Furyborn (The Empirium Trilogy Book 1)

“Wind and water

Fire and shadow

Metal and earth and light above—

Hear our prayer on this day of death

Take in hand our fallen friend

To be born anew, through you

And begin again

In the eyes of the Seven, we pray”

—Traditional Celdarian funeral rite

Hours after the Archon’s blessing, near the midnight hour, Rielle brought Audric to Ludivine’s rooms.

Ludivine rose from a hearthside chair with a cautious smile. “Good, you’ve come.”

Audric pulled the door shut behind them with a snap. “Rielle told me what you are.”

Ludivine’s face fell. She glanced at Rielle. “What else did she tell you?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t be afraid of me. I want only to help you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Audric softened. “All right. Help me, then. Help us understand.”

Ludivine’s gaze settled on Rielle, infinitely tender. “I came to protect Rielle. The moment she was born, I felt her. We all did.”

“All?”

“The other angels?” Rielle said, her chest clenching.

Ludivine nodded miserably. “Yes, the other angels. I’ve been trying to protect you as best I can for years now.”

Audric dragged both hands through his hair. “I don’t understand. You’re Ludivine. You’re my cousin. We’ve known you since you were small. I was there the day you were born, for God’s sake. You’ve always been…you.”

“Yes.” Ludivine’s smile was sad. “And no. Do you remember when I…when Ludivine had that terrible fever a few years ago?”

“You were sixteen years old,” Rielle remembered. She sank onto a bench by the fire. “We waited outside your door all night with Queen Genoveve and your father, hoping you’d get through it.”

“Yes. Well.” Ludivine drew a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I didn’t. That is, she didn’t. Ludivine Sauvillier died that night. And I took her place.”

Audric turned away and moved swiftly across the room. “This is some kind of trick.”

It’s not a trick, Ludivine’s voice cried out in Rielle’s mind. Tell him!

“It’s not a trick,” Rielle whispered, and she believed it, though the horrible truth of it sat like a weight on her lungs. “How could you keep the truth from us for so long? If you love us as you claim to—”

“I wanted to!” Ludivine’s eyes were bright with tears. “Every day, I wanted to. But I thought it would be best not to. I thought it would protect you. I thought…” Ludivine shook her head, gestured helplessly. “I wanted you both to be spared from all of this for as long as possible.”

“Protect us from what?” Audric asked, his voice fraying. “You’re dancing around the point. Speak clearly—and quickly.”

Ludivine breathed in and out, clenching her fists. When she spoke once more, it was with a sense of tired finality. “The Gate is falling.”

The room fell into silence.

“The further it weakens,” Ludivine said after a moment, “the more we will see the shocks. Tidal waves, terrible quakes, other disasters I cannot predict. And when the Gate falls at last, the angels will return, just as Aryava said. Imagine a door being battered constantly from one side by hands that will never tire. That is the Gate, and the hands are those of my kindred, locked beyond it.”

“Trapped in the Deep.” Audric sat unsteadily on a chair by the wall, far from them both.

“Yes. In the Deep.” A small, strange shadow moved across Ludivine’s face; an echo of it rippled inside Rielle’s mind, like a shift during sleep.

“How many of you are there?” he asked.

“Millions.”

“I meant here. In this world. If you came here, then others must have as well.”

Rielle stiffened. Without thinking, her mind reached out to him:

Corien? Are you there?

He did not answer. He had been silent since the day she burned him.

Ludivine looked quickly to Rielle. “Yes. I was not the first. And I was not the last. With every passing day, cracks widen in the Gate’s structure. Not all angels are strong enough to escape. The Gate is strong and well-made. Escaping its gravity is difficult; one crack opens, and another one repairs itself. But enough angels are managing to break through that it will soon be a problem for you. Dozens right now. Soon? Hundreds.”

“You weren’t the first.” Rielle lifted her eyes slowly to Ludivine. “Who was?”

