Furyborn

“And does Corien know about you? That you’re here, in Ludivine’s body, protecting Rielle from him?”

Ludivine nodded. “He does.”

“And I would imagine,” Audric observed, “that he isn’t too happy about you working against him?”

“He considers me a traitor to my kind.” Ludivine squared her jaw. “A title I am happy to bear if it keeps Rielle safe.”

Audric glanced at Rielle. “You said you’ve been looking after her for years. And then you mentioned your…Ludivine’s fever. You mentioned…” He looked slightly ill. “Taking her place.”

“Ah. Yes.” Ludivine stood. “When we were locked away in the Deep, we lost our bodies and existed only as our thoughts.” She said it matter-of-factly, as though being stripped of one’s body were a small thing. “Once Corien and I escaped that place, we were able to take possession of human bodies that had been recently…vacated.”

Rielle’s stomach churned. She stepped away from Ludivine, trying to keep her mind as numb and clear as possible. If she thought too closely about Ludivine—her Ludivine—long dead, and her body now possessed by this other Ludivine, this creature, she felt dizzy and frantic, like she was hurtling toward a cliff’s edge.

“Sweet saints,” Audric whispered. “You mean you possessed these bodies and now live inside them, controlling them.”

Ludivine nodded. “Essentially.”

“Can you do this…forever?”

“Once I took hold of this body, it stopped growing, and it will remain like this as long as I am inside it.”

“Even if you fall to your death,” Audric whispered, a sad smile on his face.

“Even if I fall to my death.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to you right now. I can’t decide which I feel more deeply—anger or fear or, quite frankly, fascination.” He glared up at her. “You shouldn’t have lied to us for so long. We deserved better than that.”

Ludivine nodded. “I know. You’re right. I was only…” She hesitated, with a sad smile. “I was afraid of losing you.”

“We were not yours to have,” Audric replied sharply.

Ludivine let out a soft sob. She reached for their hands, and when they did not pull away, the look of relief on her face was so profound that Rielle had to avert her eyes.

“Please know,” Ludivine said, “that the things we have shared, these last few years, are real and precious to me. I’ve lived at your sides since you were small, I’ve watched you grow, and I grieved deeply when Ludivine died. It was of great comfort to me that I could bring her back to you, even in a small way. And, my darlings,” she whispered, “please do not doubt that I love you. In my long lifetime, I have never loved anything or anyone as I do the two of you.”

“I cannot say the same to you.” Audric laughed harshly. “I don’t even know what to call you. Do you have an angelic name?”

“Ludivine. I beg you to call me Ludivine. My angelic name is no longer relevant—and not a word I care for. I know I don’t deserve to ask that of you, but it is who I am, she is who I have become—”

“Please.” Audric cut her off. “No more of that, not right now. I need… I have to think about this.”

She nodded, smiled bravely. “Of course. I understand.”

Please don’t shut me out, Ludivine thought to Rielle. The world depends on it, but more than that, I cannot bear—

Don’t be afraid. Rielle tried to send her a feeling of love, faint as it was—and even though she wasn’t sure Ludivine deserved it. But she could no longer bear the weight of Ludivine’s quiet despair without offering her a slight ray of hope. You will not lose us as easily as that.

“I should tell you,” Ludivine added quietly, “that though I am not much more than a child in your terms, and not as powerful as Corien, I am a good deal stronger than most of our kind. The majority cannot take hold of a human body like this, at least not with such…effectiveness.”

For that, she thought to Rielle, they would need help.

Rielle stared at her, the realization seeping into her slowly and leaving room for little else. They will need…me.

• • •

One week later, Rielle stood before the floor-length mirror in her rooms, adjusting the heavy black folds of her gown.

Outside, a star-scattered lavender sky faded to a cloudless night. Atheria stood solemnly on the terrace, looking down at the city. Soon the temple bells would ring, and the procession of King Bastien’s body up the streets of Âme de la Terre would begin.

Ludivine emerged from the bathing rooms, golden hair in a crown of braids around her head. Her own mourning gown, like Rielle’s, fastened high at the throat.

“Are you ready?” Ludivine asked, tugging on her gloves.

Rielle stared at her reflection. Shadows hugged her eyes. Two weeks had passed since the fire trial, and she hadn’t slept more than three or four hours every night since. Lord Dervin’s body had been sent home to Belbrion for his son, Merovec Sauvillier, to attend to. And mere hours earlier, Rielle had watched her own father’s body burn on a mountaintop pyre. It had always been a wish of his, for his body to return to the empirium as his wife’s had.

Rielle watched Ludivine move about the room, tidying up the mess of combs, pins, and smoothing creams. It was such a familiar ritual that Rielle felt tears rise once more to her eyes.

“I thought I was done crying,” she said with a hollow laugh. “I suppose I’m not.”

Ludivine paused at the window, her slender body framed in twilight. Frozen forever at sixteen—what a strange and terrible thing.

And not a secret any of them would be able to hide forever.

“I wish I could help you,” Ludivine said, and Rielle felt the truth of it brush against her mind. “I wish so many things.”

“Just because I don’t trust you right now doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I wish I didn’t, and maybe I shouldn’t after what you’ve done, but I still do nevertheless.” Rielle turned away from the hope shining on Ludivine’s face. “There. I’ve wanted to say that for days, and now I’ve said it.”

A soft knock on the door. Evyline entered with a delicate cough. “My lady? Prince Audric is here to see you.”

Rielle’s heart jumped with nerves. Since the trial, Audric had been so occupied with meetings, funerals, and caring for his mother that she had barely seen him. And whenever she did, she faced him with a new fear: that he would sense the lies spinning in her heart and turn her away forever.