Jessamyn scowled. “Doesn’t the admiral of the Emperor’s fleet have more important things to do than attend some party?”

Dani raised her eyebrows. “More important than attending a citywide, days-long celebration held in his honor? Not in his eyes, no.”

“Ravikant.” Zahra’s dark form vibrated with anger. “One of the most prideful angels I have ever known. He orchestrated the fleet’s assault on Festival to coincide with his naming day.”

“The Jubilee is notoriously decadent,” Patrik added. “Feasts and concerts and theater performances, day and night. I’ve heard stories about the midnight revels in particular.”

“And I assure you,” said Dani, “that every story you’ve heard, no matter how extraordinary, is true.”

“In other words, it’s not a party I’m interested in attending,” said Patrik cheerfully, “and yet I get the feeling that’s precisely what we’re going to do.”

“The festivities would provide excellent cover for us,” mused Simon. “We’d never get to the docks otherwise.”

“The docks?” Jessamyn frowned. “You want a ship?”

“That would be our fastest route away from Meridian. And if we can get aboard one and leave before the army arrives…” Distant calculations turned in his gaze. “With the imperial army on the move, I want her as far away from this continent as possible as quickly as possible.”

Eliana watched him, wishing she could speak to him alone, that he would tell her what thoughts were turning in that ravaged mind of his.

“Where will we go?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “I don’t know. If we do this, we’ll have five days to decide.”

“And five days to return to Old Celdaria,” she added, “if we want to attempt that while we’re here at Willow. Secure and guarded.”

He inclined his head. “Indeed.”

“Unless the scouts were wrong,” Patrik added, “and the army arrives sooner than we think. Maybe even before the Jubilee. We may have to move more quickly than we think.”

Zahra laughed. “Admiral Ravikant would never allow military action to delay his Jubilee, and he’s done so much for the Emperor that I believe he would respect that.”

“Even if delaying his party meant capturing Eliana?” Jessamyn asked. “From what you’ve told me, I find that hard to believe.”

And then Harkan, who had been sitting in silence, staring hard at his feet, said quietly, “You’ll need scouts stationed around the city borders, watching for the army’s arrival. And if they do arrive early, before you’ve boarded your ship, you’ll need teams to head them off and buy you some time.”

He stood, his shoulders rigid, and his face held in such a careful, hard way that Eliana’s heart clenched. He had decided something, and she wasn’t going to like it.

“I’d like to orchestrate that and lead the point team,” he said, and then, glancing in Zahra’s direction, he added, “With you, Zahra, if you’ll come with me. We can set bombardiers, sabotage the army when and where we can. We can’t stop them, but we can make things more difficult for them.”

“Harkan,” Eliana managed at last. “You can’t be serious. We’re talking about thousands of imperial soldiers altogether—”

“And a coordinated team of fighters could do some damage, if they were smart about it. And we would be.” He wouldn’t look at Eliana. “I have no power to offer and no understanding of the Old World. And I’m…” He paused, his jaw working, and Eliana ached for him, the pain of his obvious, terrible sadness lodging beneath her breastbone.

He shook his head a little, looked at Simon instead. “I can lead such a team. I want to lead it. I know we could be helpful.”

Simon considered him in silence. Then, nodding, he said, “Dani, would any of your people be willing to join him?”

“I’ve already thought of a dozen off the top of my head,” Dani replied at once. “All of them would be happy for the chance, and I know we can recruit more.”

Simon nodded. “Very well. Harkan, we’ll speak with the scouts while they eat, see what other information we can get out of them.”

But before they could go, Eliana caught Harkan’s elbow, holding him fast. “And when we do go sailing away to God knows where,” she said fiercely, “and you’re left behind in Festival, fighting off an entire army, what then? What will become of you?”

Harkan’s eyes shone. He gave her a soft, sad smile so familiar it tore at her. “Does it matter?”

Furious with him for suggesting his life was somehow smaller because of her, or that anyone’s life should mean less in comparison to her own, she turned abruptly and left the room.

39

   Rielle

“Merovec Sauvillier (b. December 14, Year 974): the first child of Lord Dervin Sauvillier (b. 943, d. 998) and Lady Marivon Sauvillier (Gouyet; b. 947, d. 981). Elemental: metalmaster. The elder of two siblings (Ludivine Sauvillier, b. 979), Merovec demonstrated himself to possess a great talent for horsemanship and swordwork, in addition to political savvy, often patrolling the Celdaria-Borsvall border with his father. At age fifteen, he helped engineer the Treaty of the Two Rivers. His prodigious prowess on the battlefield—most notably in the Battle at Courroux (994)—earned him immense national popularity, as well as the moniker ‘the Shield of the North.’”

—A Thorough Catalogue of the Great Celdarian Houses of the Second Age, compiled by various authors

The night of Merovec’s arrival, after he and his party of some two dozen soldiers and advisers had been shown to their rooms, Rielle sat on Ludivine’s bed, the room lit softly by three candles. Atheria paced nervously on the terrace outside.

On the bedside table sat a book chronicling the saints’ futile attempts to use their power to heal injuries at the height of the Angelic Wars. The number of human casualties had pushed them to desperate acts. Each disastrous attempt—a dozen in total—was chronicled in gruesome detail, followed by each saint’s assessment of what had happened and what had gone wrong, and how they had decided, after these dozen attempts and after much discussion and study, that it was simply not possible to extend an elemental’s power beyond the seven recognized elements. From water and metal to blood and bone.

Rielle had spent every spare moment during the last three days poring over these accounts, until they had imprinted themselves on her mind.

And now she sat with Ludivine’s arm in her lap, ready to attempt what the saints had deemed impossible.