Lightbringer (Empirium 3)

“Come to my senses?” She glared up at him through her lashes. The world pulsed in shades of amber and bronze. “You know nothing of my mind, and you never could.”

“But I want to, Rielle.” He slowly knelt, so their eyes were level. “I want to know what you see. I want to understand everything that hurts you.”

Between them, Obritsa struggled in Rielle’s grip, her breathing fast and thin.

“You can’t.” A great frustration reared up in Rielle. Tal’s ignorance disgusted her. “My might is beyond the reach of any man who lives.”

“Maybe, if you come home with me—”

“Home?” A tiny laugh escaped her. She drew in a shuddering breath, which pulled tears from her eyes. Her voice was a mere quaver. “I have no home.”

“Yes, you do.” Tal’s voice held an immense gentleness, and she couldn’t bear it, that he would dare to be gentle when she felt so brittle, so sticky with blood.

“Get away from me, Tal. You’ve said you love me. Show me that, and obey my wishes.”

“Your home is in Âme de la Terre,” he said, undeterred, “with me, and Audric, and Ludivine. Queen Genoveve, Sloane, Miren.” Tal glanced over his shoulder, where Garver stood grimly. “Your friend Garver Randell and his little boy.”

Rielle felt the moment Corien took hold of Obritsa’s mind. The girl’s body slackened under her hands, and with relief Rielle scrambled away from her, left her sprawled. Garver started toward Obritsa immediately, but Rielle flung out her arm and shoved him back into the tangled brush, far from the cliff’s edge. The pale woman, his companion, ran after him with a sharp cry.

Tal tensed. “Rielle, please. Come home with me. You don’t have to run anymore.”

“And what shall I do, when I go home with you?” She crouched in the dirt, her smile turning vicious. “Shall I parade through the streets, greeting my many admirers? Shall I compose a song to accompany the curses they will throw at me? Tell me, Tal, what rhymes with Kingsbane?”

“Rielle. It won’t be like that.”

“You’re lying to me.” She shook her head, harsh laughter rising, and touched her aching temple. “Everyone’s always lying to me. Audric said he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, but it does. He can’t hide that from me.”

“If you come home, if you tell everyone what happened, they’ll understand. They will accept you.”

“They hate me,” she whispered, “and they always will, and you know it.”

Tal opened his arms to her, and his face was so soft, so open with love, that Rielle, tired as she was, her head pulsing with pain and her mouth sour with death, let him come. He held her against his chest, his hand gingerly cupping her head. He pressed his mouth against her hair, heedless of the blood.

And for a moment, Rielle closed her eyes and allowed it.

But then Tal began to speak.

“You were confused,” he said softly. “He slipped into your head and tricked you. I understand.”

Rielle pushed him away and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes blurred with tears, and she hated that he would see them and think her in need of comfort. She pulled the tears into her palms, turned them to fire, and threw them to the ground, where they stuck and grew.

Tal watched the flames in wonder. The shield strapped to his back seemed pathetic beside them, a toy fit for a child.

“I was not tricked,” Rielle spat, clear-eyed. “I wanted to leave. I wanted him. He isn’t afraid of me. He adores what I can do, and he wants me to do more.”

He stared up at her from the rocks, stricken. “Of course he does! He wants to use you!”

“He wants us to work together, as one.”

“And what lies at the end of that work? Everything you love will be destroyed. Everything you know, gone.”

“If I decide to spare anyone, he will allow it.”

“Listen to yourself!”

“He loves me, Tal.”

“So do we.” He stood, his shield sparking as his anger rose. “We love you, Rielle, and will not ask of you any bloodshed.”

“What if I want bloodshed? Will you still love me then?”

He hesitated, and that was enough.

Rielle stepped back from him. “I see it on your face. What I am terrifies you. It revolts you.”

“No, love—”

“A shadowed life, hiding away in soft rooms, praying for calm, appearing only to water dying crops or cool a hot summer wind, is not a life I want. I would die in that life, no matter how much love you claim would surround me.”

There was something happening to Tal’s face, a shrinking. His muscles drew tight and thin, and his eyes shone with sadness.

“Rielle, that’s not what your life would be,” he said. “You would live under everyone’s protection. We would slowly reintroduce you to the people, bring petitioners to court to ask questions, voice their concerns.”

“And until it was safe for me to walk freely again, would I sit docile by Audric’s side, our child in my arms? A devoted wife and queen, silent with shame? Begging for pardon? Trying to persuade everyone who looked at me with disgust that it wasn’t an angel’s child in my arms? Would I have to present her to the magisters every month to prove no marks of black wings had formed on her back?”

“No—my God, no, that’s not what would happen. I swear to you, Rielle. It would take time, but—”

“Stop lying to me!”

Tal’s knees buckled. Rielle watched him fall, her body drawn tight with anger. She saw the places where he hurt—his skull, his chest, his stomach. Dark wounds from the grip of her power. His light was so pale, so ordinary. The empirium within him was a mere pallid sheen. She marveled that she had never noticed it before.

“You know there is nothing left for me there,” she whispered. “Perhaps there never was.”

“Your family is there,” Tal gasped, reaching for her. “Your friends, your teachers. Whatever Corien has made you believe, you are not a monster whose only power is destruction. You are loved, Rielle.”

“You lie!” She flung her arms at him, her palms rigid with anger. He tried to stand, and she shoved him back down. He pushed uselessly at the air and clawed at his throat. His eyes were bulging; his veins stood out like cracks.

“I would have died for you,” he gasped, twitching on the ground. A terrible black sound spilled from him, raw in its grief, and Rielle saw the flash of power in his eyes just before he let out a strained roar. He wrenched his arm behind him, fighting her grip so hard that he snapped bone, and then, his face white with pain, he seized his shield. o;Come to my senses?” She glared up at him through her lashes. The world pulsed in shades of amber and bronze. “You know nothing of my mind, and you never could.”

