Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

A door opened before her, wide and yawning. The mouth of a beast, welcoming her inside.

Somewhere above, Remy was screaming protests. She clung desperately to the sound, though each one cut away a piece of her heart.

When he fell abruptly silent, she fell along with him. Her mind dropped into a bottomless pit.

They shoved her inside her room—wooden walls, wooden floor. No windows, a single door. An estimate: ten feet by six feet.

She landed hard on her knees. She sat there, breathing, facing away from the door. A column of dim lantern light passed over her, illuminating a block of the wall.

And then, a silhouette.

She turned to face him. In such poor light, she could not see the lines of his face—only shadows, the barest hint of his scars, the flickering blue of his eyes.

Your eyes are like fire, she had whispered to him—once, when they’d only just returned from the Old World, both of them weak and trembling, her abdomen scorched by Rielle’s power.

And then again, straddling him on the chair in her bedroom, the last time they had loved each other. His hands on her hips, helping her move, his eyes blazing.

Your eyes are like fire, she had told him seconds before he’d kissed her.

“Why?” she whispered. The word sounded pitiful, the confused plea of a child. But it was the question in her mind above all others.

He didn’t answer. He said not a word. He closed the door and locked it. She followed his footsteps, moving briskly down the narrow corridor, until they disappeared.

Then she curled into a tight ball, pressed her cheek against the floor, and breathed into the darkness.

56

Audric

“They called him The Golden King. They called him Audric the Lightbringer. They say that he rode into battle against the angels on a chavaile—a godsbeast, a winged horse both terrible and beautiful. They say he was a brave man, a fearsome man. They say he was a man full of despair. They say his heart was full of love for his country, and love for the Blood Queen Rielle, and that when war came, he had no love left for himself.”

—Journal of Remy Ferracora, January 23, Year 1016 of the Third Age

Audric pushed himself to his feet, his head reeling. He leaned against a nearby tree to catch his breath—just as Evyline let out a sharp cry of warning from behind him.

He turned, ducking just in time to avoid the blow of a sword—the captain of his kingsguard, bearing down on him, his face dark with fury. The man was a metalmaster; his sword moved fast, reading his instincts, flying as if it had a mind of its own.

But Audric was faster.

He dodged another blow, yanked Illumenor free of its sheath, and swung hard. The blade crackled, spitting sunlight. Their swords crashed together, his and his captain’s, and then Audric spun away from him, and everything that had happened—the strain of the past months, the horrible vision Corien had sent them, his argument with Rielle—gathered like a battering ram in his heart and pushed out, shattering him.

He thrust all the power he possessed into Illumenor, until the blade shone so bright it hurt his own eyes. The captain reeled back with a cry. Audric advanced on him, squinting through the brilliance of his casting, and sliced the man through from shoulder to hip, cutting him cleanly in two.

He fell to the ground in pieces, his wounds bloodless and smoking.

Audric turned to meet the others, but the rest of his kingsguard had fled, back toward Baingarde. Only the Sun Guard remained—Evyline, Dashiell, Riva. Ivaine, Jeannette, Maylis, Fara.

Evyline, her eyes wet, knelt before him. The others followed suit.

“My king,” she said, “I don’t know what to say to you right now, except that I am the captain of the Sun Guard, and you are the Lightbringer.” She paused, her jaw working. “If my queen is gone, then I will follow you, and serve you, with all my heart, until you order me otherwise.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your queen isn’t gone, Evyline. I understand what’s happened is upsetting, but I promise you…”

Then the city bells began to chime, distracting him. He peered back at the castle. Had his mother ordered the bells to be rung? And if so, why?

A soft, keening wail sounded from among the trees. Searching, Audric found Ludivine, and the sight of her nailed him to the ground.

She was sitting at the base of a tree, knees drawn to her chest, hands over her ears. As she rocked herself quietly, her body shook with sobs.

“Dashiell,” Audric said, forcing the fear out of his voice, “take Riva and find my mother. She’s the only one besides me or Rielle who should have the authority to ring the city bells.”

“Don’t!” Ludivine looked up, wild-eyed. “Stay away from Baingarde. It isn’t safe.”

Dashiell and Riva paused, glancing uneasily at each other.

“My king?” asked Evyline.

“Stay here for now.” Audric crouched before Ludivine. Panic rose in his blood, chilling him. “Tell me what’s happened. Where is she?”

Ludivine shook her head. “She’s gone,” she said, her voice heavy with misery. “She’s left us.”

He did not understand her. Her words slipped in and out of him. “What do you mean, she’s left us?”

“She’s gone to him. He’s here, he’s close. He won’t let me touch Rielle. She won’t let me touch her. She hurt me. I’m losing myself. I can hardly keep my thoughts in place.”

Audric stood, backing away from her. A dull, ringing whine bloomed in his ears. “Fight them. Get her back.”

“Audric, I can’t.”

“Then we’ll go to her. We’ll find her and bring her back to us.” He whirled, sheathing Illumenor. “Jeannette, run ahead and have my horse brought to the front yard. Evyline, go with her, order the first line of the city guard to meet us by the castle gates.”

“You don’t understand,” Ludivine moaned.

He glared back at her. “What don’t I understand? Speak plainly.”

“Audric.” She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes spilling over with fresh tears. “She’s left us.”

And then she opened up a feeling to him—an immense, stormy feeling that slammed into him like the first blast of winter.

Rielle’s rage, her heartbreak. Her relief, and her resolve. They battered him, even diluted through Ludivine’s thoughts as they were. He saw their argument unfurl through Rielle’s eyes. His own furious voice, grief and anger shifting his face into a new mask. He felt Rielle’s desperation, her hopelessness—and he felt it the moment she decided that he was right. r opened before her, wide and yawning. The mouth of a beast, welcoming her inside.

