Kingsbane

by Claire Legrand

  Ludivine shook her head. “Belief is one thing, Audric. Given the history of our two countries, some might consider what you’re doing treason.”

  “And I consider it diplomacy,” he said sharply. “Not to mention that helping a country full of innocent people, regardless of whether or not we are on friendly terms with their leaders, is the right thing to do.”

  Rielle smiled at him, shaking her head a little, and then brought his face down to hers. Against his mouth, she murmured, “When you say things like that, your brow turns serious and grave, and I find myself unable to resist kissing you.”

  He caught her wrists, brushed his lips against each of her pulse points. “A distraction I welcome.”

  “Audric,” Ludivine said slowly, “I understand why you want to do this, but I think it unwise. Perhaps Ilmaire is a friend, but we cannot guarantee that of the people around him. His father, his advisers. His sister, who commands the royal army.”

  And suddenly Rielle couldn’t bear to hear Ludivine speak another word in that cautious voice of hers—as though they were children she was trying to work out how to let down easily.

  “We’ll go at once,” she said to Audric. “We’ll help them, and if that’s treason, then I’ll proudly face your mother and the council to receive my punishment.”

  His solemn expression melted into one of such adoration that Rielle flushed. “And then you’ll threaten anyone who dares attempt to enforce said punishment?”

  She took his hand with a slight pout. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “On the contrary,” he replied, lacing his fingers with hers, “I find it exhilarating.”

  Reminding herself that soon they would be home, and her bleeding would be finished, and she could have Audric to herself for an entire uninterrupted night, Rielle turned a triumphant smile toward Ludivine. “Well? Will you come too, or will you stay here and sulk in the woods?”

  Ludivine frowned at them. “Tal will be furious when we return.”

  “I can handle Tal.”

  “Not to mention the Archon.”

  “I can handle him too.” Rielle stepped onto Audric’s laced fingers and climbed atop Atheria’s back. “I can handle anyone.”

  Ludivine said not another word until they had all mounted the enormous godsbeast once more.

  Then she said quietly, “At the first sign of trouble, I’ll take control of you both and get us home.”

  Rielle looked back at her and snapped, “If you do that, you’ll be just as bad as Corien.”

  Ludivine’s mind jerked as if struck, but Rielle didn’t wait for her response. She leaned forward, winding her fingers through Atheria’s mane.

  “Fly, Atheria,” she commanded, and the chavaile ran through the trees to the hill’s edge, opened her wings, and launched herself into the air. Audric’s arms tightened around Rielle’s middle; he kissed the back of her neck.

  I’m sorry, Rielle, came Ludivine’s whisper. Her remorse lapped against Rielle like an apologetic sea. You’re right. Of course I won’t do that. I’m not like him. I just…

  You worry.

  Ludivine nodded miserably. Rielle could see her clearly in her mind’s eye—pale face, mouth in a tight line. I do.

  And I love you for it.

  Then Rielle imagined that they were all home, in Audric’s rooms at Baingarde, nestled together before the fire as they had done for years before their world became the strange, frightening thing it now was.

  She sent the image to Ludivine, and felt her sigh in reply, and whisper, her voice trembling with relief, Thank you.

  • • •

  Ilmaire had requested they meet in a coastal village near the Borsvall capital of Styrdalleen. Atheria landed on a flat-topped hill encircled by stunted trees, and then Rielle, after kissing her nose, sent her away into the nearby twisted woodlands. They had decided that the sight of a godsbeast might ruin any diplomatic efforts before they began.

  The village was situated a washed-out stretch of land, where mudslides had clearly ruined what had once been roads and pastures. Only a few toppled buildings remained, the beach’s dunes had been flattened, and the air was wet and howling.

  The whole beach was sopping with mud and ruin: shattered dishes, toppled chests or clothing gone black with rot, paintings bleached pale by the sea, ravaged corpses of livestock and birds. Abandoned stone houses high above the beach in the hills stood in utter disrepair.

