Rielle went rigid, stunned, as if he had slapped her.
Tal’s expression shifted at once. He looked at her in horror, as if she had been the one to say that terrible thing. “I didn’t mean that, Rielle. You aren’t a burden to me.”
“If Rielle didn’t love you so much,” Audric said evenly, “I would break your arm for that. Leave us. Now.”
Tal looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead he inclined his head and left them, and once Evyline had gone, Rielle dressed in silence, wordlessly accepting Audric’s kiss between her shoulder blades.
But no amount of kisses could erase Tal’s words from her mind—particularly because she realized now that they had already existed there, half-made. Tal voicing them aloud had merely solidified them and brought into sharp clarity their twin truth.
If she was a burden to Tal, to any of them, then perhaps that was only fair. For the burden of their humanity, pale and fragile in comparison to her own, something she was expected to imitate and admire despite its smallness, was one she had carried her entire life.
• • •
They gathered in Tal’s office after the midday meal—Rielle, Audric, Ludivine, Tal, and Miren. Rielle kept her eyes on the floor as she began to speak, but then, as the story of everything that had happened in Kirvaya tumbled out, she gradually lifted her chin until she was looking right at Tal, as if she were driving her words into his skull, daring him to protest.
When she had finished, with Audric holding her hand and Ludivine’s presence in her mind a reassuring softness, like the weight of a sleepy kitten in her lap, the room was silent for a long moment.
Then Miren, leaning on Tal’s desk, blew out a breath. Her delicate features, heavily freckled, were tight with worry.
“Well,” she said, “the House of the Second Sun will be happy, once they hear of this.”
Tal glared at her. “This isn’t funny, Miren.”
“No, it’s not.” She crossed her arms across her chest. In the light from the windows, her red curls glinted cheerfully. “How much of this did you know?”
“None of it.” Tal dragged a hand across his face. “Not Corien, not the angels or the Gate, and certainly not that Rielle had been experimenting with her power in such a way.”
Miren raised her eyebrows. “And here I thought you and Rielle were so close.”
“This is not the time or place to have that conversation,” Tal muttered.
“And what conversation is that, exactly?” Audric asked.
“A private one,” Tal said with a dark look at Miren. “We cannot protect you, Rielle, if you keep secrets from us.”
Rielle stiffened. “I need no protection.”
“Clearly you do.” He rose from his chair, an angry energy crackling around his body like sparks. “This angel, Corien, he gave you Saint Marzana’s shield without asking anything of you. Does that not seem suspicious to you?”
Careful, Ludivine warned her.
Rielle, her calm unraveling, shoved Ludivine away. I don’t need you to tell me to be careful.
“In his eyes,” she said aloud, “the shield is a gift meant to win my favor.”
“So you’ll help him tear down the Gate and resurrect the angels,” Miren said flatly. “And here you are doing just that—attempting resurrection, killing innocent people in the name of a practice in which you have no reason to indulge.”
Rielle swallowed her immediate, angry replies. They had decided to withhold knowledge of Ludivine’s true self and her blightblade scar, which had seemed a good idea at the time and now felt like yet another hateful constraint.
“If I can resurrect the dead,” she said, “then when war comes, I can heal our wounded. I can bring the dying back from the brink. And besides that…”
She stopped, glaring fiercely at her hands.
“Besides that,” said Tal quietly, “you want to explore your limitations, the far reaches of your power.”
She looked up at him. The tired, knowing look in his hazel eyes made her straighten, steeling herself against that familiar appeal to her pity.
“If there are any limitations to my power,” she said.
Miren’s wry voice broke the silence. “It’s not exactly reassuring to hear you say things like that.”
“Reassuring you is not my responsibility.”
“When someone is as powerful as you are, then, yes, it is part of your responsibility to not terrify those around you.”
Rielle smirked at her. “You scare rather easily.”
“Enough,” came Audric’s weary voice, quieting them all.
Ludivine cleared her throat. “Perhaps it would be best if Rielle leaves Celdaria for a while, until the city calms a bit.”
Tal, leaning heavily on his knees, frowned at the floor. “That’s the exact opposite of what should happen. Rielle needs to show her face at the temples. Pray and worship. Use her power in controlled, easily digestible situations that demonstrate she is not to be feared.”
“But I am to be feared,” Rielle said. “Pretending otherwise helps no one.”
“Now you’re outright threatening our city.” Miren glared at Tal. “You find this acceptable?”
“I’m not threatening anyone. I’m simply stating the truth.” Rielle rose, releasing Audric’s hand. “I am more powerful than they are, more powerful than anyone. I can do things they can neither imagine nor comprehend.” She returned Miren’s stony stare. “Implying that we are the same insults their intelligence.”
Tal smiled a little. “And insults your vanity.”
“Well.” Rielle returned his smile. “I wasn’t going to say it.”
Miren watched them both, her face unreadable.
“It might be wise, in one sense,” said Audric, “for Rielle to stay here and earn back the city’s favor, but I fear there isn’t time for that. The Gate is falling. That is the priority.”
Rielle nodded. “We must continue collecting the castings.”
Audric drew in a long, slow breath. “You must.”
