“Can’t it? Don’t start raving at me about your mad theories, Audric.”
“The signs have been clear for some time now.” Audric ignored his father and addressed the entire table. “The longer we wait to face them head on, the deadlier the consequences will become.”
“Signs!” Bastien laughed harshly. “Storms and revolutions in distant lands, soldiers being killed on a border between unfriendly nations. Yes, indeed.” His voice took an unfamiliar, sarcastic turn. “I’ve never heard of such things happening. Truly, we are at the brink of some magical undoing.”
“And what about Lady Rielle? You cannot look at her performance in the trials and call it anything but extraordinary.”
“He has a point,” said Tal quietly. “I’ve worked with Rielle for years, and the prophecy—”
“Magister Belounnon,” King Bastien snapped, “until I have asked for your opinion, you will take care to remain silent in my presence.”
Tal met the king’s gaze with only a little flare of defiance, but it was enough to make Rielle’s heart swell with love for him.
“Yes, my king,” Tal replied.
“The prophecy,” King Bastien continued, looking around at all of them, “cannot even be dependably interpreted. How many official translations of Aryava’s words exist? Twenty? Twenty-five?”
“Thirty-four,” replied the Archon at once, “though the differences between some are minimal.”
“But even a single word can mean the difference between a prophecy”—the king shot a dark look at Audric—“and an entertaining story that no learned man takes seriously.”
Magister Duval’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Majesty, this is rather bold of you to say, in front of the entire council and the Archon himself.”
“All of whom answer to me, I’ll remind you.” Bastien stalked away to stand before the windows and look out at the setting sun. When at last he turned back around, he looked weary but resolute. “I apologize for my outburst, Your Holiness. I do not think the prophecy a mere story, nor do I think the intelligence of you and your magisters to be anything less than exceptional.”
The Archon inclined his head. “You are most gracious, my king.”
“I’ll speak no more of this tonight. Armand?”
Rielle’s father rose from his chair and joined his king. At the doors, he glanced back once at Rielle, and she saw a flicker of concern in his gray eyes.
The look frightened her.
Ever since the trials had begun, with Rielle’s life imperiled every week, her father had kept himself closed off from her, even more than usual. She saw him only during their mornings at the obstacle course, and sometimes in the halls of Baingarde. Encircled by her guards, she would greet him politely, and he would return the sentiment with a mere nod.
And so even the smallest change in expression on that hard face was of note.
Something about the message from the north, and the king’s reaction, had pricked at the inconquerable Lord Commander Dardenne.
As the council rose with rustlings and murmurs, Audric turned to Rielle, then glanced at Ludivine. “We must speak in private,” he said quietly. “Now.”
“Audric, my love?” Queen Genoveve extended her hand toward him. Her brocaded gray gown caught the red light of the setting sun and cast strange, harsh lines across her face. “Come with me. Your uncle and I thought we could all enjoy some tea together.”
“So you can scold me again and speak ill of Lady Rielle?” Audric said it loudly enough for everyone still in the room to hear. “I have far better things to do.”
Then he threw his mother a swift, angry look and left the hall.
Rielle nearly burst out laughing at the affronted expression on Queen Genoveve’s face, but before she could, Ludivine took her firmly by the elbow and rushed her out of the hall.
Only once in the familiar quiet of Audric’s rooms did Rielle’s nervous laughter finally escape. She collapsed on her favorite chaise by the window, a shabby old thing so comfortable that she forbade Audric from ordering another.
Ludivine sank into her own favorite chair by the fire. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Rielle.”
“What isn’t funny? The fact that Audric insulted his mother in front of the entire council? Or that your father looked like he was trying to make me drop dead using only the force of his stare?”
Or that even as the king scolded me, she thought a little wildly, I was talking to an angel in my head?
“Please don’t make light of my father’s anger,” Ludivine said. “It won’t serve any of us well.”
“And then,” Rielle continued, “there’s the fact that Audric and I nearly… Well.” She flushed, losing her nerve. “And yet here we all are, acting as if nothing has happened!”
Audric tensed. “Rielle, can we please not talk about that right now? I know you and Ludivine have discussed it, but there are political ramifications of any changes made to the agreement between our families.”
“No.” Rielle set her jaw. “I insist we talk about it, this very night. It’s unfair to all of us until we do.”
Into the silence that followed, Ludivine spoke gently. “She’s right, Audric.”
Audric leaned heavily against his desk.
“If I could give up my crown and my duty,” he said, “and leave this place behind, with only you at my side…” He glanced at Rielle. The quiet anguish on his face seized her heart. “I would do it in an instant, with Lu’s blessing.”
“Abandon your birthright? Leave your country without an heir?” Rielle scoffed, tears standing hot in her eyes. “You’d never dare.”
“You’re wrong!” He stormed away from them to face the starlit windows, his shoulders high and tense. “I’d do it for you. Sometimes I think I’d betray everything I hold dear for the chance to—”
His voice broke; he fell silent. Rielle turned away, arms tightly crossed over her front. Audric’s servants had prepared his fire for the night. The crackling flames and popping wood were the only sounds in the room for several long minutes.
Then Ludivine cleared her throat. “There’s no need to give up anything, you know. Not the crown, and not each other. You would just need to be…discreet.” She smoothed her skirts. “I could help you, as needed.”
Rielle stared at her. Ludivine had taken her to Garver Randell for a contraceptive tonic, yes, but to hear her suggest such a thing so plainly, as if they were all merely discussing the weather, left Rielle without words.
Audric laughed in astonishment. “Lu, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“That you be together?” Ludivine raised an eyebrow. “Yes. In secret, of course, but soon. And as often as possible, so I’m spared the agony of your tortured pining.” She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes. “It’s exhausting to witness. I’ve reached my limit.”
Heart racing, not daring to look at Audric, Rielle breathed, “I can’t believe you’re actually saying this.”
“Why not? I’ve told you both how I feel about the situation.” Ludivine smiled, eyes still closed. “Or do you doubt my word?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just—” The images crowding Rielle’s mind made a delighted heat climb up her cheeks. “Wouldn’t you be embarrassed?”
“That my dearest friends could be happier than they’ve ever been? Why would that embarrass me?”
“Maybe ‘embarrass’ isn’t the right word.” Rielle did look at Audric, then. Half in shadow, he frowned at the floor.
“If we’re discovered,” he said at last, “even if we explained that you knew and approved, it could be humiliating for all of us, but especially for you.”
“Oh, is that what could happen?” said Ludivine blandly. “I hadn’t realized.”
Rielle let out a rush of nervous laughter. “We would just have to…not be discovered.”
Audric scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not as simple as that.”
“Of course it is.” Ludivine watched him fondly. “We’ll be careful, and you’ll… Well, Audric, you’ll have to get good at lying somehow.”
“And your family? What about them? If my mother finds out? Or your father? He’ll be studying us closely now.”
“I can handle my family.”