Lightbringer (Empirium 3)

But Rielle knew—and so did he, she could sense it—that as much as they both wanted that to be enough, it wasn’t.

Not yet.

First, she would have to let this strange new life, the loneliness of it, the sorrow still aching inside her, finish breaking her heart.

And then she would have to rebuild it.

• • •

Five days later, they were on a stolen supply ship, sailing southeast across the Namurian Sea.

Corien had convinced its crew to massacre each other, sparing only enough of them to dispose of the others’ bodies and keep the ship afloat afterward. They drifted through their duties with gray, unseeing eyes—tending the sails, manning the rudder, swabbing the decks clean of their shipmates’ blood.

Rielle huddled in the captain’s quarters, a scratchy wool blanket wrapped tightly around her. They were in pursuit of the nearest casting—the arrow of Saint Ghovan. For months, Corien had been tracking the Venteran Obex, the ancient guardians sworn to protect the casting. They had abandoned their customary post and were instead now traveling at an obscene pace across the world, never stopping for long, using marques to jump from place to place.

Weeks earlier, their trail had ended abruptly on the southern continent of Patria, which had centuries before been the heart of the angelic empire. For weeks, the Obex had stayed in one place. Hiding. Waiting.

Had the Obex exhausted their power and energy? Were they stranded, their employed marques depleted, and ready to make a desperate final stand in the ruins of Patria?

“Or is it a trap of some kind?” Corien had mused two days earlier as he lay in the late captain’s bed with Rielle curled at his side. “Do they know I’m tracking them? Are they planning an ambush?”

He had laughed at the idea, and Rielle, weary, seasick, had smiled weakly against his sleeve. The smooth sound of his laughter was a gorgeous rarity. She clung to it.

“I do hope they’ll try an ambush,” he’d said, lazily stroking the curve of her back. “Wouldn’t that be amusing, my love?”

In his voice, she had heard what he expected of her: If the Obex were indeed lying in wait, planning an ambush, he wanted Rielle to kill them before they had the chance to attack. Dissolve them. Scorch them.

He wanted her to unmake them.

And I will watch you, Corien had whispered in her mind. My glorious queen, burning our enemies where they stand. Taking what is ours. Beginning our great conquest.

Now, on the floor, Rielle wrapped her long hair into a knot at the base of her neck and held it in her fist. She was too tired to think about unmaking anyone at the moment. Her pregnancy was a sickness; her joints ached, and her stomach churned.

And her mind would not quiet. Even through the door Corien had pulled shut and locked twice now, Ludivine persisted. She whispered and wheedled. She sent endearments and thin threads of memory.

Rielle ground the heels of her palms against her temples in tight circles. “Lu, go away.”

“If you want to see her,” said a small voice from across the room, “I can send you to her. Not all the way there in one go, of course, but eventually. It would be a start. Maybe he wouldn’t attack me, if you were with me.”

Rielle lifted her head, staring blearily.

Bound in the opposite corner, the girl-queen Obritsa met Rielle’s gaze. It was the first time she had spoken since Corien had taken Artem belowdecks just after they’d claimed the ship as their own. Where the Kirvayan guard was kept and what games Corien was playing with his mind, Rielle did not know.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Obritsa continued. “To see Lady Ludivine? To see them both? You didn’t have time to say a proper goodbye, after all.”

Rielle closed her eyes. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“I saw you on the night of your wedding. You were devastated. There was agony on your face. You didn’t want to leave them, and yet you did. You felt you had no choice.”

“I was glad to leave them,” Rielle snapped, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Miniature storms of power crackled between her knuckles. “I should have done it sooner.”

“You forget that you visited my palace, Lady Rielle,” said Obritsa. “I saw all of you together. I saw you with Prince Audric. King Audric, now. The love between you was not a lie.”

Rielle’s heart pounded in her ears. “Our love was not a lie then,” she said stiffly. “Now, it would be.”

“If you say it, I suppose it’s true.”

“I could disintegrate you with a snap of my fingers, and you know it. Considering that, it seems odd that you would insist on provoking me.”

If Obritsa felt fear, Rielle could not see it. The shadows under Obritsa’s tired eyes made her face look sunken, yet her poise was impeccable. She was a spy, Rielle knew—a weapon planted on the Kirvayan throne by revolutionaries determined to overthrow the elemental ruling class. And now she was the prisoner of an angel.

Rielle looked away. The girl was an asset, nothing more. She deserved neither admiration nor pity.

“He’s busy, maybe even distracted, but he won’t be for long,” Obritsa said quietly. “If you want to see Ludivine and Audric again, you should act quickly, and you know it.”

Rielle rose unsteadily, hating the new plumpness of her body. Thoughts of the child growing inside her crested bitterly, but she fought against them. She couldn’t think about the life inside her just yet, nor the danger it might pose. She couldn’t think about how furious she was with Corien for keeping the truth of her child from her, even after he had promised her no more lies. He had apologized; she had accepted. That should have been enough.

Rielle paced. Corien was up on the deck, overseeing his new, gray-eyed crew. She knew that even as he worked his mind would be elsewhere, in a thousand different places across the world and in the Deep. It was possible that, right now, in this moment and perhaps for a few more, he would be distracted and not looking at the captain’s quarters, where Obritsa’s words lingered in Rielle’s ears, and a seed of doubt had begun sprouting slowly in her heart.

But the girl was right; at any moment, he would return to them. In an instant, he could reach for her, and hear everything they said.

“It’s taken us weeks to travel this far,” Rielle said quietly. “I wouldn’t be able to get to Celdaria and back before he realized we were gone.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Obritsa agreed.

“He’d find us before we could get very far.”

“Most likely.”

“And punish us. You most of all.” She blew out a sharp breath. “What a stupid idea. You’re stupid for suggesting it.” ielle knew—and so did he, she could sense it—that as much as they both wanted that to be enough, it wasn’t.