“But I want to, Rielle.” He slowly knelt, so their eyes were level. “I want to know what you see. I want to understand everything that hurts you.”

Between them, Obritsa struggled in Rielle’s grip, her breathing fast and thin.

“You can’t.” A great frustration reared up in Rielle. Tal’s ignorance disgusted her. “My might is beyond the reach of any man who lives.”

“Maybe, if you come home with me—”

“Home?” A tiny laugh escaped her. She drew in a shuddering breath, which pulled tears from her eyes. Her voice was a mere quaver. “I have no home.”

“Yes, you do.” Tal’s voice held an immense gentleness, and she couldn’t bear it, that he would dare to be gentle when she felt so brittle, so sticky with blood.

“Get away from me, Tal. You’ve said you love me. Show me that, and obey my wishes.”

“Your home is in Âme de la Terre,” he said, undeterred, “with me, and Audric, and Ludivine. Queen Genoveve, Sloane, Miren.” Tal glanced over his shoulder, where Garver stood grimly. “Your friend Garver Randell and his little boy.”

Rielle felt the moment Corien took hold of Obritsa’s mind. The girl’s body slackened under her hands, and with relief Rielle scrambled away from her, left her sprawled. Garver started toward Obritsa immediately, but Rielle flung out her arm and shoved him back into the tangled brush, far from the cliff’s edge. The pale woman, his companion, ran after him with a sharp cry.

Tal tensed. “Rielle, please. Come home with me. You don’t have to run anymore.”

“And what shall I do, when I go home with you?” She crouched in the dirt, her smile turning vicious. “Shall I parade through the streets, greeting my many admirers? Shall I compose a song to accompany the curses they will throw at me? Tell me, Tal, what rhymes with Kingsbane?”

“Rielle. It won’t be like that.”

“You’re lying to me.” She shook her head, harsh laughter rising, and touched her aching temple. “Everyone’s always lying to me. Audric said he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, but it does. He can’t hide that from me.”

“If you come home, if you tell everyone what happened, they’ll understand. They will accept you.”

“They hate me,” she whispered, “and they always will, and you know it.”

Tal opened his arms to her, and his face was so soft, so open with love, that Rielle, tired as she was, her head pulsing with pain and her mouth sour with death, let him come. He held her against his chest, his hand gingerly cupping her head. He pressed his mouth against her hair, heedless of the blood.

And for a moment, Rielle closed her eyes and allowed it.

But then Tal began to speak.

“You were confused,” he said softly. “He slipped into your head and tricked you. I understand.”

Rielle pushed him away and scrambled to her feet. Her eyes blurred with tears, and she hated that he would see them and think her in need of comfort. She pulled the tears into her palms, turned them to fire, and threw them to the ground, where they stuck and grew.

Tal watched the flames in wonder. The shield strapped to his back seemed pathetic beside them, a toy fit for a child.

“I was not tricked,” Rielle spat, clear-eyed. “I wanted to leave. I wanted him. He isn’t afraid of me. He adores what I can do, and he wants me to do more.”

He stared up at her from the rocks, stricken. “Of course he does! He wants to use you!”

“He wants us to work together, as one.”

“And what lies at the end of that work? Everything you love will be destroyed. Everything you know, gone.”

“If I decide to spare anyone, he will allow it.”

“Listen to yourself!”

“He loves me, Tal.”

“So do we.” He stood, his shield sparking as his anger rose. “We love you, Rielle, and will not ask of you any bloodshed.”

“What if I want bloodshed? Will you still love me then?”

He hesitated, and that was enough.

Rielle stepped back from him. “I see it on your face. What I am terrifies you. It revolts you.”

“No, love—”

“A shadowed life, hiding away in soft rooms, praying for calm, appearing only to water dying crops or cool a hot summer wind, is not a life I want. I would die in that life, no matter how much love you claim would surround me.”

There was something happening to Tal’s face, a shrinking. His muscles drew tight and thin, and his eyes shone with sadness.

“Rielle, that’s not what your life would be,” he said. “You would live under everyone’s protection. We would slowly reintroduce you to the people, bring petitioners to court to ask questions, voice their concerns.”

“And until it was safe for me to walk freely again, would I sit docile by Audric’s side, our child in my arms? A devoted wife and queen, silent with shame? Begging for pardon? Trying to persuade everyone who looked at me with disgust that it wasn’t an angel’s child in my arms? Would I have to present her to the magisters every month to prove no marks of black wings had formed on her back?”

“No—my God, no, that’s not what would happen. I swear to you, Rielle. It would take time, but—”

“Stop lying to me!”

Tal’s knees buckled. Rielle watched him fall, her body drawn tight with anger. She saw the places where he hurt—his skull, his chest, his stomach. Dark wounds from the grip of her power. His light was so pale, so ordinary. The empirium within him was a mere pallid sheen. She marveled that she had never noticed it before.

“You know there is nothing left for me there,” she whispered. “Perhaps there never was.”

“Your family is there,” Tal gasped, reaching for her. “Your friends, your teachers. Whatever Corien has made you believe, you are not a monster whose only power is destruction. You are loved, Rielle.”

“You lie!” She flung her arms at him, her palms rigid with anger. He tried to stand, and she shoved him back down. He pushed uselessly at the air and clawed at his throat. His eyes were bulging; his veins stood out like cracks.

“I would have died for you,” he gasped, twitching on the ground. A terrible black sound spilled from him, raw in its grief, and Rielle saw the flash of power in his eyes just before he let out a strained roar. He wrenched his arm behind him, fighting her grip so hard that he snapped bone, and then, his face white with pain, he seized his shield.