Lightbringer (Empirium 3)

“Drop your casting, Lightbringer,” she ordered. “And please be reminded that you are vastly outnumbered here and that the rules of extradition do not apply to deposed kings. It is only due to the generosity of Queen Bazati and Queen Fozeyah that you have been allowed entry to our country.”

He obeyed, lowering Illumenor to the ground. “I understand. And I must express my deepest sadness about the damage these recent months have brought to your beautiful city.”

The commander said nothing. Her proud eyes cut to Ludivine. “Lady Sauvillier. It is your brother who now sits on the Celdarian throne.”

“As surely as no elemental power runs in my veins,” Ludivine replied, stepping forward with her palms raised, “so does my loyalty lie only with my true king, Audric Courverie.”

“That will do,” said a deep, rich voice, and then the wall of soldiers parted to reveal a brown-skinned woman in a gown of vivid azure. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in coarse ringlets. Sweeps of amber and cerulean highlighted her grave brown eyes, and around her neck she wore a heavy triangular pendant on a golden chain.

“Queen Bazati.” Audric knelt in the sand. “I thank you for allowing Lady Ludivine and myself to land on your shores, and I would like to make a formal request for asylum. Though I know the news from Celdaria is alarming, I hope you will remember the centuries of friendship our two nations have enjoyed—”

“Oh, get up.” Queen Bazati of the royal house of Asdalla helped him rise, then drew him into a fierce embrace. “You ate at my family’s table when you were hardly higher than my knee. Once, if you’ll recall, you threw up on my temple gown right in the middle of prayers after you stole a whole sack of sweets from my kitchen.”

He managed a small smile as she pulled away from him. “Then I suppose my request for asylum is granted? I promise not to get sick on any of your gowns.”

The queen did not return his smile. Instead, she searched his face for a long moment, then shook her head. “What happened, Audric?”

The compassion in her voice opened a chasm between his ribs, and for the first time since he had awoken alone in the gardens—Rielle gone, and the captain of his guard bearing down on him with disgust and hatred flaring bright in his eyes—Audric felt the hot press of tears.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Nothing good, Your Majesty.”

She nodded and hooked her arm through his. Her gaze flickered once to Ludivine, and Audric thought he read displeasure in her expression, as if she wished he had arrived in Mazabat alone.

A sentiment to which he could certainly relate.

“I’ll have rooms in the royal wing made up for you,” she said to him as they walked up the beach toward the shredded tree line and the white stone roads of Quelbani beyond. Citizens sorted through piles of rubble, and crews of builders worked on high scaffolding to repair stripped stone facades, but still the city shone as if no wind could hope to dull its light. As a boy, Audric had relished his family’s trips to the Mazabatian capital, for its reputation as a place of scholars, research, and the medicinal arts was unrivaled, its libraries the grandest in the world since the angelic libraries on the southern continent of Patria had been destroyed during the Angelic Wars.

But now, as the sounds of the bustling city met his ears, he found himself wishing, with a longing so simple and keen that it stole his breath, that he could turn around and go home.

Never had he imagined not having a home to return to.

• • •

The apartment the queens had prepared for him was airy and simply but luxuriously appointed—walls of whitewashed stone, trailing ferns of lilac and forest green hanging from the ceiling in brass pots, wind chimes singing merrily from the balconies.

He declined the queens’ invitation to supper as politely as possible and was glad when Ludivine retreated without a word to her own chambers down the corridor.

The sun was setting. Beyond his windows, which had been thrown open to admit the cool night air, the sky was dim with tangerine light, its clouds tinted lavender and rose.

He was alone.

He watched the sky for as long as he could remain standing, and then he began to shake from his tense shoulders down to his aching calves. The exhaustion and numbness of those long days traveling aboard Atheria were coming to claim him at last, but the sight of his bed was unbearable. Clean and neat and white, the headboard a masterwork of stained teak carvings and polished blue stone, it was lovely and inviting, but it was not his.

It was a stranger’s bed, slept in by countless dignitaries over the years. His own bed was at home, in Baingarde, and had cocooned him as he moved with Rielle in the deep hours of the night, when everything else was still.

Outside, on one of the broad terraces, Atheria touched down with a cheerful little chirp, her mouth full of feathers. She had caught a hawk for supper.

It was the sight of her that undid him.

