Furyborn (31 page)

Eliana brought shaking fingers
to her own lips.

My mouth
, she thought and then touched the brittle ends of her own tangled dark hair.
My hair.

And the man standing beside this woman—blue-eyed instead of black but with the same lovely pale face and untroubled poise that graced the painted portraits in Lord Arkelion’s palace. Black hair, mud-caked cloak, a bloodstained sword at his belt. He guided the woman’s mouth to
his, and she clung to him as if their kiss was the only reason she remained standing.

The Emperor.

Eliana frantically backed away, tripped over another corpse, fell to the ground hard.

The world shifted, darkened.

She blinked.

She had returned to her cell, and Zahra hovered quietly in front of her—a mere distortion of the air once more, ephemeral and wingless.

“Please breathe,
Eliana,” Zahra urged gently. “I know it is a great deal to understand.”

Eliana gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face. Her skull felt too heavy for her body. Her skin still felt flushed from the battlefield’s flames.

“That was him,” she croaked. “That was the Emperor. But…”

“That was the Emperor before he called himself the Emperor. When his name was simply Corien. He was
the first of us to escape. And I am sorry that he was.”

Remy was right.
The thought kept circling through Eliana’s mind.
They’re angels. The Emperor, his generals, Lord Arkelion, Lord Morbrae. Remy was right.

“And the woman,” she whispered. “I know her face.”

“I would imagine so.” Zahra touched Eliana’s hands, and Eliana felt nothing. “For it is your own, is it not?”

“Partly. More
beautiful. More…”

“More unkind.” Zahra offered a small smile. “You have a kind face, Eliana, though you try to make it not so.”

Eliana crossed her arms and shut her eyes. “That’s why he recognized me. The Emperor.
Corien.
”

Zahra was silent.

“What were they doing?” Eliana asked. “That
body
.”

“What he failed to accomplish with your mother before her Fall ruined all their work,”
Zahra said, “and what he hopes to finish with you. Resurrection. Our return—and our revenge.”

“Our. The angels?”

“Yes, Eliana.”

When Eliana opened her eyes once more, her body felt caught on a high, hot wind—floating, untethered.

“I hope you are lying to me,” she said at last. “Please tell me you’re a hallucination. I won’t be angry, I swear it.”

Zahra bowed her head. “I wish
I could.”

“I am the daughter of the Blood Queen.” Her voice came out hollow, heavy. “Daughter of the Kingsbane.”

“You are.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is understandable. It does not, however, change the truth.”

Eliana stared at the floor through a furious fog of tears. “How did I get here, then? If I was born back then, to
her
, and now I’m here… How?”

“That, I’m afraid,
is not my story to tell.”

Eliana laughed wearily. “Of course.”

“Eliana, I’m not being coy—”

Eliana waved Zahra silent. She waited until her tears had dried, until she felt she could stand, until she could almost believe the story she told herself—that this was indeed a hallucination, some horrible dream brought on by whatever Fidelia had used to knock her unconscious.

Zahra said
quietly at the door, “It’s time to leave.”

Eliana rose to her feet, wiped her face on her sleeve, and said to Zahra, “Then get me out of here. I have things to do.”

Rielle

“I worry about Tal. I’ve always worried about him for reasons I couldn’t name, and now I understand why: because he has lived a lie for years, for the sake of this girl, and now is suffering for it. I would never say this to him, but I write it here or else it will burst from my tongue: I hate her for doing this to him. Yes, she was only a child when it all began. But after
that, as she grew and learned? What then? What stayed her tongue? Fear? Or malice?”

—Journal of Miren Ballastier, Grand Magister of the Forge
June 8, Year 998 of the Second Age

When the doors to the Council Hall opened, Rielle rose from her chair and steeled herself.

She did not expect her father to enter and hurry straight toward her, his face pale.

Rielle’s guards formed a tight
circle around her.

“Sorry, Lord Commander,” said Evyline, her hands hovering above the hilt of her sword. “I can’t let you past.”

“Let him past,” ordered King Bastien, the Archon and the Magisterial Council filing in behind him.

As soon as the guards stepped aside, Rielle’s father hurried over and gathered her close.

“Oh, my darling girl,” he whispered against the top of her head.

Rielle’s shock was so great that tears sprang to her eyes before she could draw a full breath. “Papa?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Rielle’s thoughts had scattered at the touch of her father’s hands. How long had it been since he had held her like this? Years.

She clutched his jacket, burying her face in the scratchy, stiff fabric. All at once, she was four years old again, and her
mother was still alive, and nothing had happened except a few unexplained odd incidents: candles extinguishing themselves, an overflowing sink, a crack appearing in the kitchen floor beneath Rielle’s small, tantrum-throwing body.

All at once, she was four years old again, and her father still loved her.

“Papa,” she whispered, “I was so frightened.”

“I know.” He wiped her tears with
callused fingers. The implacable Lord Commander of the Celdarian army was gone, and in his place was a mere aging father. “He won’t hurt you again.”