Not yet.

First, she would have to let this strange new life, the loneliness of it, the sorrow still aching inside her, finish breaking her heart.

And then she would have to rebuild it.

• • •

Five days later, they were on a stolen supply ship, sailing southeast across the Namurian Sea.

Corien had convinced its crew to massacre each other, sparing only enough of them to dispose of the others’ bodies and keep the ship afloat afterward. They drifted through their duties with gray, unseeing eyes—tending the sails, manning the rudder, swabbing the decks clean of their shipmates’ blood.

Rielle huddled in the captain’s quarters, a scratchy wool blanket wrapped tightly around her. They were in pursuit of the nearest casting—the arrow of Saint Ghovan. For months, Corien had been tracking the Venteran Obex, the ancient guardians sworn to protect the casting. They had abandoned their customary post and were instead now traveling at an obscene pace across the world, never stopping for long, using marques to jump from place to place.

Weeks earlier, their trail had ended abruptly on the southern continent of Patria, which had centuries before been the heart of the angelic empire. For weeks, the Obex had stayed in one place. Hiding. Waiting.

Had the Obex exhausted their power and energy? Were they stranded, their employed marques depleted, and ready to make a desperate final stand in the ruins of Patria?

“Or is it a trap of some kind?” Corien had mused two days earlier as he lay in the late captain’s bed with Rielle curled at his side. “Do they know I’m tracking them? Are they planning an ambush?”

He had laughed at the idea, and Rielle, weary, seasick, had smiled weakly against his sleeve. The smooth sound of his laughter was a gorgeous rarity. She clung to it.

“I do hope they’ll try an ambush,” he’d said, lazily stroking the curve of her back. “Wouldn’t that be amusing, my love?”

In his voice, she had heard what he expected of her: If the Obex were indeed lying in wait, planning an ambush, he wanted Rielle to kill them before they had the chance to attack. Dissolve them. Scorch them.

He wanted her to unmake them.

And I will watch you, Corien had whispered in her mind. My glorious queen, burning our enemies where they stand. Taking what is ours. Beginning our great conquest.

Now, on the floor, Rielle wrapped her long hair into a knot at the base of her neck and held it in her fist. She was too tired to think about unmaking anyone at the moment. Her pregnancy was a sickness; her joints ached, and her stomach churned.

And her mind would not quiet. Even through the door Corien had pulled shut and locked twice now, Ludivine persisted. She whispered and wheedled. She sent endearments and thin threads of memory.

Rielle ground the heels of her palms against her temples in tight circles. “Lu, go away.”

“If you want to see her,” said a small voice from across the room, “I can send you to her. Not all the way there in one go, of course, but eventually. It would be a start. Maybe he wouldn’t attack me, if you were with me.”

Rielle lifted her head, staring blearily.

Bound in the opposite corner, the girl-queen Obritsa met Rielle’s gaze. It was the first time she had spoken since Corien had taken Artem belowdecks just after they’d claimed the ship as their own. Where the Kirvayan guard was kept and what games Corien was playing with his mind, Rielle did not know.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Obritsa continued. “To see Lady Ludivine? To see them both? You didn’t have time to say a proper goodbye, after all.”

Rielle closed her eyes. “I didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“I saw you on the night of your wedding. You were devastated. There was agony on your face. You didn’t want to leave them, and yet you did. You felt you had no choice.”

“I was glad to leave them,” Rielle snapped, pressing her fingers against her forehead. Miniature storms of power crackled between her knuckles. “I should have done it sooner.”

“You forget that you visited my palace, Lady Rielle,” said Obritsa. “I saw all of you together. I saw you with Prince Audric. King Audric, now. The love between you was not a lie.”

Rielle’s heart pounded in her ears. “Our love was not a lie then,” she said stiffly. “Now, it would be.”

“If you say it, I suppose it’s true.”

“I could disintegrate you with a snap of my fingers, and you know it. Considering that, it seems odd that you would insist on provoking me.”

If Obritsa felt fear, Rielle could not see it. The shadows under Obritsa’s tired eyes made her face look sunken, yet her poise was impeccable. She was a spy, Rielle knew—a weapon planted on the Kirvayan throne by revolutionaries determined to overthrow the elemental ruling class. And now she was the prisoner of an angel.

Rielle looked away. The girl was an asset, nothing more. She deserved neither admiration nor pity.

“He’s busy, maybe even distracted, but he won’t be for long,” Obritsa said quietly. “If you want to see Ludivine and Audric again, you should act quickly, and you know it.”

Rielle rose unsteadily, hating the new plumpness of her body. Thoughts of the child growing inside her crested bitterly, but she fought against them. She couldn’t think about the life inside her just yet, nor the danger it might pose. She couldn’t think about how furious she was with Corien for keeping the truth of her child from her, even after he had promised her no more lies. He had apologized; she had accepted. That should have been enough.

Rielle paced. Corien was up on the deck, overseeing his new, gray-eyed crew. She knew that even as he worked his mind would be elsewhere, in a thousand different places across the world and in the Deep. It was possible that, right now, in this moment and perhaps for a few more, he would be distracted and not looking at the captain’s quarters, where Obritsa’s words lingered in Rielle’s ears, and a seed of doubt had begun sprouting slowly in her heart.

But the girl was right; at any moment, he would return to them. In an instant, he could reach for her, and hear everything they said.

“It’s taken us weeks to travel this far,” Rielle said quietly. “I wouldn’t be able to get to Celdaria and back before he realized we were gone.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Obritsa agreed.

“He’d find us before we could get very far.”

“Most likely.”

“And punish us. You most of all.” She blew out a sharp breath. “What a stupid idea. You’re stupid for suggesting it.”