His grief slammed into him like the tidal wave he had watched Rielle subdue. He couldn’t tear the image of her from his mind—a glowing savior, a fire-limned queen riding her immortal steed to save the world.

“Oh, God,” he choked out, sinking to his knees, and then all at once, his fury, sorrow, and regret burst up his body, from belly to chest to throat, and he threw his head back and screamed, his arms rigid at his sides.

Quickly, his sobs rose up to claim his voice, and he wept there on the soft white rug, his hands buried in his dark curls. His chest was an agony of pain, as if a blade had cleaved it in two.

He would not have minded if that happened. He could not imagine waking up the next day, and the next, and the next, in this place that was not his home, his throne taken from him and his own, his love, his Rielle gone from him, driven away by his own anger, his stupid, vicious jealousy, his wounded pride.

He did not hear the door open, nor did he hear Ludivine pad barefooted across the floor. He did not realize hours had passed, that the sky was dark, or that he was hungry, shivering on the floor. That he was so tired his bones ached, or that Atheria was pacing in a frenzy of worry on the terrace, chirping like an agitated bird.

But when Ludivine sat beside him and opened her arms, he turned into her, seeking comfort as blindly as a child. She did not send him any reassurances with her mind, and for that he was grateful.

He held on to her, his sobs raw and heaving. He felt Ludivine’s lips in his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Audric,” she whispered against his temple, her words thick with tears. She stroked his damp curls, said his name again and again.

The sound of her voice reminded him to breathe.

4

Tal

“My darling Tal. I’ll send this to that inn we love, in Beaulaval, in hopes that it will reach you. No word from Audric yet. Things are changing quickly here. Merovec’s soldiers stop citizens on the streets. They barge into homes unannounced, patrol neighborhoods constantly. Searching for something, but what? When any of us try to offer counsel, or ask what Merovec is trying to do, we are dismissed. More later, but for now I must tell you that Odo Laroche and I, we’ve begun what you might call a resistance effort. Those who are loyal to Audric. You’ll think it rash, but you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing. We’ve named ourselves Red Crown. Don’t laugh. None of this is funny, and we’ve got to do something. I miss you. Be careful. Trust no one. Bring her home.” o;Drop your casting, Lightbringer,” she ordered. “And please be reminded that you are vastly outnumbered here and that the rules of extradition do not apply to deposed kings. It is only due to the generosity of Queen Bazati and Queen Fozeyah that you have been allowed entry to our country.”

He obeyed, lowering Illumenor to the ground. “I understand. And I must express my deepest sadness about the damage these recent months have brought to your beautiful city.”

The commander said nothing. Her proud eyes cut to Ludivine. “Lady Sauvillier. It is your brother who now sits on the Celdarian throne.”

“As surely as no elemental power runs in my veins,” Ludivine replied, stepping forward with her palms raised, “so does my loyalty lie only with my true king, Audric Courverie.”

“That will do,” said a deep, rich voice, and then the wall of soldiers parted to reveal a brown-skinned woman in a gown of vivid azure. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in coarse ringlets. Sweeps of amber and cerulean highlighted her grave brown eyes, and around her neck she wore a heavy triangular pendant on a golden chain.

“Queen Bazati.” Audric knelt in the sand. “I thank you for allowing Lady Ludivine and myself to land on your shores, and I would like to make a formal request for asylum. Though I know the news from Celdaria is alarming, I hope you will remember the centuries of friendship our two nations have enjoyed—”

“Oh, get up.” Queen Bazati of the royal house of Asdalla helped him rise, then drew him into a fierce embrace. “You ate at my family’s table when you were hardly higher than my knee. Once, if you’ll recall, you threw up on my temple gown right in the middle of prayers after you stole a whole sack of sweets from my kitchen.”

He managed a small smile as she pulled away from him. “Then I suppose my request for asylum is granted? I promise not to get sick on any of your gowns.”

The queen did not return his smile. Instead, she searched his face for a long moment, then shook her head. “What happened, Audric?”

The compassion in her voice opened a chasm between his ribs, and for the first time since he had awoken alone in the gardens—Rielle gone, and the captain of his guard bearing down on him with disgust and hatred flaring bright in his eyes—Audric felt the hot press of tears.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Nothing good, Your Majesty.”

