Any servants she passed knew her well enough to look the other way.
As she rounded the corner into a hallway stacked with crates of vegetables and sacks of flour, a tingle of nerves climbed up her spine.
If this was all some elaborate trap of Simon’s, if he betrayed her at the last minute and abandoned Remy and Harkan to certain death…well. She wouldn’t be beaten without taking him down with her.
She paused, listened to the bustle of the kitchens to make sure no one was approaching, then opened a heavy, locked door that led to a small stone supply yard.
Simon slipped inside, wearing the adatrox uniform Eliana had stolen for him. In the fitted surcoat, with the winged shield of the Empire emblazoned on his chest, he could have passed for one of the silent soldiers—except for that sharp light in his eyes and the way he moved. Sinuous and graceful, with none of the adatrox’s stiffness.
“At last,” he said dryly. “I was beginning to worry.”
“I find that unlikely.” She shut the door and swept past him, noticing with savage delight how his eyes trailed down her body. That could be useful later. “Let’s move.”
She led him through the cramped servants’ passages up to the third floor, where they emerged into the palace proper. The deep-piled carpets muffled their steps. Music drifted through windows open to the vast gardens below.
In the north wing, the walls turned red, the moldings ornate. Gas lamps burned in jeweled casings; the air smelled of perfume. They turned a corner into a portrait gallery of black-eyed generals. At one end of the corridor hung a painting of the Emperor himself.
Eliana’s heart pounded. She had never been in the north wing before. She couldn’t shake the childish fear that the Emperor’s painted black eyes were following her every step.
“Well,” she said, “we’re here. Now it’s your turn.”
Simon slipped past her. “Watch and learn, little Dread.”
“Call me ‘little’ again and I’ll punch you.”
A smile twitched at his mouth. “You know just how to entice me.”
“Have you forgotten? My punches hurt.”
“Forgotten? In fact, I relish the memory.”
She scowled, but then they reached a set of wooden doors marked by an engraving of a naked woman, her cascading waves of hair masking her face, and Eliana froze.
“The maidensfold?” She shot a look at Simon. Female concubines lived in this tower, their male counterparts in the south wing. “Why?”
“There’s a girl inside,” Simon explained, taking hold of Eliana’s arm. “Cover me while I retrieve her. Try not to get hurt. I won’t have you slowing me down.”
Eliana bristled. As though he stood a chance of navigating back down through the castle without her.
“Follow my lead,” said Simon, knocking on the door.
Eliana nodded, ready to grab Arabeth from the slit in her skirt.
The doors opened, revealing two adatrox. Men. One pale, one dark.
Their brows furrowed to see Simon. He shoved Eliana into the foyer. She kept her eyes obediently on the floor, her heart pounding.
“What’s this?” asked one of the adatrox.
“Special delivery,” Simon answered smoothly, before pulling his sword from his belt and gutting both of them. They dropped to the floor. Simon kicked the door shut behind him.
A girl passing by the foyer, clad in gauzy silks, ran off shouting warnings.
More adatrox rounded the corner. Simon ran at them, Eliana right on his heels. He took out one of the adatrox with a swift punch and a swipe of his blade.
Eliana leapt at the other. The adatrox lunged at her, sword in hand. She sidestepped his thrust, stabbed him in the throat. He thudded to the floor, choking. Then his clouded gaze fell on her face—and darkened. Sharpened.
A sick feeling swept over her. She staggered, unbalanced. She felt…seen. As if the shadows around her cloaked secret eyes that had come awake to stare.
The adatrox went still, his gaze blank and unseeing as he bled out on the floor. Whatever darkness had touched his eyes, it was now gone. Or maybe had never been there at all?
She turned and raced after Simon, following the sound of metal on metal down a wide hallway lined with embroidered drapes. She found him in a softly lit bathing room that smelled of jasmine and roses. Three adatrox surrounded him.
She took care of one by opening his throat, then evaded the fists of another before sweeping his feet out from under him and kicking him in the head with the heel of her beaded sandal. A girl fled past her and the bleeding adatrox, then out the door, clutching a shawl to her chest and leaving a trail of red footprints behind her.
Across the room, Simon struggled with another adatrox. A group of girls was backed into the far corner, trapped with her and Simon between them and escape. One of them let out a sharp sob.
Eliana scanned the frightened face of each girl. Which was the one Simon needed to retrieve? And why? What use was a concubine to the second-highest ranking member of Red Crown?
Eliana felt the adatrox in the doorway behind her before she saw him, barely turned in time to dodge his sword. She slipped in a pool of water on the floor and went down hard, banging her knee.
Before Eliana could regain her balance, the adatrox swung his sword in her direction once more—only to stumble back as a string of sapphires and diamonds landed around his neck. The person behind him pulled on the necklace, hard, and the adatrox dropped his sword to claw at his throat, gagging.
Eliana picked up his sword and ran it through his heart. He collapsed.
