Renee Wildes - Guardians of Light 02

HEDDA'S SWORD

Guardians of Light 02

Renee Wildes

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Hedda's Sword

ISBN: 978-1-60504-371-5

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Cover by Anne Cain

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2009

www.samhainpublishing.com

Table of Contents

Dedication

For Lee, my sister and my friend by ties stronger than blood. Gone too soon but never forgotten. Now the angel on my shoulder. May I always make you proud.

A special thanks to the Central WI Writers, esp. Erin, who went above & beyond to help me get this out after NJ, and also to the FF&P RWA Mudpuddlers – you gals (and guys) rock!

Chapter One

The woman was destined to die without his aid, forever lost to the spreading darkness.

Cianan ta Daneal's visions were no longer confined to nighttime dreams. In yet another one, he watched as, surrounded by boiling rivers of blood, she held off an army of skeletons with a flaming sword. How many times had he seen her fall, felt her terror and despair in her final moment of life? Horror skittered up his spine. He had no idea how to find her, or how much time he had to save her. But his heart told him where he needed to be – here in Shamar, an unfamiliar name in the northern region of his map.

Cianan swallowed down the nausea, a side effect of gating halfway across the world. Hours later, his ears still rang from the energy currents. He shivered in the saddle, pulled his hood up and wrapped his green cloak closer. Dracken rue, but the wind was bitter! It pulled him out of the vision and back into the real world.

He should have listened to Lord Elio, the elven Minister of Defense, his adoptive father. The old warrior had tried to dissuade him from coming alone. But Cianan thought he would have better anonymity this way. Clouds veiled the new moon, although he still felt its pull. All around him, the skeletal branches of trees loomed. They clutched at his clothing like the wasted fingers of the dead from his recurring nightmare.

The visions began after his initiation as Lady's champion, high warrior-priest for the sun-goddess, the Lady of Light. Those urgent Goddess-sent nightmares were the reason he journeyed so far from home. At the time, it seemed a noble, heroic quest, the stuff of legends, a chance for fame and glory.

That urgency told him the woman still lived. He still had time. But how much? Frustration gripped him. Why were dreams so graphic in horror, yet so vague in usable details? Which parts real and which symbolic? After centuries of war against trolls, goblins and most recently a demon, armies of skeletons did not seem far-fetched. But no one should die alone.

Temple stories of past Lady's champions, told in the bright comfort of the elven capital city of Poshnari-Unai, never mentioned how miserable walking the world could be. It was supposed to be midafternoon when he arrived, according to the mage Gwendolyn's calculations. Apparently, daylight this far north was but a mere lightening of the darkness. And the rain! Sleeting stuff that stung his skin and chilled to the bone.

Beneath him, his war mare Kikeona plodded through the mud. Warmed from within by the Light of the Lady Goddess, she seemed impervious to the gate effects – and the foul elements. "We shall stop at the first inn with a decent stable," Cianan promised her, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

She sent a small pulse of energy through their partner link, providing immediate but temporary relief. "Stop that," he ordered. Breath steamed out with every word. "I am not ungrateful, but you cannot keep doing that." Mortal, though long-lived, her powers were finite.

"I should be comfortable while you turn into a block of ice? What do you take me for, warrior? How can you complete a rescue if you freeze to death yourself?" Through the link, he felt the rainwater stream down her long forelock into her eyes. Kikeona shook her head. "Mayhaps your seeming of a mercenary was not the best idea."

He considered that. The seeming blurred their elvish features into a more mortal appearance, a trick of the mind undetectable by all but the truly god-touched. "How else to explain my weapons and horse? Keep going. This road leads somewhere." Unless this also proved part of his nightmare – doomed to ride endlessly under a moonless sky.

"Lady, save me from would-be bards." Kikeona sighed. "If you must wax poetic, at least make it good poetry."

He grinned, patted her rain-slick neck and resumed scanning the woods, his other hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Relax, partner. We are the only creatures mad enough to be about on a night like this." Kikeona broke into a canter. "I need to get you out of this freezing rain."

Another hour passed. The rains grew worse. The sting of hail now joined the steady sleeting downpour, soaking the cold into Cianan's bones. How could anyone stand to live in such a forbidding place? Every time he thought he could not take another moment, Kikeona sent a pulse of warmth through their link. He was too grateful to reprimand her.

Several lights appeared through the gloom. Kikeona slowed to a trot. "Town ahead – looks big enough to have an inn."

Her hooves rang on mud-smeared stone as she carried him through the market, closed for the night, and down a wide street betwixt various shops, a livery and the smithy. The sound echoed in his mind. The entire town felt abandoned, though lights glowed in various windows off the main thoroughfare. Shielded lanterns on every street corner revealed no one about in the storm. In the far distance, towering above all, riotous mosaics of color stood out in vivid relief against the dark. Stained glass windows, indicating a fine home indeed, mayhaps even a palace.

They stopped afore a two-story stone building. The sign hanging over the door read The Green Lady. Cianan rode around back to the stables. The scent of wet horse and wetter wool vied with the familiar smells of manure, hay and leather. The stable boys were not to be seen.

Where was everyone?

"'A true ranger always sees to his horse first.'" Cianan recalled that part of the ranger code as he rinsed the mud off Kikeona and cleaned her hooves. Even when freezing rain ran down his back and his fingers were so stiff with cold the joints creaked. He put her in a clean tie-stall betwixt a plow horse and a mule, settling her ankle-deep in dry straw. Save for his bedding, flute and a few knives hidden on his person, he piled the rest of his gear in the manger and covered it with a large quantity of decent grass hay. Then he gave Kikeona a ration-and-a-half of salted oats and checked the freshness of the two water buckets. He brushed her down from dripping grey to almost white again and draped her with the saddle blanket.

"Shall you be all right out here?"

"I am quite content." She nuzzled him. "See to yourself."

Comforted by the fact their link meant they were never apart, regardless of physical distance, Cianan shouldered his bedding pack and strode out into the rain, around to the front door of the inn.

When he entered the main room, blissful warmth struck him from two roaring fireplaces, one at each end. Shadows danced on soot-frosted walls. The smell of hot stew, roasting meat and – Lady Goddess, fresh-baked bread! – made his mouth water. Underpinning these were the sour scents of bitter ale and many people in desperate need of baths all crowded together.

Beneath it all, Cianan also caught the sharp smell of fear.

Why was everyone afraid? And of what?

He strode up to a beefy man serving behind the bar. "I need a room and stabling."

Haggling ensued until Cianan was satisfied he had not been cheated. He paid the innkeeper in copper armbands, then took his gear upstairs to the last room on the left as instructed. It was a tiny cell with worn furniture, but clean and vermin-free. He laid his cloak afore the fire to dry, wrung out his hair and changed into dry clothes. He hung his wet clothes on wall pegs. Stashing his pack under the bed and the flute beneath the pillow, he returned to the common room.

The innkeeper served him a mug of hot apple cider and a trencher heaped with mutton stew, a fist-sized chunk of sizzling roast pork and a thick slice of steaming brown bread dripping with melted butter. A couple of merchants slid over to make room for him at their table.

"Heyla." Cianan took a big bite of the bread and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Ah, the simple pleasures mortals took for granted – like hot bread drowning in butter. "Nasty night."

"Aye," the younger replied. "What's your name, merc?"

"Cianan." The first swig of cider thawed some of the ice in his veins. "Interested in a caravan guard or bodyguard?"

The older man shook his head. "We just returned from our final trip to the Marcou ports. Our season's done for the year. This isn't a good time for hiring or traveling." He kept his voice low and glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, as if in fear of being overheard. "You're lucky to get here when you did. It's not safe to travel alone after dark."

The door opened, and in strode a swarthy man with gold hoop earrings and a scarlet cape. "Greetings, gentlemen!" he boomed. "Lousy night for traveling. I'll take a room and a cup of ale, barkeep – and a round for every man here, as well."

Stony silence greeted him. Cianan looked at the closed faces of the men around him. The innkeeper spoke first. "Full up. Move on."

Cianan could not see turning a stray dog out into that weather. He studied the stranger. The flamboyant man's aura felt cloudy, but not dark. "Let him warm by the fire for a spell."

The older merchant gripped Cianan's arm in warning.

The newcomer squared his shoulders. His gaze met Cianan's for a moment, then he replied to the innkeeper, "My money's good."

"We don' serve yer kind. Get, 'fore I summon th' night watch," the barkeep growled.

With a mocking bow, the man left. Anger burned under Cianan's skin. The bread sat like a lump in his stomach. "What is going on?" he whispered to the older merchant at his side. "Turning away paying folks on a night like this?"

"This is a decent establishment," the younger merchant stated. "People see a filthy drifter in here, Brekk loses business. Long-term, savvy?"

"And you agree with this?" Cianan demanded.

A shadow crossed the older merchant's face. "It's the way things are. We don't make the rules. We just try to get along with them. Now you heed my words and hold your tongue."

The door slammed open, and in swept two uniformed swordsmen. Bronze marigolds pinned their cloaks. Cianan focused on those marigolds – like the ones in his visions. Were these men part of the skeleton army? The air itself grew thick with dread. He got the distinct impression every man in the room wished himself invisible.

"Queen Sunniva's night watch," the older merchant whispered. "Trust me, boy, you want no part of them."

The guardsmen strode up to the bar. The men there scattered like sheep. Brekk handed each guardsman a mug of ale. "Yer food's comin' right up, sirs."

An older woman brought out two heaping platters. She plunked them down onto the bar and retreated into the kitchen. The watchmen wolfed their dinners. The younger motioned for another ale. "Ye're behind on yer spirits tax. We've come t' collect fer th' queen."

"I paid ye last time," Brekk protested.

"That was fer last quarter. We're here fer this quarter."

Brekk opened the moneybox and counted out a handful of silver coins. The guard re-counted it and looked up. "Where's th' other half?"

"What? That's th' same amount I paid last time!"

"Well, now there's an immigration surcharge. I take th' other half or shut ye down, Arcadian. I'm sure th' good Shamari businessmen will welcome th' increase in revenue."

Brekk paled but handed over the additional coins. The guards laughed, finished their drinks and left without paying.

Cianan couldn't help overhearing. Prejudice, discrimination, corruption and extortion – quite an eye opening adventure. "This Sunniva, she is queen here?" Cianan asked. "Think she could use another guard?"

"What are you doing?" Kikeona demanded. "That was not part of the plan. Rescue the girl, then go home. Remember?"

The Lady's Light burned in his heart. "Plans change."

"We are not here to spy."

The merchants looked at Cianan like he had lost his mind. "You must be from very far east of here not to know of Queen Sunniva," the younger man stated.

You have no idea, Cianan thought.

"She's made a lot of improvements to Shamar," the merchant persisted.

"The cost is too high," his older compatriot disavowed, shaking his head.

It had the feel of an old argument. This fear and dread was not natural. Cianan yearned for home, even as his sworn vow as Lady's champion to drive back the darkness compelled him to stay. The Lady wanted him to stay, and not for the sake of one woman.

"I wouldn't go looking for work from her, stranger, unless you've got your guild stamp."

It figured a local mercenary guild collected dues for stamps. Cianan finished the remainder of his dinner in silence. "I bid you gentlemen goodnight." He rose, bowed and returned to his room. He rolled his bedding across the bed and stripped down to his breeches. He slid one knife beneath the thin mattress and another under the feather pillow, then crawled in and pulled his blankets up to his chest. "We shall visit the merc guild in the morning."

Kikeona's sleepy affirmative greeted his statement.

Everything ached, body, heart and soul. Cianan did not want to close his eyes, to revisit those visions yet again. How many times could he die with her? Even in dream-form, he felt the darkness burn him, a little more with each death. Desperate, Cianan pulled out the flute. Softly, he began to play. Songs of Light. Songs of home.

* * * *

The captain behind the battered wooden desk looked up at Cianan with narrowed eyes. "You don't look Shamari, soldier."

Cianan's head still ached from that accursed gate. He eyed the motes of dust floating in the thin sunlight that streamed through the single eastern window. Lady, how he missed the sun! East. Home. Away from this dark and dangerous land.

"I am not," Cianan said in careful common – tradespeak, up here. Despite decades of practice, he retained a telltale lilt.

The captain caught it. "Foreigner, eh?" His manner cooled; his lip curled.

"Here we go again," Kikeona said. "What is this prejudice? Who wants a war on his own soil? Of course we would be foreign."

"What company were you with last?" the man demanded.

"Fought with the Eagles in the south. Northern Arcadia, on the side of King Hengist of Riverhead, against Count Jalad of Westmarche." Cianan produced the documentation Dara, queen of the elves, had received from her human father, King Hengist. Thinking of the half-dragon fire mage as his best friend Loren's wife still boggled the mind. Loren had once been Lady's champion. Cianan had been selected by the Lady of Light to replace him when Loren became king.

The captain's eyes widened. "A royal seal, signed by the king's hand himself!"

Cianan shrugged. "We won. King Hengist was most grateful." Considering what the demon-possessed Jalad had done to the people of Riverhead, Cianan thought that might be a gross understatement. Contributing to Cianan's cover had been the least of what Hengist had offered. Not that these Shamari would understand. As far as he could tell, magic did not exist in this land. At all. Unless it was buried deep, its practitioners hidden.

The captain's mouth twitched, the first sign of thawing. "What's your specialty?"

"Archery and horse, but I am a fair hand with a sword."

"We'll see. A demonstration's required."

"Good thing you can do this in your sleep," Kikeona commented. "You look and feel a bit haggard this morning. You need rest. You cannot keep this up."

"We have to find her. She does not have much time. It gnaws at me, this darkness."

"Of course." Cianan figured a Shamari captain would not take a foreign mercenary at face value. He followed a burly sergeant with a granite face marred by ritual scarring out into the training yard. Soldiers appeared to be taking advantage of the break in the rain to get some practice in.

"Awright, ladies!" the sergeant bellowed. "Need a new lad tested. Who wants a go?"

Cianan drew his sword and paired off left-handed against a couple of stolid fighters who relied more on strength than on imagination. Best not to reveal all. He was right-handed, but the ability to use either was vital to any fighter.

His next opponent was smaller, lighter and quicker, with a curved scimitar in each hand. The man plied both with expert dexterity. Cianan found himself enjoying the duel. Not that the human pushed him, but he did get to move enough to thin the still-half-frozen blood in his veins.

He tried not to make his victories look too easy.

Decades of teaching archery at the elven warrior academy stood him in good stead there, garnering a crowd of admirers. He hit stationary and moving targets at greater and greater distances, releasing three arrows for every one of the humans' and never missing.

The men laughed when Cianan led Kikeona into the yard. Shielded by the seeming as she was, he knew what they saw when they looked at her – a rawboned grey nag of uncertain breeding, with a blocky head and lop ears.

"She looks like a mule," one man commented.

"Do not mind them," Cianan reassured her. "I know you are beautiful."

She sniffed with disdain and snapped at one of them, for the fun of watching him jump back. "As if I care what these barbarians think."

Cianan swung into the saddle.

"Forget yer bridle?" one merc asked.

"Bet he hocked it," another suggested.

