Eliana’s mind worked quickly. “Corien didn’t die, either. He survived.”
“He was beside your mother at the moment of her death, so his injuries were…severe. It took him centuries to recover fully, and his mind, while still powerful, was never the same. And I knew then that what Rielle had seen on the mountain—you, and threads pulled by a grown Simon—that future was coming true. And I knew that I must act.”
A sick heat rose swiftly in Eliana as she began to understand. “In the past, Corien had glimpsed Simon. And though Rielle’s death had damaged his mind…”
“I knew that might not be enough to protect Simon, when the time came,” Ludivine agreed. “I knew that I must be on the lookout for him myself, and shield my efforts and my very existence from Corien. When Simon at last appeared—hundreds of years later for me, but only seconds for him—I knew the only way to keep him safe from Corien, and therefore protect our one hope of traveling back in time, was to send him right into Corien’s hands. Corien would have to believe him to be utterly his own. He would need to serve the enemy to be saved from the enemy.”
Ludivine’s gaze was steady and bright. “I taught him discipline. I taught him how to withstand pain. As best I could, I ensured that the scars I gave him matched the ones I had seen. Months passed. Then I left him in the wilderness of Vindica and made certain that Corien would find him.”
“In the wilderness,” Eliana said, numb.
“Simon did exactly as I had instructed,” Ludivine said, smiling faintly. “We had practiced until he believed the story he was meant to tell. When Corien found him, Simon was desperate with loneliness. He had lived alone for months, and he was scarred from his accidental journey through time, and here at last was someone from the home he had lost. Rielle had destroyed his city. She had killed his king. It was her betrayal that had brought the angels to his city, her death that had sent him hurtling into a future he did not understand, where he was alone and afraid. He suspected Rielle’s daughter had been brought there as well. He would help Corien find her. He would serve without question if it meant he would no longer be alone, and if Corien would help him find his magic again. That was the story Simon told.”
Ludivine’s smile flickered. “And though he tried for years, Corien could find no evidence of deceit. He was suspicious. He recalled fragments of that old memory, of seeing you on the mountain and seeing Simon through you, but he knew that whatever time travel you had attempted had likely changed your circumstances, perhaps in his favor, and he could not turn away such a gift as Simon. Rielle’s death broke the empirium. If her daughter were here, her gifts would not be obvious; they might even be deeply dormant. He would need help to find her, especially since the immense task of growing his Empire had worn thin his already-damaged mind. And what better helper could he find than this boy who had seen everything happen that night he had lost his great love? A boy he could mold. A boy who had held you in his arms. A marque with angelic blood.”
Eliana closed her eyes, clenching the arms of her chair.
“From his place at Corien’s side,” Ludivine continued, “Simon would serve two masters. He would find you, push you to awaken yourself, and then help break you, all while pretending loyalty to your greatest enemy. But he was always mine. He has been from the moment I found him alone in the snow, clutching your little scrap of blanket.”
Then, pity softened Ludivine’s voice. “I’m sorry, little one. It was the only way. If it helps you, his love was no strategy of mine. I had hoped, of course, that he might grow to love you. Love would make it easier for him to hurt you, and it would therefore hasten your path toward destruction and then rebirth.” Eliana opened her eyes, momentarily stunned out of her anger. Ludivine smiled, magnanimous. “And now look at you. A glorious creature.”
The moment ended.
Eliana moved like fire. She knocked the table and bowls aside, then struck Ludivine hard across the face.
Ludivine made no sound, showed no sign of pain. The pink mark on her cheek quickly faded.
“You hurt him,” Eliana said, her voice tight and soft. “You hurt his mind so severely that he could serve both you and Corien without his true loyalty ever being discovered. You scrambled him, tore him apart, sewed him back together.”
Ludivine wiped the blood from her lip. “That’s true.”
“And I suppose Corien hurt him as well, over and over, to ensure he was not being deceived.”