Somewhere above, Remy was screaming protests. She clung desperately to the sound, though each one cut away a piece of her heart.

When he fell abruptly silent, she fell along with him. Her mind dropped into a bottomless pit.

They shoved her inside her room—wooden walls, wooden floor. No windows, a single door. An estimate: ten feet by six feet.

She landed hard on her knees. She sat there, breathing, facing away from the door. A column of dim lantern light passed over her, illuminating a block of the wall.

And then, a silhouette.

She turned to face him. In such poor light, she could not see the lines of his face—only shadows, the barest hint of his scars, the flickering blue of his eyes.

Your eyes are like fire, she had whispered to him—once, when they’d only just returned from the Old World, both of them weak and trembling, her abdomen scorched by Rielle’s power.

And then again, straddling him on the chair in her bedroom, the last time they had loved each other. His hands on her hips, helping her move, his eyes blazing.

Your eyes are like fire, she had told him seconds before he’d kissed her.

“Why?” she whispered. The word sounded pitiful, the confused plea of a child. But it was the question in her mind above all others.

He didn’t answer. He said not a word. He closed the door and locked it. She followed his footsteps, moving briskly down the narrow corridor, until they disappeared.

Then she curled into a tight ball, pressed her cheek against the floor, and breathed into the darkness.

56

Audric

“They called him The Golden King. They called him Audric the Lightbringer. They say that he rode into battle against the angels on a chavaile—a godsbeast, a winged horse both terrible and beautiful. They say he was a brave man, a fearsome man. They say he was a man full of despair. They say his heart was full of love for his country, and love for the Blood Queen Rielle, and that when war came, he had no love left for himself.”

—Journal of Remy Ferracora, January 23, Year 1016 of the Third Age

Audric pushed himself to his feet, his head reeling. He leaned against a nearby tree to catch his breath—just as Evyline let out a sharp cry of warning from behind him.

He turned, ducking just in time to avoid the blow of a sword—the captain of his kingsguard, bearing down on him, his face dark with fury. The man was a metalmaster; his sword moved fast, reading his instincts, flying as if it had a mind of its own.

But Audric was faster.

He dodged another blow, yanked Illumenor free of its sheath, and swung hard. The blade crackled, spitting sunlight. Their swords crashed together, his and his captain’s, and then Audric spun away from him, and everything that had happened—the strain of the past months, the horrible vision Corien had sent them, his argument with Rielle—gathered like a battering ram in his heart and pushed out, shattering him.

He thrust all the power he possessed into Illumenor, until the blade shone so bright it hurt his own eyes. The captain reeled back with a cry. Audric advanced on him, squinting through the brilliance of his casting, and sliced the man through from shoulder to hip, cutting him cleanly in two.

He fell to the ground in pieces, his wounds bloodless and smoking.

Audric turned to meet the others, but the rest of his kingsguard had fled, back toward Baingarde. Only the Sun Guard remained—Evyline, Dashiell, Riva. Ivaine, Jeannette, Maylis, Fara.

Evyline, her eyes wet, knelt before him. The others followed suit.

“My king,” she said, “I don’t know what to say to you right now, except that I am the captain of the Sun Guard, and you are the Lightbringer.” She paused, her jaw working. “If my queen is gone, then I will follow you, and serve you, with all my heart, until you order me otherwise.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your queen isn’t gone, Evyline. I understand what’s happened is upsetting, but I promise you…”

Then the city bells began to chime, distracting him. He peered back at the castle. Had his mother ordered the bells to be rung? And if so, why?

A soft, keening wail sounded from among the trees. Searching, Audric found Ludivine, and the sight of her nailed him to the ground.

She was sitting at the base of a tree, knees drawn to her chest, hands over her ears. As she rocked herself quietly, her body shook with sobs.

“Dashiell,” Audric said, forcing the fear out of his voice, “take Riva and find my mother. She’s the only one besides me or Rielle who should have the authority to ring the city bells.”

“Don’t!” Ludivine looked up, wild-eyed. “Stay away from Baingarde. It isn’t safe.”

Dashiell and Riva paused, glancing uneasily at each other.

“My king?” asked Evyline.

“Stay here for now.” Audric crouched before Ludivine. Panic rose in his blood, chilling him. “Tell me what’s happened. Where is she?”

Ludivine shook her head. “She’s gone,” she said, her voice heavy with misery. “She’s left us.”

He did not understand her. Her words slipped in and out of him. “What do you mean, she’s left us?”

“She’s gone to him. He’s here, he’s close. He won’t let me touch Rielle. She won’t let me touch her. She hurt me. I’m losing myself. I can hardly keep my thoughts in place.”

Audric stood, backing away from her. A dull, ringing whine bloomed in his ears. “Fight them. Get her back.”

“Audric, I can’t.”

“Then we’ll go to her. We’ll find her and bring her back to us.” He whirled, sheathing Illumenor. “Jeannette, run ahead and have my horse brought to the front yard. Evyline, go with her, order the first line of the city guard to meet us by the castle gates.”

“You don’t understand,” Ludivine moaned.

He glared back at her. “What don’t I understand? Speak plainly.”

“Audric.” She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes spilling over with fresh tears. “She’s left us.”

And then she opened up a feeling to him—an immense, stormy feeling that slammed into him like the first blast of winter.

Rielle’s rage, her heartbreak. Her relief, and her resolve. They battered him, even diluted through Ludivine’s thoughts as they were. He saw their argument unfurl through Rielle’s eyes. His own furious voice, grief and anger shifting his face into a new mask. He felt Rielle’s desperation, her hopelessness—and he felt it the moment she decided that he was right.