Cianan smiled. "Never use one. Watch first. Judge after." He went through a simple warm up drill. Walk, trot, canter, simple lead changes, side-pass, passage, piaffe and levade. He urged her to a gallop, slid to a stop, spun on both forehand and hindquarters.

"She sure moves better'n she looks." This from the man who had called her a mule.

Cianan put her through the advanced battle moves none but the strongest, most senior war mares ever accomplished. She reared into a courbette, hopping toward the viewers on her hind legs while slashing with her front hooves in a mezair. Cianan found a cleared area big enough for a single capriole. Kikeona leapt straight up into the air and kicked out with both hind legs, a move known to crush, or remove, a man's head.

Cianan dismounted and patted her neck. "You enjoyed that rather too much, I think."

She tossed her head. "I missed them, did I not?"

The men were silent after the display. The sergeant was not. "Don' look like much, but she sure can move. She's not e'en breathin' hard."

"You should know better," Cianan retorted. "Judging by appearance gets you killed."

"True enough." The captain came forward. "I'll warrant you're qualified, son. Pay your dues, get your stamp and sign the contract."

"I have one stipulation," Cianan stated. "I have always been a free-merc. I wish right of refusal added afore I sign."

The sergeant frowned. "Ye enjoy starvin', boy?"

"Some jobs are more trouble than the pay is worth."

"Ye wanna live forever?"

"What, shall you not answer, champion?" Kikeona's amusement was a palpable warmth in the back of Cianan's mind.

"Dealers are the ones with coin enough to hire in the off-season," the captain warned.

"An' th' motivation." The sergeant laughed. "With what's been goin' on this past month, they're hirin' more'n ever. At three times th' goin' rate, fer all th' good it's done 'em."

Every sense went on alert. "What has been happening?"

"Someone's taking out the dealers," the captain replied. "Raiding caravans, destroying drugs, freeing slaves and stealing cargoes, even outright assassination. Queen Sunniva's pissed at losing her cut. Forty percent of nothing's nothing. We've been busy, but it's like chasing a ghost. We could use a man like you, but not my problem if you choose to starve."

The word ghost triggered a warning in the back of his mind. Short pale blonde hair, aquamarine eyes, and fair skin – the woman in his visions appeared nigh pale as a ghost.

Cianan's first two opponents stepped forward. "Mrow an' me could put him up at th' Broken Blade fer a month, in exchange for lessons. Give him time t' find his way about." The stockier of the two held out a hand to Cianan. "Name's Ain."

"Broken Blade's where many guild stay long-term. Tell Cary I sent ye," Mrow added.

Cianan gripped Ain's forearm. "Done."

The captain sighed. "Dealer work's good money, but I guess you've held off starving for a bit." He scribbled in the addition and presented the parchment contract.

Cianan handed him the joining fee and looked the contract over. "Wonder who their ghost is?" He signed his name, left-handed, with extra flourish.

"Someone I want to meet. Sounds like our kind of trouble."

"But is he a true hero or an ambitious, stronger dealer?"

Kikeona snorted. "You are such an optimist."

The captain took the signed contract and the sergeant came forward with the stamp, a nasty-looking handheld device, patterned with dozens of tiny ink-dipped needles. Cianan gritted his teeth and braced himself, but stood unflinching as the sergeant tattooed the guild's bear claws mark into the inside of his right arm, elbow to wrist in a single, hard strike.

Kikeona flattened her ears. "Nasty barbaric custom. Are you all right?"

"Bee sting." Cianan took a deep breath and rolled his sleeve back down over the bloody new mark. It would be prudent to wear long sleeves for a week or so. The wound would heal in minutes, leaving the tattoo itself. The last thing he needed was questions.

Too bad self-healing did not work on gating-induced headaches. "I want to meet this ghost. Anyone against the local dealers has to be a friend."

"The enemy of my enemy?"

"One can hope. I wish Lord Elio was here. I would love to get his impression of this place." Cianan swung up into her saddle. "Head for the Broken Blade. Then it is time for ghost-hunting."

Chapter Two

Entering the Broken Blade, Maleta let her eyes adjust and scanned the flickering shadows for Black Wolf breastplates. No sign of her contact yet. The heat from the fireplace and smoking torches felt like a furnace after the breath-stealing cold night outside. Wood smoke, pipe smoke and the scent of burning tallow tickled her nose and stung her eyes. Wearied to the bone, she rolled her bandaged shoulder, testing the repair to her quilted jerkin.

It had been slashed in her strike against the late, unlamented dealer, Rigel. The combined monies of the bounty and what Rigel himself had carried would hold Mother Tam and Nerthus' Abbey for several weeks. It still amazed her that a peaceful goddess like Nerthus, Goddess of family, of hearth and home, would deal with Hedda's Own. Hedda's assassin.

She reached up to squeeze the rainwater out of her short blonde hair. It had grown out almost long enough to curl around her fingers. Time to cut it. It would never again be used as a weapon against her. Thoughts of rough hands tangled in her once-long hair flooded her mind, making her skin crawl. She banished the images to her nightmares, away from the here-and-now where she needed all her wits about her.

She sat in a corner, her back to the soot-stained wall so she could see both exits. She tested the sticky wooden table. It wobbled. With effort, she could tip it over if someone attempted to trap her, but it was sturdy enough to shield her should she need cover.

She wrapped herself more tightly in the grey woolen cloak she'd worn over tunic, breeches and boots. She'd hidden her setting-sun breastplate in a safe place, and her broadsword as well. Both were made of gleaming Goddess-metal, impervious to rust and the elements. If any here discovered her association with Hedda, the great equalizer, she'd be lucky to escape with her life. None but her prey and those she rescued knew Maleta's true identity as Hedda's Own. The former were dead. The latter owed her their lives and would take her secret to their graves.

Her close-cropped hair, blackened eye and scarred cheek were all dead giveaways to the other mercs in the room of her own shield-maiden status. Women mercs were rare, but not unknown. In fact, she spotted Gayle in a corner. The rangy brunette raised her tankard in a salute and went back to dealing cards.

A barmaid took her order, returning in minutes with honey mead, half a roast chicken and a medley of roasted root vegetables. Maleta held her breath as the woman, reeking of old sweat and sex, leaned in to take the copper coins. Maleta sipped her mead and considered what drew her here. She awaited someone she'd been told could arrange for her to face the Black Wolf, alone. That's why she'd come, to gain access to the man who'd killed her family and destroyed her humanity. Tears burned her eyes. Her heart ached. Only when the Wolf lay dead, and her family thus avenged, could she hope to live again.

The door opened, and an unremarkable man in Wolf gear strode in. Blinking away the tears to clear her eyes, Maleta tensed at his approach, felt for the reassuring weight of the double-edged dirk strapped to her right thigh. Her gaze wanted to slide away from him, dismiss him as unimportant. That made her edgy and she focused on him all the more. He scanned the room. His gaze came to rest on Maleta for a long moment. He made his way to the bar, grabbed a tankard from the barkeep and walked over to her.

The barmaid intercepted him halfway across the floor. He murmured something to her and sent her off with a scattering of copper coins on her tray and a slap to her hip. He closed the distance to Maleta's table.

"'Ow's th' chicken?" he asked.

She shrugged. Her heartbeat quickened as she only just remembered to use her much-practiced lower-class accent. "'Ad worse."

He held out a hand. "Name's Lucan."

Sure it was. "Sonja." Killed during their first rescue mission, Sonja would understand the tribute. Maleta took his hand in hers, ignoring how it made her skin crawl. She noted the scribe's callus on his forefinger. If she faced the Wolf's clerk, her bribes were well spent. "Ye've info?"

"Aye." He sat across from her, both hands on the table. They waited while the barmaid served him roast chicken and brown bread, remaining silent until the woman went away. "Th' Wolf's comin' here, t' Soto. 'E'll be travelin' alone, cross-country through th' woods 'tween Delph an' Lann." He tore into his chicken like he'd not eaten in a week. "Ye 'ave my money?"

Nasty little rat. "Under th' table." She handed him a leather bag with the agreed-upon amount and took another sip of her mead, running the Shamari map betwixt Delph and Lann through her mind's eye. Rocky wooded coulees and kettle moraines, with a thousand places to hide. Perfect for ambush.

"Sonja, been a pleasure." He gathered his money and meal and moved to another table.

Maleta sighed and speared a chunk of carrot. This place gave her the creepers. Too many hired killers with dark auras. She rolled her stiffening shoulder again.

The door flung open, and three more men entered with the wind. "Heyla, Cary," the tallest one called to the barkeep. "Any hot cider left?"

"Still whinin' 'bout th' cold, pup?" Cary poured three dippers of steaming cider into a tankard and slid it down the bar. "Ye ain't e'en seen cold yet."

The men in the room laughed, a sound of camaraderie, not mockery. Maleta stared at the newcomer. His aura shone different from the others, the gold of a pure soul blinding in the surrounding darkness. That's all she needed! What was a paladin doing in a place like this?

His head snapped around as if he could feel her probe. She cursed her curiosity as his piercing cobalt gaze locked with hers. Something shifted in his appearance, a mask of the mind that she couldn't see past. Almost as if her eyes saw one thing and her mind another. Meal or nay, now she had the information she sought, she should move on.

Too late. He strode toward her with the fluid swing of a lifelong horseman, tankard cradled in both hands as if warming them. The body of a sinner on a saint. Her breath caught in her throat. As he approached, she realized how tall he was. There were few men who could look her in the eye. She'd come up to this man's chin.

Goawaygoawaygoaway. She tensed as he stopped on the other side of the table. Unable to tear her gaze from the unwavering intensity of his, she trembled as his scent, like fresh-cut fir boughs with a warm hint of musk, surrounded her. Who was this man? Trouble, that's what, in more than the obvious. Why did he single her out?

"Heyla, shield-maiden," he began in a voice as rich and smooth as rare drenieval whiskey. The underlying lethal heat in his voice could rob the unwary of their senses. "I have not seen you here afore." He held out a hand. "My name is Cianan."

She eyed that hand, unwilling to touch him, sensing it would give him too much knowledge, too much power. Long musician's fingers, with an archer's calluses. Even without their hands touching, the truth of his name pierced the shadows around her soul, the shadows of lies and pretext that were her new identity. She stared up at him, helpless not to.

Those eyes drew her in, promising things she couldn't even comprehend. They were not the eyes of a saint. Too blue, too knowing. Long raven hair glinted blue-black in the firelight. Foreign accent, not one she recognized, with a lilt she couldn't place. Charm she trusted not at all. She focused on slowing her pounding heart, forced herself to breathe. "What d'ye want?"

His lips quirked in a smile. "Many things, lady, but I would begin with your name."

"An' why should I be givin' that out?"

He just smiled, but his eyes studied her. Watchful. Probing. Aware.

Too aware. Time to end this. "My name an' business are mine." She stood.

He raised a hand. "Nay, finish eating. I shall go. But tell me your name first."

"Sonja."

Knowledge of the lie flashed in his eyes, and she curled her fists with impotent fury. Damn paladin. What game was this? "I bid you a good evening, Sonja." He dipped his head and returned to his friends at the bar.

So much for getting a room for the night here. She downed the rest of her meal, gathered her pack and fled the tavern. The cold air cleared her head. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been forced to camp out in the open. She didn't enjoy it, but she'd survive. She always did. Please, Hedda, don't let him follow.

* * * *

She was the woman in his visions! The Lady of Light had led him here.

Elingrena. The other half of his heart, his soul. The urgency, enough to risk gating, made sense now. Cianan took a deep breath and fought the urge to charge after her. He still reeled. He knew she was beautiful from his visions, but he had not expected her effect on him to be so immediate, so intense and profound. No wonder Loren went barmy when he met Dara.

"Sonja" was everything he had imagined and more – everything he needed to make him whole. He struggled to clear her warmth, her scent, from his mind. Glowing skin and flushed cheeks, the short flaxen hair that drew attention to aquamarine eyes, prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw. That sultry voice sent a flash of heat straight through him. Her lush, full lips begged to be kissed, in direct contrast to the frost in her eyes.

Well, the frost and the fear, he amended. He had thought it fear of men at first, but it was not. It was fear of discovery. He burned at the recall of her voice, forming words pronounced with the careful ease of long practice, not the carelessness of life-long use. She was not what she seemed, a bundle of contradictions, but he meant to discover her secrets and soothe her fears.

"Well, that was interesting," Kikeona commented.

The serving girl brought Cianan's dinner with a smile and a flash of cleavage. He smiled back at her, but shook his head. Whores were not to his taste, but there was no need to be rude or insulting. He wrapped flatbread around a chunk of peppered beef and took a bite. "What did you make of her, partner?" He trusted in Kikeona's Goddess-granted power to sense a person's intentions, as much as his own power to sense a lie. "Sonja" was layers of lie-upon-lie.

"Goddess-sworn, on a mission. Dark past, but of the Light."

"Sonja" had vibrated with hostility. "Can you track her?"

The mare considered. "Nay. Not with her shields."

"Cary! Who was she? The woman who left?"

Cary shrugged. "Dunno, pup. Ne'er seen her afore."

Cianan thought that telling. There were not many female mercs in Soto, and Cary knew them all. Cianan eyed the brunette in the corner. Gayle, a woman whose appetites blurred the lines betwixt sex and combat. He had turned her down the first night he had arrived at the Broken Blade, on Cary's advice. The former merc had a gut instinct Cianan found worthy of attention.

"How did she strike you?" Cianan asked.

Cary grimaced. "Ice. Killer's eyes. Full of hate, secrets and judgment."

Judgment. That rang in the back of Cianan's mind. Had he missed something? "Kikeona?"

"I have no idea. I am as new at this as you are."

Cianan closed his eyes and opened his mind and heart. Lady of Light, guide me now. Heart of ice, eyes of a killer, Goddess-sworn to whom? Was there a Goddess of judgment? Of justice? That was one of the three powers of the elven high king – truth, justice and mercy. But here? Judgment... Her eyes had haunted his dreams. Pale, clear aquamarine – cold, sad, vengeful, desperate. Was she the ghost he sought?

"Someone's taking out the dealers." Light. Dark. Action. Reaction. Balance... balance to... equality. Equality, equalizing... equalizer. The great equalizer.

He opened his eyes. "Cary?"

"Yeah, pup?"

"Do the words 'great equalizer' mean anything to you?"

A hush hung in the air. The men around him all took a step back as Cary froze. There was that whiff of fear again, a shadow of guilt. "We don' speak of Her, pup," the barkeep growled. "Where'd ye hear that name bandied about?"

"Is She a goddess?"

Cary ground his teeth and nodded. "Aye, pup, an' a dark one, Hedda is. Goddess of death and judgment. 'Tis She who weighs a soul, who decides Light or darkness."

"Interesting," Kikeona commented. "Wonder if She has servants to help those souls on their way?"

"Like a beautiful ghost?" Cianan took a sip of his cooling cider, not expecting an answer. The men around him relaxed and went back to their conversations. Cianan returned to his now-cold meal, which still tasted better than anything he attempted to cook himself.

"Considering how much blood they have on their hands, these men would consider the guardian of the gateways dark, even though She would be grey and neutral."

Cianan sighed. "We shall look for her in the morning. Wonder what her real name is?"

