Eliana’s mind, shattered and grieving as it was, nevertheless had begun to identify the admiral’s voice. His stature, the shape of his hands. An ill feeling rose inside her, and kept rising, until her mouth had filled with the urge to be sick.
Then he took off his mask, confirming it.
The face of Ioseph Ferracora stared back at her—a jutting chin, like Remy. Dark hair, pale skin, eyes like two thick drops of black paint.
“No!” Remy cried, his voice splitting open. His sobs were terrible, ragged and squalling, and he tried to turn his face away from the sight of their father, staring at them with angel-dark eyes, but Simon wouldn’t let him. Simon, a cruel smile playing at the corner of his mouth, held Remy right where he was.
• • •
The next few minutes passed in a numb black blur.
Eliana was taken below, led downstairs by half a dozen blank-eyed adatrox. Her wrists were bound with chains, as were her ankles—their chains, and not her own. Her chest ached from the loss of her castings; her grief for them snatched away her balance. She fell down the last two steps, and the adatrox let her. They yanked her back to her feet, dispassionate, brutally efficient.
A door opened before her, wide and yawning. The mouth of a beast, welcoming her inside.
Somewhere above, Remy was screaming protests. She clung desperately to the sound, though each one cut away a piece of her heart.
When he fell abruptly silent, she fell along with him. Her mind dropped into a bottomless pit.
They shoved her inside her room—wooden walls, wooden floor. No windows, a single door. An estimate: ten feet by six feet.
She landed hard on her knees. She sat there, breathing, facing away from the door. A column of dim lantern light passed over her, illuminating a block of the wall.
And then, a silhouette.
She turned to face him. In such poor light, she could not see the lines of his face—only shadows, the barest hint of his scars, the flickering blue of his eyes.
Your eyes are like fire, she had whispered to him—once, when they’d only just returned from the Old World, both of them weak and trembling, her abdomen scorched by Rielle’s power.
And then again, straddling him on the chair in her bedroom, the last time they had loved each other. His hands on her hips, helping her move, his eyes blazing.
Your eyes are like fire, she had told him seconds before he’d kissed her.
“Why?” she whispered. The word sounded pitiful, the confused plea of a child. But it was the question in her mind above all others.
He didn’t answer. He said not a word. He closed the door and locked it. She followed his footsteps, moving briskly down the narrow corridor, until they disappeared.
Then she curled into a tight ball, pressed her cheek against the floor, and breathed into the darkness.
56
Audric
“They called him The Golden King. They called him Audric the Lightbringer. They say that he rode into battle against the angels on a chavaile—a godsbeast, a winged horse both terrible and beautiful. They say he was a brave man, a fearsome man. They say he was a man full of despair. They say his heart was full of love for his country, and love for the Blood Queen Rielle, and that when war came, he had no love left for himself.”
—Journal of Remy Ferracora, January 23, Year 1016 of the Third Age
Audric pushed himself to his feet, his head reeling. He leaned against a nearby tree to catch his breath—just as Evyline let out a sharp cry of warning from behind him.
He turned, ducking just in time to avoid the blow of a sword—the captain of his kingsguard, bearing down on him, his face dark with fury. The man was a metalmaster; his sword moved fast, reading his instincts, flying as if it had a mind of its own.
But Audric was faster.
He dodged another blow, yanked Illumenor free of its sheath, and swung hard. The blade crackled, spitting sunlight. Their swords crashed together, his and his captain’s, and then Audric spun away from him, and everything that had happened—the strain of the past months, the horrible vision Corien had sent them, his argument with Rielle—gathered like a battering ram in his heart and pushed out, shattering him.
He thrust all the power he possessed into Illumenor, until the blade shone so bright it hurt his own eyes. The captain reeled back with a cry. Audric advanced on him, squinting through the brilliance of his casting, and sliced the man through from shoulder to hip, cutting him cleanly in two.
He fell to the ground in pieces, his wounds bloodless and smoking.
Audric turned to meet the others, but the rest of his kingsguard had fled, back toward Baingarde. Only the Sun Guard remained—Evyline, Dashiell, Riva. Ivaine, Jeannette, Maylis, Fara.
Evyline, her eyes wet, knelt before him. The others followed suit.
“My king,” she said, “I don’t know what to say to you right now, except that I am the captain of the Sun Guard, and you are the Lightbringer.” She paused, her jaw working. “If my queen is gone, then I will follow you, and serve you, with all my heart, until you order me otherwise.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your queen isn’t gone, Evyline. I understand what’s happened is upsetting, but I promise you…”
Then the city bells began to chime, distracting him. He peered back at the castle. Had his mother ordered the bells to be rung? And if so, why?
A soft, keening wail sounded from among the trees. Searching, Audric found Ludivine, and the sight of her nailed him to the ground.
She was sitting at the base of a tree, knees drawn to her chest, hands over her ears. As she rocked herself quietly, her body shook with sobs.
“Dashiell,” Audric said, forcing the fear out of his voice, “take Riva and find my mother. She’s the only one besides me or Rielle who should have the authority to ring the city bells.”
“Don’t!” Ludivine looked up, wild-eyed. “Stay away from Baingarde. It isn’t safe.”
