The Emperor leaned forward on his throne, his sharp, cold gaze fixed on the Ambassador. His fingers curled around the armrests of the throne, and he gritted his chin. “Pardon me?” His booming voice cut through the fragile silence.

  The Ambassador met his gaze. “I would rather he not.” She repeated herself with confidence. “We do not wish to inconvenience the prince. Besides,” her gaze turned to Midhir, her lips curled down with a mix of disgust and anger. “I am a priestess of the Sun God, and our gospel decrees I remain pure. I will not be subjected to the presence of a tainted man any longer than necessary.”

  Midhir’s jaw tightened. He clenched his fists under the cover of his cloak.

  “Midhir will assist you during your stay here.” His father’s words startled him. The Emperor leaned back on his throne, his lips curling up for a split second.

  The priestess’ eyes widened. Her lips parted, but his father continued. “I have read your Gospel, Ambassador Yvonne. There will be no issues pertaining to your purity. As I have said before – Eldoria is home to many faiths, and if you wish for any success, you will respect them. Even those you deem ‘tainted.’”

  Midhir gritted his teeth as he watched the Ambassador’s expression shift between shock, being offended and panic. His father was right – Eldoria was indeed home to many faiths. Some believed in the Old Gods – like Lohssa, and the majority of An’Larion, while places like Bareon had adopted the church of the Daughter and the Sun. The province of Olisar put its faith in the endless sea, giving tribute to calm the waves before long journeys. There were even remnants of the old tribes’ faiths all around the smaller and older towns, though Midhir hadn’t come across any of them personally.

  With such a narrow view, the Ambassador was more likely to fail than not. His lips curled down. His father asserting this was objectively the best choice – but it was certainly going to be unpleasant for him. After all, nobody wanted to deal with such seething hatred and disgust.

  “I understand.” The Ambassador took a deep breath as her expression returned to neutral. Despite her attempt to hide it, her discomfort was quite obvious. “While it was not in the itinerary, I have a request of you, your majesty. Would you be so kind as to hear it?”

  The emperor scowled. “Do tell.”

  “Since you’ve read our Gospel, you are surely aware of our saviour.” The Ambassador spoke, raising her chin with pride. “She protected her people from the terrors of the night and led them to see the light of the Sun God.” Her gaze turned to Midhir for a split second. “Those who followed her were blessed with peace and prosperity, and abundant luck, while those who refused to see the light of our god and take the kind hand of his daughter remained trapped under sinful rulers and wrathful beings brazen enough to call themselves gods.”

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  She took a deep breath. “One such ruler and his so called god struck our saviour down, on the shore of a lake not too far from here.”

  “The Spring of Sun-Touched Waters.” Midhir spoke up. “About a day’s journey from Derwen Hold, under good conditions.” It was one of the places he had been warned about. A place belonging not to the Old Gods, but a different, unwelcoming entity. Whether it was a god, or a powerful spirit was to be discovered yet, of course.

  The Ambassador gave him an irritated look. “Indeed. It is a blessed place for us – a place we all long to visit on pilgrimage. Before we set off for An’Larion to meet with her majesty the Empress, I would like to visit the Spring of Sun-Touched Waters.”

  Midhir shot an alarmed glance at his father. The spring was deep in the Old Growth. There was no clear path leading to it.

  The Emperor pondered for a while. “I understand the importance of this visit, Ambassador Yvonne. You will have my answer at sundown. Midhir will tell you why I hesitate – the Old Growth is foreign to you, yet a simple fact of life here.” He stood up. This meeting was over. “Once again, your presence honours us. Midhir, show them to their chambers, and see to their needs.”

  As they all bowed, and the Priestess curtsied, his father simply walked away, not even sparing a glance at them.

  “Ambassador,” Midhir walked down the steps of the throne, raising his arm towards the doors. “If you will, I can show you to your chambers.” He desperately wished she wouldn’t have any questions – or pointed words directed towards him.

  “Please.” She dryly said.

  The guest quarters for the Ambassador and her entourage were on the upper floors of Derwen Hold and not dug too deeply into the mountains. The hallway was lined with large, wide windows with a beautiful view – the Old Growth was clearly visible from here. The Ambassador’s steps began to slow as they approached a balcony, and she stepped outside, her gaze lingering southeast.

  “A beautiful forest, isn’t it?” She asked, glancing at her knight who stood at the entrance to the balcony. Then she glanced at Midhir. “Is it visible from here?” She asked, her voice growing cold with discomfort.

  Midhir stepped out onto the balcony as well. The cold breeze pushed his hair back and tugged at his cloak.

  The ambassador drew a sharp breath as soon as she looked at him. “Sun protect me… your eye!” She clenched her hand around the delicate medallion hanging from a simple golden chain. “You are cursed!”

  Midhir gritted his teeth. She was exceptionally rude for an ambassador. Why would the Theocracy send such a rude and impulsive person? “I hear the Sunlit Summits are a peaceful place – a place of harmony.” He couldn’t be rash or rude like she was. She was still a diplomat after all. He could give her no reason for anger. “I understand this,” he pointed at his left eye – he could imagine how it looked, otherworldly and wrong. “This is a very different and alien thing for you.”

  “I’ve known the curses of the Old Ones,” she hissed, her eyes narrowed. “They take, take, take. They take your body, they take your soul, they take until there’s nothing left aside from a husk – a hateful husk that seeks to kill and murder and saw chaos. A husk with bright blue eyes.” She shook her head, her expression a mix of pity and disgust. “How Eldoria could let their prince – the heir to the throne – fall to such a fate, make such a mistake… it is beyond me.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “The heir to the throne is my sister, the crown princess Ilya Ardagh.” He explained. “My fate is not the same as those husks you speak of, and it is not the Old Gods who make them into such creatures.” He scowled. “It is the mist that causes it.”