"Ask her again, the next time we see her."

Wind whistled through the door and a huge brute of a night watchman strode in. Every merc in the room froze. Cary raised the sole voice of protest. "Hey, now! Ye know th' rules. Go back t' th' Green Lady or th' Plowman. This place is off-limits t' th' watch."

The blond giant, as broad as the door itself, turned lethal green eyes on the former merc. "I go where I please, little man." He fingered the throwing ax at his side. "I'm here fer th' easterner."

Cianan's blood turned to ice in his veins, and he felt Kikeona's sudden tension. He had not done anything to bring the watch's attention to himself.

"Unless standing up for that drifter was a crime." Kikeona sounded a bit shaky.

"What's he done?" Cary demanded.

"Queen Sunniva herself wants a word."

"He means to destroy this place if you do not show."

"Well, at least I got to finish my supper first." Cianan turned to the man. "I am Cianan."

The man looked him over, and his lip curled further. "Come. I wouldn't keep our sovereign waitin'."

"Looks like I get to see who is in charge of this misbegotten land, and sooner than we thought. Stay with me, partner. We may have to leave in a hurry."

She snorted. "I should like to see them try to keep up."

"Let's go." The night watchman approached with chains.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Our sovereign insisted ye appear 'fore her."

Cianan allowed the cuffs. The locks clicked. He could break them, but the flash of power would negate the seeming, and he would be in trouble. "I am all yours. Lead the way."

He wished Lord Elio was here to watch his back. He glanced over his shoulder on his way out the door.

Every man in the Broken Blade looked like they would never see him again.

Chapter Three

Cianan's chains rattled as the night watch dragged him through the mud on Soto's deserted stone-paved streets. Kikeona stayed a reassuring warmth in the back of his mind. "Recon, ranger," she reminded him from her stall. He straightened his shoulders. This presented a perfect opportunity to determine if Sunniva was the source of all the troubles.

He always preferred firsthand information to hearsay.

A prickling at the back of his neck announced another presence, normally a welcome one. The crown of Cymry allowed Loren to stay in touch with his people with but a thought, regardless of distance. Now, Cianan feared his empathic best friend might misconstrue the whole situation.

"Chains?" Loren demanded. "What happened?"

Loren's mental bellow reverberated in Cianan's mind, making him wince. "Take it easy. This gentleman is escorting me to Queen Sunniva."

"In chains?"

Cianan tried to make light of the twinge of uneasiness in his gut. "The men she summons do not always present themselves for her inspection. Mayhaps she is an old hag."

"So you are not a prisoner?"

"My fool of a gaoler thinks I am, but I can break these chains at any time and Kikeona is with me. Worry not, I have them right where I want them. Well, almost." Cianan sobered. "I have heard disturbing things about this queen and the goings-on in her realm. Trust me, I have the situation well in hand."

"I do trust you. The Lady does not choose Her champions lightly. But forgive my concern for my friend."

"There is naught to forgive. King or nay, you are my best friend on two legs."

Kikeona snorted. So did Loren. "If you need me, I shall know." Loren withdrew.

Once Loren left, Cianan's momentary bravado fled. He shivered in the wind, unable to wrap his cloak around himself with his hands bound. He was not about to ask the night watch for assistance, nor make a move that might call his submission into question.

Sunniva's winter palace loomed closer. Hundreds of torches blazed, making the white stone and stained glass windows glow in the dark. He could tell it was a new building, of the finest materials and workmanship.

A pair of guards at the gate barred their way. "Step aside," the watchman growled. "Queen Sunniva requested his presence."

Cianan saw the men smirk. Afore he could discern the reason, they yanked him up the stairs into the main hall. Four fireplaces, one on each wall, burned high. The sheer opulence gave Cianan pause. The number and variety of colorful tapestries, curtains and carpets made his eyes water. Gold gilded the ceiling. A peacock throne cushioned in teal velvet stood on a dais at the end of the hall.

The guards stood stripped to the waist in the overheated room. Cianan began to perspire in his cloak. The corner scribe sat cross-legged on the floor and bare-chested. All the men were young and fit, not a greybeard in sight. Cold green eyes stared down at him from the oversized oil painting hung above the throne. Queen Sunniva, no doubt. He took back his hag statement, but found nothing attractive about her. A chill went up his spine despite the roaring fires. Stunning, but with a petulant mouth and eyes that could freeze a man's soul.

Another soldier approached Cianan and the night watchman who had dragged him here. From the man's military bearing Cianan sized him up as an officer. "Check him for weapons."

Cianan bore the search stoically. He had been through far worse in his long career.

"One way t' ensure he's harmless," the watchman growled.

"True." The officer smirked. "Disrobe."

Cianan froze. He glanced at the portrait, then the guards, wondering if she made fat sixty-year-old merchants strip afore approaching her. He unfastened his cloak and dropped it to the ground, then held up his bound hands.

The watchman's eyes narrowed.

"How am I to remove the tunic with manacles?"

The watchman snickered. "We'll cut it off."

"Cut it off, and what am I to wear when I leave?"

"Who said ye're leaving, dog?"

Kikeona's presence flared. "That does not sound hopeful."

"Relax, I am still unharmed." To the guards he said, "I am flattered you think that, unarmed, I could rush through Queen Sunniva's best warriors and make it to the door. Why would I leave afore seeing her? You want the tunic off and I would like it in one piece. Put the chains back on afterward."

The officer shrugged and unlocked the cuffs. "Be quick about it."

Cianan pulled the tunic over his head. Now he knew the reason for all the fireplaces.

"Breeches an' boots, too, lad."

Cianan winced. "You mean for me to stand naked afore your queen?"

"Nay, she means for ye t' kneel, fully disarmed. I know what I stash in my boots."

"Thank the Lady your real weapons are here," Kikeona said. "You shall lose those knives."

Goddess, he hated this. "I shall never live this down."

"I shall never tell."

Cianan stripped off the breeches and boots, as ordered. The floor itself felt warm, for all the hard marble. He wondered at the contradiction. It felt odd to stand in public in naught but his loincloth. He sighed as he handed the man his boots and watched the officer withdraw the two throwing dirks.

The man hefted the blades. "The balance is perfect. I believe I'll keep these." The blades disappeared into hidden sheaths in his gauntlets. He reshackled Cianan's wrists and turned to one of the other guards. "Tell our sovereign the prisoner has been disarmed."

"And disrobed," Kikeona commented.

The curtains at the far end of the hall parted and the dark-haired woman from the painting entered. Every man in the room rose, bowed low. Cianan caught a quick impression of an utter, almost religious devotion on their faces.

"Kneel afore yer sovereign!" The night watchman slammed the length of his spear across the back of Cianan's knees. Cianan muffled a grunt of pain as his legs buckled and he dropped onto the unyielding tiles.

Glittering in layers of gold-stitched purple silk, she strode forward, back stiff as a pike, leading with her chin. He sensed her cold arrogance and moral decay through an aura the dulled red of drying blood. Her cloying perfume, blood roses and cloves over ambergris, enveloped him as she approached.

"You sent for me, Majesty?"

The spear butt whacked against the back of his head. "Silence! Ye'll answer when yer sovereign gives ye leave t' speak!"

Cianan shook his head to clear it. His eyes narrowed; he wearied of getting struck. "At the risk of courting yet another blow, may I point out it is unfair to punish someone for breaking a rule explained after the transgression has occurred?" Sensing movement behind him, he braced himself for the retaliatory blow, but it never came.

"He has a point," Sunniva conceded. She had the throaty voice of a practiced seductress. A whore with a crown. "You're not from around here, are you?"

He grimaced, willing his distaste not to show on his face. "Nay, Majesty."

"The title is sovereign. You're Cianan, a mercenary from the south."

"My name is Cianan, Sovereign. I fought in the south, but I am from east of here."

"So I've been told." Sunniva waved her hand. "Watchman, you may go."

Cianan raised his head to find himself eye-level with royal cleavage. She stood shorter than he had thought. Rather than dropping his gaze to the floor, he looked higher, daring to meet her gaze.

She lifted a haughty brow. Her green eyes narrowed. "Are you familiar at all with royalty in your own lands?"

Cianan thought of Loren and Dara. "I am."

"How do you greet and address your own?"

"With a bow and a direct gaze to show honorable intent. Only those with something to hide look away."

"Here you will show the proper respect." She glared at him. "I've heard of your demonstration. You've been giving lessons to those protecting criminals in my realm."

"Careful," Kikeona warned.

Cianan frowned, also sensing a trap. "I do not work for the dealers."

"Nay, but you work with and train those who do."

Cianan thought that hypocritical, considering Sunniva's forty percent cut off the top of each and every clandestine, as well as legitimate, interaction. "I must make a living, and feed my horse."

"Ah, aye, I've also heard of your... animal." Her lip curled.

"Ooh, I would love to show her what I am capable of!"

"Easy, partner." He turned his attention to the queen. "You hear much."

"I know everything that goes on in my kingdom, and beyond."

Cianan caught the lie. "You wish me to stop teaching?"

"I'd have your talents in the service of the crown."

"You are already in the service of the crown. Just not hers. Arrogant bitch."

"You invited me here to offer me a job?"

She looked him up and down with daunting avarice. Where her gaze lingered made him shiver with dread. "Your talents are wasted on the guild. I'll have you in my guard."

Cianan wanted to groan. Become one of those underdressed marionettes, forced to dance attendance on a selfish, spoiled monarch with none but her own interests at heart?

"Where she can keep an eye on you," Kikeona commented.

He frowned. "More than that, I think."

"Where you can keep an eye on her?"

He considered. Sunniva hid something. "Partner?"

"She does not have your best interests at heart. All I know is she intends to use you for some specific purpose, and not just to join her little harem."

"Just?" Cianan grimaced. "You jest."

"Nay."

"You should be honored." Sunniva stepped closer. "Don't you find your queen beautiful?"

Cianan thought of gold eyes and red hair. Dara. His true queen. "Aye." But this one? Sunniva's eyes were the same shade as the green tree viper of the Shadowlands back home – eye-catching from a distance, but deadly up close. His eyes watered and he swallowed to keep from choking. He wished she would take her perfumed breasts elsewhere.

Three different women had tried to seduce him in as many days, and he had found none of them appealing. Mayhaps the most notorious ladies' man in Poshnari-Unai turned over a new moral leaf. No one back home would believe it.

Her smile was all teeth. "Join us, and become part of the greatest army in the world. I have great dreams for this country and my people. We can make it worth your while."

Cianan wondered what said dreams entailed, and why she built up her army. There could only be one reason. Expansion. And the only direction for little northern Shamar to advance was south. Into Arcadia. Into Riverhead. Into Dara's former home. His heart turned to ice.

Had he been here in Shamar but three days? It felt a lifetime. Were he a true mercenary, he would have jumped at this chance. However, he had a different mission. Signing up would let him investigate the palace, but he remained wary of this unfamiliar enemy.

The Shamari queen's voice broke into his thoughts. "Come. A toast to your new allegiance." The guard officer handed her two goblets, and she held the left one out to Cianan.

Cianan felt Kikeona's sudden alarm. "What is it?" he asked.

"Cloudwort. A great mind-weakening drug for humans – like dreamwine, but without the painkilling and sleep effects."

"And for our kind?"

"It shall not affect your mind. But it shall make you sick. It affects a small number of humans the same way, so you shall not arouse any suspicion. Leastwise, you shall not have to worry about her inviting you to her bedchamber anytime soon."

"How comforting." Cianan's stomach already clenched in anticipation of the potion. He turned the goblet in his hands, watching the ripples on the surface of the potion, but did not see any way to avoid it. Sunniva would not take no for an answer. He envisioned a sword in the back for outright refusal. He raised his glass: "To my new future," and drank it down.

He tasted nothing but spiced red wine, and took a deep breath as he braced himself. The edges of his vision began to shimmer and Sunniva's form wavered. The sound of surf pounded in his ears... and it struck. Fire tore through him, and he clutched his stomach. Sunniva jumped back as the drugged wine and his supper hurled back up.

"I warned ye this could happen," the guard said from a hundred leagues away.

"Get him out of here." Sunniva's voice dripped disgust over something else. Something that almost sounded like... disappointment. "Put him under locked guard. We'll deal with him later."

"Aye, Sovereign." He and another guard dragged Cianan for what felt like an eternity in the seven goblin hells, until they reached a tiny room. He barely registered the cot afore darkness overwhelmed the pain, and he passed out.

* * * *

Aquamarine eyes wreathed in flame. Twisted, blackened trees and a boiling river of blood. Marigolds of bronze with snarling wolf faces pinned to the tattered cloaks of advancing skeletons...

Cianan's eyes snapped open. That cursed dream again. His throat burned and the taste in his mouth did not bear thinking about. Where were his clothes? Then he remembered.

Sunniva.

He rose, weak and shaking, to his feet. He had to get moving. Lady, but he ached!

"Are you all right?" Kikeona demanded.

He grimaced. "I believe I shall live. When you said that brew would make me ill, I had no idea how ill."

"Neither did I. I reached Hani`ena to warn King Loren of what transpired. You had best contact him."

Cianan sent his mind eastward. "Loren?"

The blaze of concern knocked him right onto his backside. The thin mattress caught him. "Are you out of your mind?"

Cianan flinched. "The worst is over. I shall live."

"You need to get out of there."

"This room, aye." Cianan wanted nothing more. "The palace? Not yet. She is plotting something. She mentioned building her army. There is only one reason."

"Expansion," Loren agreed. "There is only one direction this Sunniva can go. South, straight into Arcadia."

"Warn Hengist to go on alert. I cannot leave yet. I need to find out more." Some clothes would not hurt, either.

"Dara shall go mad. The last thing Hengist needs is another war. They are still recovering from the last one with Jalad. Be careful, ranger. Strength in the Light." Loren withdrew.

"Can you walk?" Kikeona asked.

His head pounded and his sides ached, but he could walk. At least across the floor from the bed to the window. "What time is it?"

"An hour afore false dawn."

Time to escape. He needed someone to open the door. Cianan leaned into the iron bars across the window – prison bars disguised as decorative latticework. He tested them, but they did not budge. But he managed to reach the latch on the shutters and flip it back. The wind jerked the shutter out of his grasp, slamming it into the wall. He shivered as the wind blew over him, but at least it cleared his head, and chased the sour smell of vomit from the room. He stared at the ground, three stories down and shimmering with frost. "Well, I shall not go out the window."

"Were you planning to fly?"

"Wait and see." Cianan stood, shivering, and waited.

As if on cue, the door opened and in strode one of Sunniva's guards. Cianan's heart sank at the guard's short stature. Was it too much to hope for clothes that fit? Eyes half-closed, he slumped against the bars and tried to look weak.

"Be ready. On my signal, lend me some power."

The guard approached to within two horse-lengths and stopped, frowning at Cianan. "Are ye mad, openin' th' window? It's freezin' out there, an' now in here!"

Cianan slid farther down the wall. His leg muscles coiled as he prepared to strike. He groaned. "Too hot."

"That's all I need." The guard closed the distance to Cianan's side and closed a hand around one arm.

"Now, partner!"

Kikeona flung Goddess-power at Cianan.