  But Rielle’s attention was soon drawn out to the sea. The capital, safely tucked away in the nearby mountains, stood tall and white against a sky quilted with knots of storm-yellowed clouds. And the sea stretching out before the mountains like a black carpet was angry and roaring. Waves crashed furiously against the rocky shore. White sprays of foam towered high as houses throughout the broad harbor, connected to the city proper by neighborhoods at lower elevations that had been completely demolished. Along the horizon, a wall of black clouds loomed, threatening more wind.

  Audric muttered a low curse as he came to stand beside her. Ludivine joined them, her face tight with worry.

  “I hope the villagers managed to get to higher ground in time,” Rielle said, her voice nearly swallowed by the wind. The air was choked with salt and silt; tiny granules of sand spat sharply against her skin.

  “Some did,” replied an unfamiliar voice. “But not nearly enough.”

  Rielle spun around to face it and saw a slender man with elegant bearing approach from the doorway of what Rielle assumed, given its stone columns and the engravings of wolves upon its obsidian doors, was the village’s House of Night. The man was pale-skinned and clean-shaven, half his long blond hair pulled back and tied with a leather cord. He wore a cloak of shaggy white fur across his shoulders and thick silver bands at his wrists. Rielle sensed the weight of them, the taste of the magic left behind in their metal—alpine and sharp, fleeting and changeful. This man was a windsinger.

  “Ilmaire,” Audric said, beaming. He strode toward him and knelt. Rielle and Ludivine echoed him, and then Audric rose to his feet and embraced the Borsvall prince fiercely. Ilmaire returned his embrace, but his arms were stiff, his movements stilted. Over Audric’s shoulder, his eyes locked with Rielle’s. They were blue and grave, and they held her gaze for only a moment before glancing at something over her shoulder.

  She turned but saw nothing. Only the eerie village, the wind-battered, salt-crusted hills. The gleaming white capital beyond. The black water and the black sky.

  A delicate, scratchy feeling began climbing up the walls of her body, like the drag of a fingernail against rough stone.

  Lu? She sent an echo of the feeling Ludivine’s way.

  I know, Ludivine replied. Something’s not right. Be on your guard.

  “Since they began,” Ilmaire was saying, pulling away from Audric, “the storms have hardly let up for an hour. They’re unnatural. Relentless.” His voice was hollow, and when Rielle looked more closely at him, she saw the weariness of his expression, the haunted look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you to such a dangerous place, Audric, if we hadn’t lost all hope.”

  “Luckily for you, the three of us are accustomed to danger.” Audric gestured for Ludivine and Rielle to join him. “This is Lady Ludivine Sauvillier, my mother’s niece. And this…” He caught Rielle’s hand, his face softening. “This is Lady Rielle Dardenne, recently anointed Sun Queen and my dear friend.”

  “And your lover,” snapped a new voice—female, thin, and sharp as the relentless wind. “Or did you think we simple barbarians in Borsvall too far removed from the world’s gossip to know about that?”

  A young woman emerged from the ruined temple’s shadows to stand beside Ilmaire. Lithe and glowering and nearly as tall as Ilmaire, her every movement snapped with energy. She had the same pale skin, the same elegant jaw and nose, the same fair hair kept in tight braids. Her lo
ng fur coat swept the ground, and the leather jerkin beneath it resembled a suit of armor.

  This was Lady Ingrid Lysleva, Rielle assumed—Prince Ilmaire’s twin sister. At twenty-one years old, Audric had told them, she was the youngest commander to ever lead the Borsvall army.

  Ludivine bowed her head in greeting, her face troubled. Something is preventing me from reading them.

  Rielle bristled at the smug hint of a smile Ingrid wore. “You have an interesting way of introducing yourself, whoever you are.”

  Audric gently touched Rielle’s arm. “Lady Ingrid? I didn’t know you would be joining us today.”

  Ingrid’s smile hardened. “There are many things you don’t know, Your Highness.”

  Then Ingrid bellowed furiously in the Borsvallic tongue.

  Ludivine screamed “No!” and threw herself in front of Rielle.

