“Lady Rielle,” said Garver Randell, approaching carefully up the cliffside path. He extended his hand, Simon watching wide-eyed behind him. “Please, my lady. Come with us.”
Oh, my darling girl. Corien’s voice was as gentle as it ever had been. Let me comfort you.
Rielle stood, pushing Garver’s hand away. She turned, unsteady, and gazed through tear-filled eyes across the hilltops.
Where? Her thoughts felt sluggish. I can’t… Corien, she’s…
Follow the sound of my voice.
She did, running first slowly and then frantically. A terrible clouded grief yawned inside her, threatening to swallow her whole, but beneath even that was the pulsing need—to see Corien, to know that he was real.
To stop him from doing anything worse.
His trail led her into a cave beneath a large hill. She ran through a nest of cramped stone passages, the walls trembling on either side as the fight behind her continued.
At last, she rounded a corner into a circular cave. Tree roots snaked up the walls. A small opening in the center of the ceiling gave her a glimpse of the sky.
King Bastien rose from a boulder against the wall. Lord Dervin sat on the floor. Gray clouds clogged each man’s eyes.
At the sound of footsteps, Rielle turned to see her father walking toward her out of the shadows.
She hurried toward him at once. “Papa, you’re all right!”
“You found me.” Her father’s mouth curled into a slow smile. “Well done.”
Rielle froze. He extended his hand, gray eyes unblinking on her face. She brushed past him, searching the room’s shadows.
“Manipulating my father’s mind,” she declared, “is not the way to win my heart.”
“Shall I release him, then?” murmured a voice.
She whirled at the sound. A column of still black watched her from the corner. Her mouth went dry; her heart skipped up her throat.
“Release all of them,” she ordered.
“As you wish.”
A ripple shifted through the room. Lord Dervin looked around in confusion, his eyes clearing.
King Bastien shot to his feet. “What is the meaning of this? Why are we all here?” He glared at Rielle’s father. “Armand?”
“I don’t know, my king.”
At the touch of her father’s hands, Rielle turned to face him. “Papa, I’m so sorry.”
“Are you hurt?” He smoothed back her hair. “What’s happening here?”
“Rielle is leaving you, I’m afraid.”
Rielle turned—and there he was.
Corien.
He moved slowly across the room, light-blue eyes fixed on her face. Tall and slender, hands held carefully behind his back, sleek dark coat buttoned at his shoulder and trailing to the floor. Pale face, cheekbones high and elegant, a full mouth that curved with delight at the sight of her.
Rielle’s breath came high and thin. Her dreams, as vivid as they had been, had not done him justice.
“My God, Rielle,” he murmured, his hungry gaze raking down her body. “I didn’t think it possible, but you are even more exquisite now than you are in my mind.”
Her father stiffened with fury at her side. “Rielle, you know this man?”
“Who are you?” King Bastien stepped forward, a furious expression on his face. “Why have you brought us here?”
Corien took one step closer to Rielle, then another. His eyes never left her face. “I wanted to make sure Rielle didn’t run from me. And you won’t, will you? Not with all these very important men so dangerously close to me.”
“You won’t hurt them.” She shook her head, her voice cracking. “I forbid it.”
“Queen of my heart,” murmured Corien, putting a gloved hand to his chest, “my greatest wish is to please you. But you must promise to leave this place with me, tonight, or I’m sorry to say you will force my hand.”
Panic and craving waged a war in her chest. “But I can’t, I need more time.”
“More time? For what? To be poked and prodded, studied by lecherous magisters and ordered around by an idiotic king too frightened to face the truth?”
Lord Dervin stared at his hands. “I never meant for this to happen.”
Corien laughed. “As if you could have stopped it!”
“Rielle, who is this man,” her father demanded, “and why does he talk to you this way?”
“He’s an angel,” Rielle bit out.
Corien’s eyes flared with displeasure, even as his smile grew.
King Bastien drew his sword. So did Rielle’s father, shoving her behind him.
“That’s impossible.” King Bastien looked as though someone had kicked him in the gut. “The Gate is strong. It was meant to hold for—”
“For a long time,” Corien snapped. “Not forever. Rielle, it’s time to go. Unless you’d like me to demonstrate firsthand what I’m capable of?”
Rielle swallowed hard and moved toward him, her power itching to touch him even as her mind screamed to stay put—but her father threw out his arm and stopped her.
“You will stay away from my daughter, whatever you are,” he said, “or I will—”
“Do what? Kill me?” Corien chuckled. “My dear man, I’d like to see you try.”
Rielle’s father didn’t hesitate. He lunged at Corien, raised his sword to strike. Then his body jerked, his eyes clouded over, and his sword crashed to the ground.
“No!” Rielle ran to him.
He looked at her, head tilted unnaturally to the side, and struck her hard across the face.
Rielle staggered to the cave wall. When she touched her lip, her fingers came away red.
“Interesting,” said Corien calmly. “I only told him to stop you. His mind was the one that chose to strike you.” He turned to her, and she could feel through their connection a twinge of genuine sadness. “Could your father be angry at you for something? I thought you two had put that mess behind you.”
Rielle glared at him. “Release him, or I will destroy you.”
“If you try, they’ll be dead before I hit the ground.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “I thought you…”
“That I loved you?” Corien’s face softened. “Child, I love you more than I can say. I’m doing this for you. If you don’t leave them, they will stifle, shame, and punish you for daring to breach the walls they are building around you.”