“He is very strong,” said Ludivine quietly. “The strongest of us left alive since the Angelic Wars. It took him centuries to escape, but he did it. I slipped out in his wake, along with a few others, before the Gate resealed. I’ve watched over Rielle, in one form or another, for thirteen years, as did he. His name is Corien.”

Thirteen years. Since I was five years old, Rielle thought. A field of flames flashed before her eyes. A crumbling house. Her father, falling to his knees.

She decided she would go see him after this conversation. She would wake him up, bring him hot cocoa, keep him talking until the sun rose and she no longer felt so afraid.

Then her mind caught up with the truth: his bed would be empty.

“The day your mother died, Rielle,” Ludivine said, pity in her voice, “we felt your power erupt. Corien came for you soon after, and I did as well. Only…I am quite young. My mind is nothing compared to his. It takes nearly everything I am to protect you from even some of his thoughts.”

“And why do you?” Rielle bristled at the careful compassion in Ludivine’s voice. “Why do you want to help me or any of us? Don’t you want revenge for being trapped in the Deep for centuries?”

“No,” Ludivine said simply. “Humans and angels were at war. I don’t blame you for the actions your ancestors took to save themselves. You are innocent.”

Ludivine reached for Rielle, but Rielle flinched away, and Ludivine withdrew at once.

“Corien, however, desires revenge above all else,” Ludivine said quietly, “and it isn’t fair that you should suffer for it. I will do what I can to stop him because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Really?” Rielle raised an eyebrow, determined to remain unmoved at the sight of Ludivine’s tear-filled eyes. “How noble of you.”

Ludivine’s expression crumpled. “My dear, I’m sorry I’m not a stronger ally. I know it is difficult for you. I feel it every time he speaks to you.”

“Corien—the angel from the attack?” Audric looked first to Ludivine, and then to Rielle. “What does she mean, Rielle? He speaks to you?”

Rielle’s panic rose swiftly. He will be furious when he finds out.

No, he won’t, came Ludivine’s firm reply. He loves you.

But for how long?

Forever. He will love you forever.

“Months ago,” Rielle began, her voice unsteady, “on the day of the Chase, I heard a voice in my mind.”

Don’t tell him everything, Ludivine suggested. Spare him the worst of it.

The worst of it: That dark vastness, the throne made of bones. Corien’s name on her lips as she awoke lonely in her bed, and the ghost of his hands on her skin.

Rielle swallowed, shame burning tears from her eyes. “He visits me in dreams—and sometimes when I’m awake. He talked to me during the trials. He tells me…”

Go on, Ludivine urged gently.

Rielle touched her temples, swallowing hard.

Audric knelt before her. “What does he tell you? How can I help?”

She met Audric’s steady dark eyes through a haze of tears. “He wants me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what for. He wants me to go to him. He says he won’t always be so patient. He tried to make me leave with him, the day of the fire trial. I wouldn’t. I burned him, but…I can’t say if that will stop him.”

“It won’t,” Ludivine said, “but he won’t recover from that for some time.”

Rielle threw her a dark look. “So you say.”

Ludivine looked as though she’d been slapped. “You don’t trust me anymore.”

“I should think that much would be obvious by now. And anyway, can you blame me for that?”

“I understand. I’ll have to earn back your trust.” Ludivine nodded, pressed her lips tightly together. “I can do that. I will do that.”

“My God.” Audric’s worried expression tore Rielle’s heart in two. “Rielle…why didn’t you ever say anything about any of this?”

“I was frightened. I didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

He cradled her face in his hands, catching her tears on his thumbs. “I could have helped you.”

“I hate him,” she whispered, and it was true. But it was not the whole truth, and she despised herself for it. “And I don’t know how to be rid of him.”

“We will find a way,” Ludivine said, coming to sit beside her.

“Have you been in her mind as well?” Audric asked sharply. “Like him?”

Ludivine met his eyes. “Yes. For three years now, though I have been near her for much longer.”

