She screamed out his name, her voice muffled against the rag and the hard grip of his hand.
“I can’t lose you, not again,” she heard him say into her hair, his voice so choked with tears that he hardly sounded like himself. “I’m so sorry, El.”
And then his voice faded, and so did she.
20
Simon
“In holy lore and sacred art, particularly concerning the saints, the image of the wolf can often be found. Though not a godsbeast, the animal is significant. A pack of wolves raised the orphaned Saint Tameryn, and godsbeasts were often found in the company of wolves. The beast has an affinity for creatures touched by the empirium, but do not mistake it for a guardian. The appearance of a wolf can also mean uncertainty. A precipice. A portent.”
—A footnote from The Book of the Saints
When Simon strode into the kings’ war room, he knew at once that Eliana wasn’t there.
It was a terrible, marvelous thing, to be able to so keenly sense her presence. He was no angel—though as a marque, somewhere in his veins existed angelic blood, dormant and useless, snuffed out by the goddamned Blood Queen along with everything else. He was no angel, and yet back in Orline, after only a few days spent observing Eliana from a distance—before they had sparred in her home, before he had been able to, at last, look her in the eye and see that face of hers, uninterrupted and unimpeded—after only a few days observing her, he had known her. The way she moved through a space, the sound of her footfalls against the ground, the lines between her eyebrows when she frowned.
Her father’s full mouth, his serious brow, his dark eyes. Her mother’s fierce jaw, the delicate turn of her wrists.
From the first moment he had set eyes on Eliana, he had known her in his bones, in the knit of his muscles, in the roar of his blood. As a boy, he had cradled her tiny infant body in his arms and done everything he could to hold on to her even as the world ripped itself apart at their feet. And now, as a man, her closeness changed the air around him, drawing his senses taut as bowstrings and lighting his skin from the inside out, as if he had consumed a brew of stars that wouldn’t stop spinning.
But in the war room, the air remained dull and unremarkable, and he knew she wasn’t there even before he scanned the room to confirm it.
Ordinarily, he wasn’t one to make a scene, but in that instance, he felt dangerously close to it.
“Where is she?” he said very quietly, and then a soft cry from the far side of the room alerted him to Remy.
The boy ran for him and slammed into his front. Face muffled against Simon’s shirt, his arms tight around Simon’s torso, Remy mumbled, “Navi said Eliana went to find me, but she hasn’t come back. We sent guards to find her.”
Simon placed one hand on Remy’s head and another on his shoulder. He felt a horrible idea beginning to form. “And where is Harkan, might I ask?”
Navi met his eyes from across the room. “We haven’t been able to find him either.” Then she paused, her eyes widening. “You don’t think…”
“I don’t know what I think, but I certainly don’t like not knowing where either of them are. In fact, instead of just standing here staring at me, why don’t you send out more of your guards to fucking find them?”
King Tavik, bent over a crudely sketched map on the room’s central table, straightened with a dark look. “Right hand of the Prophet or no, if you say anything like that to my daughter again, I will have my guards toss you out of this tower.”
“I’ll help,” Navi offered dryly.
Simon ignored the king’s glare. “Tell me what happened the last time you saw her.”
“She said she needed to find Remy, which I understood,” Navi replied. “She left in the direction of the central library.”
“Damn it, Navi.” Simon turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have let her go.”
“And what should I have done, exactly? Ordered her not to go after her brother? Bound her in chains and forced her to come with me instead?”
“Yes,” he said at once. “That’s exactly what you should have done.”
Navi rose from her chair, leaning heavily against a broad-shouldered female guard. “Has it occurred to you that your insistence on shaping her path for her might be the very thing that keeps driving her away from you?”
Simon bristled. “I’ve been exceptionally patient with her.”
“Your definition of patience is an odd one, Captain,” said Lady Ama mildly, examining the map alongside the kings. “You’ve been hovering around that poor girl for weeks, brooding and scowling.” She raised an eyebrow, glancing up. “Did the Prophet forget to teach you manners?”
“Manners have no place in a world at war,” Simon said. “And, yes, Navi, your guards should have bodily restrained her, if necessary. Without her, we have no chance to mount any sort of resistance, or fight the Empire, or turn the tide of war. Without her, we’re nothing.”
“We’ve done a fine job on our own in Astavar for decades now,” said King Eri. “We’ve resisted the Empire’s fleets—”
“They were toying with you,” Simon interrupted. “This is all a game for the Emperor. Until he found Rielle’s daughter, his slow conquest of this world was a game, a way to pass the time. Now he’s found her, and this is no longer a game. It is a hunt. An obsession. This invasion is only the beginning. He will stop at nothing until he finds her, and when he does—”
A series of explosions shook the room. Remy’s hand tightened around Simon’s fingers.
The door to the war room burst open, admitting Hob and a servant—a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Eliana. Her mouth was set in a thin, grim line.
Hob wiped his brow, his dark skin gleaming with sweat and dust. “Tell them what you told me, Perri.”
Perri nodded once. “I saw them. Lady Eliana and Harkan. They were talking in the corridor near Lady Eliana’s rooms. And then…”
Perri glanced at Hob, hands clasped tensely at her waist.
“It’s all right,” said Hob. “Go on.”
Perri squared her shoulders. “And then I saw Harkan grab hold of Lady Eliana and press a cloth to her face. She struggled, and then went limp. She was still a little bit awake, I think, at least enough to walk beside him. But he directed her movements, as though she wouldn’t be able to walk without his help. Her eyes were open but foggy. And Harkan, he looked terribly upset. For a moment, I thought he might be sick. Then they were gone, hurrying down the hallway. I came at once to tell someone, and I found Hob.” creamed out his name, her voice muffled against the rag and the hard grip of his hand.