  A dozen soldiers in leather and furs jumped out of the bushes and down from the sea-worn statues adorning the half-collapsed temple roof, swarming to surround them. Swords and axes flashed.

  “Ingrid, stop!” Ilmaire cried out, followed by several harsh Borsvallic commands.

  But the soldiers weren’t listening to him, and a horrible realization sank into Rielle’s chest: these soldiers were loyal not to their prince, but to their commander.

  Audric drew Illumenor, the blade so brilliant Rielle had to shield her eyes. A fierce wind gusted, sharp with windsinger magic, and knocked Rielle to the ground before she could turn on their attackers. Her head slammed hard against stone. Audric cried out in pain; Illumenor’s light flickered out.

  Rielle looked up, her vision wobbly. Another soldier grabbed Ludivine and wrenched her arms behind her back. When Rielle struggled to her feet, palms sparking angrily to life, mountain wind gathering fast around her fingers, Ingrid roared, “Stop right now, or I slit his throat!”

  Rielle turned slowly, dread falling fast in her stomach.

  Audric was on his knees, Ingrid standing beside him with his own sword at his throat and her hand tangled cruelly in his hair. Rielle met Audric’s eyes; he shook his head as much as he could.

  Soldiers pounced on Rielle, seized her arms, and pinned them at her sides.

  Ingrid’s smile was lupine. “Don’t think of throwing that power of yours at us, Sun Queen, or I’ll carve your lover to pieces before your eyes.”

  “Ingrid, stop this,” Ilmaire said, his voice the only spot of calm in the tense ocean air. “This isn’t you. This isn’t us.”

  “This is who they’ve made us become,” Ingrid argued, jerking her head in Rielle’s direction. “Killing our sister. Ordaining some girl no one’s ever heard of Sun Queen without consulting the holy leaders of any other country.”

  Fury boiled red in Rielle’s heart. “How dare you. Soldiers from your kingdom attacked Audric months ago, and now you attack him again when he comes to you on an errand of friendship?” She stepped forward, dizzy with anger. “You are not worthy of touching him. Release him at once.”

  “Keep ordering me around, and I’ll start a proper war right here, right now.”

  “You’re already dangerously close to that, Lady Ingrid,” Audric said, his voice tight. He tried to look left, but Ingrid pressed the blade closer. “Lu?”

  “I’m here,” came Ludivine’s tearful voice from a few paces away. A soldier was binding her hands behind her back. Then he shoved a cloth sack over her head, and she let out a terrified cry.

  “Lu?” Audric shouted, struggling in Ingrid’s grip.

  Ludivine choked out, “I’m all right. Please, Audric, don’t anger them further. It’s all right.”

  Stay calm, Ludivine instructed, her angelic voice much steadier. Ilmaire is still our friend and ally.

  Which is worth nothing to us, as his own soldiers are ignoring him, Rielle seethed. Take control of their minds. Make them release us.

  I will not.

  Ludivine…

  No, Rielle. It isn’t as dire as that yet. We can still win their friendship.

  Rielle’s nails dug into her palms. As soon as Audric is safe, I will burn Ilmaire and his sister, and their soldiers, and their entire rotten kingdom, to the ground.

  You will not, Ludivine said sternly. This is exactly what Corien wants—for war to divide your countries so it will be easier for him to ruin you.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Ilmaire?” Audric snapped. “We came here to help you!”

  Ingrid spat on his face. “Fuck your help. We need none of it.”

  “A war will tear our nations apart. We must forget the old, bad blood between our countries and unite against whatever is killing our soldiers. And the storms that have ravaged your coasts cannot be a coincidence.” His gaze flew to Rielle. “The prophecy—”

  Ingrid kicked his spine, then pressed her mouth against his temple and smiled cruelly up at Rielle. “You should have thought about your precious prophecy,” she snarled, “before you murdered my sister.”

  Audric’s expression was so ferocious that Rielle hardly recognized him. “Commander Lysleva, Celdaria is not responsible for Princess Runa’s death.”