Heat and strength flooded Cianan's body. He struck the guard in the throat to prevent the smaller man from crying out. When the guard staggered back, shock in his widening eyes, Cianan spun, catching him in the temple with his heel. The man dropped to the ground and Cianan stripped off his boots, breeches and weapons belt. He sucked in a breath as he tugged the breeches over his own hips. The black leather threatened to split at the seams and the legs were too short, but they were better than nothing. He buckled the weapons belt over the breeches, which refused to close fully. At least he rearmed. He dragged the unconscious guard over to the bed and dumped him in, covering him up with the blanket against the growing cold. Hopefully seeing an unconscious dark-haired body in the cot would delay a search long enough for him to get away.

"Are you going to tell him a bedtime story too?" Kikeona's acerbic voice taunted. "Move!"

Cianan tried cramming his feet into the other man's boots. No luck – they were far too small. Cursing under his breath, Cianan strode barefooted to the opened doorway and peered out. No one. He slipped into the hall, closing and barring the door behind him.

A sense of creeping darkness, of dread, made him pause. He had felt such but once afore. Cianan moved down the hallway to a narrow, dark stairwell leading down. Grabbing the burning torch at the entry, he started down the steep winding stairs. It got damper and mustier as he descended, until the air became nigh unbreathable. There were no guards. But he heard something moving around somewhere below him, the weight of many souls. The sharp, sour scent of fear, the darker stench of despair, crushed the breath right out of him.

Cianan reached the bottom. The dungeon. Horrific flashbacks of Safehold Keep assaulted his memory, visions of the demon in Jalad's consort Tegan twisting mortal men into giant ba-pef warriors. The same cold darkness, the same smell of damp stone and human waste. His still-sour stomach churned at the stench. He willed it to behave. He saw rows of iron-barred doors on either side of the corridor, gleaming in the light of a few torches. He peered through the first tiny slot. "Dracken rue! "

Visible to his elf-sight were three women and six children, huddled together in the corner for warmth. Dark matted hair, hopeless dark eyes, skeletal and filthy. The next cell held the same – drifter women of all ages, and children. And the next. No blankets, food or water. Fury quickened his steps. These were no criminals, so why did Sunniva hold them prisoner, and in such a manner?

Someone moved behind him.

"Well, well. So we meet again after all."

Surprise straightened his spine. Cianan took a deep breath and turned.

Chapter Four

Maleta cursed her decision to flee the paladin at the Broken Blade. What had come over her? She wasn't one to run from an unexpected challenge. She had no logical reason to bolt and every reason to stay. Where was her head? She'd used up most of her supplies, but had declined restocking at Nerthus' Abbey, thinking she could buy what she needed in town afore setting out after the Black Wolf once again. She preferred traveling light and swift to being overburdened with gear. Hunting had been poor, and now she paid for that impulsive decision to leave without restocking in town. Now she had nothing.

She crouched under the bare, tangled branches of a winterberry bush and drew a knife. She found the berries gone but the inner bark undisturbed. Not nutritious, but good for killing hunger pangs, at least for a while. She scraped away a couple of strips and surveyed the fog-shrouded gulch below her.

Typical of the land itself, the veil proved both blessing and curse. In the spring, hiding in such a low-lying area invited disaster, with the rains and flash floods. But late in the fall, with perpetual fog, it gave perfect cover. As a seasoned mercenary, the Wolf chose well, forsaking the high ground for the cover of the mists.

Maleta chewed one of the strips of bark. Grimacing at the bitter taste, she drew Hedda's Sword and eased her way down the steep rocky embankment. The constant dampness kept fallen leaves from crackling underfoot, but she couldn't avoid sending small pebbles tumbling with every step.

North or south? She crouched in the wet leaves and looked both ways. The Black Wolf lurked nearby; she felt it. North. With no breeze, just the clinging damp, there'd be no way to scent a campfire or cooking food until she stood on top of it, but there was naught she could do about that. She couldn't depend on sight or scent. Sound and sensing would have to do. She headed up the gulch. Step. Stop. Scan. Minutes felt like hours. With the cloud cover overhead and the mists swirling around her, she had no way to mark the passage of time. No way but the beating of her heart in her throat.

Something moved ahead. A bowstring twanged, but the mist saved her as an arrow hissed past to her right. She dropped to a crouch and froze, silent, watching but not seeing. Her heart pounded, making her dizzy. Sweat trickled into her eyes and she blinked it away. She strained to hear the slightest sound, a clue to his whereabouts.

A twig snapped somewhere in front of her. Maleta glanced around. There was no cover save the fog. She gripped the pommel of her sword tighter and held her breath, listening for the angle of the person's approach.

A shadow coalesced out of the mists, taking on the proportions of a man in dark leathers. Her ears caught the merest jingle of chain mail. She tensed. When he moved close enough for Maleta to judge his height by the thatch of grey hair atop his head, she charged. She swung her sword low, hoping to take his legs out from under him.

His sword blocked her crippling blow. Lightning-fast, he spun and swung at her neck. She dropped, rolled and thrust up toward his belly. He turned. The merc's chain mail deflected the blow aimed at the vulnerable spot below his breastplate.

The black wolf on that breastplate mocked her. But his wasn't the face of the Black Wolf, wasn't the face of the man she'd expected.

It proved a strange fight, silent save for harsh breathing and the ring of clashing weapons, a desperate dance of death in the fog. But his age seemed to catch up with him. His parries slowed a fraction. The campfire illuminated the fog in an eerie white glow. Maleta began forcing him back toward his own camp. He rushed and feinted, trying to get past her, but she stood her ground. Pressing, always forward, to the edge of his encampment. The spitted carcass of a coney rested over a sliver of a fire crackling in the center. Her nose registered wood smoke and the smell of roasting meat.

When the heel of his boot caught on a stray rock, his ankle turned. He buckled afore her. She knocked his blade aside and laid the burning edge of Hedda's Sword against his throat. Rage at what had been done to her family, to her, the need to kill him, choked her.

She felt him shudder at the touch of the consecrated Goddess-metal. Through the sword she felt all his sins rush back to haunt him. They weren't the sins she'd expected. The knowledge of his imminent execution lurked in his murky green eyes as he looked up at her from the frozen ground, but his voice remained matter-of-fact when he spoke. "Fact I'm not dead yet means you need answers, Hedda's Own."

He was the real Black Wolf. The sword wouldn't, couldn't, lie. More, he was Sunniva's cousin, Von Berend, a member of the Shamari royal family and the former Lord Marshall, himself accused and on the run from a paranoid woman who had her entire blood family killed to protect her grip on the throne. She felt the gaping wound in his soul where his heart used to be, empty but still bleeding. His losses were as grievous as her own. She'd lost her parents. He'd lost a wife and a son.

But who'd been the other man leading the invaders? The face in her nightmares? The one who'd...

"The Black Wolf killed my parents!" Maleta burst out, glaring down at the scarred, silver-haired man. She stopped, appalled at herself. What had she said? That was not Hedda's script!

Overhead, thunder rumbled.

Surprise sparked in his own eyes. "Who was your father?"

Tears burned, and her throat tightened until she had to force the words out. "Von Jereon of Kunigonde Keep. Six years back. Men wearing black wolf breastplates slit my mother's throat and beheaded my father. They – " She could go no further.

If he sensed the more to her story, his face gave no sign. "Ah, lass, my sins are indeed many, but not that one. I stood in Marcou on dock duty the day Kunigonde fell."

The distant memory came rushing back, her own voice asking her father at the dinner table, "'I thought he was spotted in Marcou? No one can be in two places at once.'"

Her knuckles whitened around the sword's pommel. Her voice shook now. "You lie. I saw your men. I saw the Black Wolf. "

"So I've heard." He shook his head. "Look at my breastplate, lass. Think back. Were theirs the same?"

She stared at the breastplate, at the insignia that had haunted her nightmares for years. Of course they were the... wait. The ears were different, and the teeth... "There were more teeth, and the ears were more pointed."

"You have to execute for the proper crime, Hedda's Own. You accuse me of the Kunigonde massacre. On yer own immortal soul, are you certain?" He stared at her. "I don't deny I've killed many, but not mine and not yours. Not me. Upon Hedda's justice, I swear it."

She flinched at the word massacre, stark and ugly, felt the truth vibrate up through the blade. The same truth reflected in his eyes. She lowered the sword and stepped back. "If not you, then who?" she demanded. "Why the elaborate ruse?"

"Think, lass." His rough voice was urgent. "Who stands the most to gain by control of Kunigonde Keep? By access to the south?"

Like a sword slicing through a curtain, the memory changed. The name that popped into her mind dropped her to her knees. Marigolds made of bronze, that cold imperious voice...

"Nay! Queen Sunniva wouldn't do that. My father was a noble man and loyal to the crown." She sheathed Hedda's Sword with shaking hands, chilled to the bone.

"There were rumors of dissatisfaction and questions in the south, possible rebellion," he argued. "Did your father ne'er have men over, meetings behind locked doors he ne'er spoke of?"

Maleta fought against those memories, of grim men and muffled angry voices, of her mother's white and anxious face.

"He made her doubt him, enough for her to kill him and take his more malleable son," the Wolf pressed. "If you're Jereon's daughter Marete, lass, you need to know your brother Jovan still lives. Sunniva's made your brother her ward. I saw him two weeks ago, in the winter palace in Soto."

Maleta barely remembered the time she responded to that name instead of the one she bore now. Her memories locked on the dark-haired Sunniva astride a big bay gelding, that hateful voice. "'Bring the boy to me... I'm going to take care of you.'" Memories of soldiers tearing Jovan from her arms flooded Maleta's mind. Watching Queen Sunniva ride off with Jovan, calling back over her shoulder, "'She's all yours. A bonus for a job well done.'"

Did Sunniva know? Really know? What manner of woman would allow, let alone order, the rape of another? A mere girl of sixteen?

Who was the man who'd impersonated the Black Wolf and led the attack?

Why would Sunniva take Jovan away? Why would Sunniva need Jovan alive but not Marete? Why not slaughter the entire family and move her troops in and be done with it?

"She rescued Jovan!" Maleta snarled. "She killed my parents and left me to the tender mercy of you – well, the man I'd always thought of as you." Her head still swam.

Unexpected sympathy shone in his murky green eyes. "How'd you survive?" he asked.

"A servant helped me escape." She wondered what had become of Ana, the housekeeper who'd snuck her underground, under the cellars to a secret room, then out through a vast bronze doorway, down a tunnel Maleta had never seen afore. To Nerthus' Abbey, at first, to heal, until Mother Tam had spirited her off to Mother Kitta. And Hedda.

"She kept the one she could control," he clarified. "For whatever reason, she needs your brother alive and well."

"What of my home?"

"It still stands nearly empty at the mouth of the pass, guarded by a minimal force of the army." The Wolf sat up. "You want justice? You want vengeance? It's Sunniva you want."

Her head spun. Jovan, alive? She felt hollow, gutted. To have captured her hated enemy, only to discover him innocent, negated her entire two-year search.

"You can get your brother back. Take him from Sunniva."

Horror crawled along her skin. She shivered, as cold within as the ground she knelt on. "Go against the queen!" Tracking a single man was one thing. Taking on Shamar's sovereign, with her army, guard and night watch, hundreds strong and fanatical enough to die for her, to the last breath of the last man... "She's too powerful! What can one person do?"

"An ordinary person? Nothing. I tried, once upon a time." The Wolf had the pragmatic bluntness of a professional soldier. He, too, was a victim of those fanatical men, who lived only to obey their queen. "An assassin? Hedda's Own? A Goddess against a mortal? I wouldn't put a brass farthing against Hedda, and I will not fight you." He rubbed his ankle. "Hungry?"

She nodded. "If you won't fight against me, will you fight for me? With me? Will you help me lead men against Sunniva?"

He snorted. "Why would I do a daft thing like that? I'm an old man planning on getting even older. It's all I have left."

"You're wrong," she told him. "Think of what she's done in your name. Have you no honor left? No pride in your name? You're a professional soldier, my lord. What about the pride of clearing your name, of fighting for a just cause? Help me rescue my brother."

"And do what?" he challenged. "Go where? There's nowhere you can take him my cousin won't find you."

Maleta ground her teeth. "Not if we kill Sunniva." Where had that thought come from? Once spoken, the words couldn't be taken back, but they sounded right. How had her mission turned so, into something different than she'd intended?

"And replace her with what?" He shook his shaggy head. "What you speak of is pure suicide." His eyes gleamed in the firelight as he reached out to turn the coney so it wouldn't burn. "How do you know I won't trot off to Sunniva and tell her of our little talk?"

"Because you won't. You're a soldier and a lord of this land, not a traitor."

"A traitor to whom? The crown? I already am, just by listening to you."

"To Shamar, and the people of Shamar. Asides, nothing I could do to you could begin to compare to what Hedda would do to you should you betray Her Own."

He paled.

"Think of what She'd think of the man who helped Her Own," Maleta cajoled. "How much more would the scales balance? Think about it."

An icy wind swept through her, stealing her breath for a moment. She glanced at the Wolf. He didn't seem to notice any change as he took the coney from the fire.

The thunder rumbled louder, but no lightning flashed.

* * * *

Deep in the underground dungeons, Cianan turned to face the same drifter man who had been cast out of the Green Lady on his first night in Shamar. "Why are you all down here?"

The giant man, now ragged and filthy, stared at Cianan through the bars on the door of his cell. "Sunniva's conscriptin' our men t' her armies. A handful of us got sick from her wine an' were locked down here with th' women an' children." Rage burned in those dark eyes. "She's starvin' us. Some of th' women have been down here for weeks. More are rounded up by th' night watch every week."

"I have to get you out." Cianan reached for the cell door handle.

"Nay!" The man steadied his voice with obvious effort. "Th' women an' children're too weak t' run an' Sunniva's men broke my leg afore they threw me down here."

"Then it is up to me to bring help from outside," Cianan decided. "But I am a stranger here. I know no one. Whom do I tell? Whom do I trust to aid against Sunniva?"

The man swallowed. "There's a camp not five leagues east of here. My brother's family. Speak t' them. Th' Shamaru gather for th' storytelling in but two weeks' time. It's Sunniva's best chance t' grab almost all th' remainin' Shamaru in one swoop."

"Whom do I say sent me?"

"My name's Andorjan. Look for a man called Dagonet. He's their protector. He'll know what t' do. Now go."

Every nerve screamed at Cianan to get these people out. The haunting faces of the children, the women... He had nightmares aplenty already. But practicality intervened. No way could he do it alone. Andorjan was right. They needed more help, and fast. "I shall find Dagonet. I give you my word." He hoped Kikeona was ready. "Partner?"

"There is a door at the top of the stairs you came down. I am waiting for you outside."

"I am on my way."

Kikeona's mind-touch turned urgent. "Hurry. Men approach the staircase. They know you are missing. They mean to check the prisoners."

"How many?"

"Three. Night watch, not guard."

Cianan grimaced. Best wait in the shadows under the staircase. They would have to descend the steps single-file, and while the first two kept Cianan occupied, the one in back could go for help. His one chance lay in coming at them from behind to prevent their escape. Ever.

