Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

Zahra let out a low, sad sound. The air near Simon shifted, and Eliana saw the wraith’s long black arm touch his bowed head.

Patrik blew out a curse. “What in God’s name was that?”

No one spoke for a long moment as the storm rumbled merrily on, oblivious. Then Simon turned, and the look on his face made Eliana ache for him, even as tired as she was, even with Remy newly reborn in her arms. He gazed at her like a man undone, his expression so soft and bewildered, so obviously belonging to the frightened little boy she had seen in Zahra’s vision, that it embarrassed her to look at him.

She knew at once what the light had been, though she couldn’t begin to understand what that meant, or how it was possible.

“It was a thread,” she said softly, answering for him. “A way of traveling through time.”

31

Rielle

“As Ingrid investigates the origin of these fell beasts, I must prepare for the arrival of a special guest: Lord Merovec Sauvillier. He wishes to pay his respects, in the wake of my father’s death. It’s been years since a Sauvillier set foot in Tarkstorm. Well, besides Ludivine, of course. But does she count as a true Sauvillier? Forgive me, but I think not. I, of course, won’t say anything of her true nature to Merovec, as we agreed. Can you imagine his reaction? He might very well faint. His head might actually pop off. I shall imagine this scenario to soothe my nerves. The fearsome Shield of the North, fainting on my couch. Now there’s an image. I hope your travels in Kirvaya are passing without incident, and that you and Rielle are dazzling them all. When you have a moment to write, tell me about the capital. I’ve long wanted to see the Blazing Throne for myself. Does the new queen truly sit in a cloud of fire?”

—A letter written by King Ilmaire Lysleva to Prince Audric Courverie, dated February 1, Year 999 of the Second Age

They waited in the snow for nearly an hour before Ludivine arrived.

Queen Obritsa’s threads remained steady, a thin oval of light hovering a few inches above the snowy forest floor. They had decided not to make camp and instead to wait for Ludivine. Once she had joined them, they would start at once for Celdaria.

Rielle sat on a fallen tree, hunched in her blood-stiffened furs. She nibbled on a strip of dried venison Evyline had withdrawn from the pack Obritsa had given them, though she had no real appetite—especially not for meat.

But Evyline had insisted, standing over Rielle with her arms crossed and an impressive glower souring her face, until Rielle had finally complied.

Now they waited in silence.

Rielle watched Audric’s progress through the trees. He paced, gloved hands clasped behind his back. Rielle wanted desperately to speak to him, to ask him what he had seen as she attempted to heal the dead villager. But the expression on his face was one of ferocious worry—a worry she knew she had caused.

So she nibbled her meat, striving to keep her mind clear and calm. She would not think about the villager, of the ghastly knobs of flesh knitting her hands to his chest. She would not think of how he had unraveled at her touch, the caved-open pulpy mess of him in the snow at her feet.

Nor of how it must have appeared to Audric, the horror he must have felt as he watched the man collapse at her touch.

Would he flinch from her the next time she tried to touch him?

Her stomach clenched at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, breathing thinly in and out through her nose.

Then, a soft fall into the snow.

Rielle opened her eyes to see Ludivine righting herself, shaking snow from her furs beneath the low branches of a pine. Behind her, the flickering threads collapsed inward before disappearing.

Ludivine hurried to Rielle and helped her rise. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m cold and tired.”

And Audric has hardly looked at me once since we left the temple.

Ludivine smiled tightly, touching Rielle’s face. “I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting.”

And I’m sorry, she added, her interior voice trembling with emotion, to have awoken you in the first place. We should have let them burn. I knew it was a trap, that the villagers were bait, and yet I allowed you to—

“Evyline, please give us a moment,” said Audric. Then, after the Sun Guard had moved away, he came up beside them. “Please include me in whatever you’re saying,” he said quietly. “What’s happened concerns all of us.”

Rielle forced herself to hold his gaze. It would have been better, she thought, if he had showed anger, or fear, or even revulsion. But this quiet patience, the same familiar steadiness she was accustomed to, made her want to melt into the ground with shame.

“Of course,” Ludivine said, squeezing Audric’s hand. “I was apologizing to Rielle for having awoken you. I knew it was bait, and yet I led her to him all the same.”

“And why did you?” he asked.

Ludivine hesitated. Rielle felt a ripple in her mind but could not interpret it.

“Because I pitied the villagers,” Ludivine replied. “I could not bear the sight of them tormenting one another at his command.”

“And you thought it worth the risk to save them? Even if it endangered Rielle?”

Ludivine regarded him thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it was worth the risk?”

Audric was quiet for a time. Then he seemed to sink beneath the question’s weight. “I cannot say. And this is what I feared when all of this began. I should not hesitate before sending Rielle into harm’s way, especially if it means saving innocent lives, and yet I can’t bear the thought of doing so. Especially when doing so leads to Corien.”

“I was never in danger.” Rielle carefully linked her fingers with his. “He would not have hurt me.”

“I’m not worried that he would have hurt you,” Audric said. “I’m worried he would have tried to poison you against me further.”

She frowned. “Is my mind so weak, in your eyes?”

“No, and you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It seems to me that it’s exactly what you meant.”

Rielle, Ludivine cautioned, you are being disingenuous in your argument.

But Rielle plunged ahead, drawing away from them both. “If you thought me strong enough to resist his advances, you would not worry for me.”

“My love, you are strong,” Audric said, “but there is only so much human strength can do against a being as powerful as he is.”

“Ah, but you forget, I am no mere human.” Her voice broke a little, remembering the horror of the villager’s dissolution beneath her, but she kept her head high. “Or did you not see what I accomplished in Polestal? Is that the work of a creature you think could so easily fall prey to even an angel’s will?” let out a low, sad sound. The air near Simon shifted, and Eliana saw the wraith’s long black arm touch his bowed head.

