Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

And at least a dozen times each day, Rielle felt herself buckling under the stacked weight of a thousand different expectations. When this happened, wherever she was, she stepped back from whatever conversation or meeting or appointment she was half sleeping through, closed her eyes, and recalled the night of Audric’s proposal.

It had been an unremarkable, tender thing, both of them naked and breathing hard in her bed. They’d fallen into it only moments before. Though the endless meetings and the tumult of the riotous streets were wearing both of them out in every other sense, in this, at least, their appetites remained ravenous.

But their lovemaking had changed since that awful, wonderful night in the empty Hall of the Saints. It had begun to take on an air of desperation that Rielle had never felt before. And she knew, when she caught Audric’s eyes, when she heard his voice break against her neck and felt his hands tremble around her body, that it was the same for him. Something had shifted, something irrevocable.

That night, after Rielle had caught her breath, a terrible sadness had settled upon her, like the slow press of a boot against her chest. She turned into Audric’s arms and caught him looking at her, solemn and bright-eyed, the expression on his face mirroring the hot, sick feeling wedged in her throat.

And suddenly she began to cry. “He hates you,” she said, touching his face, “and he hates me for loving you. He’ll make you hate me too. Somehow, he’ll do it. And then you’ll want to turn me away, and I won’t be able to bear it.”

“Now you listen to me.” Audric sat up, pulling her gently into his arms. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, made her look at him. “I don’t care what he does, or tries to do. I could never hate you. Not ever.”

Rielle shook her head. “He’ll make you.”

“No. Never. I’m yours, and you’re mine. No one can change that, not even him.” He pressed her hands gently against his chest. “Feel me. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. This is real. My heart, and yours. Never mind Corien, or any war that may come, or this mad city full of people who, frankly, need to have a glass of wine and go to bed for a good long while.”

Rielle laughed through her tears. “Or several glasses of wine.”

“Really, just send them all to bed forever,” Audric declared with a sweep of his arm. “I’m happy to be the king of a sleeping country. That means more time for you, my love.” And then he had kissed her, gently, small kisses across her face like the fall of soft rain, and she’d burrowed against him, both of them cocooned in the warm den of her pillows. He’d held her, drawing slow circles across her bare shoulder, and then he’d pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “Marry me, Rielle. I want you with me always. Please, darling.”

At that moment, she’d thought of the child she carried and had had to hide her face in his neck to keep from crying anew. Someday, she would no longer be able to hide it. Someday, he would know, and then what? What would the people think of a Sun Queen who could be the mother of a Blood Queen? Already people wanted her dead, and Audric too.

It was a terrible idea, to marry him. To even stay in this city was a risk for everyone who lived there. Someday, Corien would come for her. It was inevitable.

And yet she wanted Audric. She wanted the officialness of it, she wanted a grotesquely grand wedding, at which she would look every one of her detractors in the eye and dare them to try anything. She would wear two crowns—one of sunlight, and one of Celdarian gold. The Archon would place the cloak of House Courverie over her shoulders, and everyone in attendance would tremble before her with adoration and jealousy. They would burn with shame that they had ever decried her, that they had doubted Audric.

“Yes,” she had answered, lips pressed against his skin. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

• • •

Merovec’s coming.

Rielle blinked out of the memory and realized she was alone in her rooms with Ludivine. The maids and tailors had been sent away, and Ludivine was looking up at her with a strangely wistful expression.

What is it like? Ludivine asked. To love someone so completely in every possible sense? To feel it with every part of yourself?

“I asked you not to mind-speak to me until I’ve decided whether or not to trust you again,” Rielle snapped. “Now, help me down.”

Ludivine offered Rielle her arm, helping her step carefully down from the platform. “It seems I keep doing things that require forgiveness,” she said, her voice low. “It’s an awful feeling.”

“Well, you could stop doing things that require forgiveness.”

Ludivine’s eyes flared. “And you could help me learn how to do that, I suppose? For you never do anything that’s worth apologizing for.”

Rielle backed away from her. “How dare you say such a thing to me, when it was you who encouraged me to lie to Audric in the first place, all those months ago.”

A sharp knock sounded on the door to her rooms. A moment later, Evyline entered, shutting the door quietly behind her. “Lord Sauvillier is here to see you, my lady.”

For a moment, Rielle and Ludivine simply stared at each other. Ludivine was the one to break first, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“We’ll speak about this later,” she said quietly. “Today is your wedding day, and despite everything, I’m happy for you.” She hesitated, then hooked her fingers through Rielle’s. Her smile was thin but warm. “I can feel Audric’s love for you as keenly as if he stood beside me. The entire castle is suffused with it today. It’s like he’s a sun newly born.”

Rielle felt herself relent, tiny wings of joy fluttering up her body. She squeezed Ludivine’s hand in reply. “Well, then I should go to him. But first, tell me what your brother wants.”

“He wants to walk you downstairs,” Ludivine said. “He thinks it will show everyone in attendance that House Sauvillier supports the crown, even with new bodies on the throne.”

“A sentiment in stark contrast to the ones he displayed the last time he was here,” Rielle said darkly.

“Perhaps he has had a change of heart.”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“With so many people in the city,” Ludivine replied, “and so many conflicting passions, it’s difficult to read him.”

But Rielle heard the hesitation in her voice. “That’s not all though, is it? He’s hiding something.”

“He lets certain thoughts roam freely, and others he keeps locked tightly away.” Ludivine frowned. “Merovec is not one for such immaculate mental control.”