“For every night of peace Simon enjoyed in Corien’s palace, he endured ten of torment,” Ludivine said simply. “But Corien could never find anything amiss. I ensured it would be so. Until today, he believed Simon to be his entirely.”
Eliana’s eyes stung with tears. She hardly noticed them. Her chest was hot with fury. “You’re a monster. You tortured this boy who had lost his father and his home, and then you sent him off to another monster to be tortured further.”
Ludivine was implacable. “I don’t need to tell you that sometimes we must make difficult choices and commit acts of violence to benefit the greater good. Look at what you did for your family when you lived in Orline. Look at what you’ve done for Red Crown, for Remy, for the people of this world. You are no stranger to sacrifice, Eliana, nor to cruelty.”
An acolyte appeared suddenly at the door, startling Eliana from her rising grief. They were too quiet for her liking, these acolytes, their gazes too direct. Eliana wondered what torment they had endured at Ludivine’s hand. Was it love that kept them loyal, or was it fear?
“They’re here, my lady,” the acolyte said with a bow.
“See that they are fed and their wounds treated,” Ludivine commanded. “We will join you shortly.”
The acolyte nodded once and then was gone.
“We will speak more later,” said Ludivine, rising from her chair. “Until then, I leave you with this thought. The only way to end this—this war that has for millennia gripped everyone in this world and others—is for you to return to Old Celdaria. Convince Rielle to kill Corien and close the Gate. Fight her if you must. Destroy her if it comes to it.”
Eliana stared at her, full of too many warring sadnesses. “You loved her.”
“I did.”
“And yet you speak of her so coldly?”
“I have had centuries to grieve for her,” said Ludivine. She plucked a piece of carrot from her sleeve. Her unfinished stew streaked the floor. “I no longer fear her death as I once did.”
The cool mask of her face unnerved Eliana. “I don’t understand how we would even do this thing. Simon tried traveling many times in the palace. He could not find his power.”
“Because you wouldn’t let him.” a’s mind worked quickly. “Corien didn’t die, either. He survived.”
“He was beside your mother at the moment of her death, so his injuries were…severe. It took him centuries to recover fully, and his mind, while still powerful, was never the same. And I knew then that what Rielle had seen on the mountain—you, and threads pulled by a grown Simon—that future was coming true. And I knew that I must act.”
A sick heat rose swiftly in Eliana as she began to understand. “In the past, Corien had glimpsed Simon. And though Rielle’s death had damaged his mind…”
“I knew that might not be enough to protect Simon, when the time came,” Ludivine agreed. “I knew that I must be on the lookout for him myself, and shield my efforts and my very existence from Corien. When Simon at last appeared—hundreds of years later for me, but only seconds for him—I knew the only way to keep him safe from Corien, and therefore protect our one hope of traveling back in time, was to send him right into Corien’s hands. Corien would have to believe him to be utterly his own. He would need to serve the enemy to be saved from the enemy.”
Ludivine’s gaze was steady and bright. “I taught him discipline. I taught him how to withstand pain. As best I could, I ensured that the scars I gave him matched the ones I had seen. Months passed. Then I left him in the wilderness of Vindica and made certain that Corien would find him.”
“In the wilderness,” Eliana said, numb.
“Simon did exactly as I had instructed,” Ludivine said, smiling faintly. “We had practiced until he believed the story he was meant to tell. When Corien found him, Simon was desperate with loneliness. He had lived alone for months, and he was scarred from his accidental journey through time, and here at last was someone from the home he had lost. Rielle had destroyed his city. She had killed his king. It was her betrayal that had brought the angels to his city, her death that had sent him hurtling into a future he did not understand, where he was alone and afraid. He suspected Rielle’s daughter had been brought there as well. He would help Corien find her. He would serve without question if it meant he would no longer be alone, and if Corien would help him find his magic again. That was the story Simon told.”
