“You are not deserving of hate,” she whispered. “Eliana will learn from you how to love herself. Be kind to your own heart, if only for her sake.”

“Rielle,” he said, the word splintering against her skin, “I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.”

“You will learn.”

“But the Gate,” he said desperately. “Who will close it, if you leave?”

“I wouldn’t leave that for you to face alone, Audric, I—”

She shut her eyes, turning slightly away. The pain was rising once more, sharp-toothed and churning. Gold bit at the insides of her eyes, and a great force pulled at her palms, the soles of her feet, the top of her skull, the small of her back. Fists sank into her muscles and twisted, grinding bone against bone. Soon she would fly apart, and what a relief it would be. She thought of the endless black sea, the rushing sky bright with stars, the little girl holding out her hand.

Come with me, the girl had said. We are rising, you and I. There is so much for us to do.

“Stay with me.” Tenderly, Audric gathered her hands in his. His palms were clammy, his voice trembling with worry. “I’m right here, Rielle. Listen to my voice. Please, God, stay with me. Please, my darling.”

Sweat rolled down her back, pooled under her breasts. If she dove into frozen water, she would melt every iceberg. If she stepped off the bed, if her toes touched the floor, she would fall forever.

“I’m here,” she whispered faintly, once she could speak, and he held her, hardly breathing, until this latest burst of agony had faded—the bed linens soaked, her skin blazing like polished copper, tears streaming like rivers down her cheeks. She turned into Audric’s body, hid her face in the curve of his neck. Slowly, carefully, he stroked her damp hair, as if she were a bird blown from glass or a beast he dared not provoke.

“I love you, Rielle,” he whispered, trembling. “I have loved you always, and I will never stop.”

I wish you would, she wanted to tell him. It would be easier for you, to stop loving me. But there was no need to stab a dying man, and his voice was already calming her, coaxing her into a woozy lull—her name on his lips, his voice torn to shreds. She fell into a shallow red sleep.

• • •

Rielle waited long enough that Audric began to suspect she had changed her mind. Every morning, he woke to find her still beside him, and hope broke open across his face, lit his eyes warm and soft. He began to sleep more soundly, no longer waking every time she shifted.

Then a chill night came. A sharp wind thumped its fingers against the windows. Clouds black against the stars, the moon new and dark.

Rielle awoke from sleep that hardly deserved the word. Waves of scorching light pulsed behind her eyes. Each dull boom chipped away another piece of her skull.

She held her breath, listening. Eliana slept in her cradle, fist at her mouth, little breaths coming steadily. When Rielle climbed out of bed, Audric did not wake. Shadows darkened the soft skin beneath his eyes. He would deny it, but now she was only a source of grief and endless worry for him.

She hurried quietly across the room in her bare feet. At the door, she had to stop for a moment, put her hand over her mouth until the sob building in her throat subsided. How desperately she wanted to kiss him once more, bow her head over Eliana’s tiny warm body and press her face to her daughter’s round cheeks.

But she could not risk waking them. She stepped into the hallway, closed the door behind her. Never had a sound held such terror and such bone-shattering relief. Knees shaking, she leaned hard against the door, held up a hand to silence Evyline before the woman could speak.

“Send the others away,” Rielle muttered, staring at the floor. She found it hard to look at Evyline, who had asked Rielle many times for permission to replace Maylis and Fara. But Rielle would not allow it. She wanted to look at the two empty places in her old guard. She wanted to feel the remorse it brought, let it sit prickly in her gut.

Evyline obeyed her at once. Soon they were alone.

“What is it, my queen?” Evyline placed her broad hand on Rielle’s back. “Is it an angel?”

Unthinkable, that Evyline could have forgiven her, and yet when Rielle finally found the courage to look at her, she saw only love in the older woman’s tired eyes.

“I’m leaving,” Rielle whispered. “I need you to help me reach the mountains. I cannot be in the city when it happens.”

Evyline’s eyes widened. Rielle watched her swallow her protests, the dimming of her face as she accepted this command.

“Very well, my queen.” Evyline offered her arm, and Rielle took it gratefully. “Where shall we go?”

“Mount Taléa. The foothills, near the pass.” Rielle squeezed her eyes shut. Power rippled at her fingertips, pushing hard at the beds of her nails. The ends of her hair sparked white.

Evyline’s face was tight with worry as they hurried down the hallway. “Will we have time to get there? My queen, forgive me, but your face…it is full of light. Stars beneath your cheekbones.”

“I know.” At the stairwell, they stopped. Rielle leaned against the wall. Her mind first went to Ludivine, a horrible mistake that left her breathless with sorrow. She pushed past Ludivine’s memory, and Corien’s just behind it, and instead formed a picture of a different angel in her mind.

Zahra? Please, hurry.

A moment later, the wraith emerged from the nearby wall, her hair streaming behind her in white currents. Evyline flinched in surprise, spat a curse.

Zahra knelt at once. “What can I do, my queen?”

“Two things,” Rielle said tightly. “I need you to guard us as we walk through the city. No one can see us. Keep them far away from me.”

“Yes, my queen.”

“And I need you to ensure that Audric doesn’t wake, not until I’m far enough away from Baingarde that even if he ran full tilt, even if he raced for me on Atheria, he could not stop me.” She gritted her teeth, blinked the bright spots from her eyes. “You understand why I am doing this.”

Zahra’s face held a grave sadness. “Of course, my queen.”

“And you can do both of these things at once? I trust no one else, Zahra. I need you and you alone.”

“I can, and I will.” A ripple of power shifted across Zahra’s face, as if the current of her mind had changed course. Her voice lowered. “The king will not wake until you reach the Flats, my queen.”

“Good.” Drawing thin breaths, Rielle looked down the dark tunnel of the stairs. Each step seemed a mountain. Needles of light pushed their way into her muscles. When she moved, pain scraped her insides, as if every bone had grown sharp black bristles.