Rielle stiffened. “I haven’t heard anything from Corien in days.” t least a dozen times each day, Rielle felt herself buckling under the stacked weight of a thousand different expectations. When this happened, wherever she was, she stepped back from whatever conversation or meeting or appointment she was half sleeping through, closed her eyes, and recalled the night of Audric’s proposal.

It had been an unremarkable, tender thing, both of them naked and breathing hard in her bed. They’d fallen into it only moments before. Though the endless meetings and the tumult of the riotous streets were wearing both of them out in every other sense, in this, at least, their appetites remained ravenous.

But their lovemaking had changed since that awful, wonderful night in the empty Hall of the Saints. It had begun to take on an air of desperation that Rielle had never felt before. And she knew, when she caught Audric’s eyes, when she heard his voice break against her neck and felt his hands tremble around her body, that it was the same for him. Something had shifted, something irrevocable.

That night, after Rielle had caught her breath, a terrible sadness had settled upon her, like the slow press of a boot against her chest. She turned into Audric’s arms and caught him looking at her, solemn and bright-eyed, the expression on his face mirroring the hot, sick feeling wedged in her throat.

And suddenly she began to cry. “He hates you,” she said, touching his face, “and he hates me for loving you. He’ll make you hate me too. Somehow, he’ll do it. And then you’ll want to turn me away, and I won’t be able to bear it.”

“Now you listen to me.” Audric sat up, pulling her gently into his arms. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, made her look at him. “I don’t care what he does, or tries to do. I could never hate you. Not ever.”

Rielle shook her head. “He’ll make you.”

“No. Never. I’m yours, and you’re mine. No one can change that, not even him.” He pressed her hands gently against his chest. “Feel me. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. This is real. My heart, and yours. Never mind Corien, or any war that may come, or this mad city full of people who, frankly, need to have a glass of wine and go to bed for a good long while.”

Rielle laughed through her tears. “Or several glasses of wine.”

“Really, just send them all to bed forever,” Audric declared with a sweep of his arm. “I’m happy to be the king of a sleeping country. That means more time for you, my love.” And then he had kissed her, gently, small kisses across her face like the fall of soft rain, and she’d burrowed against him, both of them cocooned in the warm den of her pillows. He’d held her, drawing slow circles across her bare shoulder, and then he’d pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “Marry me, Rielle. I want you with me always. Please, darling.”

At that moment, she’d thought of the child she carried and had had to hide her face in his neck to keep from crying anew. Someday, she would no longer be able to hide it. Someday, he would know, and then what? What would the people think of a Sun Queen who could be the mother of a Blood Queen? Already people wanted her dead, and Audric too.

It was a terrible idea, to marry him. To even stay in this city was a risk for everyone who lived there. Someday, Corien would come for her. It was inevitable.

And yet she wanted Audric. She wanted the officialness of it, she wanted a grotesquely grand wedding, at which she would look every one of her detractors in the eye and dare them to try anything. She would wear two crowns—one of sunlight, and one of Celdarian gold. The Archon would place the cloak of House Courverie over her shoulders, and everyone in attendance would tremble before her with adoration and jealousy. They would burn with shame that they had ever decried her, that they had doubted Audric.

“Yes,” she had answered, lips pressed against his skin. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

• • •

Merovec’s coming.

Rielle blinked out of the memory and realized she was alone in her rooms with Ludivine. The maids and tailors had been sent away, and Ludivine was looking up at her with a strangely wistful expression.

What is it like? Ludivine asked. To love someone so completely in every possible sense? To feel it with every part of yourself?

“I asked you not to mind-speak to me until I’ve decided whether or not to trust you again,” Rielle snapped. “Now, help me down.”

Ludivine offered Rielle her arm, helping her step carefully down from the platform. “It seems I keep doing things that require forgiveness,” she said, her voice low. “It’s an awful feeling.”

“Well, you could stop doing things that require forgiveness.”

Ludivine’s eyes flared. “And you could help me learn how to do that, I suppose? For you never do anything that’s worth apologizing for.”

Rielle backed away from her. “How dare you say such a thing to me, when it was you who encouraged me to lie to Audric in the first place, all those months ago.”

A sharp knock sounded on the door to her rooms. A moment later, Evyline entered, shutting the door quietly behind her. “Lord Sauvillier is here to see you, my lady.”

For a moment, Rielle and Ludivine simply stared at each other. Ludivine was the one to break first, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“We’ll speak about this later,” she said quietly. “Today is your wedding day, and despite everything, I’m happy for you.” She hesitated, then hooked her fingers through Rielle’s. Her smile was thin but warm. “I can feel Audric’s love for you as keenly as if he stood beside me. The entire castle is suffused with it today. It’s like he’s a sun newly born.”

Rielle felt herself relent, tiny wings of joy fluttering up her body. She squeezed Ludivine’s hand in reply. “Well, then I should go to him. But first, tell me what your brother wants.”

“He wants to walk you downstairs,” Ludivine said. “He thinks it will show everyone in attendance that House Sauvillier supports the crown, even with new bodies on the throne.”

“A sentiment in stark contrast to the ones he displayed the last time he was here,” Rielle said darkly.

“Perhaps he has had a change of heart.”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“With so many people in the city,” Ludivine replied, “and so many conflicting passions, it’s difficult to read him.”

But Rielle heard the hesitation in her voice. “That’s not all though, is it? He’s hiding something.”

“He lets certain thoughts roam freely, and others he keeps locked tightly away.” Ludivine frowned. “Merovec is not one for such immaculate mental control.”

Rielle stiffened. “I haven’t heard anything from Corien in days.”