He slipped back into the shadows and gripped his borrowed sword. Footsteps sounded above him, heading down the sanded stone. He laid the sword on the floor. It was too long for what needed doing. Cianan's heart sank. Two sets of footsteps. They had left a guard at the top, in the corridor doorway. He slid a stolen knife and a double-edged throwing dirk from the belt. Close-in assassination was not his strong suit. He hated the feel of hot blood slipping over his hands, thick and sticky, the sounds and smells of dying. He preferred killing with his bow. Distant. Impersonal.

He wondered if the ghost had an easier time of it. The thought of a woman killer went against every code he knew. Mayhaps Hedda had different criteria, though.

The watchmen crept down the stairs, alert and cautious. Cianan waited while the first reached the bottom of the stairs, torch in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. The shadows would hide him for but a moment. The second watchman turned his head to scan the chamber, and Cianan threw the dirk through the man's right eye. He grabbed the first man from behind. Keeping one hand over the man's mouth, he slit his throat with brutal efficiency. Leaving both men where they fell, Cianan drew another dirk and leapt up onto the stairwell. The third watchman in the doorway turned at the sound and Cianan dropped him with another clean throw through his left eye.

All three down, quick and quiet.

The corridor was empty. "I am on my way out, partner."

"You may wish to hurry. I have company." Kikeona sounded more amused than worried.

Cianan frowned. "Of whom do you speak?"

"It seems someone is trying to steal me."

Cianan hurried down the corridor, reaching for the latch on the door to the outside. He drew a knife and stepped over the threshold.

Kikeona stood in the shadows of the stone wall, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I would like you to meet Jana."

Cianan glanced to the right and looked down.

Chapter Five

"Go home, little one. This place is not safe for you." Cianan decided to waste precious time sneaking back to the Broken Blade for his gear. The would-be horse thief, Jana, a Shamaru girl no older than ten, trailed along behind him. He found her waiting on Kikeona's back when he emerged from the inn with his pack. Dusky skin, black curly hair that tumbled over her thin shoulders and big dark brown eyes. She possessed the appalling ability of a seer to see right through the seeming – and the even more appalling ability of a child to ask four questions at a time without pausing for breath.

"What's your name? Don't you have any clothes that fit? Aren't you cold? Why didn't you change?"

He didn't want to take the time to change. He had to get going. She would mention the word cold. Up until now his queasy stomach had taken his mind off the frigid weather.

"I bet you're a knight from far away, with a special horse like that. I've never seen a horse like her. Wouldn't my cousin Seth be jealous to see me riding her?"

Cianan rolled his eyes and motioned her to be quiet as he swung up behind her. "It is not safe for you to be running around town after dark."

She sobered. "You're telling me. Tzigana'll kill me. I was going to ride your horse to hurry home. You shouldn't leave her like that. Anyone could come along and steal her. 'Course, not everyone sees how pretty she is, do they? How does she do that? How do you do that?"

When did she breathe? "What are you doing out here after dark with no family?" he countered.

"I wanted to find someone, and I did. I have to get home and tell Uncle Dagonet."

Cianan stared down at her. How common a name was Dagonet in this land? "Time to take our little horse thief home. We have work to do," he told Kikeona. "You shall get your ride, after all. How far away is your home?"

"About five leagues from here, due east."

Cianan did not believe in coincidence. "Who were you looking for, Jana?"

"You saw the Shamaru in the prison, didn't you? Are you a spy?"

"I am a friend from far away," he hedged. "I am here to help a friend."

Kikeona snorted.

Jana twisted in the saddle. "Are you here to help us? Polkara said someone would come, a stranger from far away, to help our people against Sunniva. I'll bet you're him. A knight on a white horse, like in the tales."

Lady, save him from impressionable ten-year-olds and minstrels' tales. "Sunniva has done some bad things with the good," he remarked. She must have done some good things?

"Sunniva's a bitch," Jana retorted. "Rumor has it she had her own family killed. No surprise she'd put mine in prison."

"Who?"

"My uncle Andorjan."

"Go, partner. Run like the wind."

Kikeona broke into a full gallop, charging across the countryside toward the lightening eastern sky. Soon enough Jana signaled them to stop.

"The camp's outer boundary is through those trees." The Shamaru girl pointed ahead. "Uncle Dagonet guards the western line. Tia Jana!" she called. "Velkeshknya kommaru! Mou Tzigana atta pavarikil!" She turned to Cianan. "Walk from here and lead her in."

A greybeard with old warrior's scars on his face and arms stepped forward. He met them with a sword in one hand and a long knife in the other, flanked by a half-dozen other men armed. All were grim-faced.

"Jana, where've ye been?" the lead man demanded. "What're ye doin' with this Shamari warrior?"

Jana hopped down to the ground. "I wanted to see where Uncle Andorjan went, Uncle Dagonet," she answered.

The men took a collective breath. The air crackled, like afore a storm with lightning but no rain. Dagonet grasped Jana's arm. "What're ye talking about?"

"The stones spoke true. He's in Soto, in the winter palace dungeons." Jana turned to Cianan. "You saw him." She addressed Dagonet again. "This man helped me get out of there and got me home. Trust the land. We're alone. We weren't followed." She strode through the men toward the encampment.

Dagonet had Cianan searched, and stripped all the gear from Kikeona's back. Disarmed and under guard, Cianan led Kikeona into the heart of the Shamaru camp. A circle of covered wagons ringed the perimeter. Tethered goats and brawny horses grazed on the dry autumn grass. He smelled meat roasting and counted fourteen campfires to match the number of wagons.

An old woman with long white hair strode up to them from betwixt two of the wagons, an armed guard at her side. Her eyes widened. "It's ye!"

Cianan felt her reading. Another seer. This night went from bad to worse. How could she act as if she had seen him afore? They had never met. Jana's tales about the prophecies about his arrival came back to haunt him. Polkara?

"Jana, what've ye done?" She turned to one of the guards. "Get Tzigana. Now. "

He left at a run.

Other grim-faced men encircled them, all armed.

Cianan sighed as he kept his hands out from his sides. He had found little to trust in this land – not a caravan with members who saw right through the seeming, their greatest defense. "Stay alert. Be prepared. This could get ugly fast."

"I sense concern for the girl and fear of us. They are waiting to see what we do first."

"That is the first good news I have heard all night." Cianan focused on his escort. "Who is responsible for this child?"

"I'm Tzigana, leader of this family." The small crowd parted, and a young woman came forward. Backlit by the weakened but valiant sun, she stood afore him in the vivid layered silks and gold of the drifter clans. Her beauty struck him, a hot blow to his mid-section. Black curls tumbled down over her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face. Wide dark brown eyes stared back at him with a direct gaze from above a pert nose and a lush mouth. Not tall, she nonetheless had a commanding presence and a forthright, no-nonsense manner. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. "What're you doing with my sister? Release her at once."

"We have a problem."

"What do you accuse her of?"

"I caught her trying to steal my horse, outside Sunniva's dungeons. Not a place for a young girl to be, alone and after dark. I would keep a closer eye on her."

The old woman gripped Tzigana's arm and whispered in her ear, at length. Tzigana speared him with a sharp glance. "My sister's no horse thief."

"Would've gotten clean away if she'd moved when I told her," Jana piped up. "Dumb horse wouldn't budge."

"As if I would abandon you for a street urchin." Cianan felt Kikeona's amusement.

Tzigana glared at Jana. "Shut up." She turned to Cianan. "She has a child's sense of daring and lack of judgment. As I see it, you still have your horse, sir, so she didn't succeed. Thank you for giving her a ride home."

"Where I come from, our horses are our lives," he said. "But I am a stranger here and I would follow the laws of this land. What is the Shamari punishment for horse thieves?"

The woman's dusky face paled. "Death."

That staggered him. " Dracken rue! She would expect me to kill a child?"

"Aye."

Cianan was beyond appalled. "Even had she succeeded, I do not kill children." He paused, weighing his next words. "Since she did not succeed, there is no crime. Killing you would be murder, lady, and I am no murderer. I am but a soldier, far from my homeland."

Tzigana handed Jana off to the old woman. "Stay with her, Polkara."

The woman dragged Jana away.

"Dagonet!" Tzigana called.

"Aye, lady?"

Tzigana indicated Cianan. "This man has information about Uncle Andorjan?"

Dagonet nodded.

"He's now my guest." She motioned a strapping yet still gangly teenaged lad over. "Seth'll take your mare."

Cianan sensed no duplicity and turned to Seth. "Her name is Kikeona, lad. Do not tie her. She shall follow where you lead."

The lad nodded. "Come on, old girl." Taking Cianan at his word, he turned away.

"Old?" Kikeona sputtered as she followed. "Who is he calling old? I shall show him old!"

Cianan grinned.

Tzigana eyed him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He straightened.

"Dagonet, you're with us. Accompany us to my fire. We've much to discuss." Tzigana turned and addressed everyone else. "The rest of you, go on about your business."

Cianan watched the colorful crowd disperse as he followed the woman to a wagon at the far edge of the camp. Dagonet strode a half-step behind him, a knife in each hand.

Tzigana stopped at the fire and turned to face Cianan. Her face relaxed. "For aiding my little sister, you're welcome to share our fires, food and wine tonight. What's your name?"

"Cianan, lady."

She poured a goblet of wine, took a sip and handed it to him. Her gold bracelets jangled. "You've word of my uncle? He's alive?"

The scent of the wine turned Cianan's stomach, but he forced himself to take a sip and willed his rebellious stomach to keep it down. "When I left him. I tried to release him, but he stopped me. He told me Sunniva's guards broke his leg to prevent his escape."

Dagonet's jaw tightened. Tzigana swallowed hard.

Cianan hesitated, then plunged in to tell the rest. "He is in her dungeons, with others of your people. Women and children." He watched members of the camp go about their business, trying not to be obvious in their stares. "He sent me for Dagonet."

Tzigana sat on a bench and motioned the men to do the same. She looked both relieved and more worried. "At least we know they're still alive. We must get them out."

"That place is a fortress," Dagonet warned her.

"It is," Cianan agreed. "Are many people missing?"

Tzigana and Dagonet shared a look, but said nothing.

"Andorjan said Sunniva is rounding up your people," Cianan said. "The men she gave wine laced with cloudwort. Those it makes ill she locks away. The women and children are also held prisoner. Why would she do that?"

"Leverage." Dagonet spoke first. "She came around some weeks ago, t' another camp, ordering our men into her armies. What do we want with her army? When we refused, she took th' women an' children back t' th' palace. Th' men she made toast their new allegiance. Those who don't vomit it up have their brains turned t' mush an' become part of her army." He faced Cianan. "Ye were given th' same offer also?"

"How did you guess?"

The man's lips curved in a sardonic smile. "Our wine's th' best in th' land, yet ye struggle t' keep one sip down. I figured ye drank something didn't agree with ye."

"I did, and Sunniva locked me up for my trouble."

Quick as a striking snake, Dagonet held a knife to Cianan's throat. "How'd ye escape where others couldn't?"

Cianan forced himself not to react. "Tricked my guard, the young fool. Knocked him out. Stole his clothes and weapons, killed three other guards on my way out. Did you think these were my clothes?"

Tzigana stared him down. "Dagonet, find him some clothes that fit."

"But, lady... "

"It's all right. Leave us."

Dagonet rose, growling.

"With Sunniva looking for the mercenary Cianan, you'll be safer garbed as another Shamaru man," Tzigana commented. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved," Cianan admitted, staring at her mouth. A lush mouth, made for kissing.

"Let me send someone for food." Tzigana motioned a young girl over. "We need our morning meal."

"Whoa," Kikeona teased. "I did not hear you consider kissing their queen, did I?"

He pulled back from that carnal thought. Lord and Lady, had he been so long without a woman his thoughts betrayed him? "I do not seduce foreign leaders."

"Glad I am to hear that."

Heat flushed his skin and tightened his body. Not good. Time to change the subject. "What is the difference betwixt Shamari and Shamaru?"

"This land is Shamar. Our people settled here a hundred generations ago. Shamaru means 'The People of Shamar'. Shamari – " her upper lip curled " – means not of Shamar."

"So I guess I am Shamari after all." Cianan stared into the fire. He raised his gaze to hers across the dancing flames. "When did the Shamari take over?"

"Mayhaps two hundred years or so. They came and built their stone roads, their walled cities with street lights and sewers. We're scattered and travel with the seasons. Their governments meant nothing to us." Her eyes were haunted. "Until Sunniva's taxes, restrictions, harassment and arrests. Enslaving orphans for the Marcou slave markets and brothels. We're too few and they're too many. It's been getting worse, but now with Sunniva... Sunniva... " She all but hissed the name. Her eyes glittered with rage, and she took a big swallow of wine.

The Shamaru girl interrupted them with a tray of bread, herbed goat cheese, dried meat and dried fruit.

Tzigana toasted the cheese over the fire, spread it on a piece of bread and handed it to Cianan. "My parents were asked by the other families to go to the queen, to try to reason with her. They never returned."

"I am sorry."

"Now it might be just me."

"So you are Shamar's true queen," Cianan stated. "Sunniva is not."

Tzigana's eyes blazed. Cianan watched her hands clench around her goblet until her knuckles turned white. "Sunniva's the queen of butchers. I want nothing to do with her government. I'm leader of this family, and we want to live free, without fear."

"In Arcadia, south of here, are laws similar to Shamaru ways – guest laws, road courtesy," Cianan said. "But not here. Because of Sunniva. What of her other victims? The honest Shamari farmers and merchants who also want to live free and without fear?" He leaned forward. "If Sunniva were gone, would this land be big enough for Shamaru and Shamari to coexist, side by side?"

Dagonet arrived, carrying the colorful garb of a Shamaru man. "Ye're dreaming. Wake up. They'll never allow us equality."

"I saw a Shamari tavern owner turn a Shamaru man out into a storm," Cianan conceded. "There is much tension betwixt your two peoples. But that can change. With hope for a better future, people can change."

Tzigana's sad eyes stared at the dancing flames of the campfire. "People don't change. Those with power will never give it up."

"I have seen it done. My own king put aside the woman chosen by his parents because he loved a woman not of our kind, and made her his queen. Now borders once closed are open. If Sunniva were to... step down, would you be willing to work as part of a new government?"

"If they leave us in peace, we'll leave them in peace." Dagonet set the clothing down on the bench next to Cianan, lost a staredown to Tzigana and wandered off again.

Tzigana nodded as Dagonet walked away. "I want no part of their government, but I do want peace."

Less than he had hoped, but better than he had feared. Cianan knew to leave it alone for now. He caught her eyeing him over her goblet from across the fire. She had a puzzled look on her face. "What?" he asked.

"Only a prophet or a fool would believe as you do... " Her lips quirked upward. "With my luck, in your case it's probably a fool."

From across the compound, Kikeona snorted.

He grinned. "Do not say it." He returned his attention to Tzigana. "My friend Loren would agree with you. Call me an eternal optimist."

"You're a crusader." Tzigana rose and came over to sit next to him.

He tried to ignore the spicy scent she wore as he considered her statement. "Mayhaps," he admitted. His gaze locked with hers. "Someone has to take action when things need changing from wrong to right. I cannot stand by and do nothing."

