Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

“No arguments, my queen,” Zahra said. “This is not a point on which I will capitulate. Your safety is paramount, and now you are compromised.”

“Can’t you retrieve the antidote yourself?” Eliana waved her hand. “Possess a body, put it through the motions of a theft?”

“You know it is difficult for me to do that. I would not be able to successfully control a body long enough to steal from this place. And, besides, I would be found the moment I attempted it. The Nest wraiths are especially sensitive to the presence of those like them. I will accompany you to protect you, but I must remain as discreet as possible to avoid detection.”

Eliana bit down on the first five responses that came to her mind. “Well, then. What must I do to pass this test you’ve set for me?”

“As much as it pains me to say so, you will do as Simon has instructed you,” Zahra replied. “You will read, and you will practice, and you will learn.”

There again came that hard knot in Eliana’s throat, a constant companion in recent days.

“You want me to develop my power,” she said, her voice catching on spikes of anger. “Just as he does. You want to make me into something I’m not.”

“I want you to understand who and what you really are,” Zahra countered. “I want to protect you against yourself and prevent the power with which you were born from consuming you, as it did your mother.”

The unexpected mention of the Blood Queen jolted Eliana like a sharp blast of cold. “And if I refuse?”

Zahra’s stare was pitiless. “Then I will not take you to the Nest and to the antidote. And, very soon, Navi will die.”

5

Rielle

“When the wave came for our city, brother, Lady Rielle tore through the skies for it. She faced the fury of our doom with no fear in her heart, her body burning gold as the sun, her godsbeast blazing with fire. I knew then that the Celdarian Church had been right to appoint this girl Sun Queen. Once, my nightly prayers were for the saints. Now, they are for Lady Rielle. May God protect her from all evil.”

—Journal of Reynar Pollari, Grand Magister of the House of Night in Styrdalleen, capital of Borsvall

As Rielle tore across the sky, the howling wind and the roar of the approaching water soon swallowed her every thought but one.

Stop the wave.

The faster Atheria flew, the more eagerly Rielle’s power licked along her veins, hungry and seeking. It had been restrained unfairly in the village while Ingrid’s soldiers had attacked her beloved ones. It had been aching to leap to their aid, to destroy, and now it flared alive like flames across an oil-soaked field. Rain lashed her body in cold sheets. The force of the wave, and the swirling storm above, sucked the air from her lungs.

But none of that mattered, not with this wall of water crashing toward her, and her power leaping to life at her fingertips, and the beach below her—the ravaged, white-pebbled beach, crowded with the debris of wrecked ships. And the roads above the beach, soaked and flooded, and the people running frantically up the sea-ravaged city streets toward the castle, desperate for higher ground.

She couldn’t resist. She directed Atheria along the winding beachside roads and smiled into her rain-soaked mane as she heard the cries of those below. They marveled at her and her godsbeast, stopping to stare and wave and shout, even with death fast approaching them.

As it should be, Corien murmured, his voice so faint in her mind that it could have been a mere silken thread dragged unsteadily along the back of her neck.

Rielle shivered, and pushed Atheria out to sea.

The wave groaned as it moved, sucking greedily at everything it touched—the shore, the mountains bordering the water, the air scraping against Rielle’s cheeks. She looked down once more, her eyes watering from the wind, and saw crowds gathering at the seawalls to watch her, heard their faint screams of terror.

Bitter and horrible, to have to save them—these barbarians, these fools. She could turn around, force Audric and Ludivine to mount Atheria, and take them home. If Ludivine tried to stop her, she would injure her just badly enough that her mind-speak would be useless and ask forgiveness later.

And if war broke out because of her actions, Rielle would simply lead the army that had once belonged to her father into Borsvall’s ruined cities and bring her surviving enemies to their knees.

But she could not ignore Audric’s words: If you save their capital, they will have no choice but to accept our terms of peace.

She curled her fingers more tightly in Atheria’s mane.

She hoped Audric was right.

