, and the king’s reaction, had pricked at the inconquerable Lord Commander Dardenne.

As the council rose with rustlings and murmurs, Audric turned to Rielle, then glanced at Ludivine. “We must speak in private,” he said quietly. “Now.”

“Audric, my love?” Queen Genoveve extended her hand toward him. Her brocaded gray gown caught the red light of the setting sun and cast strange, harsh lines across her face. “Come with me. Your uncle and I thought we could all enjoy some tea together.”

“So you can scold me again and speak ill of Lady Rielle?” Audric said it loudly enough for everyone still in the room to hear. “I have far better things to do.”

Then he threw his mother a swift, angry look and left the hall.

Rielle nearly burst out laughing at the affronted expression on Queen Genoveve’s face, but before she could, Ludivine took her firmly by the elbow and rushed her out of the hall.

Only once in the familiar quiet of Audric’s rooms did Rielle’s nervous laughter finally escape. She collapsed on her favorite chaise by the window, a shabby old thing so comfortable that she forbade Audric from ordering another.

Ludivine sank into her own favorite chair by the fire. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Rielle.”

“What isn’t funny? The fact that Audric insulted his mother in front of the entire council? Or that your father looked like he was trying to make me drop dead using only the force of his stare?”

Or that even as the king scolded me, she thought a little wildly, I was talking to an angel in my head?

“Please don’t make light of my father’s anger,” Ludivine said. “It won’t serve any of us well.”

“And then,” Rielle continued, “there’s the fact that Audric and I nearly… Well.” She flushed, losing her nerve. “And yet here we all are, acting as if nothing has happened!”

Audric tensed. “Rielle, can we please not talk about that right now? I know you and Ludivine have discussed it, but there are political ramifications of any changes made to the agreement between our families.”