King Bastien, standing before the council table, cleared his throat. “Lady Rielle.”

She turned to face the king, but her father remained at her side, and despite everything, a part of Rielle’s heart she had thought long dead swelled with joy.

“Yes, my king.” She curtsied. “I must apologize for my treatment of Lord Dervin.”

“No, indeed you must not.” The king’s face was grave. “Lord Dervin has been found guilty of attempted assassination and is being sent home to Belbrion, under house arrest for the remainder of his days. He and his accomplices will never again set foot in this castle.”

Rielle immediately looked past the
king to Queen Genoveve, rigid in her chair, and then to Ludivine, who sat in the corner with her hands held tightly in her lap. Audric stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder.

When Ludivine’s red-rimmed eyes met her own, Rielle had to look away.

“I…I don’t know what to say, my king,” she said quietly. “I cannot be glad for it, and yet I must thank you.”

But you are glad for it
,
Corien murmured.
In fact, you wish you’d kept going, don’t you? You wish you’d squeezed your fist closed, popped his head right off.

I don’t.

His voice was low and angry:
Don’t lie to me, Rielle.

She flinched at the sound; it came like a sharp slap.

King Bastien’s smile was tight but genuine. “I am glad you are safe, Lady Rielle,” he said, taking his chair. “Now, the Archon has
an additional piece of news for you.”

The Archon rose from his seat. Rielle looked at once to Tal, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

Beside him, Sloane scowled and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Lady Rielle,” the Archon began, “it is the unanimous decision of the Magisterial Council, including myself, that, given recent events, we shall forgo the remaining two trials and
now begin the canonization process.”

Rielle stared at him, silence gathering around her in thick spools until she at last managed to say, “But…what does that mean?”

“This means, Lady Rielle, that you have demonstrated tremendous control and power throughout your trials thus far—”

“And that,” interrupted Grand Magister Duval with a broad grin, “by surviving a fall off a mountain and
arriving back home not only alive but with a flying godsbeast, you have more than fulfilled the requirements of the wind trial.”

The Archon sniffed. “In short, Lady Rielle, in the eyes of the Church, you are indeed and inarguably the Sun Queen as foretold by the angel Aryava, and therefore will be accorded all protections and privileges that are due you as a symbol of the Church and the protector
of Celdaria.”

As Rielle listened to him speak, her heart pounded harder and faster until it felt ready to burst from her chest.

No more trials.

No more training.

No more dark rooms or hiding herself away.

All of this, and a kingdom full of people—a
world
full of people—cheering her on.

But would that be enough? Were five trials—four if she counted shadow and sun as one—and
a fall off a mountain sufficient to claim her crown?

Some people would be satisfied with that, but not all.

Some would insist she fight the only remaining element she had not faced.

Fire.

She glanced at Tal, saw him watching her carefully. A thrill of her oldest, deepest terror raced across her skin.

Tal nodded, his mouth in a grim line but his gaze soft.

“…of course,”
the Archon was saying, “I must still discuss what has happened with the other churches of the world. But stories of your trials have already spread so far and so quickly that I doubt I will have trouble convincing them of what and
who
you are. You will visit them, if you must, to prove yourself. Or they will come here, and we will show them that any doubts they may have are baseless.”

Beside
Rielle, her father bristled. “Must she be paraded around like a prize horse?”

But Rielle hardly heard them.

She could hear only her mother:

Rielle, darling, please help your father put the fire out.

Rielle, it’s time for bed.

Rielle, I’m not going to ask you again!

She opened her eyes. Breathing in, she smelled the smoke of her parents’ house crumbling to ashes, heard the
horrible choked sounds of her father sobbing over his wife’s body.

Corien’s words were gentle:
You are not your mother. The flames, if you face them, will not hurt you.

Rielle’s breath snagged on tears she would not allow to fall.
Hurting myself is not what I’m afraid of.

The Archon was addressing Rielle’s father. “I cannot say what the other churches will require of her. But rest
assured, Lord Commander, that whatever they request will have to go through me before it so much as touches your daughter’s hem.”

“This also means, Lady Rielle,” said King Bastien, “that once you are anointed Sun Queen, you will take on not only the privileges of the position but also the responsibilities. You understand what this means.”

Rielle shook her head. “No. I don’t agree to this.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked the king.

“I’ll accept your generous offer regarding the wind trial, my king,” she said. “I survived my fall; I’ve suffered the wind’s wrath. Fine. But”—she looked to Tal, imploring—“I must complete the fire trial.”

The Archon frowned. “But, Lady Rielle, we have decided that is not necessary.”

“Forgive me, Your Holiness,” interrupted Tal, “but Lady Rielle
is right.” He gave her a small smile, then addressed the king. “Some in the world will be satisfied with four trials and a fall off a mountain. But not all. Some will insist Rielle fight the only element she has not yet faced. And that is fire.”

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.”