I feel…alive.
And you are. You are more alive than anyone.
But then the small fear grew. It reared up and shouted: What might this display have done, up on the surface?
Terror crashed through her body.
Her triumph faded; her focus shattered. The water followed soon after.
It slammed down upon her like the force of a thousand fists, and flung her to the ocean floor. She floated there, stunned, her head ringing.
Rise up, Rielle, Corien urged her.
I…I can’t.
You did it. You’re almost finished.
Rielle watched the trident sink beside her. Her eyes closed.
With no small amount of irritation, Corien said, Your friends are worried sick for you, Rielle. Especially that boy.
Audric. Rielle groped for the trident. Ludivine.
Yes, Corien said, nastily now. Go to them, ease their pain. They love you so.
Rielle forced her eyes open. Lungs burning. Vision dimming. She pushed herself up. She kicked and fought, clawing through cold water, and when she burst up above the waves, she remembered to hold the completed trident above her head.
The sunspinners’ beams shone down upon her. Her arm shook under the trident’s weight, but she held it fast.
This time, the crowd’s roar was deafening.
In an instant, the rain stopped. The waves flattened and calmed, clouds rolling away to reveal a mild blue sky.
Rielle saw through her burning eyes the nearby pier, crowded with figures. One dove into the water, swiftly heading her way. Those still on the pier shouted after whoever it was.
Rielle could hardly swim, the trident slowing her. She’d only gone a few feet when a strong arm gathered her up against a body that radiated so much warmth it could only belong to one person.
“Audric,” Rielle whispered, clinging to him, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. “You feel nice.”
He let out shaky laughter. “We need to get you to my healer. You’re cold as ice.”
“Thank God you’re here.” She squinted up at him as he awkwardly swam back to shore with one arm, her body tucked against him with the other. “I’m tired of swimming.”
“What’s all over you?”
Rielle looked blearily at her hands. “Oh. Jellyfish attacked me. The waterworkers made them angry, maybe.”
“God, Rielle…” Audric’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I stabbed them. The jellyfish, not the waterworkers.” She glared wearily at the pier, where the acolytes waited. “Though that’s still a possibility.”
He laughed again, then said quietly, “Rielle?”
“Yes?”
“Were you frightened?”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Yes.”
His arms tightened sweetly around her, his mouth warm against her temple. “I wish I could—”
“Your Highness!” A waterworker acolyte knelt on the edge of the pier and extended his hand. He stared at Rielle like she was Saint Nerida risen from the dead.
Audric ignored the man, gently detaching himself from Rielle. “Here, I’ll help you up.”
“No.” Rielle grabbed the edge of the pier and turned in the water to face him. “They need to see me stand on my own.”
He smiled and handed her the trident. “Your prize, my lady.”
She squeezed his hand, then shakily climbed up the pier, refusing the assistance offered her by Grand Magister Rosier, his acolytes, even Tal.
On her own two feet, she stood, swaying slightly, and looked up at the thousands of people lining the cliffs—waving their arms, pumping their fists, shouting her name. When she raised the trident in both hands, their cheers became thunderous.
She turned to face the Magisterial Council, who had gathered on the pier. Tal beamed, his eyes alight with pride. Sloane stood at his side with her arms crossed, a thoughtful frown on her face, her short, dark hair plastered to her pale cheeks.
And beside her stood the Archon, beads of rainwater sliding down his implacable face.
Rielle handed him the trident with a grin she knew was gracelessly cocky. But she didn’t care one bit.
“Your move,” she said with a slight bow. “Your Holiness.”
20
Eliana
“Dark-hearted Tameryn had never seen anything good come by daylight. With her daggers, she carved shadows from every corner and hollow. She breathed life into their gasping mouths, twined them around her limbs and neck, tied their newborn fingers into the ends of her hair. There the shadows whispered secrets to her, in gratitude, and so she was never alone and always safe in the shroud of night.”