Time passed slowly, and Emerii found herself feeling trapped. That sense of dread had to extend to her comrades. Royce spent the time with his head in the clouds as he tiptoed around the Queen.

  Unsavory rumors circulated aroundCwach about his wives, the previous ones having all passed away. He kept mistresses as well, not uncommon for a ruler, but the lengths of his physical depravity were well known. Zernau as a whole did not seem to care. The Kingdom ran magnificently, and their King was reaping his rewards for a job well done. Whether his wives broke or not was between them and God.

  Whatever Brodwyn felt was hidden away, and Emerii could not ascertain her true thoughts in the extremely brief encounters she had with her. In a perfect world, she would be treated right and would not know of the rumors circulating about her husband.

  Emerii had her own issues, other than the inability to take action. She had firmly drawn the attention of Frieda the Divine Hammer. The Uxson would be around during any meals or important conversations with the leaders of Zernau. Despite her not saying anything, it made it difficult to proceed with matters. More than that, Frieda’s eyes would always wander to Emerii, a gaze that was unreadable. A sign of hatred? A new rivalry born? She was unable to decipher anything, only left with awkward and curt responses to avoid her.

  There would be no weapons drawn inside the Zernau palace, but Emerii sincerely hoped that they would be, even if all were aimed at the Band of the Promised One.

  “I don’t know what to do, Emerii,” Arty said one day.

  The hearth flickered, illuminating only those in the area. Arty was hunched forward on a cheap wooden stool. His leg kicked up and down as he stared fiercely into the fire.

  Royce was next to Emerii on an extravagant couch. His brows were furrowed as he rubbed them. It was one of the many leisure halls in the palace, this one being far from those that they would not want to speak with. All except the Divine Hammer, Frieda. She straddled the edge of the room this night, sipping a dark wine as she feigned indifference.

  “If we have things to discuss, we could go to our rooms,” Emerii said.

  “Her translators are not here. Besides, we are not scheming. I simply wish to unite our land.” Arty sighed.

  “Lady Idwyn said she was leaving this to us,” Royce murmured. “But I already feel this is no longer a Dradris Kingdom. I look upon the faces of the residents and do not see what I know. They are not those of my friends and family, nor my own. Zernau and Lenda are such a stark contrast that it’s sickening.”

  “If not for Lenda’s condition, I would say we leave them to their new Uxson overlords. I doubt it will go as they expect,” Emerii declared as her eyes met Frieda’s.

  “Do not say such things, my friends.” Arty shook his head, then continued, “I will have all the Kingdoms united, I swear I will not fail in that. It is destiny, and even if I am unable to immediately accomplish my true dream, I can certainly accomplish this. We must think and decide on a course of action. Soon.”

  “It is strange. Our group has grown, but we are discussing things as we always have.” Royce added. “We are older, but still we whisper at night, though more openly, and with an Uxson listening no less.”

  “The others are busy,” Emerii said in a reprimanding tone.

  Eira was a ghost. Even further disconnected from the world than when she was in her home Kingdom of Lenda. Arty and Royce had little time for her, but in any case, it was obvious she desired space. Emerii would use her ability to check on her occasionally, and she new Mav was watchful of her as well. The Citizen tried his best to avoid attention, but his natural appearance created quite the opposite effect. Whatever plans Idwyn had for Eira were not coming to fruition, and Emerii was suppressing her anger at that fact.

  Desperately trying to alleviate the building frustration at their lack of privacy, of their inability to do anything. Faith, external and internal threats, even their favored gold and power, could not move the Drajin of Zernau to action.

  A group of nobles walked into the area, and Emerii shot them a fierce glare. They shrank back, prompting a roaring laugh from Frieda.

  Was this even Dradris? These white walls, the haughty and wealthy ruling class, and the strange, unrecognizable atmosphere. Perhaps Royce was correct. Emerii stared into the fire and felt her stomach turn. Two weeks here had been far more than enough for a lifetime.

  “Frieda and her companions will be departing today,” Cwach declared. “It will be for a short while, though I assume we will be blessed with their company in the near future, if God commands it.”

  Emerii sighed with relief. Finally, that specter would be gone from her sight, and the growing, gnawing feeling with it.

  All the guests had been gathered, and a suitable procession had been arranged to see them on their way. Emerii was sickened by such a display put on for their invaders, but she could not read a similar emotion on anyone in the room. For most, they must have been holding their feelings close.

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  Surprisingly, Arty was glowing. “Come with me, I need your help,” He whispered in her ear.

  While most were distracted by the leaving Uxsons Emerii and Arty made their way from the palace. They had been under strict watch since their arrival, but now was the moment to slip by and make their way into the city proper.

  Using her deity, they avoided any eyes that would prove them a difficulty. Once in the city, they were past any issues. For some reason, despite the welcoming ceremony that had ushered them in initially, the residents did not recognize Arty as the Promised One. While that in itself was not strange, they had been put on a pedestal, and his image was a striking, memorable one.

  “I will investigate Znseruff more when I return. For now, the Uxsons are slowed by custom. We will meet them on the road,” Arty said with a tone that encapsulated his newly reinstated freedom.

  They went through the gate that they had originally entered through, the one that was consistently open. They had unbarred the northern gate for the leave of Uxsons, but this one served their purpose fine.