Ludivine’s smile flickered. “And though he tried for years, Corien could find no evidence of deceit. He was suspicious. He recalled fragments of that old memory, of seeing you on the mountain and seeing Simon through you, but he knew that whatever time travel you had attempted had likely changed your circumstances, perhaps in his favor, and he could not turn away such a gift as Simon. Rielle’s death broke the empirium. If her daughter were here, her gifts would not be obvious; they might even be deeply dormant. He would need help to find her, especially since the immense task of growing his Empire had worn thin his already-damaged mind. And what better helper could he find than this boy who had seen everything happen that night he had lost his great love? A boy he could mold. A boy who had held you in his arms. A marque with angelic blood.”
Eliana closed her eyes, clenching the arms of her chair.
“From his place at Corien’s side,” Ludivine continued, “Simon would serve two masters. He would find you, push you to awaken yourself, and then help break you, all while pretending loyalty to your greatest enemy. But he was always mine. He has been from the moment I found him alone in the snow, clutching your little scrap of blanket.”
Then, pity softened Ludivine’s voice. “I’m sorry, little one. It was the only way. If it helps you, his love was no strategy of mine. I had hoped, of course, that he might grow to love you. Love would make it easier for him to hurt you, and it would therefore hasten your path toward destruction and then rebirth.” Eliana opened her eyes, momentarily stunned out of her anger. Ludivine smiled, magnanimous. “And now look at you. A glorious creature.”
The moment ended.
Eliana moved like fire. She knocked the table and bowls aside, then struck Ludivine hard across the face.
Ludivine made no sound, showed no sign of pain. The pink mark on her cheek quickly faded.
“You hurt him,” Eliana said, her voice tight and soft. “You hurt his mind so severely that he could serve both you and Corien without his true loyalty ever being discovered. You scrambled him, tore him apart, sewed him back together.”
Ludivine wiped the blood from her lip. “That’s true.”
“And I suppose Corien hurt him as well, over and over, to ensure he was not being deceived.”
“For every night of peace Simon enjoyed in Corien’s palace, he endured ten of torment,” Ludivine said simply. “But Corien could never find anything amiss. I ensured it would be so. Until today, he believed Simon to be his entirely.”
Eliana’s eyes stung with tears. She hardly noticed them. Her chest was hot with fury. “You’re a monster. You tortured this boy who had lost his father and his home, and then you sent him off to another monster to be tortured further.”
Ludivine was implacable. “I don’t need to tell you that sometimes we must make difficult choices and commit acts of violence to benefit the greater good. Look at what you did for your family when you lived in Orline. Look at what you’ve done for Red Crown, for Remy, for the people of this world. You are no stranger to sacrifice, Eliana, nor to cruelty.”
An acolyte appeared suddenly at the door, startling Eliana from her rising grief. They were too quiet for her liking, these acolytes, their gazes too direct. Eliana wondered what torment they had endured at Ludivine’s hand. Was it love that kept them loyal, or was it fear?
“They’re here, my lady,” the acolyte said with a bow.
“See that they are fed and their wounds treated,” Ludivine commanded. “We will join you shortly.”
The acolyte nodded once and then was gone.
“We will speak more later,” said Ludivine, rising from her chair. “Until then, I leave you with this thought. The only way to end this—this war that has for millennia gripped everyone in this world and others—is for you to return to Old Celdaria. Convince Rielle to kill Corien and close the Gate. Fight her if you must. Destroy her if it comes to it.”
Eliana stared at her, full of too many warring sadnesses. “You loved her.”
“I did.”
“And yet you speak of her so coldly?”
“I have had centuries to grieve for her,” said Ludivine. She plucked a piece of carrot from her sleeve. Her unfinished stew streaked the floor. “I no longer fear her death as I once did.”
The cool mask of her face unnerved Eliana. “I don’t understand how we would even do this thing. Simon tried traveling many times in the palace. He could not find his power.”
“Because you wouldn’t let him.”