Eliana did not answer, unwilling to trust him yet. Was it Simon the empirium had been leading her to, or this man? Odo, the soldier had said. A name, perhaps, or an Old Celdarian word she did not know?

She lifted her chin. She needed him to see that she was unafraid.

“I need to enter Baingarde,” she said firmly. “Can you help me?”

Remy hurried over and translated, and the man’s eyebrow quirked. Eliana could not understand his reply.

“What a strange answer to my question,” Remy translated. The man looked at Eliana’s hands, at Katell’s sword hanging from her belt.

Before Eliana could work out a response, Remy stepped forward. He spoke in Old Celdarian, his voice hard and clear. She did not know every word, but she understood enough.

“She is Eliana,” Remy announced, “daughter of the Kingsbane and the Lightbringer, heir to the throne of Saint Katell. It is Katell’s sword she carries, and it is Katell’s blood in her veins. She hails from a future when the world is ruled by the angels of the Undying Empire. She seeks her mother and means to end this war.”

As he spoke, Eliana stared hard at this man. She took Katell’s sword from its sheath and allowed it to shine. A slow chill passed through her, and her power lifted high against her skin, whispering along the sword’s blade, Know me.

Then Remy said a string of familiar words—the same sentence he had recited repeatedly under his breath in Ludivine’s chamber just before they had passed through Simon’s threads.

The man before them blinked. Behind him, his two companions straightened, glanced at each other in startled confusion.

“What did you say?” Eliana whispered.

“‘For crown and country, we protect the true light’,” Remy said quietly. “The words of their Red Crown. This is where it began.” He raised his voice. “How do we get inside the castle? Do you know? Can you help us?”

A beat of silence. The man stepped forward and spoke. Remy quickly translated. “My name is Odo Laroche, and I am a friend of the king.”

The man’s gaze moved to Eliana, sharp and seeking. “You look like them. Your eyes. Your mouth.”

Then he glanced at her castings. “Your mother, though, needs no castings. You do?”

“Someday, perhaps, I won’t need them,” said Eliana. “But I will always want them.”

Odo seemed pleased by this answer. His voice softened the slightest bit.

“And how am I to know you aren’t an angel?” Remy translated.

Eliana took the dagger from her hip and nicked a thin cut across her forearm. She held it out for him to see. Seconds passed. The wound did not close, a line of ruby marking her skin. She spared a thought for the indestructible Eliana of old. How reckless she had been, jumping off roofs without thinking and taking blows as though they were gifts.

“And yet you do not speak Celdarian,” said Odo, “and not even the common tongue I know. Yours is a variant of some kind. I recognize only certain words. How very odd.”

“Not odd,” Eliana replied. “I was taught to speak one thousand years from now. Things have changed.”

Odo lifted an eyebrow. “Clearly.” He glanced at Remy. “And are you also a child of Saint Katell, you who speak for the princess?”

Eliana waited for Remy’s translation, then took his hand before he could answer. “No. He is not. But his name is Remy, and he is my brother.”

Remy’s hand squeezed hers.

Odo nodded, looking hard at both of them. Then he turned and beckoned for them to follow.

“You’re lucky, Your Highness,” he said as they hurried across the courtyard. His companions brought up the rear. “There are many hidden entrances to Baingarde through which one might enter unnoticed, and I know all of them. Though please don’t tell your father that.”

Her father. Eliana’s heart fluttered in her throat. She hoped the Lightbringer, wherever he was, fought far from the castle and its eerie wings of light.

They moved swiftly through a series of gardens and courtyards strewn with debris. Elemental magic streaked the night sky with color. Beastly roars rolled across the rooftops, and the ground shook with marching footsteps. Hundreds of people jostled for entrance at the doors of each temple they passed. They sobbed on their knees, prayed over shivering candles, gathered chairs and tables with which to bar the doors.

Odo knew ways around the crowds, secret ways that took them underground. One such passage brought them to an empty mansion, silent as a tomb. Silken curtains fluttered at the open windows, and the light from Rielle’s wings poured golden across the tiled floor. Eliana shivered. They were so close to Baingarde that her tongue felt fuzzy with power.

Odo’s companions stood guard at the entrance while Odo himself led Eliana and Remy first into the basement, and then into another room below that, dark and damp. Odo went to a table in the corner, found a scrap of paper and a pen.

“I cannot go with you,” he muttered, sketching out a map. “There are many still trapped in this city, and what you must do is beyond any help I can give you.”

He gave her the map, then glanced at Katell’s sword. So close to the castle, the blade hummed with a light Eliana could not contain.

“You say you seek your mother,” Odo said. “When you find her, what will you do?”

Eliana looked steadily at him, feigning a calm she did not feel. “I think you know the answer to that question, Odo Laroche.”

After Remy translated, a faint, sad smile touched Odo’s face, and Eliana wondered how he knew Rielle, what he thought of her, if they had been friends before everything went so horribly wrong.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I know the answer.”

Then he unlocked a plain wooden door and a second one beyond it. He knelt at a hatch set in the stone floor. Somewhere above, a detonation. The house’s foundations shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

Odo stood. Katell’s sword lit his stern, sad face. “Hurry, Your Highness. The city has fallen. Soon, its people will too.”

Remy climbed down the hatch, and Eliana followed him. There was a metal ladder, then a slight drop to a flat earthen floor. Her castings illuminated a narrow dark passageway. She heard the locks click shut above them, looked once at Remy. He nodded, his face grim in the shadows, and they ran.

44

   Audric

“There are mornings when I wake and think I’ll be able to reach out and feel her there beside me. I convince myself that I won’t have to fight her. That she will see me and want to come home. Then I turn to find my empty bed and remember the truth of what I must do. ‘I don’t know how to both love you and be the person who sends you to war,’ I once told her. If only I had known then what would come for us. If only we had had more time.”