  Though they were the only ones departing at the time, they passed without any issue. They did not have horses, but still moved swiftly. Taking a sharp turn, they headed north in hopes of heading off the Uxsons.

  As they ran, Arty asked, “What number do you think she is? I wonder if she is weaker or stronger than Vhorn.”

  “Who can say? Ranking strength in that way is ridiculous in any case,” Emerii answered curtly.

  “Claims the one who wants to be the strongest.”

  She frowned. “I know we have trained since our confrontation with Vhorn, but I doubt this is a good idea. Even if she is the eighth, we will be in a fight for our lives.”

  “This is a parting shot. We were not allowed to draw blades in the palace, and she never came to spar. Getting any information on their abilities or strengths and weaknesses is vital. Besides, she spent time with us without saying a word, even in her native tongue. I’m sure you’re interested in her too, Emerii.”

  She did not know what her features contorted into, but she doubted it was pleasant.

  The snow on the fields had lessened, allowing for easier movement. Once they entered a thick batch of trees, they followed a narrow road that was more of a trail than a trading route. There was an older, broken road that connected Zernau to a long-dead Dradris Kingdom. That was the connection to the Lost Lands, and how trading occurred. If the Uxsons were to use a road, that would be it, and by using this more hidden path, they would be able to swing out in front.

  That was why they were so surprised to find the Divine Hammer and her entourage walking the same road as they. Ahead of them, on a slight decline, they strode onward to some destination only known to them.

  “Frieda!” Arty’s voice scoured through the silent winter to find the ears of the one he sought.

  She turned, her eyes wide for the first time. When her gaze settled on Emerii, she smiled brightly. A star burning far brighter than it ever had before.

  Arty drew his sword. From his neck, his deity spilled forth, the undulating black mass that resembled a living fur but so starkly contrasted his golden grizzly hair.

  From Frieda’s expression, she must have understood the meaning of this duel. It was but a sweet parting, for now was not the time to bleed each other dry. A farewell, and a greeting.

  Frieda’s blade flowed from her sheath effortlessly. She raised her sword to her face, tip pointing skyward, then swung one-handed in a grand display.

  Arty charged forward. She met his attack, angling her parry to divert the overwhelming brute force of his strike. Their weapons were locked for but an instant.

  An ethereal feather from somewhere floated from above and touched Arty’s arm.

  The two separated, creating some distance.

  Arty fell to his knees.

  Clutching his arm, he howled in pain. Sweat showed on his skin, but not the cold kind created from summoning his deity. Emerii had never seen him in such a state. She rushed to his side.

  “I’m alright. I’ve never felt this kind of agony before.” His breath was ragged as he talked, but slowly he stabilized.

  Seeing her chosen friend in that state, her family. It ignited her. She put her hand on her hilt as she glared at the Divine Hammer. Before she could engage, Arty grabbed her arm and shook his head.

  Frieda met her eyes with an elated expression. “Emerii,” She said, “I will not forget your name. Please commit mine to memory as well. I sincerely hope that when we next meet, we can hold an extended and fulfilling discussion.” She spoke in the Drajin language nearly perfectly; only hints of her Uxson nature remained at the end of her sentences.

  All the excitement and tension from before disappeared as Emerii’s face drooped. “You speak our tongue well. I knew it.”

  “A useful tactic, employed once in a long while, against a correct foe. But believe me, warrior mistress of Welkia, if it were only us two, I would have spoken with you every day.”

  “No doubt to whisper sweet nothings into my ear,” Emerii replied sarcastically.

  Frieda giggled. “Until we next meet, my Emerii. I will be looking forward to that day, and perhaps our blades will meet.”

  Curtly, she turned and began to walk away with the other Uxsons at her side.

  I’m feeling sick, but this is different from the other times I feel that way. God, what is wrong with that woman!

  “At least we got some information,” Arty said in a laughing manner now that he was back on his feet.

  “Could you tell if she was stronger than Vhorn?” She asked.

  “Too brief a fight, though from whatever her deity did, I would have to say undoubtedly.”

  Emerii nodded. “There is an air about her. I could never see her below the rank of that fiend.”

  “You saw her deity, do you have any idea what it did to me?”

  “Arty, visually, there can be no connection to the ability of one’s deity. You experienced it, you tell me.”

  “Like a thousand needles in my skin. But I’ve suffered no lingering damage from what I can feel.”

  “There is a plant like that, where a touch causes immense pain. Perhaps her ability is a damaging sensation? We will have to understand it if we are to beat her.”

  Arty beamed, the spitting image of a golden grizzly cub in the wild without a worry in the world. She roughed his shoulder, then turned her attention back to the distant silhouette of the Divine Hammer.

  Emerii had seen the glimpse of Frieda’s deity, though the woman had only summoned it for a brief moment. That was all that she had needed, crushing Arty. The skill with the blade required to parry an attack of that strength was already impressive, but the swift, precise use of her deity was the best she had ever seen. The practice and training it would take to accomplish such a feat were admirable.

  Then there was her appearance. It was only momentary, but Frieda had glowed, backlit by a heavenly light like an angel. That was not the full scope of the woman’s deity, not in ability, or appearance. It was beautiful nonetheless. Heart-wrenchingly so, as her already otherworldly features were elevated for that single second.

  Admiration for the enemy.

  The Divine Hammer’s figure disappeared into the snow-crested trees. In a far corner of Emerii’s heart, small and secluded, she felt the birth of a traitor.