Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,146

gently.

“I am more than human!” she roared at him. Beneath her voice rang a deeper one, a furious distortion. The rumbling of some creature stirring on the ocean floor. Rielle fixed him with a brittle smile. “And isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Corien was very still. Above them, the cloud of circling angels flinched.

Then Corien came close, mouth hovering beside her cheek. “You know I don’t wish to make you come inside with me, but I will do it if you leave me no choice.”

“Do that and I’ll kill you,” she growled.

A soft puff of laughter. “You won’t.”

He had stayed out of her mind since she had opened the Gate and returned to the Reach, but now she felt him sifting carefully through the outer edges of her thoughts. He was not wrong. She would not kill him. It would destroy her to kill him. There would be no one left in the world who could watch her unafraid.

The angel in her hands vibrated with excitement. Can you craft my wings to cast iridescent light? Before, my wings shone cerulean and violet in starlight, amber and lavender in the sun.

Corien’s icy-eyed lieutenant emerged from the fortress, flanked by her inferiors. In her arms lay the body of a naked man with dark skin. Rielle delighted in the woman’s presumptuousness. Normally, Corien insisted upon being the one to take the human’s life.

“Rielle, I swear to you, I will do it,” said Corien. “I will keep you dumb for days while I spoon food into your mouth.”

“Leave me,” she hissed, watching eagerly as the body neared the altar. There was a stirring in her breast, molten and bubbling. “I must work.”

As the lieutenant stepped onto the plinth, Corien grabbed Rielle’s arm, wrenched her against his body.

Brilliant white rage exploded behind her eyes. She shoved him away from her with a sharp cry. The plinth cracked in two. Corien staggered, nearly fell.

And Rielle did not think before she did it. A furious instinct commanded her, and she eagerly obeyed. The scorching power boiling inside her spilled over, blazing down her arms and legs. She twisted the angel between her hands as if he were a mere plaited rope. The cords of his mind stretched, frayed, then snapped. He was clay in her palms, chunks torn off and squashed.

Ignoring his howl of pain, Rielle clapped her palms together and smashed him into oblivion.

The world fell away from under her feet. The landscape before her vanished. In its place, an endless black sea, a sky full of stars.

Frightened by the hugeness of this place, how it sucked at her like a whirlpool, she fought its pull, reached for Corien with her mind and her hands, but could not find him.

She opened her eyes.

She stood in the black sea that had taken her after she had killed the Obex in Patria. Shallow waves edged with gold lapped gently against her shins. The sea floor was soft and ever-changing, a shifting blanket of tiny pebbles. Above, a profusion of stars—vivid azure, amethyst and rose, gilt and ivory and colors she could not name. So many of them painted the black sky that they seemed a solid mass, a sheet of woven jewels with only a few stones missing.

“You’ve come at last,” came a voice from behind her.

She turned. A child in a simple white gown stood not far from her. She was small and round-cheeked, with pale skin and unruly dark hair that fell to her waist. Her lips curved, a sly, familiar smile.

Rielle stepped back, her skin crawling with cold. “Who are you?”

The girl laughed. “You know who I am.”

She did. The tones of her own voice chimed in those words. The child was herself as she had been at five years of age, except that her own eyes had been green, and the eyes of this child were a brilliant gold. An aura of light shone around her, as if she eclipsed the sun.

“I don’t understand.” Rielle glanced back over her shoulder, as if she would find Corien there. But she saw only the sea, endless and glittering. “Have I died?”

“Not yet,” the girl answered brightly. “The shell of your body is there, but the heart of you, your true self, is here with me. It’s not death, even though it looks like it. It’s next.”

“I would like to see myself,” Rielle said, sick with fear.

The girl wrinkled her nose. “If you insist.”

Before Rielle’s eyes appeared a vision of herself, still and glassy-eyed, back on