V. Dream

Holland looked up at a raised eyebrow. Seva was laughing at her again. Fionn and Daimhin were off hunting, which the penitent had been glad to let them do. It gave her some relative alone time with Seva, as Ciar was off playing. He stayed in earshot, but he finally seemed to be coming out of his shell even though he still hadn't said a word since he gave Seva his name. "What?" the warrior all but demanded, even though she could feel a smile starting to twitch up at the corners of her mouth.

"Thou art silly," Seva explained, hiding her smile behind one hand. "Thy vexation lends to a furrowed brow and childish irritation."

"I am not being childish," Holland said even as she pricked her finger with her sewing needle. The penitent cursed and shook out her hand. She was repairing a tear to the sleeve of her subarmalis and doing a good job of turning her own hand into a pincushion. It was such a tough material that it rarely needed repair and she wasn't very good at it. She glared down at the fabric.

"Oh, give it here," Seva said with amused exasperation, holding out a hand.

Holland turned her disapproving look towards her friend. "I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own," she said haughtily.

"Thou art bleeding over it," the baroness said before leaning over. She went to snatch the shirt away from Holland. The penitent gave a tug the moment Seva caught it, sending the off-balance noblewoman right over. She landed neatly in Holland's lap with an undignified squeak. "Holland!"

The penitent laughed, ignoring the rush of warmth that any contact with Seva brought. It felt good just to touch her friend. "And now I'm not."

Seva wrinkled her nose. "If thou hast bled on mine dress, thou wilt find me a sore companion." Instead of disentangling herself, she laid comfortably on her guardian's legs. "At least thou art comfortable." She levered herself up. She grabbed the shirt and tugged it out of Holland's hands, this time with no resistance. "Mine needlework should serve admirable purpose."

Holland was honestly happy to surrender the task. She had pricked herself enough that she was sore and there was in fact a little blood on her hands. Thankfully, the fabric was black. She watched Seva work quietly. Delicate fingers made the needle dance and rosebud lips pressed into a line of concentration. The penitent tried to take in every detail. They were less than half a day from Tamaris, Yssa's gleaming capital. She was going to lose Seva.

Seva suddenly looked up, as if she'd felt hazel eyes watching her. The baroness's smile faded slightly when she saw how serious Holland looked. "Thy aspect is a sorrowful one," she commented softly. "What dark clouds trouble thee?"

Holland felt an unfamiliar tightness in her throat. "I wish our paths would not part at Tamaris," she said honestly.

"They have no need to," Seva said firmly. "Thy investigation into Aediobri should be worthy too of royal attentions, and mine. The Count of Navia was friend to my family and must be avenged."

"You're too good to think about vengeance, my lady," Holland said softly. "It's a dangerous road."

"Justice, then," Seva said as she tempered her stance. She looked at Holland with those beautiful blue eyes. "Mine heart gladdens to know thou holdest me in such esteem."

"If you saw yourself the way that I see you, you would have very few doubts," Holland said with a small smile. Seva bumped the penitent gently with an elbow.

"Thou speakest honey. How fortunate that Fionn follows in thy example," Seva said. There was a happy sigh to those last words and Holland felt her chest constrict unpleasantly.

It had been patently obvious from the moment Holland had seen them together that Seva was smitten. The noblewoman had explained it a little bit: she'd grown up on stories of the bravery of Fionn and his family, the nobility of his character, and now she had found out he was handsome. The perfect knight, the stories called him. Seva saw him in absolute rose. For his part, Fionn looked at the baroness with an interest Holland recognized too clearly. It neatly mirrored her own. A tentative sort of courtship was forming between the prince and the baroness. It was for the best, Holland told herself. Seva wasn't interested and she could make no vow above that which she'd made to the gods. Being a penitent meant giving up love.

"Only the truth," Holland murmured.

Seva smiled brightly at her and Holland felt her heart flutter a little bit despite her intention to crush that attraction. "Thou art a fine friend."

Take it and be content, the penitent thought as she arranged her face into an answering smile. If it looked as strained as it felt, Seva paid no notice. The sound of people returning to camp drew her attention.

"A few rabbits," Fionn announced. "Not proper game, but a hart seemed excessive."

Holland nodded and took their meal from the prince. They had agreed to stop outside Tamaris to discuss the potential threat in the area and formulate a plan for Fionn to take to the king. Here, hidden in the Argent Forest, Holland was finally feeling safer. "Ciar!" she called.

Immediately, the boy came scurrying into camp, armed with a stick he had been wielding like he'd seen Holland warming up with her sword. He took a seat next to the warrior and started using it to prod the fire until she gently chided him. Once, Holland looked up to see Seva beaming at the interaction. The baroness seemed to find it endearing.

"So," Fionn said more seriously when dinner was cooking. "What is the manner of force we are facing, Lady Penitent?"