She looked up and met the gaze of a girl holding the necklace, at the end of which dangled an enormous opal. The girl’s skin was a warm brown, her hair black, her eyes a pale hazel. Though she wore nothing but a blood-spattered sheer blue slip and dark-gold maidensmarks on her wrists, she had the bearing of a queen.
“You’re welcome,” the girl said, breathless.
Simon stormed over. “Good, you’ve met.” He took the girl by the arm and moved toward the door. “This way.”
Eliana sheathed Arabeth and followed them.
“My name is Navi,” the girl said, smiling back at Eliana as Simon hurried her out of the room.
But Eliana did not reply, for when she glanced back at the open windows of the bathing room, she saw a figure drop down from the roof to land on the terrace outside.
Tall and thin, with creamy, pale skin and fair hair tied back in one long braid, dressed all in black save for a bloodred dress cloak that swept the ground:
Rahzavel.
11
Rielle
“Of Aryava’s prophecy, there are many interpretations. Some dismiss his dying words as the nonsense ramblings of a great angelic mind gone to ruin. But all scholars do agree on this: despite the war dividing their people, the blood of both humans and angels that stained their hands, the angel Aryava loved Saint Katell the sunspinner—and that love saved us all.”
—“A Discourse on the Prophecy of Aryava”
As translated by Grand Magister Isabeau Bazinet of the Holdfast
Transcribed on October 6, Year 12 of the Second Age
After two hours, the king declared a recess, and Rielle’s guards escorted her into one of the hall’s antechambers.
She sank into the first chair she saw, so tired she felt ill. The councils had attacked her with questions—what it felt like to manipulate so many elements at once, and all with the same body. If singing the wind felt different than controlling fire or shaking the earth, or was it all the same to her?
What sort of lessons had Tal given her over the years?
Oh, he had tried to kill her, on occasion, to test her restraint?
How had he done that, and how many times?
How had she fought the instinctive desire to save herself? What a marvelous test
ament to her control. And where, they asked, had that control been, out on the racecourse?
They had let her sit for at least some of the questioning, but she still felt as exhausted as if she had ridden the entire Chase all over again. Twice.
Just as her eyes started drifting shut, the doors flew open, and Audric entered the room.
“Leave us,” he told the guards.
The guards did not move. There was a beat of silence in which everything hung suspended.
“I think if Lady Rielle wanted to kill me,” Audric snapped, “she would have done it years ago. Leave us.”
The guards left at once.
Rielle was now entirely awake. She stood, her heart thundering. Where to even begin with him?
“Audric,” she said, her voice coming out frayed, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I understand why you didn’t. God, Rielle, I… Please, don’t apologize. Are you all right?”
She let out a soft huff of laughter. “Not entirely.”
Audric came to her, cradled her hands in his. His thumb brushed against her wrist like a kiss. “I cannot forgive them for doing this to you.”
Every gentle press of his fingers made Rielle’s stomach twist. “Father and Tal?”
“They should be ashamed of their cowardice.”
“Well, I’m sure Tal is, anyway.”
“Good.”
“They thought they were doing what was best.”
Audric frowned. “For the kingdom.”
“Of course.”
“And for you?”
She hesitated. How many times had she asked this question of her father, only to be shamed into silence? “My happiness is unimportant compared to the safety of those around me.”
“Unimportant!” Audric released her, dragging a hand through his dark curls. “That’s what they’ve been telling you all these years.”
Suddenly the air around them felt charged; Rielle’s fingers prickled from the nearness of magic. The air bloomed with heat. Rielle caught the slightly singed scent of sunspinner magic—a blazing noon sky, a hot summer’s day. Audric’s eyes snapped to hers before he turned away, his shoulders high and tense. He moved to the window, placed his palm against the sun-warmed glass.
When he looked back to her, his face was not quite so furious, and the air had calmed.
“Your happiness is important, Rielle,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t see what was happening this entire time, right before my eyes. If I’d known, I would never have let them…”
He trailed off, his jaw clenched. She wanted so badly to touch him.
“I know,” she told him instead.
“You were marvelous out there, during the race. I’ve never seen that kind of power. Rielle, it was beautiful.”
She could not help but flush with pleasure, despite everything. “They were going to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And I cannot take care of myself?”
“You can, and you did. But—” She fell silent, swallowing her voice.
But if you had died, I couldn’t have borne it.
If you had died, I don’t know what would have happened next. What I would have done to avenge you.
Audric cleared his throat. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “When I saw you riding toward me, I didn’t know that the blood was from your horse. I thought it was yours. You were covered in it, and I thought…” He walked toward her, his gaze lingering on her face, and then looked away.
His presence was like a touch hovering just above her skin. Rielle wanted desperately to lean into it. Bask in it. Claim it.
“You could say thank you,” she finally managed to say. “At the very least.”
“If you promise you won’t terrify me like that again. Or at least give me warning so I can prepare myself.”
