Furyborn

by Claire Legrand

  Rielle blinked, startled. Did you tell him what to say?

  I nudged him that way, Corien replied. Your teacher has a remarkably open mind, easier to slip into than most.

  Please, don’t. Rielle swallowed hard against a sudden tilt of fear. Not him. Not any of them.

  Corien fell silent. Then, his voice coy and curling: Shall I tell you what secrets I sensed in that pretty blond head of his?

  “Is this what you want, Rielle?”

  The entire room was staring at her. It took her a moment to realize that Audric had spoken. She gathered her scattered mind.

  “It is,” she replied. “Not only to show the world that I have mastered every element but also because…my mother died in a fire. Of my own creation.”

  To her left, her father tensed. She reached for his hand, her heart in her throat.

  After a moment, he curled his fingers around her own.

  The part of Rielle that had come alive when her father embraced her now grew wings and took to the skies.

  “I would like,” she said, “to prove to myself, and to my father, that I am no longer that girl of ashes and ruin. I am stronger than she was. I am stronger than any flame that burns.”

  • • •

  That evening, Rielle skipped dinner and instead paced through her rooms.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat, my lady?” asked Evyline from her post by the door.

  “I’m quite sure, Evyline, thank you.”

  Evyline glanced out at the terrace. “Do you think your beastly friend will be with us for long, my lady?”

  Rielle grinned to see the chavaile there, sleeping curled up on the dusk-lit stone terrace as happily as a cat.

  A very large, very horse-like cat.

  “I don’t know the ways of godsbeasts,” she told Evyline. “But I certainly hope she stays.”

  Evyline tugged at her collar uneasily. “Do you think, if I asked, she would let me pet her?”

  “Why, Evyline, I’ve never seen you so bashful.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them.

  “Lady Ludivine here to see Lady Rielle,” called out Dashiell from the corridor.

  All joy vanished from Rielle’s heart. “Please let her in, Evyline.”

  Evyline looked dubious but obeyed, her hand on her sword.

  Ludivine entered, looking utterly wrung out—her hair a mess, her face red and swollen.

  “Hello.” She could not meet Rielle’s eyes. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

  “Well, I’m alive,” Rielle said shortly—then winced. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just resting.”

  Ludivine nodded slowly, sitting on one of the hearthside chairs. “I see.”

  A terrible silence filled the room.

  At last, Rielle blew out a breath and took the seat opposite Ludivine. “Lu, I don’t know what you want me to say or do right now, but I won’t apologize for—”

  “I don’t want you to apologize,” Ludivine snapped. Then she scrubbed her hand over her face and sighed. “Do I wish you hadn’t tried to kill my father? Yes. Do I wish he hadn’t been sent home?” She paused. “No. I’m glad of it. I’m so furious with him I can hardly think straight.”

  She shook her head, staring into the fire. Then she moved to kneel before Rielle, gathered Rielle’s hands in hers.

  “Am I glad you are alive?” Ludivine whispered. “Oh, my darling.” She pulled Rielle down into an awkward hug. “I love you so much I feel I might break from it. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  Rielle helped Ludivine rise and walked her to the bed. She drew back the covers and helped Ludivine lie down, then snuggled close beside her. Resting her cheek against Ludivine’s shoulder, she let Ludivine cry herself out, and when at last Ludivine stopped, Rielle looked up with a smile.

  “You’d better not wipe your nose in my hair.”

  Ludivine let out a shaky laugh. “Can I stay here tonight?”

  “I insist that you do.”

  Another knock on the door: “Prince Audric to see Lady Rielle.”

  “Let him in,” said Ludivine and Rielle at once.

  Audric entered, then hesitated when he saw Rielle and Ludivine in bed. “I can come back later.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Ludivine patted the pillows. “Come. We’re having a party.”

  Audric approached cautiously. “Are you crying, Lu?”

  “Yes, she is,” answered Rielle, “and if you don’t hurry up and get over here, she’ll start all over again, and you’ll feel terrible about it.”

