Rielle drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, but it did not ease the churning of her stomach or slow her heartbeat. Perhaps I should have had the wine. Her legs were weak as she walked beside the king, out of the dining room and into the corridor leading to the audience chamber. The soft pad of hundreds of delicate shoes on parquetry whispered behind them as the rest of the diners followed.
He was standing within the circular bench on the king’s dais, waiting. The flare of radiating lines–tiny threads of Stain–sprang from him then faded away, over and over. She averted her eyes, then remembered what Sa-Mica had told her, so many years before. He doesn’t like people to hide their gaze. Well… I’ll look up when we get there. This would not be the moment to trip on my skirts and fall on my face. The king’s warm hand under hers was strangely reassuring as he guided her forward. As he stopped before the dais she looked up.
All she could think at first that the face in her tapestry was more accurate than she could have hoped for after all this time, though not exactly right. His lips were thinner, and his brow not so angular. Then she wondered whether he had read her thoughts, and her face heated. But her embarrassment evaporated as he met her gaze. His strange dark eyes reminded her too fiercely that he was not human. That he could, if he chose, tear her soul apart.
And yet, she loved him. Not in the way she had loved Izare, with heart and body. She loved him with her soul.
His expression softened almost imperceptibly. He lifted an arm, beckoning. She stepped up onto the dais, her legs no longer weak.
“Rielle Lazuli. I gave you a second life,” he said in Schpetan, and a soft sound of many in-taken breaths filled the room. “You have done well with it. The magic you took has been replaced many times over.”
Her heart lifted with relief and a little triumph. I did it! I made more magic creating tapestries than I stole when I killed Sa-Gest! And in only five years. She had expected it to take a lifetime, if she managed it at all.
“You have made a life here, one you may regain once this city recovers from the war. But you could do and be much more. I am returning to my world. I invite you to come with me to join the artisans who live there, creating beauty and magic. Will you join me?”
A collective gasp escaped the audience. Rielle stared at the Angel, his words repeating in her mind.
Go to his world? Where the Angels live? To paint and weave?
Or stay here, in a land not her own, working on tapestries of scenes that others chose. But how could she leave Betzi… but Betzi was sure to leave with Captain Kolz. And the weavers… she would miss them, especially Grasch.
But not enough to turn down the Angel’s offer. I would never see Izare or my family again, but I can’t anyway, and I don’t think they would want to see me. In the Angel’s realm I would be among people who understood me. Fellow creators and servants of the Angels.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice weak, then she cleared her throat. “Yes,” she repeated firmly. A whisper of excitement spilled from the onlookers.
Valhan smiled. “Is there anything you wish to do before you leave?”
She looked around the room until she found Sa-Mica. He was frowning, but as she met his gaze his brows relaxed. He looked relieved, she decided. All his worries had been proven unfounded.
“Just… to say goodbye,” she said in Fyrian. “Could you send messages to my family? Tell them where I’m going, though I don’t expect they’ll believe it.” He inclined his head. She looked at the king and switched to Schpetan. “And send my thanks to Grasch and the weavers and to wish Betzi and Captain Kolz a happy life together.” He nodded and smiled. She turned back to Valhan. “That is all.”
“Then there is no need to delay,” he said. He stepped closer and took her hands. His skin was cool. So this is what an Angel’s touch feels like. She looked up and saw that his gaze was fixed on a distant place far beyond the room’s walls.
Then everything turned black.
Her senses adjusted almost immediately. The lack of magic that her mind sensed was so complete that it no longer tricked her eyes into perceiving darkness. Yet her mind instinctively searched for it, in vain, and she recalled Sa-Mica’s story of the Angel removing magic from so much of the world. Had he taken the rest? Looking past the Angel she saw Schpetan priests standing open-mouthed with shock.
“Take a deep breath,” Valhan instructed.