AN: This is the work of two authors. Aereal and I have decided that it would be interesting and fun to see what we could do with our powers combined. We do not own the world of GR, everything belongs to Kristen Britain. All quotes belong to their respective owners, dead or alive.

"A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague."

Marcus Tullius Cicero

Chapter 1

Queen Estora sat in the comfortable chair at her bedside, brushing her long blond hair that hung down to her waist. Normally, it was a task for her maidservants, but she found the repetitive brush strokes soothing, so she had dismissed them for the night to enjoy her solitude in her suite of chambers.

The ornate jewellery box that Zachary had given her as a belated wedding gift lay open on the mahogany table beside her. It was beautiful, with gold and silver wrought into delicate flowers and inlaid with precious gems. She carefully laid the brush down beside it and reached for an object inside the box. It was the gold and sapphire necklace that Xandis Amberhill had given her.

The sun-like orb pendant sat innocently in her hand, seeming to somehow absorb and magnify the dim candlelight in the room. She ran her other hand over the delicate golden chain, feeling the cool links slide through her fingers.

She remembered her momentary surprise when Zachary's cousin had given her this gift, but now it felt almost a part of her. She felt a sort of completeness holding the pendant and her soul almost sang as she gazed into the depths of the gem.

It had lain hidden within her gown bodice every day for a month now, pressed against her heart as she fulfilled her role in the council and in the throne room. At night, after her maidservants had undressed her and placed the pendant away in the box, Estora would retrieve it and cradle it to her chest as she drifted off to sleep. It was here, in her dreams, that she was able to see him. His carefree grin stretched across his handsome face and his sparkling eyes shone as he reached out to her, enfolding her in his arms as he whispered endearments. In this dream, he would trace the lines of her features with reverence, staring at her pink mouth as he leaned in to capture her lips in a hungry kiss. Those strong arms would slowly lower her to the ground, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair.

She would wake from this pleasant dream with a jolt, angrily tossing her bedclothes to the side as she paced her chamber in frustration. Her longing only intensified during the day, when she dared to glance at his face during a council meeting, her breathing becoming shallower as her eyes eagerly caressed the planes of his face.

While her actions went unnoticed by the council at large, and by Zachary himself, there were hidden sets of eyes in the room that followed the Queen's gaze and frowned at the object of her interest.

Occasionally, Zachary or one of the Lord-Governors would address her, usually on matters relating to Coutre Province. Snapping out of her intense observation, she would blink and almost with a shade of irritation, ask her husband to repeat the question. The pendant would throb insistently against her ribcage, as she would strive to keep her attention on the political matters in the room. Inevitably, the meeting would adjourn, with the advisors and Lord-Governors filing out while paying their respects to their monarchs. Every time, he would bow slightly over her offered hand and come up to raze his eyes appreciatively over her form, resting his gaze on her bodice and winking at her knowingly before taking his leave.

She had not dared to think about him like this to begin with; after all, she was betrothed to the King, and Xandis was his cousin. She knew where her duty lay – to her province and to the crown, and not with the mischievous cousin of the king.

But late one night, mere weeks after receiving his gift, as she held this precious object in her hand, she could almost feel it whisper in her mind. She felt invigorated, as though a sharp breeze blew through the stifling chambers and she could feel the tingle of magic, like a dancing flame that grew within her.

That night, her dream had been different.

Xandis was there, as always, but he was standing on a ship, a sturdy looking vessel, with his hair blowing in a strong gale. The words Ice Lady were marked upon the bow. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were ruddy with excitement. He was shouting words she could not hear at someone below deck, but then he stopped and seemed to look around, sensing a presence. She tried to talk to him but he couldn't hear her, and when she moved forward and tried to place her hand on his forearm, her hand instead floated through the solid mass of flesh and bone, like water falling through a sieve.

Xandis brought his hands together, fingering the dragon ring that flashed crimson in the sunlight. A slow smile grew on his face, his expression almost wistful as he appeared to be remembering something from long ago. A well-built woman in Captain's clothing strode forward and offered a spyglass to him. As he lifted it eagerly to his eye, a great gust of wind rocked the vessel, and suddenly the world spun.

Estora found herself looking at a man dressed in sturdy travelling clothes, but they were of fine leather and cloth, that were worn with a distinct regal air. He turned and she saw it was Xandis' face. Next to him was a tall blonde woman in flowing green and blue robes. A sparkling light seemed to glow around her and flow between the two of them. Estora gave a gasp as she looked upon her own visage, whose hands were intertwined with those of Xandis. The couple gazed at each other intently, their eyes conveying a wealth of emotions, some of which Estora recognized instantly. The warmth of affection, the powerful urges of lust, and the keen regard that they had for each other visibly shone.

She awoke from that dream, familiar warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach as she sought to control the wild beating of her heart. Her cheeks flushed when she thought of what had occurred next, and although she had averted her gaze, her mind raced with the implications of what she had seen.

She thought she heard a soft voice whisper, seemingly from her own heart, "Seek him that seeks you also…and the power of the sea kings shall be at thy command."

The necklace would continue to reach out to her senses for weeks on end, subtly inviting her to slip the chain over her head, to feel with renewed intent, all that which she could accomplish with the right initiative. It would whisper of power, the kind that would command respect not only in Sacoridia, but amongst its allies and enemies. It would speak gently to her heart, of her own personal desires that could be obtained. It showed her, when she gazed upon herself in her mirror, of how truly beautiful and lovely she was. And of how she could use that beauty for another purpose if she so chose.

Estora intrinsically knew she was beautiful, her golden hair almost the same shade as the hues of this golden gem. Yes, they were both radiantly exquisite, she thought to herself with pride. A faint pulse reverberated from the pendant in answer to her thoughts, sending a tingling sensation that raced through her fingertips and up her spine.

And together, they were indeed powerful.

Oh, if Zachary only knew how she now lusted after such power, how her cold thoughts lay hidden behind the vapid smile that everyone thought to be so calm and genteel. She thought of the pure pleasure she derived from sitting upon the throne and wearing the circlet of authority. Also present was a feeling of slight derision, of disbelief that she had not felt such yearnings before. She inwardly scorned her previous lack of ambition, but kept these thoughts to herself as she adhered to her regal and gentle facade. Any weak inklings of affection that she had once aspired to with her royal husband, she cast aside disdainfully with the knowledge of his indiscretions with a member of the lower classes.

A calculating look settled on her face as she reached into the jewellery box, this time drawing out from the bottom an iridescent envelope that shimmered in the candlelight. A Green Rider had delivered it to the castle only this morning, happily arriving while the King was out visiting the kennels. And so it had been entrusted to her.

Passing her fingers over the broken seal, she unfolded the paper to scan its contents once more, her face twisting into a grimace of anger and frustration. She regarded it for another moment, before standing gracefully and padding over to the fire to kneel in the plush furs that lay before the hearth. With a self satisfied smile, she rolled up the parchment and held the end into the flames, watching the fire consume the elegant script.

Throwing the rest in, she watched as the royal crest of the Eletians was engulfed, taking with it the whereabouts of a certain missing Rider.

We live for reviews, we absolutely adore them whether they be bad or good. It means someone is reading it!