Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

Rielle’s tongue tingled; the air around the Gate had numbed her. “Atheria,” she managed, holding out her hand. “Come here, my sweet girl.”

Atheria’s eyes narrowed. She pawed the ground, snorting.

“Darling Atheria. Are you watching out for me?” Rielle went to her, trying to ignore the Gate’s insistent pull. She embraced the chavaile’s great head, pressed her face against her velvet muzzle.

Atheria relaxed, whickering gently.

“You don’t want me to touch the Gate?” Rielle murmured.

Atheria nudged Rielle’s face with her own, folded her into the bend of one of her wings.

Smiling, Rielle stepped back to meet the godsbeast’s enormous eyes. “But I must,” she said simply, and then, stepping back, she gathered a clutch of air in her palm, thrust her fist at Atheria, and shoved her away.

The air rippled with the shock wave, but Atheria was apparently too powerful to be cast away completely. She simply staggered back a few steps before sinking to her knees. Another flick of Rielle’s wrist, and a golden net encased Atheria, pinning her cruelly against the rocks.

Rielle made her way back to the Gate, ignoring Atheria’s furious screams as she struggled to free herself. “It’s all right, Atheria,” she murmured. “I’ll release you in a moment or two, once it’s done. I can mend it. I see it so clearly.”

She stepped onto the base of the Gate, squinting past the brilliant light contained between the enormous pillars of rock. The light vibrated, drowning out Atheria’s frantic cries. Rielle could hear only the deep thrum of the Gate in her bones and the wild pounding of her heart.

She reached for the first crack she saw, floating before her like a dark river etched across a map. The solution was clear: she would gather this fissure in her fingers and pinch together the two golden expanses that flanked it, binding them into place with her own power until the crack was sealed.

She reached for the tear, her fingers buzzing. A great invisible force pushed back against her, the air dense and hot. Too dense and hot for a human to move inside it?

But, then, she was not entirely human. She was the Sun Queen. She was more.

Distantly, she heard a man call her name, pleading with her to stop.

Ludivine’s voice came next. Rielle, no!

But Corien was delighted. Keep going, my marvelous girl, he told her, and for a moment she could see herself facing the Gate, and Corien standing behind her—his arms guiding hers toward the light, his lips caressing her neck.

I can mend it, Rielle told him.

You can do anything, he replied. When he kissed her throat, his teeth scraped her flesh, making her shiver.

She touched the crack in the Gate.

Lightning struck her—a thousand bolts, simultaneous. Too much light, too much power, as if all the sun in the sky were trying to force its way inside her. The feeling consumed her, convulsing her body; she could not see or move.

Step back! Corien screamed, no longer amused. Break free of it!

But Rielle couldn’t move. The power of the Gate would not allow it, knitting her bones to the rock under her feet.

Another cry arose, closer than the others. “Rielle, stay with me! Listen to my voice!”

Audric.

The sound of his cries shook her. With monumental effort, she took one step back, pulling free of the Gate’s hold.

A burst of energy erupted, flinging her off the plinth and back several yards into Audric’s arms. Ilmaire caught them both, and they all went stumbling to the ground. Rielle shook against Audric’s chest, her body steaming and crackling, her hands blazing gold.

“My God,” Ilmaire murmured.

“Don’t touch her hands!” Ludivine cried. “Audric, be careful!”

Rielle’s eyes fluttered. She tried to focus on the image hovering above her—Audric’s face. He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Are you all right? Say something.”

Rielle forced out a word. “Something.”

His laughter was fragile. “What were you thinking?”

“I can mend it,” she replied.

“Forget the damned Gate, Rielle. Forget all of this. What good is any of it if it kills you?” He kissed her temple. “You’re still a human, my darling. Still breakable.”

Rielle gazed past him at the Gate, her vision spinning. She struggled to rise, Audric helping her up. “But I can mend it.”

“What is she doing?” Ingrid snapped.

“Let her go,” said Ludivine quietly. “She has to learn.”

Rielle struggled against Audric’s grip. When he held fast, she snapped at him, “Following in Corien’s footsteps, are you?”

He released her at once, looking as though she had slapped him.

Jodoc approached, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back. “I’ll shoot her if I have to.”

Audric unsheathed Illumenor. It crackled to life, casting brilliant sunbursts across the ground. “Make one move against her, and I swear to you, I will cut you in two.”

Rielle took the opportunity to break free of him and make unsteadily for the Gate, the world tilting around her. Atheria had stopped screaming, and she wondered, her mind distant and distracted, where the chavaile had gone or if she had given up fighting or if she had died.

Scrambling up onto the plinth, Rielle found a crack at once, and seized the planes of light on either side of it, trying to press them closed. Instantaneous pain ripped up her body, as if some burning creature had possessed her, determined to rip her open from the inside out.

She stepped away, more easily this time, and gasped for breath. Hot ropes skipped across her skin like miniature bolts of lightning.

On her hands and knees she crawled back toward the Gate, reaching for the same tear that had eluded her—and saw, her stomach dropping, that even more tears now existed than there had been only moments before.

She hesitated, heat gathering helplessly behind her eyes.

Do you see? Ludivine’s voice was full of pity. You’re making it worse.

I can mend it, Rielle insisted.

I believe that you can. But not like this. Not yet. You must be stronger.

And that, Rielle decided, was entirely unfair. To be so powerful, to be such a rarity—the subject of a prophecy, for God’s sake—and yet to be unable to do this one small thing?

Her temper ignited. She pushed herself to her feet, charged at the Gate with a scream that ripped her voice in two, and slammed her fists against the field of light that so mocked her.