Patrik blew out a curse. “What in God’s name was that?”

No one spoke for a long moment as the storm rumbled merrily on, oblivious. Then Simon turned, and the look on his face made Eliana ache for him, even as tired as she was, even with Remy newly reborn in her arms. He gazed at her like a man undone, his expression so soft and bewildered, so obviously belonging to the frightened little boy she had seen in Zahra’s vision, that it embarrassed her to look at him.

She knew at once what the light had been, though she couldn’t begin to understand what that meant, or how it was possible.

“It was a thread,” she said softly, answering for him. “A way of traveling through time.”

31

Rielle

“As Ingrid investigates the origin of these fell beasts, I must prepare for the arrival of a special guest: Lord Merovec Sauvillier. He wishes to pay his respects, in the wake of my father’s death. It’s been years since a Sauvillier set foot in Tarkstorm. Well, besides Ludivine, of course. But does she count as a true Sauvillier? Forgive me, but I think not. I, of course, won’t say anything of her true nature to Merovec, as we agreed. Can you imagine his reaction? He might very well faint. His head might actually pop off. I shall imagine this scenario to soothe my nerves. The fearsome Shield of the North, fainting on my couch. Now there’s an image. I hope your travels in Kirvaya are passing without incident, and that you and Rielle are dazzling them all. When you have a moment to write, tell me about the capital. I’ve long wanted to see the Blazing Throne for myself. Does the new queen truly sit in a cloud of fire?”

—A letter written by King Ilmaire Lysleva to Prince Audric Courverie, dated February 1, Year 999 of the Second Age

They waited in the snow for nearly an hour before Ludivine arrived.

Queen Obritsa’s threads remained steady, a thin oval of light hovering a few inches above the snowy forest floor. They had decided not to make camp and instead to wait for Ludivine. Once she had joined them, they would start at once for Celdaria.

Rielle sat on a fallen tree, hunched in her blood-stiffened furs. She nibbled on a strip of dried venison Evyline had withdrawn from the pack Obritsa had given them, though she had no real appetite—especially not for meat.

But Evyline had insisted, standing over Rielle with her arms crossed and an impressive glower souring her face, until Rielle had finally complied.

Now they waited in silence.

Rielle watched Audric’s progress through the trees. He paced, gloved hands clasped behind his back. Rielle wanted desperately to speak to him, to ask him what he had seen as she attempted to heal the dead villager. But the expression on his face was one of ferocious worry—a worry she knew she had caused.

So she nibbled her meat, striving to keep her mind clear and calm. She would not think about the villager, of the ghastly knobs of flesh knitting her hands to his chest. She would not think of how he had unraveled at her touch, the caved-open pulpy mess of him in the snow at her feet.

Nor of how it must have appeared to Audric, the horror he must have felt as he watched the man collapse at her touch.

Would he flinch from her the next time she tried to touch him?

Her stomach clenched at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, breathing thinly in and out through her nose.

Then, a soft fall into the snow.

Rielle opened her eyes to see Ludivine righting herself, shaking snow from her furs beneath the low branches of a pine. Behind her, the flickering threads collapsed inward before disappearing.

Ludivine hurried to Rielle and helped her rise. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m cold and tired.”

And Audric has hardly looked at me once since we left the temple.

Ludivine smiled tightly, touching Rielle’s face. “I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting.”

And I’m sorry, she added, her interior voice trembling with emotion, to have awoken you in the first place. We should have let them burn. I knew it was a trap, that the villagers were bait, and yet I allowed you to—

“Evyline, please give us a moment,” said Audric. Then, after the Sun Guard had moved away, he came up beside them. “Please include me in whatever you’re saying,” he said quietly. “What’s happened concerns all of us.”

Rielle forced herself to hold his gaze. It would have been better, she thought, if he had showed anger, or fear, or even revulsion. But this quiet patience, the same familiar steadiness she was accustomed to, made her want to melt into the ground with shame.

“Of course,” Ludivine said, squeezing Audric’s hand. “I was apologizing to Rielle for having awoken you. I knew it was bait, and yet I led her to him all the same.”

“And why did you?” he asked.

Ludivine hesitated. Rielle felt a ripple in her mind but could not interpret it.

“Because I pitied the villagers,” Ludivine replied. “I could not bear the sight of them tormenting one another at his command.”

“And you thought it worth the risk to save them? Even if it endangered Rielle?”

Ludivine regarded him thoughtfully. “Don’t you think it was worth the risk?”

Audric was quiet for a time. Then he seemed to sink beneath the question’s weight. “I cannot say. And this is what I feared when all of this began. I should not hesitate before sending Rielle into harm’s way, especially if it means saving innocent lives, and yet I can’t bear the thought of doing so. Especially when doing so leads to Corien.”

“I was never in danger.” Rielle carefully linked her fingers with his. “He would not have hurt me.”

“I’m not worried that he would have hurt you,” Audric said. “I’m worried he would have tried to poison you against me further.”

She frowned. “Is my mind so weak, in your eyes?”

“No, and you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It seems to me that it’s exactly what you meant.”

Rielle, Ludivine cautioned, you are being disingenuous in your argument.

But Rielle plunged ahead, drawing away from them both. “If you thought me strong enough to resist his advances, you would not worry for me.”

“My love, you are strong,” Audric said, “but there is only so much human strength can do against a being as powerful as he is.”

“Ah, but you forget, I am no mere human.” Her voice broke a little, remembering the horror of the villager’s dissolution beneath her, but she kept her head high. “Or did you not see what I accomplished in Polestal? Is that the work of a creature you think could so easily fall prey to even an angel’s will?”