"Dangerous ideas, dangerous talk."

"What? The truth?"

She shook her head. "People don't want the truth, they want reassurance, platitudes."

"They want others to change for them," Cianan said.

"'I'm not the one with the problem, you are.' 'I'm right, you're wrong.'" Tzigana rubbed the back of her neck. "As long as that's what we face, nothing changes."

Cianan forced his own hand to not reach out to replace hers. "A blizzard starts with but a single snowflake."

"Are you always this... " she visibly struggled to find the right word, "... persistent?"

Kikeona snorted again. "If she only knew."

"This is who I am. I shall not apologize." Cianan addressed both Tzigana and Kikeona with that statement.

"People die in revolutions."

"More people die without them – their hearts, their spirits, their hope."

"Hope." She looked away, stared into the fire. "The most dangerous word of all."

"Aye. It is the one weapon they cannot defeat."

They finished their meal in thoughtful silence. Cianan rose and stretched, twisting to release a muscle knotted below his left shoulder blade.

"I've the perfect cure," Tzigana stated. "Hot oil massage. Have you relaxed and sleeping like a baby in no time. Step into my wagon." She held out her hand.

"Every baby I have known screamed all night," Kikeona commented. "Not much of a recommendation."

Aquamarine eyes wreathed in flames flashed into his mind's eye. Cianan hesitated, reached down to help Tzigana to her feet. This close, he could smell the tantalizing scent of soft, warm woman beneath the perfume. "Kikeona?"

"Aye?"

"Go away."

"Mind your manners, warrior."

"When have I not?" Kikeona gave no reply, and Cianan sighed.

Tzigana's gaze searched his. "You're a noble man, Cianan. Nice to meet, not so nice to live with, I suspect. You're too good for me. I'm not so good, not so nice and not so noble. Do you understand?"

He frowned, reading the truth in her soul. "That you have been forced to make hard choices to survive? For your family and your people to survive, in the face of constant persecution? I think you are extraordinary. I am honored we met, lady."

She shrugged. "This is who I am." She repeated his own words back to him. "You can't leave this land yet. Your task isn't finished. The one you seek has not yet been found."

"She is not going anywhere. I shall yet have Queen Sunniva's head on a pike. Her crimes are unconscionable."

She brushed a strand of his hair back from his forehead.

He froze at her touch and tried not to sweat.

"You aren't the head-on-a-platter type, Cianan. You're too honorable for that." She led him into a plain-looking covered wagon with a sumptuous interior of woolen curtains and blankets of blue and green, watered-silk hangings, fleeces and furs. He could see women's clothing hanging on a rope stretched along the front. A hairbrush, mirror and perfume bottles sat on a fold-down shelf.

Tzigana's scent curled around him. This was her wagon. His gaze strayed to the bed. The bed looked to be big enough to sleep more than one – or for other than sleeping. Cianan curbed his wayward imagination.

Tzigana's back was to him. "The curtains close for complete privacy."

How much privacy did she think he needed?

Turning to face him, she took his hand in hers. "I know you don't know us, have no reason to trust us, but I swear to you I speak the truth. You spared our lives. No one here will harm you. You're safe, my word of honor."

"I believe you." And he did. Her truth rang through his soul. He did not make the mistake of underestimating her, however. He felt her core of toshi strength through her touch. She would do anything – anything – to keep her people safe. A powerful ally could make an equally formidable foe.

"Now, about that massage?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not. He stepped back. "I need to rest. It has been a long day, for both of us."

Her dark eyes twinkled up at him. "Are you dismissing me, or running away from me?"

Both. "I would not have our disappearance misconstrued."

"Relax, I'm staying with Jana and Polkara. I'll have someone draw a bath. You can change and rest. Alone. Pity." She released his hand. "You're here for a reason, and I must help you along your way. In the morning I'm sending you off to Nerthus' Abbey. You'll be safer there, and you can speak to the nuns about what's been happening. Jana can show you the way."

She turned away as if to go, hesitated, and turned back. "Polkara spoke true. You traveled here from far away, on the power of a vision. I'm not one to question fate. You aren't meant to do this alone. I speak of another enemy of Sunniva, with the most personal of reasons for bringing her down. This other woman is your destiny, Cianan. If you leave now, she'll face her fate alone and be lost."

He stepped back, out of reach. "How shall I find her? They call her ghost with good reason."

Tzigana smiled. "She wasn't what you expected, was she – Hedda's Sword?"

"Nay."

"When the time comes, she'll find you."

Chapter Six

Maleta hesitated as she read the wanted notice nailed to an elm tree outside the village of Lann . "Foreign spy, posing as guild mercenary. Black hair, blue eyes. Goes by name of Cianan. Wanted by the crown for questioning. Reward for live capture."

She yanked the parchment off the tree. So the queen hunted the paladin from the Broken Blade. Alive? If Sunniva got her hands on Cianan, he'd be better off dead. She wondered how many searched for him right now. If Maleta realized nothing else from her talk with the Black Wolf, 'twas that Sunniva's ruthlessness should be ignored at Shamar's peril.

"Ye going after th' reward, as well?"

Maleta turned to the speaker. An old man with thinning white hair and the straight stance of a former fighter stood to the side of her, beyond reach.

"Would meself, but me chasin' days are long done, thanks t' them cursed rievers." He took a single limping step toward her.

Maleta's hand came to rest on the pommel of her short sword. To her relief, he retreated.

"No harm here, lass." He spread his arms wide and eyed the notice. "Money's good. Queen Sunniva wants this'n real bad. Pretty lass like ye could lure him in afore he knew what hit him."

The thought of turning in an innocent man appalled her. But once suggested, that evil, insidious whisper wouldn't shut up. Cianan for Jovan. She didn't know the foreigner, her brother was her only family and 'twas her best chance of getting into the winter palace.

Maleta crumpled up the parchment but didn't throw it to the ground. She dared not go to Hedda's Tempest. If Mother Kitta learned of how she violated her oath, Maleta cringed to think of the penalty she would exact. Nerthus' Abbey, that's where she should go. Mother Tam would know what to do. Without a word, she stuffed the parchment under her belt and continued into town. She needed food for the three-day journey to the abbey.

Once she stocked, Maleta covered as much ground as she could, considering the rough terrain. She'd learned her lesson – no more gnawing on bark if she could help it. Meat-and-vegetable pies lasted but a day or so, then she'd have to resort to winter bars. Grains, dried fruit, and nuts stuck together with honey, they were overly sweet and tough to chew. But they lasted for weeks, especially in cold weather, and kept a person going for days.

She made camp in the shelter of a gnarled, weathered black oak. A one-eared squirrel scolded her as she built a small fire. Wondering if it had lost the other ear to frostbite or a fight, she tossed a chunk of bar at it. Winter was hard on them all – even squirrels could use a helping hand. It grabbed the tidbit and bolted. Maleta grinned. "That's the problem with this world. No gratitude."

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and cleared her mind for her nightly ritual. "What is Hedda's Mandate? To protect the innocent, the weak and helpless. To treasure our past and guard our future, the old and the young. To rescue the oppressed and avenge those wrongfully sent from this life. To punish the wicked. To fight so others don't have to, so we all may live in peace. For freedom, justice, and Hedda's glory."

Tonight the Mandate brought no peace. Her mind and heart were in turmoil. She pulled out Hedda's Sword. It gleamed golden in the firelight. She marveled anew at its true power, that of showing anyone who touched its blade the truth of his existence. Every untrue thought, decision or action, laid bare to him. And to her. Some days the weight of being judge, jury and executioner could be unbearable. But her actions made Shamar a safer place.

Only once had she been led astray, to the Black Wolf. But in that she'd been shown the greater truth – who'd really killed her family, and why.

But would Hedda understand Maleta's deviation from Her path?

Opening her eyes, Maleta rummaged in her pack for one of the pies, setting it close to the fire to warm. She frowned. Her parents' murders made no sense. The Wolf's talk about fomenting rebellion couldn't be true. Von Jereon had sworn to obey the crown. If Sunniva wanted Kunigonde as a home base to launch an invasion of the south, her father would have opened the gates in welcome to his queen. Taking Jovan hostage to ensure his compliance was logical only if Von Jereon lived to comply. Killing her mother was beyond comprehension.

Maleta shuddered as she recalled that sunny day in the orchard, the smell of autumn apples crushed underfoot. She could still taste the coppery tang of her mother's hot blood as it sprayed from her slashed throat across Maleta's face, could still see her father's head roll aside his fallen body. In her nightmares, his eyes opened, and he spoke. Always the same two words: "Avenge me."

Even now, she couldn't stomach the smell or taste of apples. All because of that day. All because of Sunniva.

What of Jovan? Once he'd been a dreamy, artistic twelve-year-old who feared bee stings. Easily influenced, who knew what six years in Sunniva's clutches had done to him? The Black Wolf had seen him in the winter palace not two weeks' past. Frustration boiled in her blood. To think she'd been so close to him and not even known it. She must free him. He was all the family she had left. I promise, I will find a way to get you out, to get us home.

Maleta pulled the pie away from the fire and took a bite. Squirrel meat. Sorry, little one, she apologized to her new companion, who peered down at her from a bare branch. She stared into the fire. Nervous and territorial, the squirrel made a perfect lookout. He'd warn of intruders. She might actually sleep, not just catch her usual battle nap. Thank you, Hedda.

* * * *

Raven clapped a bloody hand on Maleta's shoulder. "We did it. Sonja didn't die for nothing. The children are free."

Maleta felt pure rage well up as she knelt aside Sonja's body. She held a double-edged dagger up to the sliver of a moon. "Raven, stand ye witness. Let the heat of my own blood fuel this vow. No more shall men such as these walk this land unchallenged." She curled her fingers around the blade and jerked it free. The blood ran down her arm onto the ground. "As the moon waxes in Your heavens, oh great Hedda, let it give strength to my vow. I say no more!"

She hoisted Sonja's body across her shoulders. Raven helped her stagger to her feet. Sister Reva berated a shame-faced Char about the tent fire. Sister Reva moved to take Sonja, but Maleta waved her off. "I'll bear her home."

Sister Reva nodded and backed away. Maleta shuffled up the hill, to where the two wagonloads of native Shamaru children waited to go home. One little girl stared into Maleta's eyes. "You saved us. You shall save us all."

Maleta shook her head. "I couldn't even save my friend."

Maleta's eyes snapped open. A dream, or rather, a bad memory disguised as a nightmare. She stared at the scars across her left palm and fingers. A reminder of that first rescue mission two years ago. Burning drugs in the tent fire started by Char had slowed their reflexes. Sonja'd mistimed a block, and 'twas all it took for one of the dealer's guards to get in a lucky blow. To this day, Char couldn't look Maleta in the eye, although Maleta harbored her no ill will. It'd been a tragic novice mistake, nothing more. They'd all made mistakes along the way.

Hers had been allowing her mother to open that trapdoor. Their escape had been blocked by more invaders. That the invaders located both of Kunigonde's secret exits smacked of betrayal. Maleta swore to find out who – and why.

A glance at the sky showed The Bear could no longer be seen, and a faint glow lit the far eastern horizon. She rekindled the fire, taking out the last of the pies to warm. The squirrel chattered at her from its branch, and she tossed it another chunk of winter bar. 'Twas the least she could do for its standing watch all night. After eating, she dug enough dirt to smother the fire and gathered her things. She should make Nerthus' Abbey by just after sunset.

She trudged through the frozen mud, pulling her cloak closer against the chill as she approached the ice-laced edge of a stream. She washed her face and hands and refilled her water skin. Men's rough voices from above startled her, and she hid behind the trunk of a willow tree. Three men in night watchmen gear strode over the rim, down the side of the ravine to the water's edge. They hauled five prisoners behind them.

Maleta burned. Children. Shamaru girls, none of them over the age of ten, ragged, dirty and in chains. An odd smell wafted on the breeze, carrying a visceral familiarity. Drugs and alcohol oozed from the men's pores. She swallowed down the nausea and drew two throwing daggers. She needed to drop the two underlings afore confronting the leader. Hard experience had taught her if she didn't, the leader would hold her occupied while the other two killed the children. Then all three would gang up on her. She paused to observe who led them.

One man stood guard while the other two quenched their thirst and refilled their water skins. The eldest of the girls spoke up, in a strong voice. "Please, sir, my sisters are thirsty. Can they not drink afore we press on? They'll travel better for it."

The smallest of the three men, the clean-shaven one, rose from the stream and backhanded her to the ground. "Silence! Ye'll eat and drink at my discretion." His lip curled. "Ye've not yet earned that privilege."

The girl rose, her gaze defiant as she swiped at the blood trickling down the corner of her mouth with the back of a hand. The littlest girl began to cry and the eldest moved to comfort her.

So the two bearded oxen were the underlings. Maleta stepped out from behind the tree and whistled. As all three men turned toward the sound, she threw both dirks, catching one man in the eye with her right-hand throw and the other through the throat with her left. She frowned. She'd have to work on her left-hand accuracy. The girls dropped to the ground as the last remaining watchman drew his blade.

Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and leapt over the girls to stand betwixt them and their captor. Her lips drew back in a feral grin. "Recognize me?"

The man's eyes widened as his mind registered the setting sun on her breastplate, and he realized what, if not whom, he faced.

With cold clarity she saw him raise his own sword, and her arms rang with the numbing shock as their blades clashed together. He was stronger and forced her back, but she was younger, faster and far more sober. She ducked under his reach and swept his legs out from under him, laid the burning tip of Hedda's Sword against his throat.

His list of sins flowed long and sickening, including molesting children. She gripped the sword with both hands. "As Hedda's judge, jury, and executioner, for your crimes against the innocent children of this realm, I sentence you to death. Give my regards to my Mistress." She buried her sword betwixt his ribs and through his heart, jerked the blade free and turned to find the children searching the bodies for every coin, weapon and scrap of food they could find.

Maleta nodded approval as she wiped Hedda's Sword clean on the dead leader's tunic, sheathed it, and gathered up the water skins. The eldest girl found the keys to their shackles and released herself and the other girls from the chains. Maleta took a clean rag from her pack so the girls could wash the grime from their faces and hands with the icy water.

"Let's get away from here," Maleta suggested.

"Where're we going?" The eldest stuffed money in her pocket and a knife in her belt.

"I'm on my way to Nerthus' Abbey, and I'll take you with me. Mother Tam will help you get back home to your families."

A shadow crossed the girl's face. "Our family's dead. Killed by him." Her voice wobbled as she indicated the dead leader.

Maleta's heart ached. Sweet Hedda, when would it end? "I've known that loss too. What's your name?"

"Jozsefa, an' these are Klara, Etel and Eva – they're twins – an' little Alisz."

"What becomes of you?"

"The storytelling's in a fortnight," Jozsefa told her. "Queen Tzigana'll find us good homes an' make sure Etel and Eva aren't separated."

Maleta nodded. The annual Shamaru gathering was a perfect solution for the children. Mother Tam would shelter them until then. "Let's get going. You can eat on the way."

