Ludivine paused, and then said gently, This is our last stop. We’ll be home soon enough.

I know. Rielle sighed. Thank you.

She touched Audric’s cheek. “You need a shave.”

He smiled. “I thought you liked me like this. What did you call it?”

“A bit of scruff. And yes, I do like it. I like the way it looks, and I like the way it feels against my thighs when you—”

With a groan and a kiss, Audric cut her off. “I thought we were meant to be responsible now, go greet the adoring masses.”

“We are, we are, yes, fine.” Rielle gently detached herself from his arms, allowing him to help her out of bed. When she turned to look at him, the sight of him so fine and poised—his lips swollen from her kisses, the sunlight through the windows gilding his curls—made her lose her breath.

Ludivine’s words from weeks ago returned to her, sharp and searing: And you lied to Audric about his father’s death. We are well suited.

Her chest constricted around her heart, and she suddenly wanted more than anything to wrap Audric in her arms and never again let him out of her sight. Instead, she blurted out, “I love you.”

He cupped her face in his hands as if to imprint the sight of it forever in his memory. “I love you,” he replied softly, and bent to kiss her once more. Then he murmured against her mouth, “My light and my life,” and left her.

Before the door closed, as Evyline returned to the room with Rielle’s two maids flanking her, a page arrived on the landing, breathless from the stairs. “My lord prince,” he said to Audric, “I have a message for you, from the north…”

But then the door closed, and Audric’s reply was lost.

“What gown today, my lady?” asked one of Rielle’s maids—the younger of the two, Sylvie, in the white-and-gold shift that all of Rielle’s new attendants wore.

In Audric’s absence, Rielle’s abdominal pain returned to her. She cupped her lower belly with one hand and stuffed the cake into her mouth with the other.

“Something comfortable,” she declared. “And red.”

• • •

They had been traveling for a month through the heartlands of Celdaria, introducing Rielle as the recently anointed Sun Queen, and the reception in each of the thirteen cities and villages they’d visited so far had been, as Ludivine wryly put it, amorous.

The town of Carduel was no different.

When Rielle stepped out of the Château Grozant and onto the stone road that led up to Carduel’s House of Light, the wall of sound that greeted her nearly knocked her off her feet.

Carduel’s population was just under one thousand, and every one of its citizens had turned out for Rielle’s introduction. They lined the road dressed in their most formal attire—embroidered coats edged with gold, the cut of the fabric a few seasons out of fashion; brocaded gowns stiff with disuse and faded with age; jeweled hair combs that caught the morning sunlight and sent it flying across the road in trembling bursts. Children sat on their parents’ shoulders, tossing white flower petals and waving golden sun-shaped medallions. Acolytes from Carduel’s House of Light stood every few yards, their castings softly glowing.

Audric led the way, Ludivine on his arm in a summer gown of lavender and pearl, and his guard surrounding them in a loose circle.

Rielle watched them, a slight unease nicking at her breastbone. Though there had been no official announcement, the truth was plain. It was impossible for anyone who paid attention not to notice the Sun Queen and the crown prince sneaking up to each other’s rooms night after night, and word of that had traveled quickly throughout the country. Someday soon, they would have to address how to move forward, appease House Sauvillier, officially share news of the broken betrothal, and introduce the idea of Rielle as Audric’s paramour.

But not today.

She ducked out from the vine-crowned trellis marking the courtyard entrance and smiled at the gathered crowd.

A sharp cry from above turned her smile to a beaming grin.

At Atheria’s descent, the townsfolk nearest Rielle cried out and hastened away, making room. The massive godsbeast landed at Rielle’s side with hardly a sound and folded her wings neatly against her body.

“There you are,” Rielle cooed, stretching onto her toes to plant a kiss on Atheria’s velvet muzzle. “Have you been hunting?”

In response, Atheria chirruped and peered about curiously, bright-eyed.

Rielle laughed as she began the ascent toward Carduel’s humble House of Light, Atheria at her side. She felt the eyes of the crowd upon her and stood straighter, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. Some she passed met her gaze; others smiled and looked away; still others bowed, kissed their fingers, then touched the lids of their eyes—the sign of prayer honoring Saint Katell and the House of Light.

By the time Rielle reached the temple entrance, her arms were full of flowers, and soft white petals dusted her hair.

Tal, waiting at the doors in his magisterial robes of scarlet and gold, plucked a petal from her collar. “You’re late.”

Rielle wrinkled her nose at him. “Sun Queens can be tardy if they want to, Lord Belounnon,” she replied, and then bowed low. He gathered her hands in his and kissed her brow.

“Last one,” he reminded her softly underneath the din.

“And thank God for that.”

He glanced down at her red gown, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m not sure it was wise to wear red, of all things.”

Rielle rolled her eyes. She had guessed he wouldn’t approve of this gown and its skirt of deep crimson. On him, it was a firebrand color.

On her, it could be interpreted as a color of the Blood Queen.

She took Tal’s offered arm and accompanied him inside to the temple altar. As he began the ceremony of greeting—so familiar by now that she could have recited the entire thing from memory—she let her attention wander. It was, she knew, a disrespectful thing to do.

But if she had to listen to Tal praise her courage and heroism on the day of the fire trial one more time, she would scream, or start confessing things she shouldn’t.

She maintained an expression of placid humility as he spoke of the tragedy—the innocent civilians who had lost their lives. The executed Sauvillier soldiers, who had been tricked into treason by Lord Dervin Sauvillier, who himself had lost his way in the face of ambition.

Ambition, Rielle thought. That’s a word for it.

Pay attention, Ludivine scolded. You look bored.

I am bored. Rielle drew in a breath. We should tell them the truth.

Ah, that an angel took over the minds of their fellow citizens? That angels are returning? That the Gate is weakening? Yes, that sounds like a splendid idea.