It was raining when the priest arrived at the front gates of the IshuRaj Palace, and Alomei sat in her room, staring out the window looking at the horrible water fall from the black sky.

  The sound, she decided again, was the worst part.

  A million tiny tap-tappings on the ground, the roofs, the window panes made a roar loud as any river. The constant rushing sound as each little raindrop melted in with the rest to create a fury of water drove her mad and made her stomach twist into knots. She sat, straight-backed, in a polished wood chair a few feet from her bedchamber’s large floor-to-ceiling windows and gripped the armrests with all her strength.

  “M’lady,” Said Fatmieh, who was standing just behind Alomei wringing her hands. “Shall we go and greet the Reledones with your husband? I saw them arrive a few moments ago, they must be inside the palace by now and I’m sure it would be much…quieter wherever they are.”

  Alomei gritted her teeth and continued to stare at the terrible storm outside. “No, Fatmieh. I must face this.” She forced herself to release the armrest with her right hand and brought it shakily to her bosom where she found the familiar weight of the small ruby.

  “Lady Saryn,” She muttered. “Give me a portion of your courage, that I might conquer this trivial and unnecessary fear.”

  She looked down for a brief moment at the deeply crimson ruby. Saryn would give her the strength. She brought her gaze back up to the window and the drowning world outside. So bleak and grey. She could face this.

  She lasted three more minutes before she let Fatmieh lead her away from the awful sound.

  * * *

  The preist was tall. All the Reledones Alomei had met were tall, but this man was blooming tall. He had to tower at least two feet over Kovra, who was one of the tallest men in ShaDa. His skin was a deep black and he wore leathers that looked plain yet comfortable that were stained nearly as dark as his skin.

  His hair was black as onyx and cropped short, and he wore a large, golden cloak emblazened with a crimson sun and an eye at its center, with a stylized sword just below it. All this was quite impressive and different than anyone in ShaDai, but it was the man’s eyes that took Alomei by surprise.

  His left was brown like rich soil and his right was as gold as his cloak. The golden eye contrasted so much against his black skin that it seemed to pierce her very soul when he looked at her as she entered the room.

  “Ah, there you are my love.” Kovra, who stood in front of the preist in stately, yet plain robes said when she walked into the small chamber. He kissed her as she approached, then turned back to the preist. “Yoldra Blackflame, this is my wife, queen of ShaDai, the beautiful Lady Alomei Tabeyin.”

  A yoldra? That explained the well-worn leathers and the hardened look of the man’s face. He must’ve been in many fights during his service in the yoldry.

  He bowed low, and smiled at her as he reached to kiss her hand. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

  Alomei raised an eybrow. “Your Tuxa is quite good, preist. Where did you find the time to learn?”

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  “Time I have plenty of, Your Highness,” the preist said as he released her hand and straightened. “Practice is the thing I’m all out of.”

  Kovra chuckled—he was always laughing to make others feel comfortable—and patted the man on the shoulder like they were old friends. “Mei, this is Yoldra Syrod Blackflame, of Vehaldan. He’s come with a desire to preach to us.”

  “If you’ll hear it, of course,” said Syrod.

  “Of course,” Alomei said. “Though, I always thought yoldrum came with blades, not doctrines.” She eyed the man. Polite now, but she could sense his potential for danger—for violence. A man so accustomed to such things couldn’t leave that at home like an ugly cloak.

  Syrod looked down at his boots for a moment, then back to her and sighed. “Yes, that’s the unfortunate truth. But a priest is still a priest, and I assure you I’m not here with my blade. You’d have known if I were.”

  Kovra chuckled again, though Alomei could tell it was strained. “My friend, you are a guest here in ShaDai and our home. We trust that you are here on your God’s errand, and for no other reason.”

  Alomei pursed her lips. You trust, my love. I, however, am not so easily swayed. She did trust the treaties—they were law after all, and law was…well, undeniable. However, she had to admit that it was difficult to simply accept into her home a man from the very same order that had caused her people so much sorrow thirty years ago.

  “And who do you plan to preach to, Master Blackflame?”

  “Any who are willing to hear, m’lady. I understand that our two kingdoms have very different views—particularly religiously. However, I trust that the Sunfather has prepared the hearts of a few to hear my message. I will say, though, that if it isn’t an offense, I’d like to offer my knowledge on the subject of theology to you first, Your Majesty.” He nodded toward Kovra.

  Silence. Alomei glanced at her husband and could tell he was mulling it over. She didn’t know how he’d answer, which triggered her own questions. Religion wasn’t something she’d often worried about or really given much thought. Of course the Prophets taught and Kovra and her attended most Grove ceremonies. But, how committed to her personal faith in the Echoes was she really?

  How committed was Kovra?

  “I accept your offer, Syrod,” He said after a few moments. “I think I’d really enjoy hearing about Ilgashism. I’ve honestly been curious about the subject for a while, but whenever you ask Prophets they go on and on about how blasphemous the beliefs are without telling you what they are.”

  Syrod grinned, his teeth were brilliant white contrasted against his dark skin. “That’s wonderful to hear, m’lord. I’d be happy to have a discussion whenever you’d like—even now if it’s convenient for you.”

  “No, no. I have a better idea.” Kovra matched Syrod’s grin. “We’ll have a feast, in your honor, and you can preach to us there.”

  “A feast?” Alomei asked. “Who’d we invite? High Prophet Gurai? I’m sure he’d love to hear Ilgashi teachings from Master Blackflame.”

  “No, probably not the High Prophet. If he requests an invite, I’ll be happy to send one. I was thinking the high ranking Guild-masters. Ezza, JuYeh, ZiaBar, the rest.”

  Alomei nodded slowly. “I guess. I just don’t know how interested they’d be in foreign religion that’s usually viewed as heretical. You and I are open-minded enough, but the Guild-masters?”

  “If I may, I have quite a bit of experience dealing with stubborn people. I’m sure it wouldn’t be an issue if you’d like to invite them. I’ll honestly take whatever I can get. I’m already thanking God that you’ve welcomed me into your home. Anything beyond that is more than I could hope for.”

  “It’s settled, then. A feast, one week from today to give us time to prepare and get out the invitations. Though, it’ll be a small thing and I don’t think we need to go all out.”

  “I’ll make a list.”

  “Yes, thank you, Love.”

  “Thank you both, you’ve been kinder than I could’ve hoped for. Surely kinder than my brethren in Vehaldan thought I’d receive.”

  Kovra chuckled. “Say one thing for the ShaDai. Say we’re better hosts than the Reledones.”