Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,82

floated to him through whatever perverse connection Ludivine had forged with his mind. He is keeping her hidden from me. You must find her.

Tal let out a single bitter laugh. Desperation had kept him moving for weeks; he had hardly stopped to rest, pushing through storms of both snow and dust. He had followed a patchy trail cobbled together from Ludivine’s frantic whispers and whatever information he could gather when he dared to stop at inns, travelers’ hostels, encampments of nomadic tribes and roving treasure-seekers.

For weeks, he had hardly slept, both his dreams and his waking thoughts full of Rielle. The image of her from that horrible night outside the village of Tavistère tormented him. They had locked eyes; Corien had taunted him. Too late, Tal.

That desperation, the memory of her frightened face in the rain, had kept him pushing onward for long weeks, heedless of his aching muscles, the blisters in his boots, the hungry pinch of his stomach.

But now that strength left him all at once, like the bones had been sucked out of him. He sank to the ground and sat unmoving as the wind spat its relentless red sand.

Too late, Tal. Tal laughed, reached up under his head scarf, and scrubbed his filthy hands over his face. That’s what he said to me that night. I suppose he was right.

Ludivine’s voice was grave. In his mind’s eye, Tal could see her sitting in a chair surrounded by greenery, her shoulders tense and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Tal, you must find her, she thought to him. If I cannot see her, then you’ll have to do it alone.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” he spat. He refused to mind-speak any longer.

I cannot leave Audric. He needs me to help him, and the world needs him on his throne.

“I didn’t ask you to leave Audric.” Tal pushed himself to his feet. That simple act was exhausting enough to make him want to lie back down in the sand and let it bury him. But he had seen a cave a mile or so down the mountain, and he could sleep there for the night.

“I’ll search the entire world for her,” he mumbled. “I, a single, simple firebrand, will track the most powerful pair of creatures who have ever lived. An angel and a queen of God. And when I find them, she’ll surely listen to me. Don’t you think? She always has. Not once has she ever defied me.”

After a moment, Ludivine spoke quietly. You sound slightly hysterical, Tal. You should rest.

If only she were actually there beside him so he could slap her. “I should rest? Do you know, I had not once thought of that. Thank you.”

You’re no good to her exhausted.

He threw the entire vicious force of his frustration into his thoughts. And you were no good to her even at your best.

She recoiled, and Tal had walked half a mile more before she spoke again.

You’re right. Her voice came faintly. I have failed her utterly. I have failed all of you.

Her despair was honest. Even the distant echoes of it rippling through Tal’s mind made his eyes burn. He briefly considered sending her a thought of comfort, though she did not deserve it.

But something distracted him—a flash of light a few hundred yards down the mountain. It shone for two seconds, flickered, brightened, and then vanished.

Tal froze, chills blanketing his overheated skin. The sunlight had dimmed, and the rocks around him had taken on an eerie crimson glow. He was suddenly very aware of how alone he was, and how vulnerable.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, the stiff fabric caked with sand. Wrapped his fingers around his dagger. Reached for the shield on his back, felt his power pull tight between his body and his casting.

What is it? Ludivine asked.

Nothing good, I’m sure, Tal replied. Leave me. You’ll distract me, and you’re too far away to help.

He felt her hesitation.

Tell me what you find, she said at last.

And if what I find is my death?

Her voice was heavy with regret. I am sorry, Tal.

Then, with a subtle shift of sensation in his mind, she was gone.

Flattening himself against the rock, Tal edged his way down the mountain path, which narrowed into a tight chasm between two tall cliffs.

At the chasm’s mouth, he waited, breathless, for beyond the cliffs, where the path widened once more, there was a dramatic decline, and then a small clearing of