She looked back at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve spoken of traveling to Mazabat next, a journey that would take several weeks. I can’t leave again for so long a time, not with things as they are. Angry crowds at Baingarde’s gates, and Mother…” He paused, his face closing.
Rielle blinked. He had said nothing of the queen to her. “What’s wrong with Genoveve?”
“She’s not been the same since Father’s death, as you know. I think it would distress her to have me leave again so soon. And if the city can’t see your face and be comforted and reassured by your presence, then they should see mine.” He smiled sadly up at her. “Though the thought of being parted from you is not one I relish.”
Ludivine’s panic came swiftly. No. He can’t. He must come with us. The two of you must never be parted. You must always be together.
Rielle snapped at her. And why is that? Because you don’t trust me to control myself otherwise should Corien show himself again?
That’s exactly why. Don’t pretend stupidity. It doesn’t suit you.
Nor does your lack of faith in me suit you.
Nevertheless, Rielle felt a hot swell of shame in her chest, for there was a part of her that feared Audric’s absence, and its effect on her, more than Ludivine did. She cupped his face in her hands and bent low to kiss him.
“You are a gift to your people,” she told him softly, “and to me.”
He pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm. “My light and my life.”
“Well,” said Tal, rising, “if Audric isn’t going, then I am.”
Rielle turned at that, heartily enjoying the sight of Miren’s stricken expression.
Audric visibly relaxed. “An excellent idea.”
No, said Ludivine at once.
What remained of Rielle’s patience evaporated. Now what? Must everyone and everything pass your rigorous approval? Why shouldn’t Tal go? He’s a Grand Magister. He will bring with him the authority and power of the Church.
Ludivine hesitated. Her thoughts fumbled.
You’re hiding something from me, Rielle thought. About Tal?
I worry that so much time spent together will not be healthy for either of you, Ludivine said carefully.
What in the name of the saints is that supposed to mean?
But Ludivine, clutching her covered, scarred arm, did not answer, so Rielle shoved a feeling of disgust at her and stepped away, both in body and mind. She joined Tal at his desk and began inspecting his calendar, with him on one side and Audric standing on the other, and Miren sitting alone, quiet and rigid, by the window.
• • •
They decided to wait until Rielle’s Sun Guard had made the journey back from Kirvaya before leaving again for Mazabat—in part because Audric trusted them more than any of Rielle’s secondary guard, and because Rielle refused to make the journey without Evyline.
She spent much of the following three weeks gritting her teeth. Dutifully, she prayed morning and night in the temples, moving to a different one each day. Dutifully, she made appearances at court, demonstrating meaningless tricks of her power for gaping members of the nobility over tea and cakes. Dutifully, she assisted families in the farmlands with the flow of their irrigation, the tilling of their soil, the angle at which the sunlight lit their crops.
At night, she found a fevered sort of solace in Audric’s arms and then slept fitfully, waiting for a voice that never came.
• • •
The morning of their departure, on the second of April, arrived still and cold. A light snow fell against the gray dawn.
Rielle left Baingarde for the Pyre with Ludivine at her side, her Sun Guard behind her, and Atheria circling happily overhead. The chavaile had been restless for days, constantly gazing south toward Mazabat as if examining the wind and preparing herself to fly.
But Rielle could not appreciate Atheria’s joy. A faint dread threw stones in her belly. Her skin was still warm from Audric’s kisses. It was an effort not to turn and run back to him. She was weary from their sleepless night and sore from how ferociously they had moved together in a way that would have delighted her, had she not several long hours on a horse in her near future.
It had seemed a wise decision, not to travel on Atheria. She would accompany them, of course, and could be used for a quick escape if necessary. But Atheria could only comfortably carry three people, and neither Audric nor Ludivine much liked the idea of Rielle arriving in Mazabat without her guard.
As she walked, listening to the merry chirruping calls of Atheria overhead, Rielle touched her mouth. Her lips were chapped and raw from hours of kissing. She relished their sting, the worn-out ache of her body. She closed her eyes, remembering Audric’s touch, gentle and tireless.
Tears pricked her eyes. Yes, it was the responsible course of action for him to stay in me de la Terre—and certainly she wanted to go to Mazabat and find Saint Tokazi’s casting. But the reality of Audric’s absence tore at her. She had asked him to stay behind and not walk with them to the Pyre, fearing it would be too terrible to ride away from him, to watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance, but this was far worse. Each step away from Baingarde wrenched something loose inside her; each snowflake leached his warmth from her skin.
She groped for Ludivine’s healthy hand and felt calmer at the touch of her fingers.
Then they arrived at the Pyre, shaking loose their snowy cloaks inside the grand gilded doors, and her calm vanished.
Voices came from one of the tiny sitting rooms lining the foyer—Miren’s and Tal’s.
“We’ve had this discussion a dozen times,” said Tal, “and I don’t want to have it again.”
“Well, that’s a pity,” Miren returned sharply, “because we’re going to.”
“They’ll be here soon. I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“And I don’t want you to leave at all.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that there’s nothing between Rielle and me.”
