At night, she found a fevered sort of solace in Audric’s arms and then slept fitfully, waiting for a voice that never came.

• • •

The morning of their departure, on the second of April, arrived still and cold. A light snow fell against the gray dawn.

Rielle left Baingarde for the Pyre with Ludivine at her side, her Sun Guard behind her, and Atheria circling happily overhead. The chavaile had been restless for days, constantly gazing south toward Mazabat as if examining the wind and preparing herself to fly.

But Rielle could not appreciate Atheria’s joy. A faint dread threw stones in her belly. Her skin was still warm from Audric’s kisses. It was an effort not to turn and run back to him. She was weary from their sleepless night and sore from how ferociously they had moved together in a way that would have delighted her, had she not several long hours on a horse in her near future.

It had seemed a wise decision, not to travel on Atheria. She would accompany them, of course, and could be used for a quick escape if necessary. But Atheria could only comfortably carry three people, and neither Audric nor Ludivine much liked the idea of Rielle arriving in Mazabat without her guard.

As she walked, listening to the merry chirruping calls of Atheria overhead, Rielle touched her mouth. Her lips were chapped and raw from hours of kissing. She relished their sting, the worn-out ache of her body. She closed her eyes, remembering Audric’s touch, gentle and tireless.

Tears pricked her eyes. Yes, it was the responsible course of action for him to stay in Âme de la Terre—and certainly she wanted to go to Mazabat and find Saint Tokazi’s casting. But the reality of Audric’s absence tore at her. She had asked him to stay behind and not walk with them to the Pyre, fearing it would be too terrible to ride away from him, to watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance, but this was far worse. Each step away from Baingarde wrenched something loose inside her; each snowflake leached his warmth from her skin.

She groped for Ludivine’s healthy hand and felt calmer at the touch of her fingers.

Then they arrived at the Pyre, shaking loose their snowy cloaks inside the grand gilded doors, and her calm vanished.

Voices came from one of the tiny sitting rooms lining the foyer—Miren’s and Tal’s.

“We’ve had this discussion a dozen times,” said Tal, “and I don’t want to have it again.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” Miren returned sharply, “because we’re going to.”

“They’ll be here soon. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“And I don’t want you to leave at all.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that there’s nothing between Rielle and me.”

Rielle froze.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Tal,” Miren spat out. “Stop reducing my very real fears to some sort of petty jealousy. I know very well that there’s nothing between you. What I don’t know is if you’ll be safe around her. Or if you can be around her for so many weeks without falling so deeply inside your own thoughts that we won’t be able to get you out again.”

“It’s not like that,” Tal said softly.

“It’s exactly like that. Don’t insult me. I know you.” A shift of sound; Miren perhaps moving closer to him. Then she said, softer, “I know you want to protect her. I know you yearn for God, and that it eats at you to have reached the limit of your abilities. But don’t let your search for understanding blind you to the fact that Rielle is dangerous and that danger stalks her like wolves of her own making.”

“Love, please don’t worry for me.” The soft fall of kisses. Tal’s hoarse, imploring voice. “Please trust me. Trust Rielle.”

Ludivine sensed Rielle’s intentions at once. Rielle, don’t—

But Rielle could no longer listen to them. She marched around the corner, smiling brightly. “Good morning. I do hope nothing’s the matter. I thought I heard raised voices.”

Tal recovered quickly, with a broad smile Rielle might have believed, if she hadn’t heard their conversation. “Good morning, Rielle. Ludivine. Are we ready to leave?”

From behind Rielle, Evyline said, “The horses are packed and ready, Lord Belounnon.”

“Excellent.” Then he paused. “I wonder if I might have another moment alone with Grand Magister Ballastier before we leave.”

“Of course,” Rielle said. “God knows you wouldn’t want my dangerous self around, putting your conversation at risk.”

She turned away breezily, leaving them agape.

Ludivine joined her by the horses. “That was uncalled for.”

“It was entirely called for,” Rielle said, adjusting her horse’s saddlebags, “and I hope she feels terrible. As if I would ever hurt Tal. Honestly, Lu, the way everyone’s acting around me lately, you’d think they’ve forgotten I’m the Sun Queen, Celdaria’s sworn protector and guardian. You’d think they’ve—”

She paused.

Lu finished for her, gently. You’d think they’ve decided that the council was wrong, that Bastien was wrong, that the trials meant nothing. That you are not the Queen the Church says you are.

Rielle’s hands trembled as she stroked her horse’s neck. And what about which Queen I say I am? Does that count for nothing?

Tal emerged from the Pyre, his face clouded. He avoided Rielle’s gaze and said quietly, “Miren wishes to speak with you.”

She glared at him, brushed past Ludivine, and met Miren just inside the Pyre doors.

Miren rose from her chair, looking paler and smaller than usual. Her freckles stood out starkly against her skin.

Rielle could not stand the sight of her. She peered past her into the Pyre’s soft shadows. “Where’s Sloane, do you know? Odd, that she wouldn’t be here to bid her brother farewell.”

“They said their goodbyes early this morning. Rielle.” Miren drew a deep breath. “I know you heard what I said.”

Rielle watched her, unflinching. “Yes. I did.”

“I won’t apologize for it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“No, but I understand it might have hurt you to hear me.”

Rielle laughed. “I assure you, Miren, it takes much more than the silly, simple fears of a nervous lover to hurt me.”

Miren’s mouth thinned. “I don’t want to fight with you. I only want to say this: I believe everything I said. I believe you are dangerous, in ways we can’t yet fathom. Possibly in ways even you can’t. I don’t envy the life you’ve been given, but I won’t excuse you for any terrible things you may do or have already done. And if you hurt Tal, well…” Miren sighed, looking past Rielle at the gathered horses. Her face changed when she saw Tal, and Rielle’s chest ached to see it, for it reminded her of Audric, how his eyes softened when he found her across a room.