  But before Ingrid could reply, one of the Borsvall soldiers let out a sharp cry, soon picked up by the others. Ludivine’s captor released her roughly. She stumbled forward, catching herself hard on the rocks at her feet. Rielle hurried to her, helped her up, and then looked at the horizon, where the soldiers were pointing, their frantic voices overlapping and their faces drawn with sudden fear.

  Abruptly, the anger clouding Rielle’s vision fell away.

  That line of black clouds at the horizon hadn’t been clouds at all.

  It was a tidal wave, rushing fast for the shore—so monstrously tall that it blacked out the sky. Even from this distance, Rielle could see that it would easily crest the mountains and destroy the capital in one fell blow.

  Rielle’s mind cleared, a slow tingle warming her body as she faced the sight of a disaster too mighty for anyone but her to prevent.

  That is, if she cared to. And she wasn’t sure that she did.

  Do it, now, Ludivine urged her, her presence sharp and eager in Rielle’s mind. This is the perfect opportunity to win their allegiance.

  Then, distantly, curling and coy, another voice echoed Ludivine’s: Do it, now. This is the perfect opportunity to show them the power of the woman they’ve crossed.

  Ludivine’s presence turned cold. Her deft fingers started pulling closed the doors of Rielle’s mind.

  But Rielle stiffened and held fast to the sly voice that so sweetly caressed her. Where are you?

  Corien did not reply.

  Ingrid roared at her soldiers in the Borsvallic tongue, silencing their panicked cries. Ilmaire hurried to her, his words swallowed by the wind. Ingrid glanced at Rielle, then down at Audric, whom she still held pinned by his own blade, then back at Rielle.

  Scowling, she released Audric. Once he had risen to his feet, she thrust Illumenor toward him, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Audric took it from her, his expression cold and hard, and came at once to Rielle.

  She turned away from him. “Don’t ask me to. I won’t do it.”

  “This is why we came here,” he insisted, coming around to face her. “We came to help them.”

  “That was before they attacked us and held a sword to your throat. Don’t ask me to help the people who would have killed you.”

  If you don’t, any chance of friendship with Borsvall will be lost forever, Ludivine said quickly.

  Ilmaire approached cautiously. “Audric, I don’t know how I can ever apologize to you for what’s happened here today.”

  “You can’t,” Rielle spat, whirling on him. “If it weren’t for Audric and Ludivine advising me against it, I would have already burned you and your sister to ashes.”

  “Please, Lady Rielle,” he sho
uted, the storm’s eerie light casting wan shadows across his skin. “The situation in my court is…complicated. But the plight of my people in this moment is simple.” He faced her, his words thick with despair. His eyes traveled to the white city sitting high in the nearby mountains. The narrow ivory towers of the castle Tarkstorm, the city streets winding like bands of pearls through the mountains. “If you don’t save them, they will die.”

  She turned away from him. If she looked for one more moment at his face, she would punch it. The sky opened and rain began to fall in gray sheets.

  “If we leave them now, when we could have saved them,” Audric said urgently, “it will surely start a war.”

  “They invited war when they attacked us,” she replied. “They invited war when they threatened your life.”

  “And if you save their capital, they will have no choice but to accept our terms of peace.” He cupped her face with his free hand. The rain plastered his dark curls to his forehead. “And accept you as the queen you are.”

  As she looked up at him, angry tears filled her eyes. She knew he was right, she knew it—and yet she imagined these people’s bodies swept up by the water, bashed against the mountains until their skulls shattered. She imagined their grief when the wave crushed their city flat and drowned their families, and felt nothing but gladness at the thought.

  But Audric was right, and if she turned away from this opportunity now, he would never forgive her for it.

  She whistled for Atheria, and a few moments later, with a hawklike cry, the chavaile landed beside them and knelt at Rielle’s feet.

  Rielle stepped on Audric’s clasped hands and clambered onto Atheria’s back, and when she threw one last glance back at Ilmaire and Ingrid, she was gratified to see them cowed by the sight of her astride her godsbeast. How small they looked, and pathetic, their furs drenched.

  She bit down on the terrible things she longed to say to them, turned to face the oncoming wave, and shouted for Atheria to fly.

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