Holland took a deep breath. "It is a force able to hide, but capable of much destruction. I believe it is a century: a force of one hundred. No doubt they have retreated back to the sea and a camp on the shores. I have seen them do this before. They probe the defenses of a people. They attack viciously and see what the response is."

"One hundred knights?" the prince inquired with fierce interest.

The penitent shook her head. "Infantry, better trained than anything I have seen in the east. That is not a slight against Yssa at all. You prefer chivalric virtue and knights to the grim practicality of the Imperium's legions."

Fionn glared. "That I take offense to. Are you saying our knights are inferior?"

"I'm saying that you have not seen war the way the west knows it," Holland said, making an effort to keep her tone level. She wanted to blow up on him, not necessarily for a reason. Some part of her couldn't help looking at him as a child caught up in foolish ideals at the expense of reality. She admired chivalric virtue with all her heart, but their enemy knew only total war. There was no room in that for things like glory. The other part of her that was angry with him was the unreasonable part concerned with her heart. "What happened to Aediobri was not unusual. It is what they do to places that resist too fiercely."

"Yssa has the largest army of the east. We can take a hundred men," Fionn said dismissively.

"I am not worried about the century," Holland snapped, losing a little bit of her patience. "I am concerned with the tens of thousands that will follow."

"Holland," Seva said with gentle reproach.

The penitent let out a hiss of breath. She was grateful in part that they didn't know what they were facing, lest they panic, but she really did wish Fionn would take her word for it. "All the Imperium knows is war. The Princes of Iron war against each other ceaselessly, honing their tactics and troops as they pursue the Desolate Throne."

"Why are they here, then, if they war with each other?" Fionn demanded.

Holland bit her lip hard. That was a riddle she hadn't been able to solve. Conquest wouldn't be enough, as any of the seven who devoted resources away from the endless war would find the other six taking full advantage of that weakness. "I don't know."

"It makes no sense for them to fight us when they have more pressing concerns at home. I doubt we have to worry about the full force of their armies," Fionn said, sweeping his fair hair back out of his face. "You are a grim oracle, Lady Penitent, but I think there is no need to be so dire."

She couldn't help another noise of frustration as she stood up. "I'm going for a walk," she said flatly before heading off deeper into the woods. The quiet was a soothing balm, but an inefficient one. There was no reason for her to hate Fionn. She was being unreasonable and she knew it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to like him. The dark branches of trees formed arches above her head as they reached for the all too quickly fading daylight. The sun was a brilliant orange sinking behind the horizon, painting the remaining leaves in shades of flame. She tried to focus on the dark mountains and the clear, crisp air. The sooner she could detach herself from these people, the better. Even Seva. It would hurt, but it would be far less heartache in the long run.

Holland heard the approaching, cautious steps and sighed. She knew who it was without turning to look. She was plenty attentive to this particular person. "You should be with the prince, my lady," she said softly.

"Art thou not mine friend?" Seva said in a gentle protest. "I have right enough to see what has thee so distressed. Thou hast not been thyself since we battled Moloch. Did he wound thee?"

"I'm fine," Holland said, turning around to face the frowning young woman. "You know, worry like that leaves lines."

Seva shrugged. "Wouldst thou think me less fair if mine brow were lined?"

"No, I would not think less of you, my lady," Holland said, not sure what to think of the question. "But that's really a question you should be posing to Fionn and not me."

"I am very fond of him," Seva admitted, that girlish smile breaking through. She seemed so giddy that Holland felt a pang of guilt for her irritation with the man. If he made Seva so happy, no matter how brief their association, she should have been pleased.

"The prince riding in to sweep the fair maiden off her feet does have a good ring to it," Holland said, knowing that the stories would be spun that way. Penitents did not fit well into the mold of noble heroes. Their pasts were too checkered. "I'm glad he makes you happy, my lady."

"But thou dost not love him well," Seva said.

Holland shrugged. "I am ill-suited to company like his, that's all. My homeland did not have nobles other than the Princes of Iron. I never know what to say or think around them."

Seva tucked a lock of her blonde hair back behind one ear. "Thou speakest thy mind near me, I hope."

"Of course," Holland lied. If she spoke her mind, the baroness would hardly be so fond of her company. For one thing, her opinion of Fionn was less than flattering. There was something too charming about the young man. At least, too much charm and too little...something. It was a frustrating confusion.

Brilliant blue eyes studied her in the fading light. "Wouldst thou have me leave thee to thy thoughts?" the baroness asked.

Holland sat down on a fallen log. "Whatever you wish, my lady."

Seva sat down next to her, so close their shoulders were touching. "Did Maebh tell thee what mine intentions were, coming to Tamaris?"

The reminder left a sour taste in Holland's mouth. "She mentioned you might end up marrying for protection for the Barony of Essen."