“And does Corien know about you? That you’re here, in Ludivine’s body, protecting Rielle from him?”

Ludivine nodded. “He does.”

“And I would imagine,” Audric observed, “that he isn’t too happy about you working against him?”

“He considers me a traitor to my kind.” Ludivine squared her jaw. “A title I am happy to bear if it keeps Rielle safe.”

Audric glanced at Rielle. “You said you’ve been looking after her for years. And then you mentioned your…Ludivine’s fever. You mentioned…” He looked slightly ill. “Taking her place.”

“Ah. Yes.” Ludivine stood. “When we were locked away in the Deep, we lost our bodies and existed only as our thoughts.” She said it matter-of-factly, as though being stripped of one’s body were a small thing. “Once Corien and I escaped that place, we were able to take possession of human bodies that had been recently…vacated.”

Rielle’s stomach churned. She stepped away from Ludivine, trying to keep her mind as numb and clear as possible. If she thought too closely about Ludivine—her Ludivine—long dead, and her body now possessed by this other Ludivine, this creature, she felt dizzy and frantic, like she was hurtling toward a cliff’s edge.

“Sweet saints,” Audric whispered. “You mean you possessed these bodies and now live inside them, controlling them.”

Ludivine nodded. “Essentially.”

“Can you do this…forever?”

“Once I took hold of this body, it stopped growing, and it will remain like this as long as I am inside it.”

“Even if you fall to your death,” Audric whispered, a sad smile on his face.

“Even if I fall to my death.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to you right now. I can’t decide which I feel more deeply—anger or fear or, quite frankly, fascination.” He glared up at her. “You shouldn’t have lied to us for so long. We deserved better than that.”

Ludivine nodded. “I know. You’re right. I was only…” She hesitated, with a sad smile. “I was afraid of losing you.”

“We were not yours to have,” Audric replied sharply.

Ludivine let out a soft sob. She reached for their hands, and when they did not pull away, the look of relief on her face was so profound that Rielle had to avert her eyes.

“Please know,” Ludivine said, “that the things we have shared, these last few years, are real and precious to me. I’ve lived at your sides since you were small, I’ve watched you grow, and I grieved deeply when Ludivine died. It was of great comfort to me that I could bring her back to you, even in a small way. And, my darlings,” she whispered, “please do not doubt that I love you. In my long lifetime, I have never loved anything or anyone as I do the two of you.”

“I cannot say the same to you.” Audric laughed harshly. “I don’t even know what to call you. Do you have an angelic name?”

“Ludivine. I beg you to call me Ludivine. My angelic name is no longer relevant—and not a word I care for. I know I don’t deserve to ask that of you, but it is who I am, she is who I have become—”

“Please.” Audric cut her off. “No more of that, not right now. I need… I have to think about this.”

She nodded, smiled bravely. “Of course. I understand.”

Please don’t shut me out, Ludivine thought to Rielle. The world depends on it, but more than that, I cannot bear—

Don’t be afraid. Rielle tried to send her a feeling of love, faint as it was—and even though she wasn’t sure Ludivine deserved it. But she could no longer bear the weight of Ludivine’s quiet despair without offering her a slight ray of hope. You will not lose us as easily as that.

“I should tell you,” Ludivine added quietly, “that though I am not much more than a child in your terms, and not as powerful as Corien, I am a good deal stronger than most of our kind. The majority cannot take hold of a human body like this, at least not with such…effectiveness.”

For that, she thought to Rielle, they would need help.

Rielle stared at her, the realization seeping into her slowly and leaving room for little else. They will need…me.

• • •

One week later, Rielle stood before the floor-length mirror in her rooms, adjusting the heavy black folds of her gown.

Outside, a star-scattered lavender sky faded to a cloudless night. Atheria stood solemnly on the terrace, looking down at the city. Soon the temple bells would ring, and the procession of King Bastien’s body up the streets of Âme de la Terre would begin.

Ludivine emerged from the bathing rooms, golden hair in a crown of braids around her head. Her own mourning gown, like Rielle’s, fastened high at the throat.

