Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,24

and I’m more proud of you for it than I can express, but now things are changing. It is time to move forward, and I cannot risk losing you.”

She scoffed, her vision blurring as tears rose. “You cannot risk losing me, or losing my power?”

“They are one and the same.”

“Either you are afraid to lose what my power can do for you, or you’re afraid to lose me, Rielle. The woman. Because you love me.”

“And can it not be both?” he said with a touch of irritation. “Even your mind allows you to experience many emotions at once. You cannot conceive of how many mine can hold.”

With a growl, she flung him hard to the ground. He landed flat on his back and lay there gasping soundlessly.

She crouched beside him, her hands aching with the urge to touch him and soothe the pain of his stolen body before it could restore itself. She knew she could do it; with a mere glancing thought, she slipped into the realm of the empirium and saw the brilliant map of his body laid out before her. She counted the throbbing red-and-black blossoms of light where his body had been battered by her anger—sixteen altogether.

But first he would hear her speak.

“I know what you want from me,” she breathed. “You’ve gently turned me away from it whenever I’ve had enough wits about me to ask questions. I see that now. And I see clearly what you want. You’ve teased me with the idea for months. You want to help me find the remaining four castings.” Now that her memory had cleared, she remembered what was kept in the massive pack strapped to Artem’s back. She understood why looking at it always made her feel sick, the air drawing tight and hot around her. That pack held castings. Marzana’s shield. Grimvald’s hammer. Tokazi’s staff. Corien had stolen them from Âme de la Terre on the night of her wedding, and their trapped power pulled at her.

“And then,” Rielle pressed on, “when we have all seven, you want me to use them to open the Gate and release your many vengeful kin. You want to provide me with bodies—millions of human bodies, emptied of their minds, thanks to you—and you want me to resurrect every invading angel. Give each of them a corpse, a body they can actually hold on to. A permanent anchor, since most of them aren’t strong enough to hold on to a body for long. Isn’t that right? You want me to bind them to new bodies, fuse them into being using the empirium, grant them more power than they’ve ever had. You want to use me to win this, your second and final war.”

She could not bear it any longer; she stroked Corien’s bleeding cheek, and where her fingers grazed his burned skin, it became whole and white once more. He trembled at her touch, his eyes fluttering with relief. And desire, even now. Even after she had hurt him, even as he lay bleeding, he wanted her. The shadows of their shared dark dreams fluttered at the edges of her mind.

“But what do I want?” she whispered. “To repair the Gate and trap the angels in the Deep for another thousand years? Or do I want to open it, as you would have me do? Do I want to release the millions of bloodthirsty souls teeming on the other side?”

“Bloodthirsty.” He coughed, still catching his breath. “We are hardly that. It is justice we seek.”

“Of the cruelest sort possible.”

“What was done to us was cruel. We will return the gesture in kind.”

“And when you lead this army of resurrected angels, where do you see me? Where do I fit into this grand picture of yours, Kalmaroth?”

He hissed in anger at her use of his angelic name. She smiled a little, enjoying the sting of his wrath. His thoughts betrayed him whenever she uttered the word; he hated that angel, the one who had failed, who had fallen screaming into the Deep.

“You will lead the charge at my side,” Corien answered, his voice tight with pain. His fingers touched hers. “You will show the people who would have caged you forever how mistaken they were to think they ever could.”

She could hardly breathe. Even holding herself back from him, even with the wall of her unwavering power between them, she felt his heat, his ancient will, as keenly as if they were moving together at last, as they had done in