Lightbringer (Empirium #3) - Claire Legrand Page 0,99

enormous effort, and I have much still to learn.”

Rielle watched them in silence. Wherever she was, the light shifted, drawing out a strange gleam in her eyes.

“Darling, are you hurt?” Audric asked, struggling to keep his voice calm. “How are you feeling?” He searched her body for signs of injury and drank in all the things he had missed—the wild dark fall of her hair, the turn of her jaw, the space she occupied in the world. He imagined her warmth, the sweet weight of her body beside him, her head tucked under his. She seemed softer, somehow, even though her shadowed face was worryingly gaunt. Clearly, she was neither sleeping nor eating well.

Suddenly, he could no longer stand there and pretend to be strong. If he didn’t touch her—even only this pale, half-real brushing of his mind against hers, buoyed on the river of Ludivine’s power—if he did not reach out to her, cup her face in his hands, rest his brow against hers and feel her breathe with him, the ache in his chest would consume him. If he could not protect her, could not help her, he could at least try to reach for her.

He hurried forward, choked out her name, ignoring Ludivine’s backward tug of alarm—but Rielle scrambled away from him. As if he would hurt her, as if he had cornered her.

Immediately, Audric stepped back, his stomach pitching with shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He held up his hands. Tears built behind his eyes, but he refused them. “There is no excuse for the things I said to you that night. I understand why you left. Rielle…” But the memory of their wedding night, the bitter echo of what it could have been, was too terrible, too heavy, and it cracked his voice in two. “I am so sorry, my love.”

Rielle watched him in silence, her gaze bright and hard. It flickered to Ludivine, then back to him, and then, saying nothing, she rose to her feet and smoothed her hands down the front of her tunic, flattening it against her torso.

Audric nearly laughed with relief to see her standing there, her shoulders square and tense. Because there she was—his beloved, his Rielle—and there were her arms, there was the dip of her throat, the folds of tunic and trousers around her every curve.

He saw the change at once, and at the sight of her rounded stomach, her swollen breasts, he let out a small, strange sound that was neither laugh nor sob.

A smile flickered across Rielle’s face. There was a soft light in her eyes, and he rejoiced to see it.

But he could not quite dislodge the sudden fear that jumped into his mind. It was a horrible thing to wonder, a jealousy that deserved no place in this moment.

Was the child his? Or was it Corien’s?

He dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. The child was Rielle’s, and he would love it with all his heart.

“Oh, Rielle,” he breathed, smiling, and his desperate longing to hold her in his arms was a spear through his chest. “How are you feeling? Are you seeing a healer? I know you must be frightened and worried. The prophecy—”

“I saw that,” she said, her distant voice thistle-sharp. “I saw your face.” She let her arms fall, her hands in fists and her eyes snapping with fury. “That’s the first thing you think after all this time apart? Whether or not the child is yours.”

Audric’s heart sank. “No, Rielle, that doesn’t matter to me. The first thing I thought was how relieved I am to see you unhurt.”

“Liar,” she said coldly. Her gaze sparked an angry gold. “Rest assured, Audric—you were the one who did this to me. All of this.”

A violent force sliced the moment in two, falling between them like the drop of an ax.

Audric staggered back and collapsed, his head and shoulders forced to the floor, and by the time he was able to move again, the wood had disappeared, and so had Rielle.

He was in his apartment in the palace of Queen Bazati and Queen Fozeyah, and apart from Ludivine, he was alone.

His vision spinning, despair sewing his throat shut, Audric pressed his brow and fists into the soft rug. Vaguely, he heard Ludivine moving, and he looked up as she settled beside him, her face sweating and pale. Beyond her, the open windows framed a calm sea, the sun cheerfully lighting the water, the city, the ravaged beach. Darkness brewed at the horizon