Audric ignored him. “Is she dead?”

“No,” the archer replied. “She is trapped.” He reached for the arrow, as if to pull it from Ludivine’s body.

Rielle moved to block him, the wind spinning angrily around her and the beach trembling beneath her feet. “You will not touch her.”

The archer raised one cool eyebrow. “It won’t hurt her. This body means nothing now. The creature you love is contained in this blade.”

Rielle stepped back, aghast.

“What?” Audric breathed.

Ingrid spat a quiet curse from a few paces away. “If someone doesn’t explain what’s going on right this instant, I’ll start shooting indiscriminately.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Commander,” Ilmaire replied, the ferocity in his voice startling Rielle. “I’ll remind you that I am our father’s heir, and that you obey my orders.”

Ingrid stared, her mouth parting in surprise.

Ilmaire knelt beside Ludivine. “Audric, please explain this to me. I know I haven’t yet regained your trust, but if my soldiers are in danger, I must know.”

“Ludivine is an angel,” Audric said at once. “My cousin Ludivine died of a fever when she was younger, and an angel inhabited her body. We were unaware of this until several weeks ago, when Rielle was anointed Sun Queen.” He glanced at Rielle. “She is our friend. We can trust her.”

Ingrid stepped back, horror plain on her face. Even Ilmaire seemed struck speechless, though he stared at Ludivine’s body with a new curiosity, as if she were a specimen he was eager to examine.

Corien’s gleeful voice arrived. My God, this is entertaining.

An image of him lounging in that chair by the windows flashed across Rielle’s vision.

“Quiet,” she hissed aloud, distracted. “Leave me alone.”

“Who is she talking to?” Ingrid demanded.

The archer raised an eyebrow, considering Rielle. “Who indeed?”

She ignored the question. “Explain this to me. What is that arrow?”

“It is a blightblade,” the archer replied as tonelessly as if describing the weather. “It is forged from a combination of a copper alloy and the blood of monstrous beasts known as the cruciata. The cruciata originate from the Deep. Their blood, which is venomous to angels and extremely potent, gives the blightblades their power. When used against a body possessed by an angel, the blightblade extracts the angelic spirit from the body and traps the angel within it, leaving the body empty and free to die naturally.”

Rielle looked at him in horror. Audric shut his eyes and turned away.

Ingrid was horribly pale. “What is he talking about? How can this be true? Angels?”

Ilmaire gazed at Ludivine’s body in astonishment. “Can she be removed from the blightblade?”

The archer hesitated.

As Rielle advanced on him, the sand crackled beneath her feet as if flames were gathering inside it. “Well? Can she?”

After a moment, the archer nodded. “Yes. The blightblade, if shattered, will release the trapped angel.”

“And then she can return to her body?” Audric replied.

“It’s not her body, I’ll remind you. She stole it, as have any angels who now live in this world.”

“Once the blade is shattered,” Audric repeated angrily, “she can return to her body?”

“Yes.”

“And her body will be whole and well?” Rielle added.

The archer’s expression tightened. “Oh, yes. Her angelic nature will ensure that this body is restored. Blightblades do, however, leave a scar that is, apparently, quite painful even for an angel to bear.” His hard mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “And no amount of angelic might can cure it.”

“So she’ll be in pain forever?” asked Audric.

The archer inclined his head.

“She won’t,” Rielle declared. “I’ll mend her scar and take away her pain. I’ll make her whole again.”

“Is that truly possible?” Ilmaire asked. “Can you heal wounds as well?”

Rielle stalked back to Ludivine and, ignoring Audric’s protests, yanked the arrow from Ludivine’s body. Her body jerked, inanimate, and Rielle’s throat soured with revulsion.

“Blightblades are very difficult to shatter,” offered the archer.

Rielle smirked. Her vision burned gold. “Not for me.”

Then she flung the arrow to the ground and flicked her wrist, tugging sharply on the air.

Hot jolts of power surged down her arm and out her fingers, making the air quiver with heat. The blade shattered into dozens of tiny shards; the bright copper metal turned dull.

A shifting dark shape, fainter than a shadow, long and patchy, rose swiftly from the arrow’s ruins and surged across the white sand toward Ludivine’s body, like a parched creature desperate for water. From within it, an alien voice cried out mournfully, uttering words Rielle could not comprehend. They held Ludivine’s voice and also another—deeper, older, and heavy with sadness.

A canvas of shadows shifted across Ludivine’s body, like a woman-shaped mask hugging its mate, and then, in an instant, the shape disappeared. Ludivine’s eyes flew open. She gasped for air in Audric’s arms.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” she sobbed at once, her eyes wide and frantic. She clutched Audric’s arms as if struggling not to drown, and her cries of despair tore at Rielle’s heart.

“Careful now.” Audric wiped his face with his sleeve, then ripped the sash from his coat and used it to clean the blood from her neck and shoulder. “Gently, Lu. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Oh, God help me, I’m so sorry.” Ludivine turned into his chest, shivering. “Don’t let them… Not again, not ever again. Rielle? Where are you, my darling?” Blindly, she reached back for her, and Rielle moved past her shock to kneel at her side. Ludivine grabbed her arm and pulled both her and Audric close. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please don’t let them take me from you. Not again, not again. I can’t go back, I can’t be that again…”

Rielle held her awkwardly, unable to speak. Perhaps she should have been repulsed, or concerned about what the Borsvall contingent would think of these revelations. But she cared only about this—her, Ludivine, Audric. Together and safe. She pressed her lips to Ludivine’s golden head, trying to ignore the horrific shimmering bruise she could see blooming on Ludivine’s shoulder beneath the torn fabric of her gown.