  Audric rubbed a hand through his hair. “Is this really the wisest thing to do? I mean, considering…”

  “Audric, calm down, there’s not anything wrong in it. I almost died today. I thought I’d never see either of you again, and I’d like my friends near tonight. Come lie down with us.” She sat up, extended a hand to him. “Like when we were little?”

  His expression as he took her hand was unbearably fond. “We’re not little anymore.”

  “Pretend it for me. We used to play pretend all the time. Remember?”

  Ludivine laughed. “I recall a certain prince obsessed with pretending he was a horse day and night, running down the halls on all fours and banging up his knees.”

  Audric settled in the bed beside Rielle, above the blankets. Disappointment nettled her, but she bit her tongue to keep from teasing him. She would be satisfied with his nearness and the solid heat of his body.

  “I was a very good horse, I thought,” said Audric. “I had the neigh down and everything.”

  “There was a particular day,” Rielle added, “when you tucked one of your mother’s scarves into your trousers and pretended it was your tail.”

  Evyline’s cough sounded suspiciously like it was meant to cover laughter.

  “Go on,” said Audric, stretching out on the bed with a happy sigh. “Keep embarrassing me. I don’t mind.”

  Beside Rielle, hidden from view by the bed linens, Audric touched his hand to hers. She wrapped her fingers around his, warmth rushing sweetly down her body, and felt herself dangerously close to moving right where she shouldn’t.

  • • •

  “You should have visited me sooner.”

  Rielle tried not to scowl. Garver Randell had done that enough for the both of them. “It was rather a busy day yesterday,” she said dryly, “what with the attempted murder and all. Besides, I saw the king’s healer right away.”

  “That man’s an idiot. Why do you think Audric comes to me instead?” Garver screwed a lid onto the jar and shoved it across the table at her. “Take a spoonful four times a day until it’s gone. Waspfog is a nasty poison. You’ll feel queasiness for days, can’t do anything about it, but this will help.”

  “How much do I owe you for it?”

  “Only this: next time you’re poisoned or almost murdered or stabbed or strangled or—”

  “I get the point.”

  “Yes, well, next time, don’t wait a night before coming to see me.” Garver heaved himself up from his chair with a tired grunt. “Prompt, proper care conducted by healers who are not idiots can make the difference between life and death. Even for Sun Queens.”

  With his back turned, Rielle rolled her eyes.

  “I heard that,” he said mildly.

  Rielle grinned, then looked out the open door to the courtyard, where Audric was showing Garver’s little son, Simon, how the chavaile liked to be petted. Beyond the courtyard, people crowded at Garver’s front gate, gaping at the prince and the godsbeast, probably wondering why this boy was special enough to get an audience with the creature.

  “It’s funny,” she murmured, watching tensely as Simon reached for the chavaile’s neck with his eyes squeezed shut.

  But the chavaile only closed her eyes and leaned into hi
s touch.

  Garver had started to sweep. “Hmm? What’s funny?”

  “Atheria doesn’t usually like it when people touch her.”

  “Who in God’s name is Atheria?”

  “The chavaile. Do you like the name?”

  “Whatever her name is, I’d rather not have her stomping up my flowers.”

  “Besides me,” Rielle said, “Atheria only lets two people touch her. Audric, and now…” She smiled as the beast nibbled at Simon’s hair. The boy went perfectly still and stood wide-eyed while Audric shook with silent laughter. “And now, it seems, your son is the second.”

  40

  Eliana

  “Tender lost lambs will wander into our fold, dumb and blind, driven by His call. Gather them close. Teach them His word. Remake them as He demands. Punish those who defy Him, for they are truly lost.”

  —The First Book of Fidelia

  When the door opened, Eliana hurried out into the brightly lit corridor.

  A male guard stood just outside, staring blankly at the wall. A ring of keys dangled from his hand.

