Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

“I think, given time, they will see this well enough.” Then there was a pause, and when Audric spoke again, his voice was grave. “I received a letter from Queen Bazati. She told me what happened with the Obex.”

Rielle stilled. “Did she?”

“She said they attacked you, and Princess Kamayin’s friend, as well.”

“That’s true.”

“She said you killed them. Every single one of them.”

She pushed herself back from him. “That’s also true.”

“Wouldn’t incapacitating them have worked just as well?”

“They deserved to be punished,” she said at once. “Not only for attacking me and Zuka, the boy, but also for endangering the lives of everyone in the world by trying to keep the staff from me.” Then, worried that this reasoning was still too cold for him, she added, “And anyway, they attacked us—me, Tal, the boy. It was self-defense.”

Audric nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Then why ask me?”

“I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted to see the light in your eyes as you said it.”

She stiffened. “Because you wanted to ensure that it wasn’t simply bloodlust that made me kill them? That my power hadn’t gotten the better of me?”

“That’s not what I meant, darling.”

But she sensed it was in fact what he had meant, and she couldn’t even be angry at him for it, though she wanted to be. She pushed herself off the sofa, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, then,” she said. “Perhaps I should pay a visit to your mother.”

“She’s sleeping just now. I’m loath to wake her.”

“What exactly is wrong with her? In your letter, you didn’t say.”

He frowned at his feet. “I’m not sure, and neither is Garver, nor any of the royal healers. I worry that…”

He paused.

She went to him, reaching for his hand. He squeezed it gratefully.

“I worry that it’s a matter of her no longer wishing to be in this world,” he began again. “She hardly eats. She barely sleeps. Terrible nightmares plague her. She talks of nothing else but Father. Him, and you.”

That startled her. “Me?”

“She talks madness, Rielle.” Audric looked up at her, his dark eyes solemn. “She says you can’t be trusted. She says everything that happened at the fire trial was your fault. I told her that’s ludicrous. I told her an angel was behind the attack. I reminded her of the Sunderlands and the Gate. She refuses to listen to reason.”

Rielle forced herself to look right at him. “She must miss Bastien terribly.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. My mother is a rational being. I’ve never imagined her to be the kind of person who would let herself waste away like this.”

“Grief is a terrible thing,” Rielle forced out, her mind faintly buzzing as it retrieved memories of the fire trial against her will—Bastien’s and Lord Dervin’s still bodies, flat on the ground. Her own father, his eyes fluttering shut as he sang to her. “You have never seen your mother suffer a loss as terrible as this. My own mother’s death altered my father forever.”

Audric nodded to himself, brow furrowed. She sat down beside him, letting the moment of their shared loss stretch between them. Pretending, for his sake, that she felt her grief as keenly as he felt his. She kept very still, forcing her mind blank and clear, until the truth of her terrible lie dimmed.

At last, Audric sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “There’s something else.”

Rielle looked up sharply at the change in his voice.

“Has Lu told you?” he asked. “About her brother.”

“Merovec? No. Why?”

He blew out a long breath. “He arrives in three days for a two-week visit. He wants to pay his respects to Mother, as he hasn’t seen her since Father’s death or the death of Lord Sauvillier.”

Rielle raised her eyebrows. This was unexpected. “Why didn’t you tell me this in your letter?”

“I assumed he would have written Lu, or else she would have somehow sensed his intentions. Though she’s not truly his sister, the body she possesses was, and I thought…” He gestured, a slight sadness falling over his face, as it always did when either of them spoke of Ludivine’s true nature. “I thought she might have known already.”

“No. She didn’t, and she said nothing to me.” She hesitated. “Lu’s not well, Audric.”

“The blightblade scar?”

“It’s spreading. It’s interfering with her ability to read thoughts and communicate with me.”

He stood. “And her ability to protect you from Corien.”

She would never grow used to the sound of Corien’s name falling from Audric’s lips. It was like trying to shimmy into a gown that did not quite fit.

“Yes,” she replied. “That too.”

He was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window. When he turned back, his face had slightly closed to her.

“Then you must practice, I suppose, and continue studying,” he said. “If Ludivine isn’t healed, then you’ll be left defenseless against him.”

“Don’t use that word.” She rose, watching him return to his desk. “I’m not defenseless. We’ve discussed this before.”

“I know.” His voice was hollow, weary. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. You aren’t defenseless. I only meant that, with Lu, you’re more protected than you are alone. You have an adviser in her, and she offers you counsel I cannot.” He gave her a small smile. “And I know it would please you to heal her. I know you want to help—her, and all of us.”

In an instant, she had forgiven him. The quiet love on his face warmed her. It was trite to compare his ardor to sunlight, and yet every time he looked at her, that was what she felt—a warm, spreading glow from her scalp to her toes. He was the sun to her hungry earth. He was the steady voice in her mind that spoke to her when she didn’t feel steady at all.

She went to him and climbed once more into his lap. He welcomed her easily, clinging to her softness as she settled against him. He whispered her name, his eyes drifting shut at her touch, and this time when she kissed him, she did not stop.