“I can’t lose you, not again,” she heard him say into her hair, his voice so choked with tears that he hardly sounded like himself. “I’m so sorry, El.”
And then his voice faded, and so did she.
20
Simon
“In holy lore and sacred art, particularly concerning the saints, the image of the wolf can often be found. Though not a godsbeast, the animal is significant. A pack of wolves raised the orphaned Saint Tameryn, and godsbeasts were often found in the company of wolves. The beast has an affinity for creatures touched by the empirium, but do not mistake it for a guardian. The appearance of a wolf can also mean uncertainty. A precipice. A portent.”
—A footnote from The Book of the Saints
When Simon strode into the kings’ war room, he knew at once that Eliana wasn’t there.
It was a terrible, marvelous thing, to be able to so keenly sense her presence. He was no angel—though as a marque, somewhere in his veins existed angelic blood, dormant and useless, snuffed out by the goddamned Blood Queen along with everything else. He was no angel, and yet back in Orline, after only a few days spent observing Eliana from a distance—before they had sparred in her home, before he had been able to, at last, look her in the eye and see that face of hers, uninterrupted and unimpeded—after only a few days observing her, he had known her. The way she moved through a space, the sound of her footfalls against the ground, the lines between her eyebrows when she frowned.
Her father’s full mouth, his serious brow, his dark eyes. Her mother’s fierce jaw, the delicate turn of her wrists.
From the first moment he had set eyes on Eliana, he had known her in his bones, in the knit of his muscles, in the roar of his blood. As a boy, he had cradled her tiny infant body in his arms and done everything he could to hold on to her even as the world ripped itself apart at their feet. And now, as a man, her closeness changed the air around him, drawing his senses taut as bowstrings and lighting his skin from the inside out, as if he had consumed a brew of stars that wouldn’t stop spinning.
But in the war room, the air remained dull and unremarkable, and he knew she wasn’t there even before he scanned the room to confirm it.
Ordinarily, he wasn’t one to make a scene, but in that instance, he felt dangerously close to it.
“Where is she?” he said very quietly, and then a soft cry from the far side of the room alerted him to Remy.
The boy ran for him and slammed into his front. Face muffled against Simon’s shirt, his arms tight around Simon’s torso, Remy mumbled, “Navi said Eliana went to find me, but she hasn’t come back. We sent guards to find her.”
Simon placed one hand on Remy’s head and another on his shoulder. He felt a horrible idea beginning to form. “And where is Harkan, might I ask?”
Navi met his eyes from across the room. “We haven’t been able to find him either.” Then she paused, her eyes widening. “You don’t think…”
“I don’t know what I think, but I certainly don’t like not knowing where either of them are. In fact, instead of just standing here staring at me, why don’t you send out more of your guards to fucking find them?”
King Tavik, bent over a crudely sketched map on the room’s central table, straightened with a dark look. “Right hand of the Prophet or no, if you say anything like that to my daughter again, I will have my guards toss you out of this tower.”
“I’ll help,” Navi offered dryly.
Simon ignored the king’s glare. “Tell me what happened the last time you saw her.”
“She said she needed to find Remy, which I understood,” Navi replied. “She left in the direction of the central library.”
“Damn it, Navi.” Simon turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have let her go.”
“And what should I have done, exactly? Ordered her not to go after her brother? Bound her in chains and forced her to come with me instead?”
“Yes,” he said at once. “That’s exactly what you should have done.”
Navi rose from her chair, leaning heavily against a broad-shouldered female guard. “Has it occurred to you that your insistence on shaping her path for her might be the very thing that keeps driving her away from you?”
Simon bristled. “I’ve been exceptionally patient with her.”
“Your definition of patience is an odd one, Captain,” said Lady Ama mildly, examining the map alongside the kings. “You’ve been hovering around that poor girl for weeks, brooding and scowling.” She raised an eyebrow, glancing up. “Did the Prophet forget to teach you manners?”
“Manners have no place in a world at war,” Simon said. “And, yes, Navi, your guards should have bodily restrained her, if necessary. Without her, we have no chance to mount any sort of resistance, or fight the Empire, or turn the tide of war. Without her, we’re nothing.”
“We’ve done a fine job on our own in Astavar for decades now,” said King Eri. “We’ve resisted the Empire’s fleets—”
“They were toying with you,” Simon interrupted. “This is all a game for the Emperor. Until he found Rielle’s daughter, his slow conquest of this world was a game, a way to pass the time. Now he’s found her, and this is no longer a game. It is a hunt. An obsession. This invasion is only the beginning. He will stop at nothing until he finds her, and when he does—”
A series of explosions shook the room. Remy’s hand tightened around Simon’s fingers.
The door to the war room burst open, admitting Hob and a servant—a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Eliana. Her mouth was set in a thin, grim line.
Hob wiped his brow, his dark skin gleaming with sweat and dust. “Tell them what you told me, Perri.”
Perri nodded once. “I saw them. Lady Eliana and Harkan. They were talking in the corridor near Lady Eliana’s rooms. And then…”
Perri glanced at Hob, hands clasped tensely at her waist.
“It’s all right,” said Hob. “Go on.”
Perri squared her shoulders. “And then I saw Harkan grab hold of Lady Eliana and press a cloth to her face. She struggled, and then went limp. She was still a little bit awake, I think, at least enough to walk beside him. But he directed her movements, as though she wouldn’t be able to walk without his help. Her eyes were open but foggy. And Harkan, he looked terribly upset. For a moment, I thought he might be sick. Then they were gone, hurrying down the hallway. I came at once to tell someone, and I found Hob.”