XII. Audience

Holland felt it the moment they entered the palace in Tamaris. It was a prickling at the base of her skull, a tingling across her skin, which quickly became something more. The world rapidly became muffled and distant. She vaguely felt hands suddenly grab her, trying to steady her as her body crumpled to the floor. Everything went black for a moment before the vision started to play in her mind.

She was looking upon a familiar, expressionless face. It was beautiful, perfect, and made entirely of gleaming metal. It was also giant, much larger than a human face. The rest of the body was lost in dark robes and a hood, but she saw the gleam of the golden diadem it wore, set with a flawless fire opal of incredible size. The only word for the feeling it inspired in her was awe, something between the deepest dread and an almost unconditional adoration that wiped away the bitterness in an instant. She had hated this figure for so long now, but was it really hate if it could just be erased in a moment?

My Invicta, you yet live. The voice was musical and inhuman, almost a series of fluting notes rather than speech. It lent every word an ethereal nature, while leaving them basically emotionless. The lips did not move to shape the speech. It simply came out from behind the mask. The silvery eyes did not blink or waver in the searching gaze that always felt like it was looking directly into her soul.

"Yes, Divine Prince," Holland said. She didn't pick herself up, kneeling in front of the massive figure. She could feel a love that made her chest ache almost as much as what she felt for Seva did. Being in his presence again, feeling the hum of his power through her bones, made her want to weep. Maybe it was only a vision, but it was one that stirred the embers of her old life back into a fire. Still, through it she felt a faint current of anger. "In the east. The east that you want to destroy."

Not destroy, Saraqael corrected in that familiar, perfect voice. He was not like the Deciever. He did not speak in honeyed tones that might have passed for human. He had never tried to conceal his identity, though his thoughts were still perfectly inscrutable to her. Remake. You, of all my servants, should know this. Do you hate those in the east so much that you would deny them salvation?

"Your war will kill everything here that I care about," Holland said.

I offer a world without war. I offer world without races, without nations, without famine, without pestilence. You have seen the evils that the peoples of this world work upon each other with unveiled eyes. Yes, many will die. Yes, I will strip the kings and princes of their rainments and crowns. Generations from now, mortals will weep with gratitude for what we do now. Change does not come easily or painlessly, but that does not mean it must be for the worst.

"Deus—"

Deus no longer matters. The seven have come to an agreement. Those perfect eyes were still boring into her soul. Are you so selfish that you would deny the east the order, the stability, the perfection that we bring? They could know a life devoid of suffering.

"And what about the freedom to choose, Divine Prince?" Despite the appellation, Holland knew that Saraqael was not a prince the way Fionn was—Saraqael was a god, given physical form. It was one of the things she had struggled the most with in the east, changing from a god who had created her and spoke to her and was present in her life to the remote figures of the eastern pantheon. One was not better than the other: they were merely different.

Are they free to choose now? No. They are shackled by their places in the dirt, by their kings and their lords. They are shackled by ignorance and poverty. Their lives are wretched, bitter things. Do you truly think the serfs of the east are happier than our people merely because they cling to the illusion of choice?

"No," Holland admitted. She had seen enough to know that the life of a peasant was not an enjoyable one. Her martial skills had bought her freedom from that misery. Many did not have that same option.

I bear the light of knowledge and order to the world. I can break their chains. Is that not freedom?

"Freedom to have their lives chosen for them?" she said, feeling her eyes start to burn and blur. "Freedom to be broken on the saltire for having doubt? I never asked to be an Immortal!"

Your anger belongs with Laenus.

"You let it happen!"

The robed figure leaned forward, bringing its expressionless face towards her. For a purpose that is beyond your comprehension, yes. However, I give you Laenus now as a gift. Have your revenge, sate the passions that the east has birthed in you, and become again what you were meant to be.

"I won't leave Seva," Holland said, hearing her voice crack. It was no use not saying anything about her friend—Saraqael had always been able to gaze into her thoughts.

