But Audric did not falter. In his hand, Illumenor was an inferno. It would dazzle them. He heard the shrieks of the monsters below and saw angels veer quickly away, as if they had been pummeled.

He stared them down. Beyond the mountains, night reigned. But Illumenor turned the battlefield to a scorching, merciless dawn. He heard the awful sounds of two armies crashing together. The ring of swords, the wild cries of felled soldiers.

“We are the light!”

And still they shouted his words.

Audric’s breaths matched the urgent beat of Atheria’s wings as she plunged ahead toward the mountains. Illumenor cut a broad line of white fire through the angelic army. He heard the whistle of arrows, the hissed curses of angels lashing the air, but nothing and no one could approach the blinding brilliance of his casting.

He would not be able to hold such power steady for long.

He turned his thoughts to the battle raging below and searched the chaos for Rielle.

39

   Eliana

“‘Tell me,’ said Morgaine to her love, ‘will you think of me when I am gone? So far from you I must go, such a journey lies before me.’ And Morgaine wept furious tears, ashamed for him to see her, but Gilduin held her hands and kissed them, and looked upon her anguished face, and suddenly Morgaine felt at peace, for in Gilduin’s eyes was naught but love. ‘There is nothing in this world that I could look upon and not then think of you,’ he said, ‘for in you lies everything I have known, everything I am, everything I will be.’”

—“The Ballad of Gilduin and Morgaine,” ancient Celdarian epic, author unknown

In the room Ludivine had set aside for her, Eliana lay beside Navi, arms tight around her, cheek pressed against her arm. She listened to Navi breathe and waited for her to reply. With a twinge of nerves, she remembered that she would not be able to wait for long.

Corien would not stay weakened by Simon’s blightblade forever. Ludivine had shut herself away in her room to keep watch for him. Every passing moment brought them closer to when he would regain his strength and come hunting. Hours, Ludivine had guessed, and only a few of those.

Eliana burrowed against Navi’s side, greedy for her warmth. She thought of how Navi had kissed the sharp-eyed, sharper-mouthed woman, Ysabet, before retreating to Eliana’s room. How their fingers had interwoven, a lingering touch, before moving apart. It should have brought her nothing but joy to know her friend had found a lover. But it only made her think of how little time she herself had had with Navi, and Zahra, and everyone she so fiercely loved, and how all of that time had been while they were at war.

At last, Navi blew out a sharp breath. Her left hand stroked Eliana’s hair.

“Well,” she said, and then said nothing else. Eliana looked up at her, studied her face. The fine cut of her jawline, her thick black lashes. She fiddled with the hem of Navi’s sleeve, glad she was saying nothing else. She didn’t need to; Eliana could see everything she felt on her face.

She asked quietly, “Are you ashamed of me?”

“Because you pity him?” Navi’s voice was gentle. “Of course not. I admit I pity him myself. But I pity you far more, and I am glad that I nor any of my people have seen him today. He is wise to keep himself hidden away. I’m not sure I could have restrained Ysabet, and she’s never even met the man.”

Eliana smiled a little. Silence fell between them, a long, unhurried pull of peace.

“I’m angry that I have to do this,” she whispered into the quiet.

Navi’s fingers were tender in her hair. “As am I, my darling.”

“I’m angry that I want to.” Eliana pushed on before Navi could respond, “I shouldn’t want to let him in again, to accept him, to allow him his power. For months, I’ve guarded myself against memories of him. I’ve wanted to hurt him. I’ve tried many times. But now, when I think of what’s been done to him, I hate him less. When I think of seeing him again, knowing what I now know, I feel this awful relief. He has suffered, and so have I. All those weeks of pain in Corien’s palace… He has lived through years of that. He understands.” She drew a quaking breath. “And then I hate myself for thinking about this when there is so much else to think about, so much else to—”

She swallowed against the hard ache in her throat. The words danced on her tongue. If I do this, Navi, if I manage it, we will never have met. Maybe you will never have been born.

Or maybe Navi would be born to her lovely family in Astavar. She would grow up in Vintervok without a dark future on the horizon. No war, no spy work, no suffering in the Orline maidensfold.

“There is too much hate in the world already,” Navi replied after a moment. “Why direct more of it at yourself?”

Then Navi shifted until they were both on their sides, facing each other. She pressed her brow to Eliana’s.

“We don’t have much time,” Eliana whispered. It could have been said about any of them, about any part of this, but she knew Navi would understand her meaning. “I don’t have to forgive him, she said. I just have to open my heart to him again.” She laughed a little, tears on her lashes. “What little of it there is left.”

“Then go to him,” Navi said quietly. “And be kind to my friend. Her heart is stronger than she thinks, no matter what evil tries to break it.”

Eliana kissed Navi’s cheek. She closed her eyes and lingered there against Navi’s soft skin. Then she rose from the bed and did not look back.

• • •

She found him in a small chamber situated far from the others. Her steps carried her there on fluttering wings of nerves, and when she knocked and heard his summons, every muscle in her body tensed. Panic splintered swiftly inside her, a widening crack in thin ice. She considered turning away, leaving him, demanding of Ludivine another solution. How could she accept or even face this man who had hurt her?

This man who had suffered just as she had. This man who, like her, knew very well the true breadth of Corien’s cruelty.

She did not turn away.

She entered the room, found Simon sitting at the edge of a tiny bed that looked too small for his tall frame. Was it here that he had spent those months under Ludivine’s tutelage? Had she visited him as he slept, sent him nightmares within these very walls?

He looked up, realizing too late who stood before him. He was unable to hide the open mess of his face, his bloodshot eyes and reddened cheeks, the wildness of his hair. He caught her eyes and looked immediately away.

“No,” she told him, going to him at once. “If I don’t get the relief of not having to look at you, then you have to see me too.” She lifted his chin so their gazes locked. His lashes were wet. He tried to look away again; she did not allow it, holding his face still. He had kept himself clean-shaven while in Corien’s palace, but these last few wild days had not allowed him the time. His cheeks were growing rough again, and she wanted to rub her fingers against them until she could remember no other sensation. She longed to hurt him in whatever vicious way she could imagine. She longed to run from him and everything that awaited them.