Ilmaire’s smile was wry. “You heard correctly, Father. I recently journeyed to the Sunderlands with Celdarian guests—Prince Audric, Lady Ludivine of House Sauvillier, and Lady Rielle Dardenne, recently anointed Sun Queen by the Celdarian Church.”

Now sitting rigid against the headboard, King Hallvard stared silently at his son. There was a sudden stillness to his body and his expression, as if some phantom power had scraped away all his excess.

“And what did you do there, in the Sunderlands?” His gaze moved slowly across the room, sliding across first Audric, then Ludivine, then landing at last on Rielle. A thin smile curled across his face.

“Lady Rielle,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

Audric’s hand tightened around Rielle’s.

It can’t be, came Ludivine’s voice, a note of fear ringing inside it.

“The Gate is falling, Father,” Ilmaire was saying. “You remember this. I told you as much before we disembarked.”

Instead of a response, silence stretched on. The king’s red-rimmed gaze remained locked firmly on Rielle. His smile twitched. At the door, Ingrid shifted uneasily.

“Lady Rielle and Prince Audric requested that we visit the Sunderlands to assess the Gate for themselves,” Ilmaire continued, hesitant now. “I could see no harm in it, and after all, Lady Rielle saved our capital from a tidal wave of enormous destructive power. A wave caused by the weakening Gate. It seemed only proper to grant them this request.”

For a moment, silence. Then the king drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms about his legs, like a child eager to hear a story.

“And then what?” the king asked.

Dread crept down Rielle’s back on narrow feet.

Ilmaire grew very still. “Are you all right, Father? You’re acting strangely.”

“I’m merely waiting for the end of your story. Go on. What did Lady Rielle do? She saw the Gate, did she? Was she able to repair it?”

“No.” Ilmaire glanced Rielle’s way, obviously uneasy. “In fact, her attempts to do so seemed to have further weakened the Gate’s structural integrity. So said Jodoc Indarien, speaker of the Obex.”

The king leaned toward Rielle. Though they were separated by several feet, she felt invaded by him. Ensnared.

She wanted to move away, but her feet were made of stone. What’s happening, Lu?

“We should leave,” Audric said quietly.

But Ludivine was held rapt, her brow furrowed. She examined the king as if trying to dissect him with her mind.

“By how much did she weaken it?” King Hallvard asked.

“I’m not certain,” Ilmaire replied.

“Pah. Yes, you are. You can do very few things well, boy, but you do at least listen. By how much did she weaken the Gate?”

After a moment, Ilmaire relented. “Jodoc counted an additional thirty-three fractures—”

“Only thirty-three?” Hallvard made a disgusted sound. “The bitch is a fool.”

The words had hardly left his mouth when, with a sharp cry of pain, he was jerked across the bed as if by an angry, unseen force. His body snapped to the left, then to the right; his head smacked against one of the bedposts.

Ingrid rushed forward, her sword drawn.

Ludivine shoved both Rielle and Audric behind her. She snarled something in a foreign tongue.

Ilmaire reached for the king’s flailing limbs. “Father, stop! What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

But the king jerked away from his son’s touch. His wild movements carried him off the bed and onto the floor. He twisted violently on the rug, his back arching until it seemed he might snap in half.

Audric started forward, but Ludivine held him fast. Rielle saw his eyes glaze over slightly and could not even be angry with Ludivine for taking control of his mind.

Behind Ilmaire, the door opened. Several guards rushed in, then halted abruptly when they saw Hallvard convulsing on the rug.

“Commander?” the foremost guard barked.

But Ingrid stood unmoving, face pale, eyes wide, sword hanging uselessly at her side. Her gaze was perfectly clear. The horror of the moment had simply rendered her motionless.

“Fetch Arvo,” Ilmaire cried, finally managing to subdue his father’s arms and barely avoiding a swift jab to his jaw in the process. “Find the healers!”

The guard ran out at once.

Hallvard wrenched himself away from Ilmaire’s grasp and prostrated himself on the floor, reaching feebly across the carpet for Rielle.

She flinched back from him, grateful for the shield of Ludivine. Her hand clung to Audric’s, clammy with sweat.

“I am sorry,” the king moaned. “My apologies, my lord. I do not think Lady Rielle a fool. Forgive me. I have rotted for too long in this corpse, and it is has weakened my mind. Please, my lord, let me come home. I ache for the north, for your presence and wisdom. I ache for the great work.”

Ice gathered at the small of Rielle’s back. “What are you?”

Hallvard lifted his head to smile at her. In a low, thin voice, he spoke words she did not understand. They were not in any of the Borsvallic or Celdarian dialects, nor the common tongue.

“Lissar,” Audric whispered, his eyes still cloudy with Ludivine’s hold.

Rielle’s mouth went dry. She knew that word. It was one of the old angelic dialects.

In her mind, Ludivine translated the king’s words: I am infinite. I am invincible.

Ingrid cursed softly and backed away from her father, raising her sword. Her eyes trembled with tears.

Ilmaire held up a hand. “Do not harm him, Ingrid.”

Hallvard continued muttering, the unfamiliar syllables rattling across his teeth.

Ludivine’s translation continued: I am splendor, and you are dust. I am glory, and you are ashes.

A grim look settled on Ilmaire’s face. A look of resignation as if, at last, a question had been answered. “What is your name, angel?”

One of the guards let out a soft cry of terror.

King Hallvard drew himself up to a height that seemed taller than his body should have allowed. The lines of expression on his face morphed into something haughty and furious.

“I am Bazrifel,” Hallvard replied, his voice no longer muddled with disease and exhaustion. “Second lieutenant to the third imperial brigade serving His Majesty the Emperor of the Undying.”

“I’ve never heard of this emperor,” Ilmaire replied.

Hallvard smirked. “Soon you will meet him for yourself. You will behold his glory as he flattens your pathetic kingdom under the boots of his armies.”