The children gnawed on the jerked beef and dry journey bread stolen from their captors, washing it down with water. Little Alisz soon lagged behind. Maleta scooped her up and carried her on her shoulders. The other girls trotted along in her wake, but after four hours even Jozsefa began to flag. They wouldn't make Nerthus' Abbey afore nightfall, and Maleta called a halt late in the afternoon. "We're almost to Casting Creek. We'll camp there for the night. We'll get to Nerthus' Abbey in time for supper tomorrow."

A tired cheer went up from the girls, and they gathered energy enough for one last effort. Maleta discovered an abandoned den dug into the riverbank that would shelter them from the wind, and she built a small fire by the entrance. The girls snuggled in the rear with their blankets and the last of the bread. Maleta realized she'd best save the winter bars for morning.

"I'm going to see what I can find for dinner," she announced. She strode into the woods and set her snares in the brush, then returned to the creek. Jozsefa stood on a rock in midstream with an improvised fishing spear held aloft, made of a sharpened, forked branch, a look of fierce concentration on her thin face. Maleta smiled but said nothing as she tied her fishing line to her bone hook and baited it with a bit of dried frog leg. She recognized the child's need to contribute something.

In actuality, the girl had good aim and better luck than Maleta. She speared two good-sized salmon in the time it took Maleta to hook one small trout. Maleta left the cleaning to the girls while she went to check the snares. She found two snowbirds, already in winter plumage. They'd eat well enough tonight.

The fish took mere minutes to bake. The girls ate them as Maleta plucked, gutted and skewered the birds. While she waited for them to roast, Maleta used the last of her chamomile leaves for a hot tea for the girls. They ate every bit and collapsed in a heap like so many exhausted puppies. Maleta buried the food scraps, laid her short sword across her knees and curled up aside the fire where she wouldn't block its heat from the children.

* * * *

Maleta handed an exhausted Alisz over to one of the nuns as Mother Tam strode forward to clasp her hands in welcome. Startling how tiny Mother Tam appeared since the last time she'd seen her. The old nun had always seemed larger-than-life, invincible. Soft, pampered hands, gnarled with age and smelling of rosewater, the familiar round, wrinkled face and kind grey eyes. After the attack on Kunigonde, Mother Tam was Maleta's first memory.

"Go with Sister Maire, girls," Maleta instructed. "Baths, lunch, then bed."

Sister Maire took the girls out of earshot.

Mother Tam frowned, her shoulders slumped. "More strays?"

"Orphans. Night watch slaughtered their family and hauled them off to the Marcou slave markets. This was the one place I could think to bring them."

"Curse Sunniva. We're getting stacked to the rafters with orphans, cast-offs and refugees." Mother Tam shook her head and sighed. "Well, we'll find room somehow, somewhere. Praise Nerthus, we always do." She looked up. "Something's happened."

Maleta nodded. "How's it you always know?"

Mother Tam smiled. "Come with me. We can eat and talk in my office." She led the way. A steaming pot of tea and hot egg-and-cheese pie awaited them. "There's dried pear bread and sauce for dessert."

Maleta relaxed in the familiar room, scented with the comforting smell of old leather, books and beeswax wood polish. She'd missed that pie. Hunger abated, she began. "I caught up with the Black Wolf. He wasn't responsible for killing my family."

"Ah." Face impassive, Mother Tam sipped her tea. "Go on."

Maleta scowled. "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"That inscrutable nun-face."

Mother Tam grinned. "They teach us this face special, in mother school."

"You must've been their star pupil," Maleta groused.

Mother Tam changed the subject. "The Black Wolf?"

Maleta wished for wine rather than tea. "One of his own men gave him up. I found him betwixt Lann and Delph. He fell afore Hedda's Sword, but when I brought the blade to bear... " Maleta took a large swig of tea, choking as it scalded her throat. "He was innocent."

"What do you mean? That man was not even born an innocent."

"I didn't say an innocent." Maleta felt her cheeks flush with shame. "I accused him of killing my parents, of being responsible for Kunigonde's destruction."

"You bound his sword-trial to a single act, instead of dispensing Her universal justice? You made it personal? You acted as Van Marete instead of Hedda's Own?" Mother Tam pursed her lips. "That's not how the sword's to be used. Even I know that much."

Maleta had almost forgotten her former name and title. It felt odd hearing it now. She stared Mother Tam down. "It was necessary. I now know who is responsible. I know the greater truth because of it."

"Tell Mother Kitta when she arrives."

Maleta's defiance crumpled. "Mother Kitta's coming... here?"

"I received word yesterday she's on her way with escort. You're to await her arrival."

Considering they could have arrived within the hour had they chosen, by way of the secret tunnel, Maleta thought it typical of Mother Kitta to leave her twist for the night. Facing Mother Kitta was almost worse than facing Hedda Herself. And if Sister Reva accompanied Mother Kitta, Maleta thought it might be quicker to fall on her sword now and save everyone – especially herself – the trouble. The waiting just made it worse.

Mother Tam sighed. "You've my understanding, and my sympathy. But I'm not the one you must convince."

Maleta's stomach cramped thinking about the long night ahead. "I'd better go clean up."

"Get some rest. She won't be here until morning."

Maleta doubted she'd sleep a wink. She went to the small cell in the guest quarters she occupied on her frequent but erratic visits. It held a helmet-sized iron brazier for heat, a cot and a peg on the wall where a clean nightdress and shawl awaited her. She headed to the guest women's bathing chamber and allowed herself the luxury of a hot bath.

Her head swam with conflicting thoughts. Mother Tam spoke the truth. Hedda's Sword and Mandates weren't for individual exploitation, but the universal good. Hedda wasn't about one family, but all. Then there was the temptation to exchange the foreigner for her brother. She'd seen the pure gold of the stranger's soul shining through in the Broken Blade. Yet for Jovan's freedom she'd considered selling out a true paladin for her own gain.

Still, how much had her brother suffered these past six years at the hands of Sunniva? They'd lost everything, she and Jovan – their parents, their home, their titles. Weren't they allowed the same justice under Hedda's protection? Were they to be the sole exclusion? Must she sacrifice everything of her own in Hedda's service?

On that unworthy thought Maleta closed her eyes and ducked under the now-tepid water to wet her hair. Hair she'd cut long afore she'd taken her actual vows. She recalled standing afore the mirror, hacking away at the long strands, watching them fall onto the table aside the basin. Trying to remove his grip along with her hair, as she vowed never again. Never again would she find herself in that position of utter helplessness. Scrubbing herself clean of the dirt proved easier than scrubbing away the memories. She rinsed and set the tub to draining. With butterflies the size of carthorses turning somersaults in her stomach, she dried and dressed. Back in her room, sleep out of the question, she grabbed the shawl to cover her gown.

She headed for the women's common room, where refugee women came together. They brought knitting, sewing, embroidery or a musical instrument and traded news, stories and advice. Maleta felt desperate for distraction. As she approached, an unfamiliar musical sound reached her ears. Breathy, like a flute, but more haunting. Multi-toned. She'd never heard anything like it, though she knew the tune itself well enough. "The Shepherd's Lament."

"Play more," a little girl's voice begged.

It was the same voice, the same little girl she'd rescued the night Sonja had been killed. She remembered her saying, "You saved us." The same little girl she'd rescued in that first fateful raid.

Maleta shuddered. Tonight ghosts surrounded her, penance for disobeying Hedda. What else did the Grey Lady have in store for Her wayward servant?

"What would you like to hear?" an altogether too familiar, lilting male voice asked.

Maleta froze in her tracks. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

"Something from your homeland," the little girl suggested.

"Mayhaps when our guest gets seated," he replied. "Go get her, Jana. She is out in the hall."

How had the paladin known she was there? The thought of the parchment notice in her room made Maleta's stomach roil. She turned to go.

A small hand on her sleeve stopped her. "Come on," the young Shamaru girl pleaded. "He won't play unless you come in and sit down."

It was her. Jana, one of the girls she'd rescued the night Sonja died. Maleta followed Jana through the doorway, and there he sat. The paladin. Cianan.

She should've fallen on her sword.

Chapter Seven

Maleta clutched her shawl to ward off the chill of apprehension. All conversation died as Jana dragged her into the room, a stone hall with a fire at each end, the floor cushioned by dried herbs and straw. There, afore the fire to her left, on a simple three-legged stool, sat the blue-eyed paladin from the Broken Blade. A wanted fugitive with a price on his head.

Her stomach lurched. Flight wasn't an option. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Avoiding Sunniva's notice." He eyed her nightdress with an expression of disbelief and something else altogether different. Something darker, more aware. A lazy, shuttered look that raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. "Tzigana sent Jana and me here to lay low for a while. There is a price on my head, I am told. Tzigana feared greed might overcome someone's better judgment."

She frowned, skeptical of that expression, a not-quite-hungry-enough-to-move predator, but one starting to seriously consider the hunt. "Now why don't I believe you're the lay low type? Why aren't you with the men? This is the women's sanctuary. Are you lost? Anyone here could have told you where to go."

"We asked him to play for us," Jana defended him. "We've heard naught like it afore. 'Tis beautiful."

"Jana, could you give us a moment?" Cianan asked.

Jana grinned and retreated to the opposite end of the room. The other women paid them no further attention. Conversation resumed after the initial stares. It seemed the sanctuary rule held even for Cianan and Maleta. After all, what were two more strangers among all the rest?

Those piercing cobalt blue eyes stared at Maleta. Dressed in Shamaru garb, he looked more roguish than ever. All he lacked were the earrings. "Bet you never thought to see me again, Sonja."

She felt her cheeks cool. So he remembered her lie in the Broken Blade.

He rose and held out his hand. "Come, vertenya. Have a seat by the fire. You look cold."

Except her cold went soul-deep, and no fire could warm away that chill. She stared at his hand. The warrior's calluses were a direct contrast with the paladin's golden aura. She sidled around him to perch at the edge of the hearth. "Don't touch me," she whispered. But 'twas too late – those eyes already had. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. "I should go." She stood, poised to flee.

"Nay. Stay for a bit. No one should be alone tonight." His eyes were shadowed. "Bad dreams travel on the wind."

She got the sense of him relaxing, the hunter backing down. He looked weary. "Even for you?"

His mouth twisted – wry or cynical, she couldn't decide which. "Especially me, vertenya." He sat back down, blew through the musical instrument.

She heard that haunting, lyrical sound again and swallowed down the lump in her throat as she stared at the design. Bound reeds of differing lengths. She'd never seen the like. "What is that?"

"Just a flute." He shrugged.

"Nay." Maleta shook her head. "'Tis more than that. 'Tis a bit of home for you." Her gaze took in the unfamiliar design of the flute. "You're a long way from home."

He nodded acknowledgement. "I am. But that was by choice." He hesitated. "You have dropped your earlier accent. You speak true now, as a lady. What of your home?"

The question grated on her raw nerves. Maleta turned away to stare into the flames. Tears burned her eyes. "Same's all here. I've none. Some six years back."

"And since?"

She shrugged off the ache. "Like you, my choice."

She felt his gaze on her. From the corner of her eye she saw him shake his head. "I think not. Choosing the one option offered is no choice at all."

That rankled. What did he know of it? "And was yours a true choice?" she challenged.

Cianan's grin transformed his whole face into the little-boy-that-was. "I volunteered."

"Your mistake. Go home. Naught but death and darkness dwell here." Heat and wood smoke curled around her, but still she shivered and clutched her shawl.

"I cannot. My task is not yet done."

"And what's that? Why are you here?"

"Same as you, I think."

"What do you know of my task?"

"To drive back the darkness and bring forth the Light."

She shook her head again. "We're not the same, stranger. Granted the darkness is too strong with the ascension of Sunniva and her minions, the night watch and dealers. But I work for balance. There's no Light without darkness, no good without evil. Too much good and people become complacent. They forget. To eradicate evil would eliminate choice. It would make people weak."

He frowned. "Goodness is not weakness."

Maleta leaned forward. "Strength comes from the struggle, from the fight. What would there be to fight against?"

"Their own greed, to put their own interests above the common good. There are still the rievers to worry about. But a people united in the Light would be stronger for the numbers." Cianan sighed. The hard planes of his face appeared to age afore her eyes. "My own people are united in the Light and fight against a dark foe on our own borders. We are all that stand betwixt them and you. Be glad you have not faced them, vertenya. "

His eyes looked a thousand years old, like they'd seen too much. Maleta knew that feeling all too well. She sat back, uncomfortable with his close proximity. "That's the third time you've called me that. What's it mean, this word vertenya?"

"It is an address or title in my own land," Cianan replied. "It means lady warrior. It is an ancient designation. It seems as appropriate as any, since you do not tell me your name, lady. You are but the third person I have addressed thus in my lifetime. The first is my new queen. The second is a student of mine, the first woman ever to enter our warrior academy."

She snorted. "Stay here tonight and you'll meet a whole lot more in the morning."

"What do you mean?"

"Mother Kitta and the senior sisters are coming here from Hedda's Tempest. You'll be up to here in vertenyas – " she held a hand up to her eyebrow " – and wish you weren't."

The alert predator returned. "Why are they coming here? Why now? For what?"

Maleta gulped and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "For me."

He leaned forward, elbows on thighs. "From your expression, it is not a social call."

She leaned back against the fire-warmed stone and closed her eyes, exhausted. "Nay, it's not. I'm going to be punished." Why she shared this with a stranger she had no idea, but on this dark and dreadful night it felt comforting not to be a sword, not to be alone.

"What did you do they think so wrong?"

She sighed. "I went to punish a man for Hedda. Instead we talked and I let him live. The brother I thought dead is still alive. Sunniva holds him prisoner. If I'd killed this man, I never would have learned the greater truth, but I lost control. I did what I felt and not what I thought."

His long silence made her open her eyes. He stared at her with a dumbfounded look. "A terrible sin indeed."

"You've no idea."

"I hope I never do. To lose your heart, your feelings, is to risk that which makes you human – your soul." His gaze warmed. "What is your real name?"

Tonight she tired of the lies. "Maleta." She tucked her knees up under her chin, and wrapped her arms around them. "I don't want to think about tomorrow. Can you play for a bit?"

Cianan smiled. "All you have to do is ask, elingrena." His voice was gentle. He blew softly on the flute, an unfamiliar lullaby.

Now what in the world did that word mean?

* * * *

The next morning, Maleta stood ramrod straight in the guest chapel, afore Mother Kitta and Sister Reva, dressed in her full regalia as Hedda's Own, with her setting-sun breastplate buckled on and Hedda's Sword strapped across her back. The stained glass window above her shattered the sunlight into shards, like the fear that splintered her nerve. Her stomach knotted and her mouth dried to sand. Cold sweat trickled betwixt her breasts.

If Mother Kitta's eyes were pure ice, Sister Reva's looked to flay the skin from Maleta's back. She could already feel the welts.

"You violated your oath," Mother Kitta stated. "Your sacred blood oath, to restore the balance."

"Aren't I one of the victims? Don't I have equal rights to vengeance against those who wronged my family?" Her voice sounded less defiant than she'd hoped.

"Nay!" Sister Reva's eyes blazed. "You're to be above that, beyond that. Hedda's Sword isn't one person. She's a weapon, an instrument of death."

"Sunniva needs to go," Maleta argued.

Sister Reva pointed a long knife at her. "Aye, but not because of you and yours."