The wave was upon them, a churning black mountain of spray and foam and furious energy. With a twinge of fear, Rielle recalled the avalanche she had faced in her first trial. The wave’s rage was that of a thousand avalanches. It seethed, rumbling inexorably closer, consuming all other sounds—her own gasping breaths, the heavy beat of Atheria’s wings. Rielle drove Atheria as close to the wave as she dared, the chavaile’s great gray body trembling as her drenched wings desperately fought the wind.

Rielle closed her eyes and let her power bloom. Come to me, she thought, letting her mind unfocus, imagining her body expanding out past its fragile lines and curves to the air beyond. The wind whipped water against her skin; salt burned her eyes.

But she was immense. She was of the wave and wind, and yet she was more than either of them, and she could control them as she pleased, and she would control them. She would make them her own. She sensed their energy, their sheer unthinking force, like the silent pull of desire, tightening her skin.

I do not break or bend, she prayed, the memory of Tal’s voice accompanying her, guiding her through her prayers. Her five-year-old self, safe in his lap. His hands helping hers turn pages in The Book of the Saints.

I cannot be silenced. She slowly opened her eyes. The world was outlined in infinitesimal grains of gold. The wave was full of them, spinning ferociously bright. They illuminated the howling air like stars. Rielle reached out with her mind, embracing every scrap of wind she could find. Eager gusts crowded at her fingertips.

She inhaled, and the air bent and bowed, echoing her lungs. I am everywhere.

Then she snapped open her eyes and thrust out her rigid palms.

The molten air rippled, exploding out from her hands to slam against the wave and lock into place like a dam. Water crashed against a thousand interconnected nets of gold. A blast of wind shot back from the impact, nearly knocking her off Atheria. But the chavaile bowed her head against the trembling force of the collision, pumped her wings and legs hard, and kept them both steady in the air.

Rielle gritted her teeth and held fast, fighting the urge to drop her arms and let the wave shatter. Despite the searing connection of her bones to her blood to the shimmering world beyond her fingertips, her shifting vision darkened; her muscles screamed in protest. Their message was plain: she was one mere girl, and this wave was a force unconquerable. o;No arguments, my queen,” Zahra said. “This is not a point on which I will capitulate. Your safety is paramount, and now you are compromised.”

“Can’t you retrieve the antidote yourself?” Eliana waved her hand. “Possess a body, put it through the motions of a theft?”

“You know it is difficult for me to do that. I would not be able to successfully control a body long enough to steal from this place. And, besides, I would be found the moment I attempted it. The Nest wraiths are especially sensitive to the presence of those like them. I will accompany you to protect you, but I must remain as discreet as possible to avoid detection.”

Eliana bit down on the first five responses that came to her mind. “Well, then. What must I do to pass this test you’ve set for me?”

“As much as it pains me to say so, you will do as Simon has instructed you,” Zahra replied. “You will read, and you will practice, and you will learn.”

There again came that hard knot in Eliana’s throat, a constant companion in recent days.

“You want me to develop my power,” she said, her voice catching on spikes of anger. “Just as he does. You want to make me into something I’m not.”

“I want you to understand who and what you really are,” Zahra countered. “I want to protect you against yourself and prevent the power with which you were born from consuming you, as it did your mother.”

The unexpected mention of the Blood Queen jolted Eliana like a sharp blast of cold. “And if I refuse?”

Zahra’s stare was pitiless. “Then I will not take you to the Nest and to the antidote. And, very soon, Navi will die.”

5

Rielle

“When the wave came for our city, brother, Lady Rielle tore through the skies for it. She faced the fury of our doom with no fear in her heart, her body burning gold as the sun, her godsbeast blazing with fire. I knew then that the Celdarian Church had been right to appoint this girl Sun Queen. Once, my nightly prayers were for the saints. Now, they are for Lady Rielle. May God protect her from all evil.”

—Journal of Reynar Pollari, Grand Magister of the House of Night in Styrdalleen, capital of Borsvall

As Rielle tore across the sky, the howling wind and the roar of the approaching water soon swallowed her every thought but one.

Stop the wave.

