Furyborn

But Simon’s tears blocked his voice. The wind whipping down along the mountainsides carved shivers from his skin. His small body heaved; he could hardly breathe.

He folded his arms tightly around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the world tilted. He could not stop seeing the image of his father running out onto the terrace and flinging himself over the railing.

“Father,” he whispered, “come back, please.”

The queen settled gingerly on the settee across from him, her baby still in her arms. Her feet were bare and bloody, her nightgown soaked through with sweat.

“You’re right, you know,” said Rielle. “I did do this.”

Simon was glad the queen didn’t try to apologize. Nothing she could say would make anything better.

“I think,” Rielle continued slowly, “that he will kill her.”

Simon sniffed, wiped his mouth. His teeth chattered; he could not stop crying. “What do you mean?”

Rielle turned to look at him, her lips chapped and cracked. Once, Simon remembered, he had thought the queen beautiful.

“My daughter.” Rielle’s voice was hollow. “I think Corien will kill her. Or he’ll try to.”

Simon bit out, “He should kill you instead.”

Rielle laughed at that—and kept laughing hysterically. Simon could only stare at her in rage and horror until she brought her child to her face, nuzzled her cheek against its own. The baby cooed and sighed.

“This is how,” Rielle whispered, “you hold your child.” She made a soft, sad noise. “Audric would have loved her.”

Then the queen’s face contorted, and she cried out in pain. She clutched her baby to her stomach and doubled over, gasping.

The stone shuddered beneath Simon’s feet. The walls of the queen’s rooms shifted in and out, like they were breathing along with her.

Rielle’s skin glowed, changing, and for a terrible moment, Simon thought he could see through her flesh to the blood and bone beneath—and to the light beneath even that. She was outlined in shimmering flecks of gold, a luminous creature of sparks and embers.

Then the light faded, and Rielle was dim and human once more.

Simon’s blood roared with fear. “What was that?”

“It won’t be long now.” Rielle turned her glittering gaze up to him, and Simon recoiled. The skin around her eyes was dark and thin. “I can’t hold myself together for much longer.”

“Do you mean…you’re dying?”

“I’ve tried so hard for so long,” Rielle muttered, and then she screamed once more, went rigid. Blazing bolts of light shot out from her fingers and streaked into the night, arcing over the dark city. The light left behind charred streaks, jagged across the terrace floor.

Rielle looked up, her face slick with sweat. Light moved in shimmering waves beneath her skin. Simon could not look away; she was at once the loveliest and most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

“Are you…hurting?” Simon asked.

Rielle laughed, a surprised little gasp. “I’m always hurting.”

“Good,” Simon replied, but not without a twinge of shame in his chest. She was a monster, yes, but a barefoot, exhausted monster with a child held tenderly in her arms.

The queen, his father had always told him whenever Simon stewed in his hatred, was once just a girl. Remember that. Remember her.

Then Rielle went very still.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “He’s coming.”

Simon backed away, alarm ringing in his ears. “Corien?”

Rielle used the wall to pull herself up, her shifting face tight with pain. “I cannot allow him to find you. Garver hid you well, but if he realizes you’re here now and what you are…”

Simon touched his back, as if that could hide the markings there. “You…you know about us?”

Rielle’s face flickered with something Simon couldn’t read. “A friend told me. Just in case…well. In case I needed to know.”

“I don’t understand—”

“And I don’t have time to explain. Hide with her; stay out here. I’ll distract him.”

And with that, Rielle pressed her daughter into Simon’s arms and hurried back into her rooms.

Simon stared down at the baby. Her dark, serious eyes locked onto his face as if he were the most interesting thing in the world. Despite his aching head and the horrible hollow pain in his gut, Simon allowed her a small smile.

“Hello,” he said and touched her cheek. “I’m Simon.”

“Here, take this.” Rielle reappeared, holding in her hand a necklace—a flat, gold pendant with a winged horse in flight carved onto its surface. On the horse sat a woman with streaming dark hair and a sword raised victoriously. Rays of sunlight fanned out behind her.

It was an image that had taken over Celdaria during the last two years, since the Church had declared Rielle to be the foretold Sun Queen.

How they had all loved her, once.

As the queen tucked the necklace into her baby’s blanket, Simon watched her quietly. “Are you sorry for what you did?”

“Would it make you feel better if I was?”

Simon had no answer.

The queen kissed her daughter’s brow. “He won’t have you,” she whispered. “Not you, my precious one.”

Then she turned to Simon and, before he could protest, brushed aside his ash-blond hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin smarted where her lips had touched; tears gathered behind his eyes. He felt like he stood on the edge of a swaying cliff, like a terrible thing was about to happen and he could do nothing to stop it.

“Go to Borsvall,” Rielle told him. “Find King Ilmaire and Commander Ingrid. Show them this necklace. They’ll hide you.”

The doors to Rielle’s outer rooms slammed open.

“Rielle?” Corien roared.

Rielle cupped Simon’s cheek and met his eyes. “Whatever happens, don’t let him see you.”

As she turned to go, Simon grabbed Rielle’s hand. Without her, he would be alone with this child, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to hide his face in Rielle’s arms. Monster or no, she was now a parent, and that was a thing he craved more than anything.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered.

She gave him a tight smile. “You’re strong, Simon. I know you can do this.”

Then she hurried back inside and met Corien in the middle of her bedroom.