Rielle froze.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Tal,” Miren spat out. “Stop reducing my very real fears to some sort of petty jealousy. I know very well that there’s nothing between you. What I don’t know is if you’ll be safe around her. Or if you can be around her for so many weeks without falling so deeply inside your own thoughts that we won’t be able to get you out again.”
“It’s not like that,” Tal said softly.
“It’s exactly like that. Don’t insult me. I know you.” A shift of sound; Miren perhaps moving closer to him. Then she said, softer, “I know you want to protect her. I know you yearn for God, and that it eats at you to have reached the limit of your abilities. But don’t let your search for understanding blind you to the fact that Rielle is dangerous and that danger stalks her like wolves of her own making.”
“Love, please don’t worry for me.” The soft fall of kisses. Tal’s hoarse, imploring voice. “Please trust me. Trust Rielle.”
Ludivine sensed Rielle’s intentions at once. Rielle, don’t—
But Rielle could no longer listen to them. She marched around the corner, smiling brightly. “Good morning. I do hope nothing’s the matter. I thought I heard raised voices.”
Tal recovered quickly, with a broad smile Rielle might have believed, if she hadn’t heard their conversation. “Good morning, Rielle. Ludivine. Are we ready to leave?”
From behind Rielle, Evyline said, “The horses are packed and ready, Lord Belounnon.”
“Excellent.” Then he paused. “I wonder if I might have another moment alone with Grand Magister Ballastier before we leave.”
“Of course,” Rielle said. “God knows you wouldn’t want my dangerous self around, putting your conversation at risk.”
She turned away breezily, leaving them agape.
Ludivine joined her by the horses. “That was uncalled for.”
“It was entirely called for,” Rielle said, adjusting her horse’s saddlebags, “and I hope she feels terrible. As if I would ever hurt Tal. Honestly, Lu, the way everyone’s acting around me lately, you’d think they’ve forgotten I’m the Sun Queen, Celdaria’s sworn protector and guardian. You’d think they’ve—”
She paused.
Lu finished for her, gently. You’d think they’ve decided that the council was wrong, that Bastien was wrong, that the trials meant nothing. That you are not the Queen the Church says you are.
Rielle’s hands trembled as she stroked her horse’s neck. And what about which Queen I say I am? Does that count for nothing?
Tal emerged from the Pyre, his face clouded. He avoided Rielle’s gaze and said quietly, “Miren wishes to speak with you.”
She glared at him, brushed past Ludivine, and met Miren just inside the Pyre doors.
Miren rose from her chair, looking paler and smaller than usual. Her freckles stood out starkly against her skin.
Rielle could not stand the sight of her. She peered past her into the Pyre’s soft shadows. “Where’s Sloane, do you know? Odd, that she wouldn’t be here to bid her brother farewell.”
“They said their goodbyes early this morning. Rielle.” Miren drew a deep breath. “I know you heard what I said.”
Rielle watched her, unflinching. “Yes. I did.”
“I won’t apologize for it.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“No, but I understand it might have hurt you to hear me.”
Rielle laughed. “I assure you, Miren, it takes much more than the silly, simple fears of a nervous lover to hurt me.”
Miren’s mouth thinned. “I don’t want to fight with you. I only want to say t
his: I believe everything I said. I believe you are dangerous, in ways we can’t yet fathom. Possibly in ways even you can’t. I don’t envy the life you’ve been given, but I won’t excuse you for any terrible things you may do or have already done. And if you hurt Tal, well…” Miren sighed, looking past Rielle at the gathered horses. Her face changed when she saw Tal, and Rielle’s chest ached to see it, for it reminded her of Audric, how his eyes softened when he found her across a room.
“If you hurt him,” Miren said, “there’s nothing I can do to punish you. You’re too powerful for that. But he has devoted many years to your safety, and for your sake, he has borne that alone. He has been afraid for you, and he has loved you. I hope you’ll remember that in the days to come—that many here love you, and would give up their silly, simple lives for you. You do not exist alone in this world. You are part of something immense and fragile and finite. I hope you can respect that, even as mighty as you are.”
Then Miren gave her a tight smile and left her standing alone in the doorway—one foot in a house of fire, the other in a world of ice.
• • •
For one week they traveled south to Luxitaine, and then took a ship—small and narrow, but replete with luxuries—across the Sea of Silarra, which stretched calm and bright between the shores of Celdaria and Mazabat. After a week on the water, Rielle saw the white shores of Mazabat on the horizon, and after a few more hours, the capital city, Quelbani, rose from the waves like a cluster of sculpted pearls.
Their ship anchored several hundred yards from the Quelbani docks, and small dinghies took them to shore. Mazabat had long been an ally of Celdaria. The economy of the two countries largely depended on each other—crops sent south from Celdaria, minerals and metals sent north from Mazabat. Audric had exchanged friendly letters weeks ago with the Mazabatian queens, who had seemed delighted at the thought of a visit from the Sun Queen.
And yet, Rielle felt uneasy as they approached the shore. Though Corien hadn’t spoken to her since that horrible night in Kirvaya, she nevertheless felt watched by some vast and pitiless eye. She sent the feeling to Ludivine, keeping her gaze fixed on the shore.
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