Slowly, Audric sank to sit beside her. The soft night winds kissed his hands. Overhead, Atheria dove for her supper, chirping gaily.

“I felt everything in that moment my mind touched hers,” Zahra said thickly. “I saw all that she had endured and what would happen to the world if she failed. I died for her in that future world. I died in her arms, and she wept over the place where I had been. My lord king, this is what I saw. This is why I fought for her, and for you, her father, and why I always will. I died for her, and I would again.”

Zahra reached for his hands. Her dark fingers passed through his like smoke. The cold, supple press of her nearness made him shiver. Tenderly, she touched his cheek. Presumptuous, and yet he sensed nothing would ever be typical between them, not for as long as he lived.

“May I tell you the rest?” she asked. “May I tell you the story of your daughter?”

Tears in his eyes, completely undone, Audric nodded, and then he listened through the night as Zahra spoke of a future that would never be.

• • •

It was as if she had heard him, his daughter.

The next day, Sloane came bursting into his study, her eyes shining. Her excitement summoned the room’s shadows. They rose trembling from their corners and stretched across the bright windows.

He knew it before Sloane drew breath to speak. A light broke open inside him, warming all the tired bones of his body. A single word rose, blooming through his thoughts:

Eliana. Eliana. Eliana.

For of course, that would be her name.

“I’ve sent for Garver,” Sloane said. She was sparkling at the door, her wide smile a welcome sight. The days had been hard, but this joy was easy and desperately needed. “Your mother is with her, and the nurses. The pain hasn’t come for her yet, but she insists it will happen very soon. She’s asking for you. She’s nervous, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

She waited for him to stand, but he couldn’t. His knees would surely give out if he tried.

Sloane was merciful. “Come upstairs,” she said gently, helping him rise from his chair. “It’s time.”

48

   Rielle

“To the skies you were born, to the skies you return

Back to the high places, the far moon, the cold burn

But why did the great song call you so soon, child of the stars?

And why oh why did you listen?”

—Traditional angelic lament

It was dawn in the burnished glory of autumn, and Rielle could no longer hold her tongue. Today was the day. She would tell him as soon as he awoke.

Eliana, full and happy, had fallen asleep on her chest. It was five months since she had come into the world, eerily quiet, staring at everything with those huge brown eyes, and Rielle had still not grown used to how beautiful she was. Her smooth skin, a pale brown like the cheek of a fawn; her soft head, impossibly small; the silken dark hair swirling atop it. The warm weight of her, how perfectly she fit in Rielle’s arms. The gentle burbling noises she made while waving her tiny wrinkled feet, hands clenched as if ready to punch.

Rielle kissed Eliana’s head and laid her carefully in her cradle. As morning sunlight crept across the room, she watched her daughter sleep. Sometimes her mouth moved, suckling nothing. Sometimes her eyelids fluttered—a dream—and Rielle laughed, in awe of this little person sleeping below her, this person she had carried through month after awful, glorious month.

She hadn’t known what to expect when Garver had laid the child in her arms. Nearly twenty hours of excruciating labor, pain so unthinkable that it had drawn her deep into its heart, where everything felt gold and hot, and she glided down a molten fall. And then, at the end of it, a child. Audric holding her hand, laughing through his tears, and this creature, this tiny girl, staring up at her. Squashed and tiny and utterly perfect, her eyes wide and dark, as if already thinking of questions to ask.

It would have been easier had Rielle felt nothing in that moment. She could have feigned love easily enough. Without Ludivine to out her, she could have fooled everyone. The wraiths avoided her, except for Zahra, who was infuriatingly reverent. Never mind that she was capable of killing angels. The mother of Eliana was to be protected and loved without question.

But one look at Eliana’s face, and Rielle had been done for. Relinquishing her to Audric in exchange for sleep felt unreasonably devastating. She could spend the afternoon kissing Eliana’s fingers and forget to eat entirely. She could watch her for hours and never grow tired of staring.

Love left her dizzy, reeling, giddy. She woke in the middle of the night to comfort Eliana, propped her legs up on a settee and laid Eliana on her thighs. Crooned at her, bounced her gently. Audric would wake later and greet Rielle with a kiss on her brow. He had stopped commenting on her fevered state, for which she was grateful. He would shift Eliana to his shoulder and walk slowly through their rooms. If the night was warm enough, he would open the windows, let the breeze in to cool Rielle’s overheated skin. She would watch him from their bed, quietly burning, eyes heavy, and as he sang nonsense songs to their daughter by the light of the moon, she would fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

All of this, this love sitting hot as tears in her throat, and yet, when Rielle returned to bed on that autumn morning, she felt the same restless, weary disquiet that she had felt in the hours before Eliana’s birth, and in the days before that, in every long week that had passed since destroying Corien and Ludivine on the terrace.

As she settled against the pillows, it happened again, just as it had only an hour earlier. Each time it came for her, less time had passed since the one before. Audric slept peacefully, sprawled on his back as always, mouth half-open, curls mussed. Rielle turned away from him, pressed her mouth against her shoulder.

A pulsing heat bloomed at her every joint, as if something buried deep in her marrow were pushing her apart. Her power illuminated her every vein; she closed her eyes and saw the blinding crystalline tree that was her body and all its paths of blood. The pain was deafening. When it came, she could hear nothing else. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, holding her breath until the feeling passed. She held it for so long that her vision began to spot, but she couldn’t let go until it was safe. Never before in her life had she been able to hold quite so still.

When she opened her eyes, gasping quietly for air, Audric was watching her. He reached for her, and she found the strength to push herself away from him. A pressure remained in her fingertips, at her temples, tight and hot, tenuous. If he touched her, she would burst.

“What can I do?” He was sitting up now, fully awake. “Should I send for food? Water? Shall we walk in the gardens? The evening is cool. It might bring you some relief.”

Rielle looked at him, blinking the spots from her eyes. How long had she been sitting there, finding her air again? It could have been hours. Her body ached as if freshly bruised, but when she looked at her bare arms, she saw only gold. It crashed against her bones, burrowed into her fingernails.