kissing the open sea, painting the sky a buttery slate blue.
“He found her,” Ludivine said, gently touching his knee. “I’m sorry. There was nothing I could do.” She drew in a shaky breath. “He is stronger than he has ever been.”
Audric said nothing. He found the edge of the rug, where Rielle’s image had been moments before. He pressed his palms against it, hopelessly seeking the warm echo of her body.
After a long moment, Ludivine said softly, “The child is yours, Audric.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it doesn’t matter to me.” The words were ash in his mouth and came too late. “She’ll be terrified regardless, and she’ll hate it and love it too, and that I can’t help her through this is a great unkindness dealt to us both. One I deserve but she does not.”
“I should tell you that Rielle knew before your wedding, as did I.”
Audric laughed bitterly. It was agony to imagine a world in which he and Rielle would be able to celebrate and worry together. He would dote on her, provide her with anything she desired. She would have everyone in Âme de la Terre fussing over her—or no one, if she preferred it.
“You knew a piece of information that was important for me to know,” he said, “and yet you kept it from me? Astonishing. Unprecedented.”
Ludivine was quiet. “She told me not to tell you. I could not ignore that.”
“If I’d known…”
He stopped himself, looked away.
“If you’d known,” Ludivine said, “you would have treated her more kindly in the gardens? You would have stopped to think? You would have shown your child mercy and understanding that you did not grant your wife?”
Audric stared at the floor until he recovered his voice, then glared at Ludivine. His blood was a quiet drum of anger.
“If I’d known,” Audric said tightly, “we would have had this joyful thing between us, a light to illuminate the darkness of that day. An anchor to help us weather its storms. You’re not wrong to accuse me of rashness, of foolishness, even of unkindness. But I am not alone in my mistakes. And none of that absolves you.”
Ludivine met his eyes for a long moment. The feeling of her own shame rose to meet his.
“Absolution,” she said at last, “is something I neither seek nor deserve.”
“On that, we can agree,” he said, which was perhaps unfair, but he could feel himself slipping back into the quiet black depths that had ruled his life for those first long weeks in Mazabat, and the hopelessness of that feeling, the inevitable weight of it, acted upon him like a drug, plying his tongue.
He rose, gathering the shreds of his voice, and sent her a silent dismissal.
“Thank you for your help,” he said aloud. “It was a gift to see her face again.”
Ludivine hesitated, then gently opened up all her love to him before leaving him to his solitude and the escape of sleep.
• • •
Not two hours later, Audric awoke to the feeling of rain on his face.
Audric, hurry, came Ludivine’s urgent voice. They need you.
The doors to his apartment burst open. Evyline rushed in with the rest of the Sun Guard.
“My king, we must move quickly,” Evyline said, her gaze darting to the windows.
Audric sat up and wiped his face. Atheria stood near the bed, shaking out her wings and mane. She pawed the rug, nostrils flaring.
Audric, glancing past her, immediately saw why.
He hurried to the windows, beyond which the world was dark, the tide high and furious. Huge churning waves spilled across the shore. Trees shook at a slant in the roaring wind. Even the castle seemed to sway. The sky swirled black with clouds, illuminated by jagged fans of lightning. Bells from the city’s seven temples chimed, faint through the howling storm.
Quickly, he found his clothes, threw on his jacket, pulled on his boots.
“Are they evacuating the city?” he asked.
“Yes, my king,” Evyline replied. “But there is much confusion, and many of the roadways are already flooded. They have seen hurricanes before, my king, especially in recent months, but have always had adequate time to prepare.”
Audric found Illumenor beside his bed. When his hand closed around the hilt, the familiar tremor of power flew from palm to shoulder. “Why did no one wake me sooner?”
“It came upon us in minutes, my king. Ten minutes ago, it was a clear day, the clouds distant.”
An ill feeling brewed in Audric’s chest. This was the Gate’s doing. “It is no ordinary storm,