Dashiell and Riva paused, glancing uneasily at each other.
“My king?” asked Evyline.
“Stay here for now.” Audric crouched before Ludivine. Panic rose in his blood, chilling him. “Tell me what’s happened. Where is she?”
Ludivine shook her head. “She’s gone,” she said, her voice heavy with misery. “She’s left us.”
He did not understand her. Her words slipped in and out of him. “What do you mean, she’s left us?”
“She’s gone to him. He’s here, he’s close. He won’t let me touch Rielle. She won’t let me touch her. She hurt me. I’m losing myself. I can hardly keep my thoughts in place.”
Audric stood, backing away from her. A dull, ringing whine bloomed in his ears. “Fight them. Get her back.”
“Audric, I can’t.”
“Then we’ll go to her. We’ll find her and bring her back to us.” He whirled, sheathing Illumenor. “Jeannette, run ahead and have my horse brought to the front yard. Evyline, go with her, order the first line of the city guard to meet us by the castle gates.”
“You don’t understand,” Ludivine moaned.
He glared back at her. “What don’t I understand? Speak plainly.”
“Audric.” She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes spilling over with fresh tears. “She’s left us.”
And then she opened up a feeling to him—an immense, stormy feeling that slammed into him like the first blast of winter.
Rielle’s rage, her heartbreak. Her relief, and her resolve. They battered him, even diluted through Ludivine’s thoughts as they were. He saw their argument unfurl through Rielle’s eyes. His own furious voice, grief and anger shifting his face into a new mask. He felt Rielle’s desperation, her hopelessness—and he felt it the moment she decided that he was right.
With each word he uttered, he had helped illuminate her choice.
You’re the mons
ter Aryava foretold.
A traitor and a liar.
Then Ludivine released him, and he fell to the ground, hard, on his hands and knees, and gasped out a sob.
Ludivine crawled to him, took his face in her hands. “Listen to me.”
“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No, no, no…”
“Audric, we cannot linger.”
“We’ll ride out after her. The bells are ringing. They’ll have shut the city gates.” He tried to push himself up, away from her, and couldn’t find the strength. His chest was cleaving itself in two.
“It won’t work.”
“I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back to us.”
“She won’t listen. She’s made her choice.”
“You can’t know that, Lu,” he said stupidly, knowing even as he said it that it wasn’t true. He fumbled for her hands. She folded his into her own, pressed them all to her heart. “I love her. It was a mistake. I hadn’t had time to think. I was out of my mind, I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“I know.” Her face was worn thin, as if the night had diminished her. “I know, darling.”
“We have to do something. We’ll send her a message. I’ll ride out. I’ll follow them wherever they go.”
“And the moment he can do so without angering her, he’ll kill you.”
At last, Audric found the strength to stand. He only half noticed Evyline and the rest of the Sun Guard, looking to him for instructions, but they looked as lost as he felt. He didn’t know what to say, how to proceed. He could barely hold himself upright.
“The saints’ castings?” he murmured, barely managing it.
“Gone,” Ludivine said flatly. “While we were…occupied, Corien’s operatives stole them. They’re with him now—with Corien, and with Rielle.”
Audric nodded, his head heavy and slowly spinning. “I see.”
Ludivine touched his arm. “You must prepare yourself to leave. I know it won’t be easy. It will feel like defeat.”
A trio of figures was hurrying toward them through the shadows. Audric watched them, his hand hovering over Illumenor’s hilt. A feeling of dread was beginning to creep over him. The bells, chiming madly, a silver-toned clamor. Ludivine’s insistence that they must leave.
And a whole castle, a whole city, full of people who had seen the terrible truth that he had seen.
Don’t worry. Ludivine’s presence in his mind rattled, unsteady, and then vanished.
“It’s Tal,” she whispered. “Sloane, and Miren. I can’t speak to you again like that, Audric. It will take me some time to recover.”
He relaxed as Tal’s face came into view—until he saw the expression he wore, and that all of their ceremonial robes were spattered with blood.
Tal was breathless. “They’re taking the castle. Hundreds of our own city guard have joined them, and many who stood against them have already fallen. The Archon has been taken into custody. The rest of the council are under close supervision. We barely managed to get out to warn you.” Then he paused, looked around through the trees. “Where is Rielle?”
“It happened so quickly,” Sloane muttered, her choppy dark hair cutting harsh lines across her pale skin. Her blue eyes, twins of Tal’s, were hard with rage. “It was well-planned. They must have been preparing this for months.”
Realization settled upon Audric like silt. “Merovec.”
Miren nodded. “All his bannermen from the north. There must be thousands of them, all told. Scattered throughout the city, forming a perimeter along the bridges.”
Evyline approached, her face grim. “If this is true, my king, then Lady Ludivine is right. We must leave, now.”
“My mother,” he said, struggling to gather his thoughts. “Is she all right?”
“Merovec won’t harm her,” Ludivine murmured. “She’ll be safer in Baingarde than anywhere else, once word gets out of what’s happened.”
Sloane cut furious eyes to her. “Did you know about this, angel?”
“No, she didn’t,” Audric answered for her, “and I won’t hear another word on that subject.”