  Eliana found the two keys Zahra had described—one a plain and dirty brass, the other thin and silver—and removed them from his ring. It was as Zahra had said: the soldier didn’t move or even blink.

  She stepped back, watching his face.

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  According to Zahra, a proper angel would be able to influence the man’s mind for as long as necessary. But, as a bodiless wraith, Zahra could only affect him for seconds at a time. And even then, she’d told Eliana bitterly, her ability remained unpredictable and easily drained.

  The man’s hand moved, as if in sleep. He blinked. His body shifted.

  “Go.” His mouth moved, but Zahra’s voice emerged. “Hurry.”

  The man would awaken—and soon.

  Keys in hand, Eliana ran down the deserted hallway in her bare feet. Metallic doors lined the gray stone walls.

  She found the alcove that Zahra had told her about—the entrance to a supply closet—and pressed her body flat against the wall. Eyes watering after so long in darkness, she squinted up at the buzzing yellow lights lining the ceiling—and waited.

  A minute passed. Then Zahra drifted into the alcove.

  “Through here—quickly,” she whispered, gesturing at the closet door. “I’m sorry, Eliana. I wish my protection was as strong as you deserve. But the Fall damaged so many things, including the minds of wraiths.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re doing fine.” Eliana used the brass key to open the closet door and hurried inside. The space was long and narrow, lined with shelves crammed with tied bundles, packs of food, boxes labeled with unfamiliar lettering.

  She crouched, searching the lower shelves. “I don’t recognize that writing.”

  “One of the old angelic languages,” Zahra explained. “To be initiated into Fidelia, you must learn all five.”

  “And those lights outside, in the hallway. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Galvanized energy. One of the Emperor’s many experiments. Have you found them?”

  “Not yet. Wait.” Eliana opened a wooden crate with metal clasps. Inside was an array of weaponry and gear, including her own. Whistler, Nox, Tuora, Tempest. Only her beloved Arabeth was missing—lost forever, she supposed, on the filthy floors of Sanctuary. She strapped her holsters to her legs, her arms, her waist, sheathed the knives, and straightened with a sigh.

  Zahra watched, a smile rippling across her face. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  “Before we go.” Zahra pointed at another shelf. “This is yours, I believe?”

  Her necklace. Eliana’s heart lifted to see its battered brass face—though now the sight of those familiar lines reminded her of Zahra’s words: the daughter of the Lightbringer. Did she believe such a wild story? And if it was true, how much of the truth, if any, had Rozen known?

  And could she even still call Rozen her mother? And Remy her brother, Ioseph her father?

  A fist of sorrow seized her heart, but she shoved away her questions. None of them mattered if she couldn’t first escape this place.

  She settled the chain around her neck and said to Zahra, “Lead the way.”

  They returned to the corridor, keeping to the shadows.

  “Here,” Zahra said at last, drifting to a stop outside one of the metal doors. Black numbers reading 36 had been stamped on its surface.

  Eliana’s pulse jumped as she fumbled with the long silver key and let herself inside.

  “Navi?” she whispered, once she had pulled the door shut. “Don’t be afraid.”

  The air in Navi’s cell was stale and squalid—waste and sweat and something acrid and medicinal that made Eliana’s tongue tingle. She saw a small pile against the far wall, rushed over, hesitated, then took Navi gently by the shoulders and turned her over.

  Hovering beside her, Zahra made a soft noise of pity.

  “Oh, Navi,” Eliana breathed, unable to hide her shock.

  Navi’s head had been shaved, and her skin was a mosaic of pain—ugly dark bruises, angry red wounds, thin black markings with numbered figures beside them, as if Navi had been labeled with instructions for some malevolent seamstress. At Eliana’s touch, Navi moaned, her swollen face crumpling with pain.

  Eliana whispered, “What have they done to her?”

  “Their work is abominable,” Zahra said, her voice low and furious. “I have tried to stop them when I can, but without giving away my presence to Semyaza, there is only so much I can do.”

