Furyborn (Empirium 1)

“Don’t you?”

The Archon did not respond to the tease in her voice, and when Rielle glanced over at him, she saw a new expression on his face, drawn and thoughtful, that sent a thrill through her body. She couldn’t decipher the sensation.

Fear?

Corien’s voice came crooning: Or appetite?

38

Eliana

“Not all angels are alike, and not all worship at the Emperor’s feet. There are those who have taken pity on us and believe the Emperor’s actions to be cruel and unjust. They remain bodiless and are considered traitors to their kind, all in order to ally with humans—descendants of those long-ago saints who once drove the angels into the Deep.”

—The Word of the Prophet

Eliana sank to the floor with a tiny dark laugh and rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes.

“I don’t have time to sit around listening to…whatever this is. And whatever you are.” Eliana struggled to her feet and moved to the door. She was hallucinating. She was talking to a hallucination.

“My name is Zahra,” said the wraith.

“Right.”

“Rozen is not here.”

Eliana turned. A slow, panicked feeling unfurled in her chest. She kept her face blank. “Who’s Rozen?”

“The woman you think is your mother but truly is not.”

“Do you know a way out of here?” Hallucination or not, if she could use it to escape, she would.

“Yes.”

“Then either show it to me or fuck right off, would you please?”

Zahra raised one floating eyebrow. “This is not how I had imagined you would be.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Eliana resumed pounding on the door with angry clenched fists.

The wraith appeared between her body and the door. Eliana’s fists flew through the wraith’s torso. Her balance tilted, her vision phased in and out of focus. She backed quickly away.

“What is that? Every time you come near me—”

“You feel ill.” Zahra nodded sadly. “It is a common human affliction when in the company of wraiths. You’ll get used to it, over time. Others have. Though you seem to be affected far more than most. Unsurprising, given your ancestry. Your sensitivity to changes in the empirium is undoubtedly tremendous.”

Eliana glared at the floor. “Get me out of here.”

“Wait a moment.”

“Get me out—”

The wraith rose to her full height once more, her black eyes flashing. “We can’t leave yet. We must wait first until the shift change is complete, and second for you to calm down, so I can be assured you won’t do something rash and endanger yourself.” Zahra exhaled sharply, considering her. “Simon’s message was accurate. When you’re angry, you very much resemble your mother. How unsettling.”

Eliana shook her head. “This is quite an elaborate delusion.”

Zahra raised one amused eyebrow. “I assure you, your mind is quite sound.”

“You know Simon, do you?”

“I do. Though, only through messages passed through the underground. I serve the Prophet, and so does he.”

“The Prophet this, the Prophet that,” Eliana muttered, rubbing her temples. “Who is this man, and why does everyone fawn over him so? What does he want, anyway? There has to be more to him than simply some noble selfless desire to save the world from tyranny. And how long has he been around? Is there one Prophet or many?”

“You certainly have many questions. I don’t blame you.” Zahra drifted to the door, cocked her head. Listening? “But perhaps we’ll wait until a bit later for a Red Crown history lesson.”

“You’re Red Crown?”

“Obviously. As I said, I serve the Prophet.”

Eliana longed to punch something. “What are we waiting for exactly? I promise I won’t act rashly. Is that what you want to hear, my imaginary little friend? All my rashness has fled, I swear it.”

Zahra’s black mouth thinned. “No matter how long I spend among humans, I sometimes forget that I must actually put voice to my thoughts for you to understand.”

“As opposed to?”

“When I speak to my own kin,” Zahra explained, “I have no need for words.”

“Wait, you…” Could Remy have been right? Were the old stories true after all? “You mean mind-speak.”

Zahra inclined her head.

Eliana’s blood ran cold. Suddenly the idea of conversing with her own hallucination no longer amused her. “You’re an angel.”

“Once, I was. But no longer.”

“Well,” said Eliana, retrieving her tray from the floor, “if I hadn’t already decided to mistrust you, I certainly do now.”

“I understand that compulsion. Our two races have not always been friendly.”

“What is it you want with me?”

“To take you home,” Zahra said patiently, “as I told you before.”

“To Orline? Why?”

“Not Orline. Celdaria. We cannot go immediately there, of course, but—”

“I’ve never even been to Celdaria,” Eliana snapped, though her stomach tightened unpleasantly at the name of the far eastern kingdom. Her vision of the Emperor returned to her, as though it had been carved into her mind and coated with dust, and now a sharp wind had uncovered it.

“You have, once,” Zahra argued. “My queen, you were born there.”

“Ah, I see. Of course I was.”

Zahra frowned. “You’re mocking me.”

“Tell me what you want me to know, and I’ll say yes to it all, and I’ll believe what you want, as long as you get me out of this cell and help me find Navi.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“But you just said—”

“Princess Navana is not our priority. Nor, I must add, is Rozen Ferracora. You, Eliana, are all that matters—to Red Crown, to the Prophet, to all enemies of the Empire.”

“If you don’t help me rescue Navi and then help me search for my mother, I will make every last second of your life a miserable and agonized one.”

“I doubt that,” said Zahra, “as you will die long before I will.”

o;Don’t you?”