The faster Atheria flew, the more eagerly Rielle’s power licked along her veins, hungry and seeking. It had been restrained unfairly in the village while Ingrid’s soldiers had attacked her beloved ones. It had been aching to leap to their aid, to destroy, and now it flared alive like flames across an oil-soaked field. Rain lashed her body in cold sheets. The force of the wave, and the swirling storm above, sucked the air from her lungs.

But none of that mattered, not with this wall of water crashing toward her, and her power leaping to life at her fingertips, and the beach below her—the ravaged, white-pebbled beach, crowded with the debris of wrecked ships. And the roads above the beach, soaked and flooded, and the people running frantically up the sea-ravaged city streets toward the castle, desperate for higher ground.

She couldn’t resist. She directed Atheria along the winding beachside roads and smiled into her rain-soaked mane as she heard the cries of those below. They marveled at her and her godsbeast, stopping to stare and wave and shout, even with death fast approaching them.

As it should be, Corien murmured, his voice so faint in her mind that it could have been a mere silken thread dragged unsteadily along the back of her neck.

Rielle shivered, and pushed Atheria out to sea.

The wave groaned as it moved, sucking greedily at everything it touched—the shore, the mountains bordering the water, the air scraping against Rielle’s cheeks. She looked down once more, her eyes watering from the wind, and saw crowds gathering at the seawalls to watch her, heard their faint screams of terror.

Bitter and horrible, to have to save them—these barbarians, these fools. She could turn around, force Audric and Ludivine to mount Atheria, and take them home. If Ludivine tried to stop her, she would injure her just badly enough that her mind-speak would be useless and ask forgiveness later.

And if war broke out because of her actions, Rielle would simply lead the army that had once belonged to her father into Borsvall’s ruined cities and bring her surviving enemies to their knees.

But she could not ignore Audric’s words: If you save their capital, they will have no choice but to accept our terms of peace.

She curled her fingers more tightly in Atheria’s mane.

She hoped Audric was right.

The wave was upon them, a churning black mountain of spray and foam and furious energy. With a twinge of fear, Rielle recalled the avalanche she had faced in her first trial. The wave’s rage was that of a thousand avalanches. It seethed, rumbling inexorably closer, consuming all other sounds—her own gasping breaths, the heavy beat of Atheria’s wings. Rielle drove Atheria as close to the wave as she dared, the chavaile’s great gray body trembling as her drenched wings desperately fought the wind.

Rielle closed her eyes and let her power bloom. Come to me, she thought, letting her mind unfocus, imagining her body expanding out past its fragile lines and curves to the air beyond. The wind whipped water against her skin; salt burned her eyes.

But she was immense. She was of the wave and wind, and yet she was more than either of them, and she could control them as she pleased, and she would control them. She would make them her own. She sensed their energy, their sheer unthinking force, like the silent pull of desire, tightening her skin.

I do not break or bend, she prayed, the memory of Tal’s voice accompanying her, guiding her through her prayers. Her five-year-old self, safe in his lap. His hands helping hers turn pages in The Book of the Saints.

I cannot be silenced. She slowly opened her eyes. The world was outlined in infinitesimal grains of gold. The wave was full of them, spinning ferociously bright. They illuminated the howling air like stars. Rielle reached out with her mind, embracing every scrap of wind she could find. Eager gusts crowded at her fingertips.

She inhaled, and the air bent and bowed, echoing her lungs. I am everywhere.

Then she snapped open her eyes and thrust out her rigid palms.

The molten air rippled, exploding out from her hands to slam against the wave and lock into place like a dam. Water crashed against a thousand interconnected nets of gold. A blast of wind shot back from the impact, nearly knocking her off Atheria. But the chavaile bowed her head against the trembling force of the collision, pumped her wings and legs hard, and kept them both steady in the air.

Rielle gritted her teeth and held fast, fighting the urge to drop her arms and let the wave shatter. Despite the searing connection of her bones to her blood to the shimmering world beyond her fingertips, her shifting vision darkened; her muscles screamed in protest. Their message was plain: she was one mere girl, and this wave was a force unconquerable.