“Are you ready?” Ludivine asked, tugging on her gloves.

Rielle stared at her reflection. Shadows hugged her eyes. Two weeks had passed since the fire trial, and she hadn’t slept more than three or four hours every night since. Lord Dervin’s body had been sent home to Belbrion for his son, Merovec Sauvillier, to attend to. And mere hours earlier, Rielle had watched her own father’s body burn on a mountaintop pyre. It had always been a wish of his, for his body to return to the empirium as his wife’s had.

Rielle watched Ludivine move about the room, tidying up the mess of combs, pins, and smoothing creams. It was such a familiar ritual that Rielle felt tears rise once more to her eyes.

“I thought I was done crying,” she said with a hollow laugh. “I suppose I’m not.”

Ludivine paused at the window, her slender body framed in twilight. Frozen forever at sixteen—what a strange and terrible thing.

And not a secret any of them would be able to hide forever.

“I wish I could help you,” Ludivine said, and Rielle felt the truth of it brush against her mind. “I wish so many things.”

“Just because I don’t trust you right now doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I wish I didn’t, and maybe I shouldn’t after what you’ve done, but I still do nevertheless.” Rielle turned away from the hope shining on Ludivine’s face. “There. I’ve wanted to say that for days, and now I’ve said it.”

A soft knock on the door. Evyline entered with a delicate cough. “My lady? Prince Audric is here to see you.”

Rielle’s heart jumped with nerves. Since the trial, Audric had been so occupied with meetings, funerals, and caring for his mother that she had barely seen him. And whenever she did, she faced him with a new fear: that he would sense the lies spinning in her heart and turn her away forever.

But as he entered the room, meticulous in mourning black, all of that flew out of her mind. If she looked tired, he looked far worse—his skin sallow and drawn, his eyes red from exhaustion. His grief trailed him like shadows.

She went to him at once, and without a word he opened his arms to her.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his voice muffled in her hair. “Would it be awful of me if I asked you to my bed tonight?”

For a moment, she could think only of his arms around her. She smiled against his shoulder. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“My light and my life.” He bent low to kiss her softly.

“Is everything ready below?” Ludivine asked.

“Our escort is waiting for us.” Audric paused, then released Rielle and, hesitating, held out his hand to Ludivine. “But before we go down, I need to talk to you for a moment. To both of you.”

Rielle stiffened.

Don’t worry. Ludivine took Audric’s hand. He knows nothing. And he never will. I’ll see to it.

“It’s this…all of this. Corien. The Gate and the angels. And you, Lu.” Audric released Ludivine’s hand with a tight smile. “It’s a lot to wrap my mind around. And now, with Father gone—” His voice caught. “Mother will be the one to lead us to war, when it comes, and we’re to help her with that, Rielle—you and me. And Lu, we won’t tell anyone what you are, of course, but you will also be instrumental as we move through these next months and years. The knowledge you have about your kind will be invaluable.”

Ludivine nodded. “Of course.”

Audric considered her. “Can you really be so eager to turn against your own people?”

“They are not my people,” Ludivine said. “Not anymore. You are my people.” She looked to them both, her face open and fierce. “I am loyal to you and no one else.”

Rielle glanced at Audric. Their gazes locked, and she didn’t need Ludivine’s power to understand what he was thinking: He was still wary of Ludivine, just as Rielle was. But what choice did they have but to trust her?

“Mother will need advisers,” Audric continued after a moment, and we will be her closest ones. We must fortify our borders, reach out to the rest of the continent. Find out what they know—and what they don’t.”

“And we must travel to the Gate,” Rielle finished, “and assess the damage for ourselves.”

Audric nodded. “Tal and Sloane will accompany us. Tal insisted upon it. And where Tal goes…”

“Sloane follows.” Ludivine clasped her hands in her lap. “She wouldn’t want him to have all the fun after all.”