The Archon did not respond to the tease in her voice, and when Rielle glanced over at him, she saw a new expression on his face, drawn and thoughtful, that sent a thrill through her body. She couldn’t decipher the sensation.

Fear?

Corien’s voice came crooning: Or appetite?

38

Eliana

“Not all angels are alike, and not all worship at the Emperor’s feet. There are those who have taken pity on us and believe the Emperor’s actions to be cruel and unjust. They remain bodiless and are considered traitors to their kind, all in order to ally with humans—descendants of those long-ago saints who once drove the angels into the Deep.”

—The Word of the Prophet

Eliana sank to the floor with a tiny dark laugh and rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes.

“I don’t have time to sit around listening to…whatever this is. And whatever you are.” Eliana struggled to her feet and moved to the door. She was hallucinating. She was talking to a hallucination.

“My name is Zahra,” said the wraith.

“Right.”

“Rozen is not here.”

Eliana turned. A slow, panicked feeling unfurled in her chest. She kept her face blank. “Who’s Rozen?”

“The woman you think is your mother but truly is not.”

“Do you know a way out of here?” Hallucination or not, if she could use it to escape, she would.

“Yes.”

“Then either show it to me or fuck right off, would you please?”

Zahra raised one floating eyebrow. “This is not how I had imagined you would be.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Eliana resumed pounding on the door with angry clenched fists.

The wraith appeared between her body and the door. Eliana’s fists flew through the wraith’s torso. Her balance tilted, her vision phased in and out of focus. She backed quickly away.

“What is that? Every time you come near me—”

“You feel ill.” Zahra nodded sadly. “It is a common human affliction when in the company of wraiths. You’ll get used to it, over time. Others have. Though you seem to be affected far more than most. Unsurprising, given your ancestry. Your sensitivity to changes in the empirium is undoubtedly tremendous.”

Eliana glared at the floor. “Get me out of here.”

“Wait a moment.”

“Get me out—”

The wraith rose to her full height once more, her black eyes flashing. “We can’t leave yet. We must wait first until the shift change is complete, and second for you to calm down, so I can be assured you won’t do something rash and endanger yourself.” Zahra exhaled sharply, considering her. “Simon’s message was accurate. When you’re angry, you very much resemble your mother. How unsettling.”

Eliana shook her head. “This is quite an elaborate delusion.”

Zahra raised one amused eyebrow. “I assure you, your mind is quite sound.”

“You know Simon, do you?”

“I do. Though, only through messages passed through the underground. I serve the Prophet, and so does he.”

“The Prophet this, the Prophet that,” Eliana muttered, rubbing her temples. “Who is this man, and why does everyone fawn over him so? What does he want, anyway? There has to be more to him than simply some noble selfless desire to save the world from tyranny. And how long has he been around? Is there one Prophet or many?”

“You certainly have many questions. I don’t blame you.” Zahra drifted to the door, cocked her head. Listening? “But perhaps we’ll wait until a bit later for a Red Crown history lesson.”

“You’re Red Crown?”

“Obviously. As I said, I serve the Prophet.”

Eliana longed to punch something. “What are we waiting for exactly? I promise I won’t act rashly. Is that what you want to hear, my imaginary little friend? All my rashness has fled, I swear it.”

Zahra’s black mouth thinned. “No matter how long I spend among humans, I sometimes forget that I must actually put voice to my thoughts for you to understand.”

“As opposed to?”

“When I speak to my own kin,” Zahra explained, “I have no need for words.”

“Wait, you…” Could Remy have been right? Were the old stories true after all? “You mean mind-speak.”

Zahra inclined her head.

Eliana’s blood ran cold. Suddenly the idea of conversing with her own hallucination no longer amused her. “You’re an angel.”

“Once, I was. But no longer.”

“Well,” said Eliana, retrieving her tray from the floor, “if I hadn’t already decided to mistrust you, I certainly do now.”

“I understand that compulsion. Our two races have not always been friendly.”

“What is it you want with me?”

“To take you home,” Zahra said patiently, “as I told you before.”

“To Orline? Why?”

“Not Orline. Celdaria. We cannot go immediately there, of course, but—”

“I’ve never even been to Celdaria,” Eliana snapped, though her stomach tightened unpleasantly at the name of the far eastern kingdom. Her vision of the Emperor returned to her, as though it had been carved into her mind and coated with dust, and now a sharp wind had uncovered it.

“You have, once,” Zahra argued. “My queen, you were born there.”

“Ah, I see. Of course I was.”

Zahra frowned. “You’re mocking me.”

“Tell me what you want me to know, and I’ll say yes to it all, and I’ll believe what you want, as long as you get me out of this cell and help me find Navi.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“But you just said—”

“Princess Navana is not our priority. Nor, I must add, is Rozen Ferracora. You, Eliana, are all that matters—to Red Crown, to the Prophet, to all enemies of the Empire.”

“If you don’t help me rescue Navi and then help me search for my mother, I will make every last second of your life a miserable and agonized one.”

“I doubt that,” said Zahra, “as you will die long before I will.”