She nodded and hooked her arm through his. Her gaze flickered once to Ludivine, and Audric thought he read displeasure in her expression, as if she wished he had arrived in Mazabat alone.

A sentiment to which he could certainly relate.

“I’ll have rooms in the royal wing made up for you,” she said to him as they walked up the beach toward the shredded tree line and the white stone roads of Quelbani beyond. Citizens sorted through piles of rubble, and crews of builders worked on high scaffolding to repair stripped stone facades, but still the city shone as if no wind could hope to dull its light. As a boy, Audric had relished his family’s trips to the Mazabatian capital, for its reputation as a place of scholars, research, and the medicinal arts was unrivaled, its libraries the grandest in the world since the angelic libraries on the southern continent of Patria had been destroyed during the Angelic Wars.

But now, as the sounds of the bustling city met his ears, he found himself wishing, with a longing so simple and keen that it stole his breath, that he could turn around and go home.

Never had he imagined not having a home to return to.

• • •

The apartment the queens had prepared for him was airy and simply but luxuriously appointed—walls of whitewashed stone, trailing ferns of lilac and forest green hanging from the ceiling in brass pots, wind chimes singing merrily from the balconies.

He declined the queens’ invitation to supper as politely as possible and was glad when Ludivine retreated without a word to her own chambers down the corridor.

The sun was setting. Beyond his windows, which had been thrown open to admit the cool night air, the sky was dim with tangerine light, its clouds tinted lavender and rose.

He was alone.

He watched the sky for as long as he could remain standing, and then he began to shake from his tense shoulders down to his aching calves. The exhaustion and numbness of those long days traveling aboard Atheria were coming to claim him at last, but the sight of his bed was unbearable. Clean and neat and white, the headboard a masterwork of stained teak carvings and polished blue stone, it was lovely and inviting, but it was not his.

It was a stranger’s bed, slept in by countless dignitaries over the years. His own bed was at home, in Baingarde, and had cocooned him as he moved with Rielle in the deep hours of the night, when everything else was still.

Outside, on one of the broad terraces, Atheria touched down with a cheerful little chirp, her mouth full of feathers. She had caught a hawk for supper.

It was the sight of her that undid him.

His grief slammed into him like the tidal wave he had watched Rielle subdue. He couldn’t tear the image of her from his mind—a glowing savior, a fire-limned queen riding her immortal steed to save the world.

“Oh, God,” he choked out, sinking to his knees, and then all at once, his fury, sorrow, and regret burst up his body, from belly to chest to throat, and he threw his head back and screamed, his arms rigid at his sides.

Quickly, his sobs rose up to claim his voice, and he wept there on the soft white rug, his hands buried in his dark curls. His chest was an agony of pain, as if a blade had cleaved it in two.

He would not have minded if that happened. He could not imagine waking up the next day, and the next, and the next, in this place that was not his home, his throne taken from him and his own, his love, his Rielle gone from him, driven away by his own anger, his stupid, vicious jealousy, his wounded pride.

He did not hear the door open, nor did he hear Ludivine pad barefooted across the floor. He did not realize hours had passed, that the sky was dark, or that he was hungry, shivering on the floor. That he was so tired his bones ached, or that Atheria was pacing in a frenzy of worry on the terrace, chirping like an agitated bird.

But when Ludivine sat beside him and opened her arms, he turned into her, seeking comfort as blindly as a child. She did not send him any reassurances with her mind, and for that he was grateful.

He held on to her, his sobs raw and heaving. He felt Ludivine’s lips in his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Audric,” she whispered against his temple, her words thick with tears. She stroked his damp curls, said his name again and again.

The sound of her voice reminded him to breathe.

4

Tal

“My darling Tal. I’ll send this to that inn we love, in Beaulaval, in hopes that it will reach you. No word from Audric yet. Things are changing quickly here. Merovec’s soldiers stop citizens on the streets. They barge into homes unannounced, patrol neighborhoods constantly. Searching for something, but what? When any of us try to offer counsel, or ask what Merovec is trying to do, we are dismissed. More later, but for now I must tell you that Odo Laroche and I, we’ve begun what you might call a resistance effort. Those who are loyal to Audric. You’ll think it rash, but you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing. We’ve named ourselves Red Crown. Don’t laugh. None of this is funny, and we’ve got to do something. I miss you. Be careful. Trust no one. Bring her home.”