You are suffering at her hands, whether she is ignorant of that or not, Saraqael said dispassionately. While your loyalty is impressive, it is also blind. Examine your reasons. It is an atavistic urge, a base emotion. The love you speak of is physical and imperfect, fleeting and meaningless. The march of Time will erase it from your memory when she is gone—and she will be gone. Return to me and I will offer you a love that transcends ages.

"There is a hole in my heart that you will never be able to fill," Holland said. "There always was."

The gaze was still unblinking, unyielding. Neither will she.

Just like that, Saraqael was gone. Holland came back to consciousness abruptly and realized she was lying on her side in her bed, curled up in a ball and trembling. Her vision was so blurry at first that it took her a moment to realize it was Seva trying to talk to her, though her eyes cleared rapidly. "Holland—"

She felt her stomach spasm like she was going to throw up, but there was nothing to vomit. It was dark outside, she realized sickly. Holland uncurled, her muscles painfully stiff from holding the same position. "What happened?" she asked in a thick voice. There were no tears, but she felt like there should have been.

"I cannot say," Seva said. Her blue eyes were wide and worried. "All I ken is that thou didst collapse. Maebh and I found no wound on thee, no fever to burn thy body."

"I'm fine, my lady," Holland said automatically, trying to sit up.

Seva put hands on her shoulders and gently but insistently pushed her back down. "Rest. Thou art most assuredly not 'fine'."

There was more truth to that statement than Holland was comfortable with. She felt like she was coming apart at the seams. She wasn't even certain how Saraqael had managed to contact her, but then again, was anywhere truly beyond the reach of the Princes of Iron? She tipped her head back, looking at the ceiling. The door for her to return to her old life was open now. Saraqael would take her back, if that hadn't been some confabulation.

The dictates of her homeland that had guided her life from conception until she left the west were coming to fruition. Her purpose was happening without her. She had always believed so fiercely, so intensely, in the rightness of the cause she once served. The reality of what she was doing now was finally sinking in. Was the way of life that ruled the east really worth protecting? Or was she being obstinate and contrary like a child? Foolish, as only a would-be lover could be? Selfish, focused on only the immediate, to the detriment of generations to come? Holland bitterly missed the days now where she was free from choice. There was something so reassuring about having her fate decided for her.

"Thy heart is aching," Seva said quietly, watching her expression.

"I would have to have a heart for that to be true," Holland said quietly, turning her head to look at her friend. The only reason that she knew she was wrong and she did have one was because it hurt. Seva was more perceptive than she'd realized, but then again, she was being rather obvious at the moment. It was just hard to pretend on the heels of her audience with Saraqael. He had seen into her soul, and that left her feeling raw and exposed.

Holland felt soft hands envelop one of her calloused ones. "Thy heart most assuredly exists," the queen said. "I wish thou wouldst give me more of a window into it, truly."

"I should be there," Holland said, staring at the ceiling until her eyes ached.

"Where?" Seva said, confused.

"At Saraqael's right hand," the penitent said bitterly. "I always hoped I would be there when the Aeterna Pacis was created. I wanted to make the world a better place, a place where I would never belong. Everything I did, every person I killed, I thought nothing of because that was my purpose—to someday usher in a new order. I did things, terrible things, without flinching, because it was all for the greater good. Because I thought it was necessary." Maybe it was because that was what Saraqael had told her to believe in his perfect voice, utterly infallible as far as she was concerned. What had happened to put her in this position?

The queen's blue eyes were even more worried. "Holland—"

"I'm not going to leave you, my lady," the penitent said quietly. What she felt for her friend was not just lust—that much she was certain of. Atavistic or no, she was not going to abandon it. But she wasn't certain that Saraqael was wrong either. "I just...I don't know."

Seva squeezed the penitent's hand reassuringly. "And 'tis fine to not know," she said. "The word is full of things beyond our ken, Fate above all others. Should all else fail, I am here. Thou canst rest assured in mine constancy."

