Velshlind. The land of disease and death and discrimination. That is where they had to go. The very thought of stepping foot into such a nasty and despicable place almost makes Zalish shudder. But Athula had made himself very clear.

He wants this land —the land that his brothers and sisters created— to fall. And this is something Zalish cannot accomplish alone. She will need an army, and one with magic, at that. Velshlind is her only option, and her mother knows this.

As they travel back to her troops’ camp, the empress’ snaky smile is visible from a mile away. She thinks she’s won some nonexistent battle. The clear temerity makes the amono want to stab something. In that moment, she wonders how long it will take for them to both snap. She can hope that her resolve will hold out, but knowing her, her temper will claim her faster than even she expects. Her head tilts, her eyes shifting to appraise someone that seems to be ignoring her.

Now, she doesn’t exactly think she and Vahkul are the best of friends, but she at least expected him to greet her after returning from death. She has questions for him. She has accusations as well. So wrapped up in dying, Zalish had almost forgotten what had transpired before she had been taken to her father.

Well, she has forgotten more than just that. It’s as if every memory in her head since that moment she had attempted to drag the druid out of the Onesian’s territory was swapped with the picture of Lily’s face. Everything is a blur of brown eyes and silken hair. It’s like looking into a foggy mirror, unable to peer around her reflection.

She wants answers. She wants to understand everything that led up to this. Where is everyone? Where are Dafiel and Lily. Why is Vahkul with the empress of Velshlind? What led to the separation?

He hadn’t wanted to leave Yukos. He had grown attached to it so quickly, it’s hard to imagine him willingly parting ways with it all. Just how much of her memories are missing? Why won’t he look at her?

The druid travels at the back of the group, a spot typically reserved for the strongest in a pack. His eyes remain straight and unwavering. No matter how much heat she burns into the side of his head, he won’t give in. She scowls. Ungrateful beetle. Facing forward, Zalish holds in her sigh. She doesn’t even know if she’s allowed to be angry, as she doesn’t understand what happened. For all she knows, she could be the reason why he’s stuck here right now.

She blinks, stepping over a thick root. “We should get you some clothes.” No one had mentioned her nakedness, and she, so used to the feeling, hadn’t thought to bring it up either. She supposes she will need clothes if she is to not draw attention to herself. “And a bath.” The woman’s nose wrinkles.

Dying leaves an unmistakable scent on a person. One that she isn’t sure will wash out.

They continue forward, no one else daring to follow that declaration.

Zalish isn’t sure what she was expecting of the stationed Velish troops, but the strange sea of white wasn’t it. There isn’t one person here, outside of herself, that doesn’t have colorless hair. It’s… chilling.

Inside the empress’s tents, Zalish is clothed in a simple black gown and given a thick cloak that goes down to her ankles. Her nose wrinkles. “You lot have horrible tastes in clothes. How am I meant to fight with this thing weighing me down?” Elwin simply regarded her with a brief eye.

“We will be traveling by way of magic. The clothes are temporary.” The empress must have some power that allowed her to sneak Zalish past everyone once they made it to the coast. For some reason, no one batted an eye at the returning group. No one bowed to greet their leader, and no one gasped at her bare skin. It was as if they were invisible. “Keep quiet, I have instructions to give,” Elwin tosses over her shoulder, leaving Trige, Hunts, and Vahkul to watch over her.

The only one that meets her eye is Hunts. Trige, the man she had been debating seducing at the grolith’s inn, looks into the air around her, and Vahkul has abandoned staring all together. They are a sorry bunch. They look more worn out and abused than soldierly. “Your features really are quite strong,” Zalish points out, kicking her legs up onto the desk in front of her. Her dress slides down, revealing a leg coated in her dried blood.

She recalls wanting to know what Trige looked like under his cloak, and her initial impressions had been right. His features are strong, but rounded, like a guard dog’s. She knows that if he were to smile, he would be a happy sight to behold. “Is no one going to talk to me? I can tell you right now, that ignoring me isn’t going to lead to anything good.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Oh, so you speak now? I thought the almighty empress might have taken your tongue.” Hunts’ muscles tense at the expression. She waves her hand. “If you clamp up like that at every bad thing I say about her highness, you’re going to be in for a world of cramps.” She has nothing good to say about her mother, or anyone really.

Zalish has lived in a world of despair for a long time, but she had been good at pretending otherwise. Drugs also helped with that. Lots and lots of drugs. The good thing about dying and meeting your blessed god is that he does well at removing the effects of withdrawal.

Though to be fair, Zalish isn’t sure when she last felt those effects. Maybe a day before they met the Onesians? She had overdosed around a week before then, and it had been the druid that saved her. Perhaps he did something to ease the burden unknowingly. “It is not my place to speak unless spoken to, princess.” She almost gasps at the implication.

Standing, her arms cross. “You had no problem talking my ears off before the empress came along.” Hunts and Trige look to each other as Vahkul’s ears burn red. “Gods, this is going to be a long journey.” She sits back down, exhaustion creeping under her skin.

Elwin had talked a little about her empire with Zulith before getting pregnant. What she hadn’t told him, he had learned from other sources, as was customary for those leading tribes. Her father had done his part in teaching her about the mainlands. She had learned some of their customs, studied their language, and memorized their leaders. That alone had been tiring enough.

But having to live through it… the experience might be too much for her. Having to speak their tongue and wear their clothes and follow their rules. Having to eat their food and wander their lands… How is she going to do it?

Her neck warms, a calming sensation washing over her.

Zalish’s eyes snap open, her mouth pulling into a deep frown. Her three guards tense, but she’s more focused on what’s happening within her. Can Athula hear her thoughts? Can he feel her emotions? If he can do that, then where does the extent of his reach end? Can he control her body?

Coldness overtakes the warmth.

She supposes it doesn’t matter if he can. This is what she signed up for. Her fingers reach up to her neck. “It is time to leave.” Elwin pushes through the flaps of the tent, a white-haired stranger trailing behind her. The man dips his head before heading to the far side of the enclosure.

Zalish watches as Elwin combs her finger through her hair. She searches the woman’s face, wondering for the first time, if they share any features. The closer she looks, the more certain she becomes that the pair have nothing in common.

She should like to keep it that way. Her eyes go to the man, the smazer, as he claps his hands together. He pulls them apart, the limbs shaking with the effort. His brows grow we with sweat, his cheeks flush with exertion. But steadily, something begins to form in the air.

Instinctively, Zalish backs away, and feels something brushing against her back. Vahkul doesn’t look her way. “It’s a portal. There are very few smazers with the ability to instantly travel. Even fewer can transport multiple people. Grine was a prodigy. He opens doors between lands so long as he can visualize it. He’s a very valuable asset to the crown.”

Her eyes study him. She remembers not long ago, when it was her spilling lore into his ears. How the tables have turned. His hand lightly pushes against her lower back. “All you have to do is walk through it.” The empress steps through the misty door as soon as its border touches the ground. Trige and Hunts follow closely behind her.

Zalish licks her lips, glad her shaking fingers are hidden beneath her ridiculously large cloak. She had left her tribe for the first time just a year ago. She had traveled through her native lands on her own and learned to live. But she had always planned on returning to that mountain.

Never had she imagined that she would leave her homeland for good. She swallows, her eyes closing for a long blink. Before she can hesitate anymore, Zalish forces her legs forward and walks through the door.

Her heart shudders as she does.