Furyborn (Empirium 1)

“Or what?” Camille looked her up and down with a sneer. “You’ll kill me, as you’ve killed so many others?”

Eliana reached for a cutting reply and found none. Sudden exhaustion stretched from her shoulders to her toes; the previous night’s peace bled out with her breathing.

“I’ve no desire to kill you,” she said at last, dully.

Camille watched her through narrowed eyes. “Where’s your brother?”

“Sleeping.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Eliana shrugged. “Bad dreams.”

After a long moment, Camille released her. “I thought you’d strike me, for touching you.”

“There are others I’d prefer to strike more.”

Camille nodded and glanced down the shadowed corridor. All was quiet. “I’ve this girl who works for me,” she began slowly. “Laenys is her name. She came up from the Vespers. The islands have fallen into despair. There’s no work, little food. She got out, came here. A hard worker, Laenys. She never complained.”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

Camille watched her for a moment longer. “I’ve heard many things about you, Dread. That you’re a pet of the Empire, for one.”

Eliana laughed and looked away, eyes burning. “Typically pets are cherished, aren’t they?” She needed to get some food in her body, flush out the treacherous stormy feeling in her chest.

“And,” Camille went on, “that you’re invincible.”

Eliana looked at her sharply. “And now you’d like to test the truth of that rumor, is that it? Slice me open and see what happens?”

“No. I’ve got a job for you if you’ll take it.”

“I’m rather in the middle of the last job I accepted,” Eliana reminded her. “Simon wouldn’t appreciate you poaching me.”

“And what if my job could get you to your mother sooner than Simon can?”

Eliana’s hand flew to Arabeth at her hip. “Careful, Camille,” she said softly. “This is dangerous ground you’re treading on.”

“Laenys was taken a few days ago. I want you to find out who took her and get her back.”

Taken. Just like Mother? Eliana stiffened, her heart pounding. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” Camille’s mouth thinned. “They come in the night. They come every seven days. They’re called Fidelia. That’s the word I’ve heard used. People whisper it like they used to speak of the Empire before the invasion.”

“What is it, then? A splinter faction of Red Crown?”

“I’ve only heard rumors.” A flicker of uncertainty moved across Camille’s face. “You’ll think it’s nonsense.”

“I won’t. Speak.”

“People say that Fidelia…” Camille dragged a hand through her short black hair. “They’re angel lovers, I’ve heard. They believe the Emperor and his generals are not men, but angels. They hunt to serve them, that they may be raised to glory once the world is conquered and the angels rule all.” She scoffed. “It’s daft, I know, but isn’t everything these days?”

Horror dropped cold down Eliana’s spine. Could Remy actually be right?

Camille continued. “We didn’t realize for some time that people were disappearing. Rinthos is so crowded that someone can go missing for days before you even realize they’re gone. At first they only took one. Then a few. Then many. People started noticing. And yet it won’t stop.” Camille drew in a slight shaky breath. “Every seven days, girls are disappearing. And women too. Grown, young, rich, poor. Mostly poor.” Her voice acquired a bitter edge. “No one misses them, you see.”

Eliana could keep quiet no longer. “My mother was taken, just like that. Back in Orline.”

Camille nodded grimly. “So I’ve heard. It’s been a week since the last taking. People have been whispering about it all morning, up above.”

Eliana thought quickly. “Is there a pattern to the disappearances? A place from which more girls are taken than others?”

“Laenys vanished from below, on the fighting floor. A week ago now. We were coming back from the market, and we turned a corner. I felt something—a movement, a coldness—and turned around, and…”

“And she was gone?”

Camille looked away, fists curled at her sides and eyes bright. “I don’t understand it. Why only girls? Where are they taking them?”

The same questions I asked myself weeks ago, Eliana thought, back in Orline.

“I don’t know,” Eliana said, fingers curling at her side around an invisible dagger. Fidelia. She would carve the word across their foreheads, right into the bone. “But I’m going to find out. And I’m going to make them pay.”

Camille watched her from the shadows. “If I help sneak you out past Simon, you’ll do it? Tonight is the seventh day. Night will fall, and by morning, more girls will be gone.”

“Then once night falls,” Eliana said with a loving caress of Arabeth’s hilt, “I’ll go hunting.”

Rielle

“I fear no darkness

I fear no night

I ask the shadows

To aid my fight”

—The Shadow Rite

As first uttered by Saint Tameryn the Cunning, patron saint of Astavar and shadowcasters

Rielle stood in the middle of the Flats, the first horn blast of the shadow trial ringing in her ears.

Wooden stands, draped with the black and blue colors of the House of Night, created a vast circle around where she stood alone in the whispering tall grass, cloaked and hooded.

Waiting.

Twelve platforms around the circle’s perimeter towered high above the ground. A shadowcaster stood solemn and dark on each one, faces masked and castings in hand.

The horn’s second call wailed across the Flats.

Rielle stepped free of her cloak, let it fall to the ground.

The gathered crowd lost its collective mind. Their cheers exploded, and they rose as one to stamp their feet and shout her name. Rielle threw up her arms to acknowledge them, and their cries became a roar.

She had been worried that, given the current gossip, the reception might be different for this trial.

But on the contrary—the people of Âme de la Terre now seemed to adore her even more. o;Or what?” Camille looked her up and down with a sneer. “You’ll kill me, as you’ve killed so many others?”