Holland returned the squeeze briefly. "Thank you, my lady," she said as she turned her head to look at her friend instead of the ceiling. "I am grateful. You remind me that I am not the hollow thing that they created me to be, at least not completely."

There was a sharp, staccato knock on the door. "That will be Fionn," Seva said with a wince. "I told him of the arrangement with Leus. He was not pleased. 'Twill be some time ere he concedes the battle betwixt us."

The penitent sat up as the queen went over to answer the door. There was Fionn, his expression grim from the heights of his towering rage, barely contained by manners. "I want a word with the Lady Penitent. In private," he said shortly.

"Certes," Seva said, bowing her head to her husband. She knew when not to push—already she had gone far, far beyond the bounds of his patience. "Holland, I will see thee soon."

Provided your husband doesn't have me killed, Holland thought wryly as she watched Seva leave and Fionn step in.

"This was your idea," Fionn fumed. "I will not have my wife used as a tool to undercut my authority in service of your personal vendettas, Lady Penitent!"

Holland took a deep breath to calm herself before she could snarl out an unthinking, automatic response. Diplomacy had never been her strong suit, but she put effort into it when things like this were on the line. "This is not a vendetta," she said as evenly as she could, rising from the bed. "This is about the protection of the east."

"From a threat that does not exist!" the king snapped.

"It is very much real," Holland said, crossing her arms as she stood in front of him so she wouldn't reach out to do him bodily harm. "And when the Princes of Iron are at your gate, you will bitterly regret your opposition. They do not feel mercy or compassion or fear. Without Leus and the rest of the east, you will shatter like glass." She wasn't in the mood to be particularly yielding.

"It is your word against that of Laenus and Lady Naris," Fionn said. "You have no proof, and I have their good will."

Holland felt her stomach clench. "And you will trust Laenus over me? I came for you when Moloch had you in his grip," she said, unable to stop the heat to her tone.

"He and Lady Naris represent a nation, Lady Penitent," he said grimly. "Their word will always carry more weight than a landless, houseless renegade—no matter what my wife says."

Holland couldn't stop herself. She stepped in so she was toe to toe with Fionn, glaring into those green eyes as she unfolded her arms. "We will defend the east, whether you like it or not," she said. "You don't need me, but you need Cadeyrn and the Hooded Knights. And you most certainly need your wife if you're going to keep the old families under your control."

The handsome young man made a growling noise. "I will give you the opportunity to leave Yssa, serpent, because my wife cares for you," he said. "But make no mistake: if you are in Tamaris tomorrow, you will be on the headsman's block before the sun finishes rising."

Holland's hands tightened into fists, but she kept them at her sides. "So be it," she said bitterly. She didn't need or even really want Fionn's approval. The only thing keeping her violent instincts in check now was her love for Seva. Murdering her friend's husband would not be an endearing action. She'd known that things would come to a head eventually, though she hadn't expected him to side with Laenus. There was no difference between the two men, as far as she was concerned now. "But if you ever hurt her, your army will not be enough to save you."

"Brave words from a dead woman," Fionn said with a sneer before turning on his heel and stalking out.

The ache in her chest intensified when she realized that this meant she might never see Seva again. The queen would likely try to intercede with Fionn on her behalf, but exile was exile, even if it was unofficial. Holland threw her few belongings together. It all fit in her saddlebags, save for her armor and weapons. Those she could carry on her body. Her whole body had a tremor to it from sheer, unadulterated rage. She tried to shake it as she headed for the library, Seva's favorite haunt, but she couldn't seem to shrug off the anger this time, even for her friend's benefit.

The queen was sitting at one of the windows, a book in her lap that she wasn't really reading, the light of the lamp giving her golden hair a halo. The minute she heard footsteps, she looked up. "Holland, thy aspect is a dark one," Seva said, worried.

"It is," the warrior acknowledged. She hesitated for a moment before saying, "My lady, I have to leave Tamaris now. Vladan will go north with me—you need to remain. The people need you."