  Questions gathered angrily on Eliana’s tongue, but she would ask them later. She heaved Navi’s body off the ground and slung the girl’s limp arm around her shoulders. “Show me the way out of here.”

  “I cannot hide you again,” Zahra whispered, wringing her smoky hands together. “I used the last strength I had on that soldier in the corridor.”

  Navi mumbled something pained against Eliana’s shoulder.

  “How long until your strength returns?” Eliana asked.

  Zahra looked away, as if ashamed. “I cannot say. My queen, I swear to you, I wasn’t always so weak.”

  “We’ll just have to escape like normal people. Let’s go.”

  They left Navi’s cell and hurried down a maze of corridors, the strange galvanized lights humming overhead. Zahra drifted ahead, then hurried back in time to warn Eliana of approaching Fidelia soldiers.

  Eliana crouched with Navi in the shadows of a small alcove, her hand gently over Navi’s mouth. The soldiers passed, carrying a dead-eyed woman on a canvas stretcher. Bulbous dark growths marred her body.

  Eliana’s stomach turned.

  “It’s clear,” Zahra whispered and led the way once more.

  Gritting her teeth against the persistent nausea of Zahra’s nearness, Eliana followed. When they exited the compound into a flat dirt yard bordered by tall stone walls, they took cover behind crates piled high with stinking wrapped heaps that she suspected were bodies. Night stretched vast above the compound, with faint blue at the horizon.

  “Are we on a mountain?” Eliana whispered.

  “Yes,” answered Zahra, “and not far from the northern border of Ventera.”

  That explained the cold and the wind. “How far from Rinthos?”

  “Four days’ ride.”

  Eliana whipped her head around to stare at the wraith. “Four days? How long have we been here?”

  “A week.”

  Eliana closed her eyes, fighting back a swell of panic. Eleven days since their capture. Eleven days away from Remy, and no idea of where he might now be.

  Navi moaned quietly, her head lolling against Eliana’s shoulder. “Eliana?”

  “We’re going to have to run soon,” Eliana said quietly. “Can you wake up fo
r me, Navi?”

  Zahra uttered a hissed curse.

  Eliana tensed. “What is it?”

  “Semyaza is here.” Zahra jerked her head at the perimeter wall. “He was supposed to be out on tonight’s hunt. He must have realized you were gone or sensed my own presence.”

  Eliana squinted across the yard, seeing nothing—but then, a disturbance rippled in the air. There was a shift, a flicker of a dark shape. A man, but taller and longer-limbed than a human.

  Fear dried out her mouth. “What do we do?”

  “I’ll take care of Semyaza,” Zahra said, her voice hard—and, Eliana thought, rather delighted. “You’ll hear a loud crash when I hit him and see a slant in the air. Run for the gate on the eastern wall. Run until you can’t anymore, then hide in the forest. I’ll find you, if Semyaza doesn’t trap me first.”

  “Trap you?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “But the guards.” Eliana gestured at the Fidelia guards patrolling the yard. “I can’t fight off all of them, especially not with Navi.”

  “What we need,” Zahra mused, “is a diversion.”

  The western wall exploded.

  Eliana ducked low over Navi as stone and wood went flying across the yard, then peered through the clouds of dust to see that a thirty-foot section of the wall was now gone.

  Zahra stretched to her full height. “Well,” she said cheerfully, “that will work.”

  Then she zipped out into the chaos and disappeared.

  Eliana waited, wiping sweat from her forehead.

  A low boom rattled the yard, as of two winds colliding. Fifty yards away and ten feet above the ground, a patch of light shifted and warped, swirling like a whirlpool’s mouth.

  Zahra had found Semyaza.

  Eliana hefted Navi back to her feet and slapped her across the face. Her drug-clouded eyes snapped open, and Eliana was pleased to see a spark of anger inside them.

  “We have to run, now,” Eliana told her, “or we’ll die.”