Chapter 155

“Also, there’s the box it was in,” Aden continued. “It seems far too well kept to be something found among the Mollys. They had to have taken exceptional care of it.”

Meaning they considered it to be precious . . . or sacred.

“So, it might actually be the Mollys’ divine object,” Ilyin mused. Aden nodded in response.

“Throughout the history of the Winter Region,” he said, “the territories of the different races never changed very much, or very quickly.”

He was guarded about why, but the truth was that, even down to the reign of his father as Duke of Winter, none of his predecessors had been strong enough to do more than defend his people. None of them had the power to try to expand their reach across the Winter Region.

None until him. He was the strongest Duke of all time and had grown stronger still since his coronation. That’s why he could defeat the Mollys with such ease. That’s why, with his generation, change was finally coming to the Winter Region.

“But now, for the first time since the Miltons, an entire race has been wiped out,” he continued. Though it seems the extinction of the Miltons may have been assumed too quickly, he thought. “And in so doing, we find this. Given how little has changed in the territories over the centuries, it’s unlikely that one race could take anything from another without eradicating them entirely. So, it seems we can’t rule out the chance that the other monster tribes still have divine objects of their own.”

Ilyin nodded her agreement.

“But most of all,” he said, looking at the strand of cloth in her hands, “we must assume this is a divine object because there is divine power in it.”

“Divine Power?” Rippo interjected. The words conjured images of Delrose’s Everlasting Fire, of Elo’s Wall of Light. “Then why didn’t the Mollys use it?”

It was a good question. Even if they hadn’t known exactly what it did, it seemed strange that they wouldn’t at least try to use its power as they were being wiped out. Aden considered.

“Perhaps its power isn’t related to combat,” he said. He stopped himself from adding though that could depend on how you use it. “When Idith and I both held this cloth,” he continued, “he could use my divine power.”

They’d thought it coincidence the first time, but repeated trials had confirmed the effect.

“But . . . Idith isn’t of Delrose’s bloodline,” Ilyin said. Nor did he seem to be of the bloodline of any of the other houses, and according to Rippo, only those directly in the bloodline could use the divine power – or those, like Ilyin, who married into the bloodline and were granted the ability through coronation. But neither of those applied to Idith.

Which meant the cloth strand had the ability to transfer divine power to anyone.

“May I test it?” Ilyin asked. Aden hesitated. Idith had been exhausted the day after using the divine power – and a life as a knight had gifted him with hearty stamina. What might it do to Ilyin?

“It might be . . .,” he started to say, “too taxing,” but saw the look in her eyes. They were twinkling like a child’s, full of curiosity. He was powerless to deny her when she was so eager.

When Idith had used the divine power, he’d heated the whole barracks. He’d raised the temperature so high that snow had melted. He needed to keep Ilyin to a much smaller area. . .

Am I compromising?

“Will you be alright? You must still be tired. This may hurt you, like when you used Delrose’s divine power before.”

“I will be fine,” Ilyin said, smiling in a way that said it wasn’t just an empty promise. “I’ve used divine objects before. More than one.”

They were all different sorts of divine power, of course, but it was better than Idith who’d never used one at all.

“And if I feel in danger,” she added, “I will stop.”

Or you will stop me by untying the cloth, she thought. She raised the hand with the cloth, and Aden relented.

“Promise you won’t overdo it,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied lightly.

Aden took hold of the cloth. He folded it in half and laid it across Ilyin’s wrist. She wrapped it around and gave the end back to him. He didn’t want to just hold the cloth, so he wrapped it around his own hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.

He would cut the cloth if there was even the slightest sign she was in distress. The divine object meant nothing to him. All that mattered was what harmed Ilyin, and what didn’t.

Ilyin looked at the cloth. She smiled at him soothingly.

Divine power, power that can control the temperature. On a large scale, it could bring summer into an April blizzard, but the power for that would be immense. Something much smaller . . .

Perhaps I can warm this room a bit. But how to do it?