23

   Rielle

“Stories from the early days of the Second Age tell us that Saint Marzana, understanding how exhausted and heartsick the scattered people of her homeland were after so many years of war, decided to craft her throne from flames that would never die. Even on the darkest night, the throne would burn brighter than the sun and warm the coldest reaches of even the most desolate heart.”

—The Fire That Lit the World: A History of the Formation of the Kirvayan Realm by Blazh Tarasov and Lyudmilla Zakhovna

Rielle awoke in the early hours of the morning from a strangely dreamless sleep to hear Ludivine’s urgent voice.

Rielle, wake up. There’s someone here to see you. The speaker of the Kirvayan Obex. We’re right outside. I barely managed to stop her from barging in. Wake Audric.

Rielle’s exhaustion vanished. She gently shook Audric until he stirred, rubbing his eyes.

“What is it?” he murmured.

“The speaker of the Obex is here.” She climbed out of bed, the cool air prickling her skin, and retrieved her dressing gown from the floor. “Lu’s outside with her.”

Rielle waited until Audric had pulled on his tunic and trousers and then told Ludivine, All right. We’re decent.

Ludivine entered at once, her brow knotted with worry. Behind her followed a pale woman with close-cropped gray hair, her skin lined and weathered but her gait strong. She wore layers of snow-dusted furs, carried a walking stick, and brought with her the crisp bite of winter.

The bronze clasp of her cloak bore the sigil of the Obex—a single eye, resting atop the Gate.

“Prince Audric. Lady Rielle.” The woman bowed. “My name is Vaska. I speak for the Obex.”

“It’s quite late, Vaska,” said Audric, “and we’ve been traveling for days. Can this wait until morning?”

Vaska blinked. “No, my lord prince. It cannot wait until morning.” She looked at Rielle. “You are here for the casting of Saint Marzana, are you not?”

“Yes, we are,” Rielle replied. “Has something happened?”

The woman shook her head. “I cannot speak of it here, my lady. As you know, the Obex is loyal to no one but our sacred task. We are not loyal to the Blazing Throne, nor to the Magisterial Council. And, as I’m sure you also know, this city is one of unrest. You have heard, perhaps, of the elemental children who have gone missing?”

Rielle raised her eyebrows. She felt Ludivine’s shock like a tiny shove against her spine. I didn’t know of this.

“No,” Rielle said. “We hadn’t heard of missing children.”

Audric stepped forward. “How many children? Are there efforts underway to recover them?”

“Yes, but that is not your concern,” Vaska replied. “I mention it only to further illustrate the precarious state of this city, which I’m certain our queen and her advisers are taking great pains to disguise from you during your visit. Now, please, come with me. I do not trust the walls of Zheminask.”

Vaska walked toward the doors. When they did not follow, she turned back and stared. “Why do you hesitate?”

“This is all rather untoward,” Audric replied. “A single Obex representative, coming for us in the middle of the night, urging us to leave with her and go to an undisclosed location.”

Vaska nodded once. “I understand. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose our destination.” She paused, her mouth thinning. “Jodoc told us of your angel. Surely she can sense my honesty.”

Ludivine glanced at Rielle. Her presence was an uncertain tangle, clinging to Rielle’s mind like a burr.

“I sense that you are telling the truth, Vaska,” Ludivine said slowly.

But beyond that, her thoughts are clouded to me in a way I dislike.

Rielle lost what remained of her patience. “She says your thoughts are clouded to her, which she doesn’t very much like.”

Vaska’s smile was thin. “We Obex have learned much over the years about how to shelter our thoughts from angelic intruders.” Her eyes passed over Ludivine as they might have over a discolored spot on the floor. “Now, please come. Every moment delayed is another moment closer to the Gate’s destruction. And dress warmly. It has begun to snow.”

• • •

Evyline insisted upon joining them, along with three other members of Rielle’s Sun Guard—Jeannette, Ivaine, and Riva. Rielle did not protest. She did not trust Vaska, who led them out of Zheminask through dim passages far below the palace’s ground floor.

Ludivine’s thoughts felt like those of a confused but determined child, fumbling in the dark.

There is something amiss here, she told Rielle.

Here, in our midst?

Here, in this city. And I cannot determine what it is. Something is obstructing me.

Rielle had an idea of what that might be. She wrestled her thoughts clear and calm. Perhaps you are merely tired.

Ludivine fell stubbornly silent. At last, they passed through a narrow door and emerged onto a rough flat of land dusted with snow. They were behind the palace now, and approaching a series of cliffs.

Five elegant stone bridges connected the land on which Zheminask stood to the mountains beyond. Vaska led them across the leftmost one, then up a craggy path that quickly grew steep, scattered with patches of black ice. The higher they climbed, the harder the snow fell, until Rielle could hardly see her own feet. Soon they were trudging through powdery drifts, Rielle’s breath coming high and sharp in her chest, her skin slick with sweat beneath her woolen layers.

She stumbled, clumsy in such frigid cold. Audric caught her at once, his arm strong around her waist.

“We’re turning around this instant,” he told her, having to shout against her ear to be heard, for the hard wind had begun to howl. “This is ludicrous. We’ll fall to our deaths.”

But Rielle could not allow that. The wailing wind, the swirling snow, and the black night beyond it—these were remnants of her dreams.

“If you fall, I’ll catch you,” she shouted back to him, dusting snow from his nose with her glove.

Framed by ice-crusted fur, his face creased with concern. He looked up the slope, which seemed to rise forever into blackness.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked her, not looking at her.

Rielle shook her head. “I’m cold. That’s all I can think of at the moment.”

He smiled, she thought, though she couldn’t be sure. Vaska shouted for them to hurry; stopping on the mountain could mean death. They followed her up, and up, and when at last Vaska called out something Rielle could not understand, gesturing ahead of them through the snow, Rielle faltered and stared.