“And now you hide in my castle and terrorize my people.” Audric kept moving forward, another step with every sentence. The archers would not hurt him, not without Merovec’s command. “You interrogate them and invade their homes. You question their faith and tear apart families.”

“I cannot be sure which of them you and your murderous bride managed to corrupt before she left you.” Merovec tilted his head. A sharp grin widened his mouth. “Tell me, do you pleasure yourself while imagining her moaning in the arms of her new lover?”

But Audric was impervious to him, his mind a spotless shield. “Fear has consumed you, Merovec, and you have turned Âme de la Terre into a nest for it. A place of suspicion and distrust. You have done nothing to prepare our people for what’s to come.”

Merovec looked around the room. His blade cut into Genoveve’s throat. A thin trickle of blood dripped down her white neck, but she did not cry out; her face didn’t even flicker with pain, and Audric’s heart swelled with love for her.

“Where is my sister?” Merovec snapped.

Audric had reached the sun engraved in the polished stone floor, where Rielle had stood during her deposition, only a few paces from the dais. He stood in the sun’s heart, Illumenor humming at his side.

“She isn’t here,” he replied.

“Of course she is.” Merovec’s smile turned bitter. “I know what she is now. The angelic wretch in my sister’s body. Ludivine!” He roared her name, pressed his knife harder against Genoveve’s throat. “Ludivine, or whatever your filthy true name is, show your face!”

“She’s gone, Merovec. Not two days past, she disappeared into the night. I’ve no sense of what’s happened to her.”

“You lie. How else could you sneak into Baingarde unseen?”

“Because it’s my home.” Audric took another step forward. “I was born here, I was raised here, and it was here that my father taught me how to rule a country, just as his mother taught him and her father taught her. I know secrets about Baingarde that you will never know, and I know my people too.”

“You’re holding her hostage somewhere. You think you’ll be able to trade her life for your mother’s.”

Genoveve stared at Audric, her expression turned inward. Nothing showed on her face—no pain, no fear. Nothing but a hard light in her eyes that reminded Audric of the woman she had once been before Bastien’s death had ravaged her.

“It’s not possible to hold Ludivine hostage. To avoid capture, she would enter my mind and dissuade me from binding her.” Audric glanced at the stained-glass windows beyond the statue of Saint Katell. He needed to stall a bit longer. “I’m sure you wonder when it happened. Do you remember when Lu caught a terrible fever when she was sixteen? She was gravely ill for weeks.”

A flicker of memory on Merovec’s face. “You try my patience.”

“I know the feeling. Lu died that night. An angel took possession of her body and her name. The transition was seamless. She wanted to be close to Rielle, to observe and protect her. Your sister did not suffer.” Then he added calmly, “I thought I would send you to your death knowing that, at least. Or you can release my mother and relinquish the throne you stole from me, and this bloodshed will end. We can talk more of these things. You and your soldiers can join my own and help us ready our country for war.”

A low boom exploded outside, shaking the castle—the unmistakable sound of two elemental magics crashing into each other. In its wake, the silence was woolen. A single Sauvillier soldier shifted to Audric’s right.

“Is there nothing you have touched that isn’t ashes?” Merovec said, his eyes bright. Only now did his voice waver, cracking to show the fear underneath. “You and Rielle both leave death in your wakes. There is nothing we can do to stop what is coming, and you know it. We cannot live while she survives. I will hang your corpse from Baingarde’s gate, and beside it the bodies of everyone in Red Crown. My soldiers will have seized them by now. Their faces will rot in the sun, turn swollen and black. And those who pass this monument of ruin will remember what happened to King Audric the weakhearted and everyone who loved him.”

Audric looked once more to the stained glass. A faint shadow swooped past it. His hand moved slowly to Illumenor’s hilt.

“The Scourge was a dark time in our history, Merovec,” he said. “That you would insist on recreating it, this time not hunting marques, but rather anyone you suspect of working against you, is proof enough that you are unworthy of your stolen crown.”

“Not another step!” Merovec bellowed. Three quick swipes of his knife left red gashes on Genoveve’s arms and cheek. She did cry out then, a muted yelp of pain that made Audric’s vision pulse black.

“I’ll cut her open and let her bleed out on this throne you think I don’t deserve!” Merovec’s face was wild. “And you’ll have ruined yet another life!”

A piercing explosion swallowed Merovec’s voice. The stained glass windows shattered. Colored shards flew across the room, and Atheria followed close behind, her mouth open wide to bare her fearsome sharp teeth. She trumpeted a cry of rage that hit Audric’s bones like ice.

Merovec released Genoveve, fumbling for his sword. Genoveve elbowed him in the ribs, then whirled and tried to punch him. He caught her wrist and flung her to the floor bright with glass, kicked her in the side again and again.

The Sauvillier soldiers in the loft shot their arrows. Audric dodged them, ran for the dais. To his left, Sloane pulled shadows from the hall’s corners, cast them into sharp-beaked hawks. They dove fast, repelled every new arrow shot. Evyline and the Sun Guard rushed forward, their swords flying. Some of Merovec’s soldiers tried to flee, screaming in terror as Atheria snapped at them. Kamayin whirled, her wrists blazing. She reached for the seven prayer basins lining the room and smacked the fleeing soldiers with foaming fists of water.

An archer crouched in the loft sprang to her feet and shot an arrow at Atheria. It struck her right shoulder, near her wing joint. She shrieked and dove for the archer, who shot her again, this time in the thick muscle of her upper left leg, but didn’t have time to nock a third arrow before Atheria reached her. She grabbed the archer by her throat and flung her hard to the floor below.

Audric raced up the steps of the dais and unsheathed Illumenor. His power raced through his body, crashed into the sword, then ricocheted back into him, flooding his veins with blazing heat. An endless cycle of power, blade to blood to blade again. Gold danced before his eyes, but instead of obscuring his vision, it enhanced it.

He swung Illumenor. The sword’s brilliance erupted, blasting the room free of shadows. Everyone fighting staggered, shielding their eyes.

Merovec left Genoveve bleeding on the glass-strewn floor and spun to meet Audric’s sword with his own. Their blades crashed together. Audric bore down on him, Illumenor crackling with trapped sunlight. Merovec cried out, looked away from the impossible brilliance, but held his sword fast.