Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,15

the Angelic Wars.

But now, as the sounds of the bustling city met his ears, he found himself wishing, with a longing so simple and keen that it stole his breath, that he could turn around and go home.

Never had he imagined not having a home to return to.

• • •

The apartment the queens had prepared for him was airy and simply but luxuriously appointed—walls of whitewashed stone, trailing ferns of lilac and forest green hanging from the ceiling in brass pots, wind chimes singing merrily from the balconies.

He declined the queens’ invitation to supper as politely as possible and was glad when Ludivine retreated without a word to her own chambers down the corridor.

The sun was setting. Beyond his windows, which had been thrown open to admit the cool night air, the sky was dim with tangerine light, its clouds tinted lavender and rose.

He was alone.

He watched the sky for as long as he could remain standing, and then he began to shake from his tense shoulders down to his aching calves. The exhaustion and numbness of those long days traveling aboard Atheria were coming to claim him at last, but the sight of his bed was unbearable. Clean and neat and white, the headboard a masterwork of stained teak carvings and polished blue stone, it was lovely and inviting, but it was not his.

It was a stranger’s bed, slept in by countless dignitaries over the years. His own bed was at home, in Baingarde, and had cocooned him as he moved with Rielle in the deep hours of the night, when everything else was still.

Outside, on one of the broad terraces, Atheria touched down with a cheerful little chirp, her mouth full of feathers. She had caught a hawk for supper.

It was the sight of her that undid him.

His grief slammed into him like the tidal wave he had watched Rielle subdue. He couldn’t tear the image of her from his mind—a glowing savior, a fire-limned queen riding her immortal steed to save the world.

“Oh, God,” he choked out, sinking to his knees, and then all at once, his fury, sorrow, and regret burst up his body, from belly to chest to throat, and he threw his head back and screamed, his arms rigid at his sides.

Quickly, his sobs rose up to claim his voice, and he wept there on the soft white rug, his hands buried in his dark curls. His chest was an agony of pain, as if a blade had cleaved it in two.

He would not have minded if that happened. He could not imagine waking up the next day, and the next, and the next, in this place that was not his home, his throne taken from him and his own, his love, his Rielle gone from him, driven away by his own anger, his stupid, vicious jealousy, his wounded pride.

He did not hear the door open, nor did he hear Ludivine pad barefooted across the floor. He did not realize hours had passed, that the sky was dark, or that he was hungry, shivering on the floor. That he was so tired his bones ached, or that Atheria was pacing in a frenzy of worry on the terrace, chirping like an agitated bird.

But when Ludivine sat beside him and opened her arms, he turned into her, seeking comfort as blindly as a child. She did not send him any reassurances with her mind, and for that he was grateful.

He held on to her, his sobs raw and heaving. He felt Ludivine’s lips in his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Audric,” she whispered against his temple, her words thick with tears. She stroked his damp curls, said his name again and again.

The sound of her voice reminded him to breathe.

4

Tal

“My darling Tal. I’ll send this to that inn we love, in Beaulaval, in hopes that it will reach you. No word from Audric yet. Things are changing quickly here. Merovec’s soldiers stop citizens on the streets. They barge into homes unannounced, patrol neighborhoods constantly. Searching for something, but what? When any of us try to offer counsel, or ask what Merovec is trying to do, we are dismissed. More later, but for now I must tell you that Odo Laroche and I, we’ve begun what you might call a resistance effort. Those who are loyal to Audric. You’ll think it rash, but you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing. We’ve named ourselves Red Crown. Don’t laugh. None of this is funny, and we’ve got to do something. I