The younger woman nodded. "Mine name is old and age has power in Yssa, though the fortunes of Essen are much reduced. It would not be difficult to find a match," Seva said. She turned in her seat. "The king knows that my name is of value, and his house is young nobility ascended to highest position. He needs the support of the ancient families. That is the true reason the prince came from the capital: to seek out my hand. Moloch was merely something he felt honor-bound to destroy."

Holland felt her throat constricting again and an unfamiliar twist in her chest. She didn't have to be a native of the east to understand that Seva would almost certainly accept the suit. "Why tell me all this?" she asked.

"Because thou art the truest friend I have ever had," Seva said, catching Holland's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I desire thy blessing."

"Does he make you happy?" Holland asked, eyes focused on the setting sun until it left after-images flashing in her vision. That was what she wanted more than anything else for the baroness. Yes, she was becoming more and more aware that she wanted other things with Seva, but she needed to accept that she would never know what it was like to kiss the baroness or wake up next to her.

"Methinks 'tis too soon to say, but he makes me smile," Seva said. "I wish this, Holland."

"If he ever breaks your heart, I will kill him," the penitent said quietly, looking down and away.

"A faithful friend thou art," the baroness said with a small smile. "Give me thy troth thou wilt not hurt him. I wouldst not see thy neck on the chopping block."

Holland shook her head. "I can make no vow above that which I have given to the gods," she said. "But I suppose I have other things that will probably keep me from ever hurting him. Penitents are not supposed to involve themselves in political matters."

"Thou art doing a fine job of that," Seva said with amusement.

"I blame the woman I'm escorting," Holland said, giving Seva a mock-glare. "She managed to find a prince and all his trouble in the middle of nowhere."

The baroness laughed and leaned her head against Holland's shoulder. "Mine favor in thy eyes continues anyhow, I wager."

A small smile touched the corners of Holland's lips. "You would be right." She didn't want to move anymore, not with Seva leaning into her side so comfortably. It took everything she had not to raise her arm and pull her friend in tighter. Instead, she let her fingertips linger against the back of Seva's hand and closed her eyes. Despite the idea of an impending marriage looming in the near future, she felt content for a moment.

It felt like only a few seconds, but it must have been a few minutes, before Seva stirred. "We will be missed," she said softly, turning her head to look at Holland.

They were so close. Holland's hands knotted tight as she fought the urge to close the last of the distance between them in a kiss. The penitent stood up abruptly, pulling herself away from temptation. Somewhere, she knew, gods were laughing at her with all the cruelty they could possess. "Alright. Let's get back then," she said automatically, aware that Seva was giving her a strange look. She ignored it and headed back towards camp.

Holland's evening went no smoother than her day had gone. She remained tense and quiet until they finally settled down into bedrolls. Daimhin had found an extra one with the remains of the prince's retinue for Ciar, so there was no need for Holland and Seva to share again.

The penitent lay alone in her bedroll, gazing up at the shimmering veil of stars against the night sky. Sleep overcame her slowly, gradually, but it did not bring with it peace.

Ilex... a voice whispered in her ears like honey. She felt it hum through her body like the breath of life, calling to every fiber of her being. Ilex, I have been waiting for you.

"That is not my name," Holland whispered even though she didn't want to disappoint this wonderful, warm voice that whispered things of comfort in the darkest places of her mind.

You will always be Ilex in your heart, the voice said softly. I know you. I know what pains you have gone through. I know how you have suffered at the hands of others. I know what you want more than anything. I can give it to you, my Ilex.

Holland felt arms link around her neck and the darkness abated enough for her to see Seva looking up at her adoringly, blue eyes alive with the light of laughter. Those rosebud lips brushed against her own, sending the fire of desire through her veins. But just as quickly as Seva had appeared, she disappeared.

I can give this to you forever, my Ilex, the voice whispered in her ear. Just come to me, help me, save me. I have been wrongly imprisoned for too long. Be kind to me, my Ilex, and I will be kindness itself to you.

"I..." Holland started. She felt a spasm of pain in her chest. "She doesn't love me. She will never love me. She has Fionn."

Don't be so certain, my Ilex. I can give you anything you want. Help me. Isn't that what you came to the east to do? To help people?

"Where are you imprisoned?" the penitent asked.

Tamaris. But I know that you will save me, my Ilex. I have waited so long for you. I have been with you ever since you were born. I rejoiced at your every victory and when they called you Invicta. I watched heartbroken when Laenus broke your body and threw you to what might have been your death. I glowed with pride the day you took your vows as a penitent. I knew that when you came to the east, my salvation was assured. Deliver me from my suffering, my Ilex, as I helped to deliver you from yours.

"Who are you?" Holland asked softly.

The voice said, ever so softly, I am the maker of your makers.

Holland snapped awake, trembling and cold with dread. She knew exactly who had just visited her in the night. Only one force in the world could claim that title, that power.

Deus.

That was why the Princes of Iron had turned their attention to the east. Deus was rising again...

...and he had plans for her.