The forced note of cheer in her voice seemed to shake them all.

Audric’s gaze dropped to the floor. “There’s one more thing. If we are to do this, together, then we must have no more secrets. If you hear murmurings from the other angels, Ludivine, I want to know. And when Corien comes”—Audric took Rielle’s hand in his—“I need you to tell me, darling, when it happens. If he forces himself on you again, I need to know. What he says, what he does. Any clues as to where he is, who he might be with, what his plans are… Any of that could be helpful to us. When he moves against us, I want to be ready. And you are the closest link to him we have.”

Rielle nodded, unable to speak. It was unbearable, how little he suspected her of lies. He raised her hand to his lips, kissed her clenched fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She tried for an encouraging smile. “I’m the Sun Queen, aren’t I? This is what I do.”

“You’re only half right, my love. You protect me and my kingdom, but we also protect you.”

Below, throughout the city, the temple bells struck nine o’clock. In half an hour, the procession would begin.

“Shall we go down?” Ludivine stood a little apart from them, a careful smile on her face. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Promise me, first.” Audric held out his hand to her. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it together. All of us.”

Ludivine hesitated, then took his hand.

Rielle joined them, swallowing against the guilt wedged hot in her throat. “I promise,” she said and kissed his cheek. “No more secrets.”

“No more lies,” Ludivine added.

“Together, then,” Audric said and escorted them downstairs.

• • •

Hooded citizens lined the streets of Âme de la Terre, carrying candles in tiny brass cups. Hanging from every door and window, mourning lamps flickered softly.

The procession moved slowly up the city—first across the bridges over the lake, then the cramped lower streets, and at last the smooth paved roads of the temple district. The youngest acolytes from each temple led the way, scattering white petals. Seven windsingers guided King Bastien’s silk-draped stretcher slowly through the city on a gentle cloud of air. The king’s hands lay folded at his waist, his face peaceful.

Queen Genoveve followed behind them, her arm hooked through Audric’s. From behind her, at Ludivine’s side, Rielle saw how heavily the queen leaned against her son.

At the castle gates, only the royal party was allowed to proceed. Mourners crowded silently at the line of guards that barred their way. Rielle looked back once, saw the mass of bowed heads and bobbing candles winding like black rivers down the mountain to the city’s outer wall and the Flats beyond. They filled every road, lined every temple garden.

Some, Rielle noticed, looked not at the king, but at her. Did they wonder how so many had fallen, even with the mighty Sun Queen there to defend them?

Did they fear what that meant for the days ahead?

Rielle turned away from the scattered stony eyes upon her, heart clenched with worry.

What are they thinking? She clutched Ludivine’s hand. The ones staring.

They wonder many things, Ludivine replied.

They wonder why I was able to save you but not their loved ones who died at the trial. And not their king.

Ludivine was quiet for a moment, then squeezed Rielle’s fingers. Don’t think about that now. Be here, with me and with Audric. We both owe Bastien that much.

The procession entered the gardens behind Baingarde. Sorrow trees glowed pink throughout the shadowed green canopy. The seeing pools stood black and still.

At the mouth of the catacombs, Queen Genoveve stepped away from Audric and took her place before the great stone doors. She knelt, touched her fingers to her heart, her temple and throat, her palm, forehead, the nape of her neck, and the lids of her eyes. She rose to her feet as acolytes rolled open the doors and began to sing.

Saint Katell had sung the same ancient lament over Aryava’s body, and the queen’s shredded voice tore on every word—but she stood tall and unbroken as her husband’s body passed beside her into the shadows.

It was then, as Bastien’s body faded into the blackness of the catacombs, that Rielle felt the wind kiss her skin.

Her power swelled gently against her bones—a wave building on a rumbling sea.

She looked, shivering, through the trees to the east, where the mountains surrounding the capital stood darkest. Ludivine’s hand tightened around her fingers, but she barely noticed.

It might have just been the wind she had heard, she supposed.

Or it might have been a whisper, calling her name.