“Of course,” she agreed, “if you warn me the next time you plan on getting yourself attacked by assassins.”
He grinned at her. “We did fight well together. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” Then his expression softened. “Thank you, Rielle.”
She hoped he could not read her face. “What happens now?”
“That’s what I’ve come to tell you,” Audric began, and then the door opened, admitting Ludivine and the guards.
“Did you tell her?” she asked, looking troubled.
“What is it?” Rielle said. “What have they decided?”
“They’re requesting you come back inside at once, Lady Rielle,” said one of the guards.
“Tell my uncle the king that she will attend him momentarily,” Ludivine said, her sweet smile not reaching her eyes. “And if he protests, then you may tell him to bite his tongue or else his niece will hate him for the rest of his days.”
The guard flushed and bowed his head, then retreated into the hall.
“Many in the councils are afraid,” Ludivine told Rielle quickly, “and the king is under tremendous pressure to act before rumors start spiraling out of control and spark a panic. Before…” She paused. “Before anything else happens.”
Before I lose control again, Rielle thought grimly.
“He would not have agreed to this unless he had no other choice,” Ludivine continued.
Rielle’s stomach dropped. “Agreed to what?”
“Seven trials,” Ludivine explained. “One for each element.”
“Tests of your power,” Audric added, “engineered by the Magisterial Council. To ensure you can control your abilities.” He looked away, his mouth twisting bitterly.
Ludivine placed a gentle hand on his arm. “They will not only be testing your control. They will also be testing your loyalty. You must not waver in this, Rielle. One hint of defiance, one glimmer of treachery—”
“What is it, exactly, that they think I’m going to do?” Rielle burst out, an edge of incredulous laughter in her voice. “Defect to Borsvall? Turn around in the middle of a trial and murder the king where he stands?”
“We don’t know what the Blood Queen will do, when she arrives,” Ludivine continued gently. “One with the power to save the world. One with the power to destroy it. One of blood. One of light.”
“I’m already tired of hearing that damned prophecy,” Rielle muttered, and was gratified to see Audric’s tiny smile.
“The point is,” Ludivine pressed on, “that the councils believe you to be one of the Queens. And if they can ensure that you are loyal, that you want only to protect Celdaria, and not destroy it—”
Rielle threw up her hands. “But why in God’s name would I ever want to?”
“Then this will signify to them,” Ludivine said, talking over her, “that whatever the prophecy says, you have made a choice. To protect and not harm. To serve and not betray.”
“And if I choose not to participate in these trials?” Rielle asked, once she had found her voice again.
“Then,” said Ludivine quietly, “they will have no choice but to consider you a threat.”
Rielle stepped back. A cold, sick feeling wound its way through her. “They will kill me.”
“Not as long as I draw breath,” Audric said, his fists clenched.
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” the first guard muttered, uneasily entering the room, “but I delivered Lady Ludivine’s message to the king, and he requests—”
The look Audric threw him was murder. “I know very well what the king requests.” When he at last turned back to Rielle, his gaze was steady. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you. You’ll conquer these trials, and once you’ve convinced everyone—”
“Then I will serve the crown,” Rielle finished for him. Everyone knew the Sun Queen, if she ever arrived, would serve at the pleasure of Celdaria’s rulers. She would lead the kingdom’s armies into battle. Using her power, she wou
ld protect the country, protect the Gate.
Protect the king.
“Then you will serve the crown,” Audric agreed.
Someday, he meant, she would serve him—and his queen. She looked to Ludivine and then away.
“My lord,” urged the guard from the door.
“I’m ready,” Rielle said, before Audric could threaten the man further, and led the way back into the hall.
She stood once again before the dais as the councils shifted and settled above her. Her mind danced around the question: How am I feeling right now? I have just been threatened with death.
She recognized she should probably be more upset, but it was all such a wild shift from what her life had been only two days before that she simply felt numb.
I will be tested, she thought.
It will…probably hurt.
Then, slowly trying out the idea: I will show them what I can do.
She considered it. To be sought after instead of hidden away, to protect her country instead of living in fear that she was capable of nothing but hurting people, to be loved instead of hated…
Tears stung her eyes.
I will be loved.
She found her father, surrounded by guards, standing expressionlessly beneath the statue of Saint Grimvald—a metalmaster, just as he was. She wondered what he was thinking. All his and Tal’s careful work, brought to ruin. And now the future—hers and theirs—lay in her hands alone.
She made herself stand tall.
They will love me. All of them will.
Rielle listened as King Bastien repeated what Ludivine and Audric had told her: seven trials, one for each of the seven elements, to be designed by the Magisterial Council and administered to her over the next seven weeks.
If, by the end of that time, she had proven her abilities and her control to a satisfactory degree—if she had throughout the trials consistently demonstrated loyalty and devotion to the crown, and neither defiance nor volatility—then she would be deemed the Sun Queen, the most holy symbol of the Church and the prophesied protector of the crown, and would be accorded all due privileges and tributes.
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