Then he turned away from them. Looking out over the seeing pools, his mind conjured up child ghosts—Rielle, dashing fast across the slick stones; Ludivine, meticulously picking her way across after her; and the echo of his own self, bringing up the rear. Urging Rielle to be careful. Pleading with her to slow down.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of her earlier that evening, standing in despair before him, begging him to look at her.
“Audric, you must leave.” Miren’s voice was urgent. “He’s searching for you, and when he finds you, especially after what happened tonight, what they saw, he will kill you.”
“In his eyes, the crown has been corrupted,” Ludivine added. “He will not spare you.”
“You know of the tunnels under the mountain,” said Sloane. “They’ll turn you out on the far side of Mount Cibelline.”
“My father made sure I could navigate them with my eyes closed,” Audric said, and then he drew a deep breath and turned to face them.
He was a son of kings and queens. His family descended from Saint Katell. He was the Lightbringer, the heir of House Courverie. And his kingdom was falling into a state of chaos.
He could not let his grief defeat him. Not yet.
“Miren, I’ll need eyes here in the city,” he said. “Ostensibly loyal to Merovec, but truly loyal to me. Will you do this?”
Miren glanced at Tal, only a small flicker of unhappiness crossing her face. “Of course, my king.”
“And Sloane, if you would join me and Ludivine and the Sun Guard.”
Sloane nodded, her jaw set. “Where will we go?”
“To Mazabat. The queens will offer us asylum.”
Miren raised her eyebrows. “Even after the incident with the Obex?”
“If Rielle were with us, they might object,” Audric said tightly. “But considering the circumstances, I’m confident they’ll welcome us.”
Tal took two steps toward him, his eyes cold as stone. “Where is she, Audric?”
“She’s gone. She’s left to join Corien. And I need you to go after her and bring her home. Ludivine will tell you what you need to know.” Audric moved away before he could see Tal’s reaction. He felt as though he were moving through a terrible fog, each cloudy tendril tugging him closer to the ground. “Meanwhile, Evyline, we’ll need horses. The tunnels are large enough for them.”
But before he could give further instructions, a soft, sharp cry sounded from the canopy above, and then Atheria appeared, gliding down through the trees. She landed before them in silence and went to Audric with a low, rumbling whicker. He watched her approach with tears in his eyes, and when she bowed her head to press her long velvet face against his, he held on to her, allowing himself a moment to breathe in her scent—cold, clean alpine winds; musk like any horse would have; a bright sharp brilliance, as if her coat held the far burn of stars.
“Take her and go, my king,” Evyline suggested quietly. “You and Lady Ludivine, and”—she dipped her head toward Sloane—“the Grand Magister. We’ll go through the tunnels. I know of them. Your father the king told me of them when I was appointed to…” She hesitated. “When I was appointed to my current position. We’ll join you in Mazabat as quickly as we can.”
“No,” said Sloane. “I’ll stay with your guard, Evyline.” She brandished her casting, a slender black scepter capped with a blue glass orb. As it cut through the air, it drew wolf-shaped shadows that then loped off into the gardens, noses to the ground.
Sloane shot Evyline a hard grin. “Just in case you need it.”
Evyline returned her smile with a nod. “We would be honored, my lady.”
Atheria knelt, wings spread wide, and Audric hesitated only once before climbing onto her back. Ludi
vine silently climbed into place in front of him, curling her fingers in the godsbeast’s mane. Atheria rose, and from his perch atop her, Audric looked down at all of them. Evyline and the Sun Guard, Sloane adjusting her blue-and-black robes at their side. Miren and Tal, pulling away from a passionate embrace. Miren looked up at him, bright-eyed. Tal kissed her forehead, and then she was gone, hurrying back toward Baingarde. Tal watched her go, his face cloaked in shadow.
Audric watched as well, following Miren through the gardens until she disappeared. He listened to the clamor of the city bells, the distant cries of fear and violence, the clash of swords ringing out from Baingarde’s open windows.
He let his gaze pass once over Baingarde’s towers, the sprawling gardens, the distant gray ghosts of the catacomb doors.
Then, incapable of any grand speeches, he said to them simply, “May the Queen’s light guide us home.”
Atheria launched herself into the air, and soon she had risen above the trees, dwarfed by the black might of Mount Cibelline and flying swiftly south.
Away from Baingarde. Away from me de la Terre.
Away from Rielle, and the home in which Audric had loved her.
Elements in the Empirium Trilogy
In Celdaria, Rielle’s kingdom, the Church is the official religious body. Citizens worship in seven elemental temples that stand in each Celdarian city. Temples range from simple altars in a single, small room to the elaborate, lavish temples of the capital city, me de la Terre. Similar religious institutions exist in nations around the world of Avitas. In Eliana’s time, most elemental temples have been destroyed by the Undying Empire, and few people still believe in the Old World stories about magic, the saints, and the Gate.
Acknowledgments
What a strange and beautiful and terrifying thing, to finally write the sequel to a book I’d been working on for fourteen years—especially because I had to write it during a difficult time in my life. I couldn’t have done so without an army of extraordinary people by my side.
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