Blue eyes flashed and rosebud lips pressed into a thin line. "What did he say to thee?" her friend demanded.

"That if I remain, I will not have a head," Holland said. She held up both hands as calmingly as she could when Seva sprang up, almost dropping her book. "I'm not worth fighting him over."

"Thou art most assuredly worth the battle," Seva said angrily. "I will not pardon him this."

Holland sighed. "It doesn't matter. As long as he honors your bargain with Leus, everything will be fine. You can make sure that happens, if you stay in Tamaris. This is where our paths part, my lady."

The queen approached the penitent and wrapped her arms around Holland. "Thy exile will not be permanent," Seva said quietly. "I will send word when 'tis safe for thee to return."

"Vladan and I will build an army until then," Holland said quietly. "It might be years before I see you again." She didn't add the words if ever, but she certainly thought them.

"I am thy friend, through and through," the queen said, not releasing her friend. "Nothing will make me forget that."

Holland nodded, closing her eyes and trying to commit the embrace to memory. She knew the journey was not going to erase Seva from her own soul. Whatever Saraqael thought, she wouldn't be able to release this particular passion. "Time and distance will not change my half-hollow heart," the penitent said softly. "I promise. Be safe and happy, my lady."

"Only if thou dost promise me thou wilt do the same," Seva said, reluctantly letting go. There were tears in her blue eyes when she stepped back. "Send me letters when thou art able."

"I will," Holland promised. She gave Seva her best reassuring smile. "Until I see you next, my lady, take care."

"And thee as well," Seva said. The queen was clearly struggling with her tears. "Now go. I would not see thee lose thy life. Know that thy presence will be dearly missed."

Holland turned and left. It's for the best, she told herself. She cursed herself then for failing again to give real voice to her feelings. But what could she say? I love you would only create more heartache, one way or the other.

Vladan was waiting for her at the stables along with a familiar figure: Ardashir. "Lord Cadeyrn heard," the hooded knight said by way of explanation, holding the bridle of his own horse. "I am to accompany you and the creature, Lady Penitent."

The anthroparion looked irritated by that comment. "The creature has a name," Vladan rumbled, squaring his shoulders aggressively.

"Apologies," Ardashir said, his face obscured by the visor of his helm. He sounded sincere enough. "I did not mean offense."

Vladan grunted. "We had better leave now," he said. "Linger, and the kingling might change his mind and have us all killed just to spite Her Majesty."

"He's a lot of things, but not an idiot," Holland muttered as she saddled up Maël. The minute she was done, however, she started to buckle on her armor. "Our first destination is Dhir Daral. It is the entrance to the dwarven kingdoms in the north."

"Will we be taking the route through Kel Badur?" Arshadir asked a little nervously, speaking of the great cleft in the mountains. "There are dragons there."

"It's the fastest route," Holland said with a shrug.

Vladan looked pleased. "I have never tasted dragon," he said. "It will be good to change that."

Holland couldn't quite find it in herself to laugh. "I need to stop at the Tuama on our way out of Tamaris," she said grimly. "There is something inside that I require."

If she was leaving Yssa for good, she was taking that shard of Deus with her. There was no way on the gods' green earth that she would leave it for Laenus and Naris to find. Even if the seven princes really did have no intention of listening to Deus, it was still possible that they might try to use some of his pieces for the powers they held.

They reached the Tuama without contest and Holland went alone into the darkness to recover the piece. She picked it up with gauntleted fingers, but still felt that rush of warmth.

I knew you would change your mind, my Ilex, Deus whispered in her thoughts.

Holland wrapped the shard up in a cloth and tucked it into a belt pouch even though she knew she would be running the risk of corrupting herself even further. Still, at least she could preserve Yssa from this particular scourge.

The road to the north would be long and treacherous, but at least she wouldn't be walking it alone. Again, Holland told herself, it's for the best.