could not speak. When she did, tears choked her voice.
“Some angels defy him,” she said, “but not enough.”
It was then that Rielle began to lower her weapon. The red fire faded, revealing her pale, unburnt arm. Eliana held her breath, counted to three, and extinguished her own sword. Smoke curled between them. Katell’s sword was a simple hilt and blade once more, glowing softly with light.
Eliana knelt, and Rielle followed, staring like an enraptured child listening to a bedtime tale.
“A resistance force called Red Crown fights the Empire, but they lose,” Eliana went on, Remy’s translation rolling in the lovely, lilting rhythm of Old Celdarian. “He captures me. For months, he tortures me. He tries to force me to use my power. I resist.”
The smallest of smiles lifted the corners of Rielle’s mouth. Her eyes flashed, and Eliana, startled, thought that little spark might have been pride.
“How did you escape him?” Rielle asked.
Her voice was surprisingly small and singular, nearly swallowed by the hum of power crowding the terrace. How young she was; how young they all were. Remy, his eyes shadowed with horrors. Little Simon, hurrying through the city with his father, mending the hurts of war.
“With the help of a friend,” Eliana said at last. She would not mention Ludivine. The very name felt dangerous. “Mother, please listen. Look at what you have done. See all that you are doing.”
Rielle’s gaze drifted to Audric. Eliana was glad she could not see his face. The hope that might live there, or the despair. She reached for Rielle’s hand, expecting the power between them to spark. But she felt only a hand, smooth and small, with bitten nails and a tiny callus on the right thumb.
“It is a great burden,” she said, “and a great gift to live with this power we have. It is impossible for others to understand. It is difficult to bear their fear and their adoration.”
Rielle laughed, a terribly sad sound. She touched Eliana’s cheek. “Little one,” she said, “I crave their adoration. I crave their fear.”
Eliana shivered. The Prophet’s endearment in her mother’s voice. “Is that what you crave most of all?”
A beat of silence stretched taut and thick. Then Rielle’s expression shifted, a crack in her bright armor.
“No,” she whispered.
“What do you want, then? More than anything?”
Rielle’s eyes glittered. “Rest.”
“And something else,” Eliana guessed.
Rielle nodded. A secret, dreamy smile flickered across her face. She looked inhuman, then, as if her flesh would soon fall away and leave behind a creature that knew only appetite.
“This,” Rielle said. She looked around at the light she had made, the brilliance of her wings in the night sky. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Beneath them, the castle moved with her, the stone contracting and expanding to match her rhythm.
Tears slipped down Rielle’s cheeks. Her voice was ragged with feeling. “I want more of this too.” And then she shook her head and touched her temple. A weary laugh escaped her. “I don’t know how to be what I am, split in two like this. A queen of light, and a queen of darkness. I am Aryava’s prophecy, only I am but one queen. One queen with the desires of two. I cannot bear it.”
Eliana touched her mother’s face, an instinct she didn’t think better of until it had already been done. How smooth Rielle’s skin was, warm and thin beneath her palm.
“You can,” she said firmly. “And you will. We all have light and darkness inside us. That is what it means to be human.”
Behind Eliana, Audric drew in a sharp breath. Rielle’s eyes flicked to him, then back to Eliana.
“And if I am more than human?” she asked.
“Then you must carry more of the light, and more of the darkness too, and so must I.” Eliana tried to smile. “That is our burden.”
Rielle’s mouth trembled. “I did not ask for this burden. I reject it. I hate it.” She looked at Eliana, imploring. “No matter where I go or what I do, I will never be free of it.”
And she was right, Eliana knew. A horrible hot grief tightened her throat. The power in their blood would always hunger for more. And to be hungry, to want to consume, to desire might and power, to crave becoming more than simply a creature of flesh and bone—these longings would make them enemies of some, hated and feared and misunderstood, reviled and revered in the same breath. And others, those clever enough to see the true reach