Rielle glanced at Audric. He had not said a word, but his dark gaze was intent upon her.

I must answer him myself, Rielle thought to Ludivine. Allowing either of you to speak for me will weaken me, in his eyes.

Beneath the table, Ludivine gently squeezed her hand. Her brow remained furrowed, her gaze distant as she stared at the table. Corien, Rielle assumed, was still interfering with her mind.

Rielle raised her chin slightly. “It wasn’t cold-blooded murder, Lord Sauvillier. They attacked me, and I punished them for it.”

He had not missed her deliberate use of his formal title. She had to swallow a smile at the flicker of irritation on his face.

“I killed them in defense of myself,” she continued, “and of Tal, and of the abducted child Zuka. It was, in fact, in defense of everyone who now lives. The Obex intended to keep Saint Tokazi’s staff from me. Without it, without all seven of the saints’ castings, I will not be able to repair the falling Gate.”

Merovec sat back in his seat, holding his drink loosely in one hand. “Ah yes. The falling Gate. The structure of which you yourself worsened, Lady Rielle, according to my friend in Borsvall.”

“And what friend is this?” came Audric’s low voice.

“King Ilmaire told me much in his recent letter. He is eager for us all to be friends, in the face of whatever darkness looms on the horizon. I don’t much want to be friends with a spineless man who can’t command the respect of his own country, but my options are limited these days.” He looked calmly at Audric. “Once, my lord prince, I would have considered you a friend. Isn’t it funny how things can so quickly change?”

Queen Genoveve let out a soft trill of laughter. Her fingers, resting on the table, twitched as if she had been struck on the ribs.

Audric went dangerously still.

“We’ve discussed this, Merovec,” said Ludivine, coming out of whatever half trance she’d been in. “There is no ill feeling between myself and Rielle, or myself and Audric—or between myself and my aunt the queen, in fact. You would do well to remember that, and to remember that you are a guest here.”

Merovec lifted Ludivine’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Your spirit is far too generous, little sister.”

“If you have something you would like to say, Merovec,” said Audric, his voice even and cool in a way Rielle recognized from their most awful arguments, “then, please, say it. We’re all family here, after all.”

Queen Genoveve rose from her chair and drifted to a side table, where a silver platter of frosted pastries awaited the dessert course. Rielle knew she should have been paying attention to the conversation at the table, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from Genoveve’s pronounced cheekbones, the birdlike, wide-eyed way she nibbled her cake, what a startlingly slim figure she cut against the candlelit tapestries.

“Family.” Merovec laughed a little. “You know, the broken engagement itself wouldn’t have angered me. Well, that’s a lie. It would have infuriated me, no matter the circumstances. But to betray my little sister for a monster of a woman is a crime I cannot forgive, my lord prince.”

“Merovec,” Ludivine snapped. “That’s quite enough.”

The tension radiating from Audric’s body moved down the table like a storm across the sky. “You will not speak of Lady Rielle like that. Not in my presence, and not in hers.”

“I will speak of her exactly as she deserves,” Merovec replied, his voice as mild as if they were discussing the merits of one horse compared to another. “Here is a woman who cannot be trusted, whose power we do not understand. She attacked the Archon during her trials. She killed thirteen in Mazabat and injured even more than that. She hurt God knows how many poor souls in Kirvaya—news of which has perhaps not yet made the long journey west. Her interference at the Gate caused disasters that killed countless more, I’m sure. Deaths we’ll never know about, in quiet corners of the world.

“Oh, yes,” he added at the expression on Audric’s face. “I know everything that you know, my lord prince. My spies are many, and they are thorough. And yet, after everything she has done, here she is, given a place of honor at your table. In our capital. In our temples.”

Merovec leaned forward, elbows on the table, the ghost of a smile on his mouth. “And then, of course, she has a place of honor in your bed as well. Tell me, Audric, when she turns on us, will you have the strength to kill her as she sleeps?” Merovec sat back, making a soft tch of disgust. “I don’t think you do. I think you’ll let us all die if it means you can keep on fucking her.”

Then, three terrible things:

Audric pushed himself back from the table, a blazing look of fury on his face.

Merovec rose as well, his smile a taunt. Ludivine shot to her feet just after him, gripping his arm. She snapped at both of them to sit down and get ahold of themselves, lest they distress the queen.

And the queen…

Rielle, so distracted that Merovec’s words had barely skimmed the surface of her mind, watched Genoveve move swiftly out of the hall, into the corridor outside.

Some instinct, cold and dire, told her to follow. She pushed back from the table, ignoring Audric as he called after her, and followed Genoveve’s pale, thin form down the shadowed hallway. The queen walked faster and faster, her gray gown rustling, and looked once over her shoulder.

“Get away!” she cried, gesturing frantically. “Don’t touch me! You’ll kill me, you’ll burn me!”

She began to run, and Rielle followed, afraid to get too close but unwilling to let her out of her sight. With a small sob, the queen clamped her hands over her ears and used her shoulder to knock open a door that stood ajar. She raced inside, and Rielle ran after her, into a small sitting room. She heard Ludivine cry out behind her, and running footsteps she recognized as Audric’s.

And then, too quickly for Rielle to grab her arm, or even cry out her name, Queen Genoveve crashed through the glass doors of the sitting room terrace, propelled through them as if by some inhuman force. She sobbed, her voice cracking open, “They won’t stop! They won’t stop!” She pounded on her temples with her bleeding fists, and then, reaching for the stars above as if beyond their bright cage lay an escape, she flung herself over the terrace railing and into the night.

• • •

The world slowed and narrowed, existing only in a few searing points—Merovec racing across the terrace, his once-smug face now a wreck of horror. Ludivine catching Rielle by the arms, saying words she could not hear, not from the numb hollow place into which she had fallen. The queen’s advisers, the queensguard, Rielle’s own guard, all hurrying through the rooms and onto the terrace and downstairs, shouting orders.