The resulting shock wave threw her back off her feet and into blackness. e’s tongue tingled; the air around the Gate had numbed her. “Atheria,” she managed, holding out her hand. “Come here, my sweet girl.”

Atheria’s eyes narrowed. She pawed the ground, snorting.

“Darling Atheria. Are you watching out for me?” Rielle went to her, trying to ignore the Gate’s insistent pull. She embraced the chavaile’s great head, pressed her face against her velvet muzzle.

Atheria relaxed, whickering gently.

“You don’t want me to touch the Gate?” Rielle murmured.

Atheria nudged Rielle’s face with her own, folded her into the bend of one of her wings.

Smiling, Rielle stepped back to meet the godsbeast’s enormous eyes. “But I must,” she said simply, and then, stepping back, she gathered a clutch of air in her palm, thrust her fist at Atheria, and shoved her away.

The air rippled with the shock wave, but Atheria was apparently too powerful to be cast away completely. She simply staggered back a few steps before sinking to her knees. Another flick of Rielle’s wrist, and a golden net encased Atheria, pinning her cruelly against the rocks.

Rielle made her way back to the Gate, ignoring Atheria’s furious screams as she struggled to free herself. “It’s all right, Atheria,” she murmured. “I’ll release you in a moment or two, once it’s done. I can mend it. I see it so clearly.”

She stepped onto the base of the Gate, squinting past the brilliant light contained between the enormous pillars of rock. The light vibrated, drowning out Atheria’s frantic cries. Rielle could hear only the deep thrum of the Gate in her bones and the wild pounding of her heart.

She reached for the first crack she saw, floating before her like a dark river etched across a map. The solution was clear: she would gather this fissure in her fingers and pinch together the two golden expanses that flanked it, binding them into place with her own power until the crack was sealed.

She reached for the tear, her fingers buzzing. A great invisible force pushed back against her, the air dense and hot. Too dense and hot for a human to move inside it?

But, then, she was not entirely human. She was the Sun Queen. She was more.

Distantly, she heard a man call her name, pleading with her to stop.

Ludivine’s voice came next. Rielle, no!

But Corien was delighted. Keep going, my marvelous girl, he told her, and for a moment she could see herself facing the Gate, and Corien standing behind her—his arms guiding hers toward the light, his lips caressing her neck.

I can mend it, Rielle told him.

You can do anything, he replied. When he kissed her throat, his teeth scraped her flesh, making her shiver.

She touched the crack in the Gate.

Lightning struck her—a thousand bolts, simultaneous. Too much light, too much power, as if all the sun in the sky were trying to force its way inside her. The feeling consumed her, convulsing her body; she could not see or move.

Step back! Corien screamed, no longer amused. Break free of it!

But Rielle couldn’t move. The power of the Gate would not allow it, knitting her bones to the rock under her feet.

Another cry arose, closer than the others. “Rielle, stay with me! Listen to my voice!”

Audric.

The sound of his cries shook her. With monumental effort, she took one step back, pulling free of the Gate’s hold.

A burst of energy erupted, flinging her off the plinth and back several yards into Audric’s arms. Ilmaire caught them both, and they all went stumbling to the ground. Rielle shook against Audric’s chest, her body steaming and crackling, her hands blazing gold.

“My God,” Ilmaire murmured.

“Don’t touch her hands!” Ludivine cried. “Audric, be careful!”

Rielle’s eyes fluttered. She tried to focus on the image hovering above her—Audric’s face. He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Are you all right? Say something.”

Rielle forced out a word. “Something.”

His laughter was fragile. “What were you thinking?”

“I can mend it,” she replied.

“Forget the damned Gate, Rielle. Forget all of this. What good is any of it if it kills you?” He kissed her temple. “You’re still a human, my darling. Still breakable.”

Rielle gazed past him at the Gate, her vision spinning. She struggled to rise, Audric helping her up. “But I can mend it.”

“What is she doing?” Ingrid snapped.

“Let her go,” said Ludivine quietly. “She has to learn.”

Rielle struggled against Audric’s grip. When he held fast, she snapped at him, “Following in Corien’s footsteps, are you?”

He released her at once, looking as though she had slapped him.

Jodoc approached, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back. “I’ll shoot her if I have to.”

Audric unsheathed Illumenor. It crackled to life, casting brilliant sunbursts across the ground. “Make one move against her, and I swear to you, I will cut you in two.”

Rielle took the opportunity to break free of him and make unsteadily for the Gate, the world tilting around her. Atheria had stopped screaming, and she wondered, her mind distant and distracted, where the chavaile had gone or if she had given up fighting or if she had died.

Scrambling up onto the plinth, Rielle found a crack at once, and seized the planes of light on either side of it, trying to press them closed. Instantaneous pain ripped up her body, as if some burning creature had possessed her, determined to rip her open from the inside out.

She stepped away, more easily this time, and gasped for breath. Hot ropes skipped across her skin like miniature bolts of lightning.

On her hands and knees she crawled back toward the Gate, reaching for the same tear that had eluded her—and saw, her stomach dropping, that even more tears now existed than there had been only moments before.

She hesitated, heat gathering helplessly behind her eyes.

Do you see? Ludivine’s voice was full of pity. You’re making it worse.

I can mend it, Rielle insisted.

I believe that you can. But not like this. Not yet. You must be stronger.

And that, Rielle decided, was entirely unfair. To be so powerful, to be such a rarity—the subject of a prophecy, for God’s sake—and yet to be unable to do this one small thing?

Her temper ignited. She pushed herself to her feet, charged at the Gate with a scream that ripped her voice in two, and slammed her fists against the field of light that so mocked her.

The resulting shock wave threw her back off her feet and into blackness.