7
Rielle
“Beware, beware the Sauvillier smile—
A beautiful moon on a night most vile
It’ll cut you to your bones, it’ll fog the sharpest eyes
So says a man from the river who never tells lies”
—Celdarian traveling song
Rielle surged upright, yanked out of fire-edged dreams into a world of sudden panic.
“Audric,” she croaked. The word scraped her raw throat. He had to be near. If he had died, if he had died— “Hush.” Cool hands brought a cup of water to her lips, helped her drink. “He’s alive and well.”
Rielle blinked, and Ludivine’s face came into focus. She wore her long, golden hair in loose waves. Her pale blue eyes were bright, the only chink in an armor of serenity. With her hair down, her face clean and scrubbed, she could have passed for a girl much younger than nineteen. Nevertheless, she was a high lord’s daughter, a lady of the House Sauvillier, the cousin and betrothed of the crown prince, and Celdaria’s future queen. And even in her dressing gown, she looked every inch the part.
“There you are,” she said, smiling. “For two days you’ve been fading in and out. We’ve only managed to feed you bites, sips of water.” Ludivine’s pale brow furrowed. She gathered Rielle’s hands in her own. “You terrified me, darling.”
“Tell me what happened,” Rielle said, trying to sit up.
Ludivine hesitated. “You should rest.”
But then Rielle remembered how Maliya had collapsed and felt suddenly, violently sick. Ludivine held back the unruly dark mass of her hair and rubbed between her shoulders as she emptied her stomach onto the floor.
One of Ludivine’s maids scurried over to clean the mess, then glanced fearfully up at Rielle. The maid finished cleaning and fled to the sitting room with as much haste as decorum allowed.
Rielle watched her leave. Once she and Ludivine were once again alone, Rielle said, “Tell me.”
“The assassins are dead,” Ludivine said softly. “Fifteen of the racers are dead. We are…uncertain how each of them died, but we are blaming their deaths on the assassins and the circumstances of the race itself.”
Rielle couldn’t meet Ludivine’s eyes. She could hardly stand feeling the reality of her own body’s existence. Fifteen racers dead. Fifteen.
Her blood hummed with the memory of it—the crashing boulders and flaming earth, the fallen racers and their horses’ screams.
She clenched her fists, shut her eyes, counted her breaths. “Lu, I’m sorry.”
“Everyone else is safe,” Ludivine continued. “Tal and his acolytes managed to control the fire before it could spread to the race boxes and the farmlands.”
The fire. Her fire.
Rielle couldn’t even remember how it had started. The entire affair, since seeing the assassins surround Audric, was nothing but a fog of confusion.
Shame gripped her like a hot fist. “I see. I shall have to thank them personally.”
“At the very least,” Ludivine said, but her voice was gentle. “Your horse…”
Rielle made a small, choked sound. She could still feel the poor animal’s flesh blistering at her touch. The assassins had deserved their deaths, but not Maliya, and not the fifteen racers.
She closed her eyes. “Odo will be furious.”
“He is simply glad you’re alive.”
“And Audric?”
Ludivine laid her hand over Rielle’s. “Audric is fine.”
“He’s not hurt?”
“Truly, Rielle. He’s perfectly fine. I should send for him soon. He’s been rather impatient to speak with you.”
Rielle heard the prim note in her friend’s voice. Sometimes she could have sworn Ludivine knew every in and out of her true feelings. “Not yet.” If I see him, I will say something unforgivable. I will say too much. “There’s a lot to explain, and I—”
“Yes, indeed there is. I didn’t know you were an earthshaker, Rielle. And a firebrand as well?”
Rielle stiffened at the deceptive sweetness in Ludivine’s voice. It was a tone rarely used on her. “I am neither of those things.”
“You’re certainly something. The capital is in an uproar. Bodies, we can explain away. But altered mountainsides, scorched and shattered earth? Many people have questions.”
“And the king wants answers.”
“Yes.”
“Well, he will have to torture them out of me.”
“That isn’t funny.”