the angel lifted herself from the table and stumbled to her feet. One of the palace attendants, teeth chattering even in his furs, hurried forward to offer the angel a robe to cover herself.
But the angel ignored him and instead pushed herself into the air with a jubilant cry. Her wings were incandescent, twin stars of white light affixed to her back. They did not move like songbirds’ wings, that undignified flapping. Instead, they angled subtly when necessary to change the course of flight. They narrowed when diving; they expanded when rising.
Soon, the angel’s form had vanished. Only the light of her wings remained, gliding fast from peak to peak.
Rielle licked her chapped lips. “Bring me another.”
“We’ll eat first.” Corien retrieved her fur cloak from the ground. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“I don’t need to eat.”
“You do. And you need to wear this.” He placed the cloak around her shoulders, over the thin red gown she had worn for days. The fabric, once fine, now reeked of sweat. “You’ll grow ill otherwise.”
She swatted him away. “I would prefer to continue working. Bring me another.”
His pale eyes were very still. “You’ve been working for seven days, Rielle, with very little rest.”
“I am aware. Bring me another.”
“You’re still human. You need sleep, food, and warmth.”
She laughed. “What nerve you have. You whispered in my dreams for months on end, stealing sleep from me until I came to you. And now you say I need to rest.”
Turning away from him, Rielle found one of his lieutenants, an ice-eyed female angel with honey-brown skin and black braids. She could not recall her name and did not care to try.
“You,” she said. “Bring me another at once.”
For hours, the lieutenant had been watching Rielle with shining eyes. She did not even glance at Corien before hurrying back to the fortress, two angels of lower rank at her heels.
Rielle looked up at the sky. Around her altar rippled a shifting ring of shadows as if she were deep underwater, looking up at the light through shivering waves. Hundreds of bodiless angels crowded near to watch her work. How she delighted in the feeling of their awe. Their eager thoughts tapped against her mind like moths hitting a window, clumsy as they chased the light beyond the glass.
“No, Rielle,” said Corien tightly, coming up beside her. “We will go inside now.”
“We will not. And if you won’t choose another angel for me, I’ll do it myself.”
She let her eyes unfocus, sent her power flooding out to illuminate the mountainside. In the golden realm of her vision, her power hit the angels’ minds like a blazing current crashing against rocks. The patterns of its waves were mesmerizing. With each ripple, sensations flew back to her, reporting. Tastes, sounds, textures.
Ah. There was one she liked.
She directed her power to the left. One of the angels peeled free from the rest and came flying to her open arms.
Queen of light and blood. The angel’s voice trembled as she drew him down to the dark table of her altar. Thank you for choosing me. You have my heart, my queen; you have my love and my loyalty.
Rielle held the angel steady against the stone, the fabric of his mind stretched between her hands like a canvas unrolled. Impatience prickled her skin. She glared at the walkway that led to the fortress. The snow was falling faster, veiling the black walls.
“Your lieutenants are slow,” she observed. “I need a body.”
Corien’s shoulders were rigid with anger. “Release him and come inside with me, now.”
“I want to do it again.”
“And you will, my love, but not until tomorrow.”
She set her jaw, fighting to still her trembling mouth. She knew he was right; she could feel how her hands shook, the sway of her balance. Her stomach and throat felt on the verge of collapse, dry and pinched, desperate for food.
If only he had not stopped her. While she worked, she noticed none of this.
“I have only resurrected three hundred angels,” she muttered.
He laughed quietly. “In seven days. A remarkable achievement.”
“We need more than that to do all we have dreamt of.”
She sent him a simple thought: I need more.
“Celdaria isn’t going anywhere,” he said aloud, ignoring her silent plea. “The world isn’t going anywhere, and nothing can stop us.”
“My mind aches for more of this.” She wanted to cry with frustration; she wanted to punch the stone table in two. “And yet my body is too weak for it.”