Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,231

gold and hot, and she glided down a molten fall. And then, at the end of it, a child. Audric holding her hand, laughing through his tears, and this creature, this tiny girl, staring up at her. Squashed and tiny and utterly perfect, her eyes wide and dark, as if already thinking of questions to ask.

It would have been easier had Rielle felt nothing in that moment. She could have feigned love easily enough. Without Ludivine to out her, she could have fooled everyone. The wraiths avoided her, except for Zahra, who was infuriatingly reverent. Never mind that she was capable of killing angels. The mother of Eliana was to be protected and loved without question.

But one look at Eliana’s face, and Rielle had been done for. Relinquishing her to Audric in exchange for sleep felt unreasonably devastating. She could spend the afternoon kissing Eliana’s fingers and forget to eat entirely. She could watch her for hours and never grow tired of staring.

Love left her dizzy, reeling, giddy. She woke in the middle of the night to comfort Eliana, propped her legs up on a settee and laid Eliana on her thighs. Crooned at her, bounced her gently. Audric would wake later and greet Rielle with a kiss on her brow. He had stopped commenting on her fevered state, for which she was grateful. He would shift Eliana to his shoulder and walk slowly through their rooms. If the night was warm enough, he would open the windows, let the breeze in to cool Rielle’s overheated skin. She would watch him from their bed, quietly burning, eyes heavy, and as he sang nonsense songs to their daughter by the light of the moon, she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

All of this, this love sitting hot as tears in her throat, and yet, when Rielle returned to bed on that autumn morning, she felt the same restless, weary disquiet that she had felt in the hours before Eliana’s birth, and in the days before that, in every long week that had passed since destroying Corien and Ludivine on the terrace.

As she settled against the pillows, it happened again, just as it had only an hour earlier. Each time it came for her, less time had passed since the one before. Audric slept peacefully, sprawled on his back as always, mouth half-open, curls mussed. Rielle turned away from him, pressed her mouth against her shoulder.

A pulsing heat bloomed at her every joint, as if something buried deep in her marrow were pushing her apart. Her power illuminated her every vein; she closed her eyes and saw the blinding crystalline tree that was her body and all its paths of blood. The pain was deafening. When it came, she could hear nothing else. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, holding her breath until the feeling passed. She held it for so long that her vision began to spot, but she couldn’t let go until it was safe. Never before in her life had she been able to hold quite so still.

When she opened her eyes, gasping quietly for air, Audric was watching her. He reached for her, and she found the strength to push herself away from him. A pressure remained in her fingertips, at her temples, tight and hot, tenuous. If he touched her, she would burst.

“What can I do?” He was sitting up now, fully awake. “Should I send for food? Water? Shall we walk in the gardens? The evening is cool. It might bring you some relief.”

Rielle looked at him, blinking the spots from her eyes. How long had she been sitting there, finding her air again? It could have been hours. Her body ached as if freshly bruised, but when she looked at her bare arms, she saw only gold. It crashed against her bones, burrowed into her fingernails.

It wanted out.

“Nothing. You can do nothing, Audric. There is no relief for me, and I think you know that.” And then she risked gathering his hands in hers, because she could not live another second without telling him what must be done. She kissed his wrists, breathed out slowly against his knuckles. “I have to leave, my darling. I cannot stay here.”

He laughed a little, his brow furrowing, as if she’d told a bizarre joke. “What do you mean, leave? To go where?”

She closed her eyes. “You’re not stupid. Please don’t pretend to be. Every word I speak costs me. I have to leave. I