• • •

Merovec arrived at three o’clock in the afternoon, three days later, and the whole city came out to greet him. o;I think, given time, they will see this well enough.” Then there was a pause, and when Audric spoke again, his voice was grave. “I received a letter from Queen Bazati. She told me what happened with the Obex.”

Rielle stilled. “Did she?”

“She said they attacked you, and Princess Kamayin’s friend, as well.”

“That’s true.”

“She said you killed them. Every single one of them.”

She pushed herself back from him. “That’s also true.”

“Wouldn’t incapacitating them have worked just as well?”

“They deserved to be punished,” she said at once. “Not only for attacking me and Zuka, the boy, but also for endangering the lives of everyone in the world by trying to keep the staff from me.” Then, worried that this reasoning was still too cold for him, she added, “And anyway, they attacked us—me, Tal, the boy. It was self-defense.”

Audric nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Then why ask me?”

“I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted to see the light in your eyes as you said it.”

She stiffened. “Because you wanted to ensure that it wasn’t simply bloodlust that made me kill them? That my power hadn’t gotten the better of me?”

“That’s not what I meant, darling.”

But she sensed it was in fact what he had meant, and she couldn’t even be angry at him for it, though she wanted to be. She pushed herself off the sofa, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, then,” she said. “Perhaps I should pay a visit to your mother.”

“She’s sleeping just now. I’m loath to wake her.”

“What exactly is wrong with her? In your letter, you didn’t say.”

He frowned at his feet. “I’m not sure, and neither is Garver, nor any of the royal healers. I worry that…”

He paused.

She went to him, reaching for his hand. He squeezed it gratefully.

“I worry that it’s a matter of her no longer wishing to be in this world,” he began again. “She hardly eats. She barely sleeps. Terrible nightmares plague her. She talks of nothing else but Father. Him, and you.”

That startled her. “Me?”

“She talks madness, Rielle.” Audric looked up at her, his dark eyes solemn. “She says you can’t be trusted. She says everything that happened at the fire trial was your fault. I told her that’s ludicrous. I told her an angel was behind the attack. I reminded her of the Sunderlands and the Gate. She refuses to listen to reason.”

Rielle forced herself to look right at him. “She must miss Bastien terribly.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. My mother is a rational being. I’ve never imagined her to be the kind of person who would let herself waste away like this.”

“Grief is a terrible thing,” Rielle forced out, her mind faintly buzzing as it retrieved memories of the fire trial against her will—Bastien’s and Lord Dervin’s still bodies, flat on the ground. Her own father, his eyes fluttering shut as he sang to her. “You have never seen your mother suffer a loss as terrible as this. My own mother’s death altered my father forever.”

Audric nodded to himself, brow furrowed. She sat down beside him, letting the moment of their shared loss stretch between them. Pretending, for his sake, that she felt her grief as keenly as he felt his. She kept very still, forcing her mind blank and clear, until the truth of her terrible lie dimmed.

At last, Audric sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “There’s something else.”

Rielle looked up sharply at the change in his voice.

“Has Lu told you?” he asked. “About her brother.”

“Merovec? No. Why?”

He blew out a long breath. “He arrives in three days for a two-week visit. He wants to pay his respects to Mother, as he hasn’t seen her since Father’s death or the death of Lord Sauvillier.”

Rielle raised her eyebrows. This was unexpected. “Why didn’t you tell me this in your letter?”

“I assumed he would have written Lu, or else she would have somehow sensed his intentions. Though she’s not truly his sister, the body she possesses was, and I thought…” He gestured, a slight sadness falling over his face, as it always did when either of them spoke of Ludivine’s true nature. “I thought she might have known already.”

“No. She didn’t, and she said nothing to me.” She hesitated. “Lu’s not well, Audric.”

“The blightblade scar?”

“It’s spreading. It’s interfering with her ability to read thoughts and communicate with me.”

He stood. “And her ability to protect you from Corien.”

She would never grow used to the sound of Corien’s name falling from Audric’s lips. It was like trying to shimmy into a gown that did not quite fit.

“Yes,” she replied. “That too.”

He was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window. When he turned back, his face had slightly closed to her.

“Then you must practice, I suppose, and continue studying,” he said. “If Ludivine isn’t healed, then you’ll be left defenseless against him.”

“Don’t use that word.” She rose, watching him return to his desk. “I’m not defenseless. We’ve discussed this before.”

“I know.” His voice was hollow, weary. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. You aren’t defenseless. I only meant that, with Lu, you’re more protected than you are alone. You have an adviser in her, and she offers you counsel I cannot.” He gave her a small smile. “And I know it would please you to heal her. I know you want to help—her, and all of us.”

In an instant, she had forgiven him. The quiet love on his face warmed her. It was trite to compare his ardor to sunlight, and yet every time he looked at her, that was what she felt—a warm, spreading glow from her scalp to her toes. He was the sun to her hungry earth. He was the steady voice in her mind that spoke to her when she didn’t feel steady at all.

She went to him and climbed once more into his lap. He welcomed her easily, clinging to her softness as she settled against him. He whispered her name, his eyes drifting shut at her touch, and this time when she kissed him, she did not stop.

• • •

Merovec arrived at three o’clock in the afternoon, three days later, and the whole city came out to greet him.