"She'll destroy this land and all who live here." Maleta refused to back down.

"Hedda accepted your oath," Mother Kitta stated. "Hedda alone must decide if you betrayed your vows. Only She can revoke your calling."

Sister Reva's grin was savage. "Kneel at the black altar and call Her forth."

A firm knock sounded on the door, but afore any of the women could move, it swung open and in strode Cianan. Maleta stared. His chain mail and armor were finer than any she'd seen, laid over shining white silk, but his breastplate and sword made her shiver with dread – a half-sun on the horizon, identical to hers, and a sword the same unique Goddess-metal as Hedda's.

"What blasphemy is this?" Sister Reva advanced, sword drawn and raised.

"Stand down!"

Maleta had never heard Mother Kitta raise her voice like that afore. That tone must've surprised Sister Reva as well, because she sheathed her weapon.

Mother Kitta turned to Sister Reva. "Leave us. Stand watch. Let none pass."

Sister Reva nodded and strode out, slamming the door.

"I know what you are, if not who," Mother Kitta addressed Cianan. "How dare you violate the sanctity of this chapel?"

Maleta found her voice. "What're you doing? You can't come barging in here!"

"It is necessary." Cianan glared at Mother Kitta. "I am Lady's champion and guardian of Light, and I have business with Sunniva. I would stand with Hedda's Own in this quest."

"I might not be Hedda's Own much longer," Maleta warned. "Go back. There's no place for you here."

Mother Kitta drew herself up and puffed out her chest, looking nothing less than an outraged goose about to attack a wayward cat. "We don't fight for the Light, nor do we call on the aid of foreign gods or those who follow them – "

Cianan held up his hand to stop her flow of words. "I heard that same diatribe last night, so spare me the repeat." He glared at her. "If you fight for balance, logic dictates should the Light ascend too high and tip the scales, you might one day in the future turn and fight on the side of the dark." His gaze locked with Maleta's.

Maleta blanched. What was he saying? That one day she'd fight for darkness, on behalf of chaos and fear?

Mother Kitta stole his glare from her young student, unflinching. "I would. I have."

Maleta's stomach roiled at that thought. "Nay... " She couldn't... she wouldn't. Not after everything they'd been through. The struggle was one thing, but...

Cianan turned back toward Maleta. For a moment she swore he read her mind. His gaze softened. "Vertenya, I swear to you that so long as you fight for the Light, I shall fight with you, at your back and by your side."

"No man stands at my back. I don't need your help."

"You may not want my help, vertenya, but you need it. You can trust me. I am the rising sun to your setting sun."

"How do I know? I trust no one but myself."

"Draw Her sword. Test me."

Maleta froze. "Nay – " He didn't know what he asked. Hedda's trial was a fight for life.

He indicated his breastplate. "Rising sun to your setting sun – two sides of the same coin." His gaze held steady, unafraid. "Do it. Know once and for all time what manner of man would travel half the world's distance to aid you in your cause."

More afraid than she had ever felt in her life, Maleta took a deep breath. Drawing Hedda's Sword, she laid the burning point against his throat.

Chapter Eight

A rush of Light and hot wind engulfed Maleta. Mother Kitta and the chapel disappeared. In the Sword-vision, Maleta stood on a barren mountaintop, overlooking a multi-tiered city. She stared in growing wonder at white marble walls gleaming in the sun. "What is this place?"

"Poshnari-Unai," Cianan's now-familiar whiskey voice replied. "Home."

She caught the longing in his tone and turned to him. But upon seeing the creature aside her, her own words died in her throat. Still Cianan, yet not. Manlike, yet... more. Same height, same breadth, yet he glowed from within. Slanted cobalt eyes shone like jewels, pupiled like a cat's beneath slanted ebony brows. Pointed ears peeked out beneath his blue-black hair. She stared at him, thunderstruck and a little afraid. "Wh-what are you?"

"I told you, I am Cianan, Lady's champion for the Lady of Light. I was an elven ranger afore my predecessor Loren became high king and the Lady selected me to replace him."

"What's your charge?"

"To hold back the darkness from the world."

Visions swarmed her mind's eye, horrors that left her numb and shaking. Huge hulking brutes seemingly made of stone, small twisted demons with black skin and blacker hearts, a formless evil that rent mortal men into giant shambling pillars of destruction. Cianan fought them side by side with others like himself, glowing archers and swordsmen atop gleaming white horses. A white-haired elf fell afore them, his horse slain. Another old elven warrior defended him from the enemy. A redhaired woman flung fire from her fingertips, destroying the dark creatures. Maleta felt the genuine love and concern Cianan bore for these people.

So much, so fast. "What is all this?"

"What I left behind."

Maleta shuddered and her fingers tightened around Hedda's Sword. "What are they?"

"What we guard against. We are all that stands betwixt your world and them." Cianan's voice was grim. "Pray the Light holds against the darkness. No matter what your Mother Kitta states, there is no balance betwixt the two. In my world, beyond the barriers, there are creatures of Light and creatures of dark. Only in the world of men does the grey exist. Only men can be either or both."

She pressed the sword harder. "What of you?"

A thousand petty jealousies and insults, pranks, schoolboy fights. A lifetime – centuries – of study and teaching, of poetry and songs. Drinking. Gambling. Rivalries with warrior companions. Strange funeral rites, familiar fasting and unfamiliar prayers. Pride. Lust.

Maleta shied away from the last. There had been lots of women, and more than a few broken hearts he regretted. He had never raised a hand against a woman. Neither had he spoken ill of one nor taken what was not freely offered. On two instances he had risked his life defending a woman in mortal peril – one of them the fire-wielder.

Underlying it all, an unshakable belief in the power of Light, the unswerving conviction he could make a difference in his world. She sensed the basic goodness that had made him the chosen champion of a goddess. This was a warrior who didn't know the meaning of the words betrayal, impossible and quit.

The vision changed to another scene of horror. Her heart seized as she saw... herself, holding a flaming sword aloft. She stood atop a hill of bones, surrounded by a boiling river of blood and an advancing army of skeletons. Their tattered cloaks were pinned in place by bronze marigolds with snarling wolf faces. She watched as the skeletal army surrounded her. She watched herself fall beneath their blades.

"What evil is this?" Her voice shook.

"The vision that brought me here."

"I die?" She choked. "You've come here to watch me die?"

"Never." He grabbed her by the shoulders. Sword-vision or no, she could feel his hands on her shoulders. "I came here to prevent your death."

"What manner of creature are you to challenge fate?"

"The same fool who joined in a fight against a demon, who charged again and again against the troll-goblin hordes bent on destroying all that is whole and good in this world."

The sword could find nothing to convict him. Nothing. She faced true nobility for the first time in her life. The Light faded, and Maleta's consciousness returned to the chapel, to Mother Kitta and to Cianan as she had first seen him. Maleta lowered the sword.

She stared at him. Her eyes saw the man, but her mind and heart now saw the elf beneath the mask. "How do people not see you?"

"We call it a seeming, a mask of the mind that allows me to move about as one of you. I can mimic whomever I am around. I could appear as a large goblin or a small troll, but my size would give me away. Humans are much easier." He stared at her, hard. "You see what you wish to see."

Maleta flinched at his reprimand. "The perfect spy." She mulled her newfound knowledge over. Still the same, yet forever changed. What lay beyond her known world? There were other evils in the world, greater than the one she faced.

Knowledge was power. The question was, how best to use it?

"Sunniva is evil enough," Cianan stated. "She destroys all she cannot control. Whether in Hedda's name or by the power of Light, she must be stopped." He turned to Mother Kitta. "Why send Maleta out alone, when two committed to the same task are twice as powerful? You know what I am. I can protect her."

"It's not for me to decide whether she continues as Hedda's Own," Mother Kitta retorted. "She broke her vows, her sacred blood oath. That charge stands unaddressed."

Cianan growled as he raked a hand through his hair. Frustration poured off him in waves. "Your arrogance, old woman, is unbelievable! To punish a human for acting human is insanity. She was neither stripped of her memory, nor her emotions, yet you would punish her for possessing both? You would do well to judge the entire human race. Yet that is not in your power, nor that of your Goddess. So why punish one person if you shall not punish all?"

"She's no ordinary human. She swore a blood oath which sets her apart from the rest. A blood oath I, too, have taken. To put our own interests after those of Hedda's."

"The way I see it," Cianan snapped, "Hedda's and Maleta's demons converged. Sunniva. Were you faced with the one who had destroyed your home and family, how detached would you be?"

Mother Kitta glared at him, but did not deign to answer.

"I chased the wrong person," Maleta stated.

"Who led you to knowledge of the right person," Cianan argued. "Had you convicted him of universal wrong-doing, you never would have discovered the truth." He pointed to Hedda's Sword. "Sunniva must answer to Hedda for all she has done. Let Hedda judge her."

"First Hedda must judge Maleta," Mother Kitta intoned. "She faces this alone. You come with me." She led the way out the door.

Cianan took one last lingering look at Maleta and stalked out of the chapel after Mother Kitta. The door swung shut behind them. The latch dropped with an ominous clunk of finality.

The dreaded moment had come.

Maleta stood alone at the altar. She poured incense oil into the shallow chalice, careful not to spill any on the black silk altar cloth. Taking a tapered candle, she lit the oil and dropped to her knees. "Oh great Hedda, goddess of the grey, of equality and balance, please hear Your humble servant." She held the flickering candle afore her, hands shaking. Blood pounded in her ears. She had to remind herself to breathe.

Thunder rumbled. An icy wind, cold as death, roared through the chapel, through her mind. Like at the Wolf's camp. Every candle flame in the room died. The chalice alone survived the darkening. Maleta found herself in a fog-carpeted cavern of dripping grey stone, afore a dilapidated wooden bridge. A grey-shrouded figure guarded that bridge. Two red eyes burned within the cowl, in a face one moment beyond beautiful and the next skeletal and haglike.

Those eyes scorched Maleta. "I didst not think to find thee here so soon, My Own." No warmth touched Hedda's tone.

Maleta dropped facedown on the stone, shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

"Why art thou here?"

"To confess my error." Maleta swallowed hard.

"How so?"

"I pursued the Black Wolf on behalf of my family. I did not punish him for his crimes, but released him for his innocence of my accusations."

"Thou did," Hedda agreed. Ice gripped around Maleta's heart. "What gives thou the right? My cause is not something to be forgotten when inconvenient."

Her stomach churned. If she was dead anyway, she'd best speak now. But gathering the nerve proved harder than she'd imagined. "I'm part of this world. I'd claim the same rights as any other. If that makes me unworthy to be Your sword, so be it. But I'm still one of Shamar's people, and one of Sunniva's victims, and as long as I draw breath I swear to You I'll see an end to her reign of terror. I'll see my brother freed. He didn't ask for this. He's just a boy. One of Your children."

"Thou think to lecture Me about My children?" Hedda's armless sleeve pointed to Her bridge. "See how it faces the dark? Thou art to restore balance. That is thy charge."

Hedda did not say was your charge. The continued use of the present tense gave Maleta the first glimmer of hope. "I still can. Destroying Sunniva will bring balance to this land. Freeing Jovan and restoring Kunigonde will make Shamar strong again."

"Thou wouldst do this in My name?" Those red eyes were scorching hot. "Thou hast already committed the sin of pride."

"I have." Maleta's mouth went dry. "But I'm not wrong. Part of my heart still says Your purpose and mine are one and the same."

"Arrogance and blasphemy! Thou equate thy mortal bloodlust for vengeance on a divine scale?" Hedda's voice was cold and grim. "I, too, see this turmoil in thy heart. It shall trouble thee no more, My servant."

The ice encasing her heart tightened its grip on her soul. Maleta couldn't breathe. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Her ears rang. So cold, such dread and fear. So She'd chosen Maleta's death, after all. Who'd protect the people now? Who'd stand against Sunniva now?

"There is no 'I'. There is 'We'." Hedda's voice faded from Maleta's mind.

To Maleta's shock, the cavern disappeared and she found herself sprawled afore the altar. Gasping for air, cold to the bone. To her soul. She curled into a ball on the hard stone floor, seeking the strength to get up. Eventually she rolled over and staggered to her feet, stumbling to relight all of the candles.

The chalice stood cold and dark, the divine flame gone. She fumbled as she sheathed Hedda's Sword, kissed the altar cloth and went to open the door. "You can come in now."

Cianan froze in the doorway. Worried blue eyes widened with palpable shock. "Lord and Lady, what has She done to you?"

Mother Kitta shoved him aside to take a look for herself. "Hedda's will be done," she whispered. Her voice trembled.

Her face expressionless, Sister Reva stared, horror in her eyes.

"What's wrong with you people?" Maleta asked, irritation giving way to trepidation. She felt so cold! She wanted to lie under a dozen blankets afore a roaring fire. She reached up with icy hands to feel her face, her hair. "I've still but one head," she reported.

"There is a mirror out here in the hall." Cianan held the door open. "You had best look at what your Goddess considers fair punishment." A bitter twist to his mouth lent harshness to his voice.

Maleta stepped out into the well-lit hallway and stared with growing horror at the reflection in the mirror. A stranger with her eyes stared back at her. A pale stranger, pale as death, with colorless eyes and silver-frosted hair. Her entire body appeared to shimmer with winter frost. Fear gripped her. An icy fist closed around her heart until it stuttered, leaving her gasping. The ice took hold, and the fear receded. She felt a distant cold, no warmth at all. No fear after the shock, no sorrow. As if the lock on her body extended to her heart, to her soul.

Mother Kitta nodded to Sister Reva. "Hedda's Own. Hedda's Sword in truth, now. No more distractions." She turned to Maleta. "You have your charge, Hedda's Own."

"Restore the balance," Maleta intoned.

"You need rest," Cianan stated. He placed a hand against the small of her back to steer her away from the mirror.

Her body did not flinch from his touch. A small part of her soul did, deep within a corner of herself, but Hedda's power proved too great. "We have much to do in the morning," she heard herself say. "Send a message to Tzigana. Tell her to expect visitors tomorrow." She turned to Cianan. "I accept your aid, champion."

"I shall go to Tzigana myself," Cianan stated, "and take Jana with me." He stared at Maleta with sorrow and pity enough for both of them. "Until tomorrow, elingrena." He reached one hand toward her face. His fingers curled into a fist. With a pungent curse he turned and strode away.

"Rest, child," Mother Kitta said. "To your room now. You've had an eventful day." She and Sister Reva escorted her to her cell, where they helped her out of her armor and into bed.

That night, Maleta dreamed of trolls and goblins, of skeletons and black wolves, of a woman's mocking laughter and a boy's voice begging for mercy. Determination burned in her breast, but she didn't feel a thing. Not a single thing. And inside, a tiny voice screamed to be heard.

Chapter Nine

Cianan stormed out of the building into the moonless night. Neither the snow nor the cold wind tempered the rage burning within him. What had they done to Maleta? Where had she gone? Was she still somewhere within that cold, hard creature inhabiting her body, or had her true-spirit been banished altogether? Goddess, how he wished for Loren's empathic powers, to tell him something, anything, as to if and where Maleta hid.

A howl choked him, clawed to get out, but he remained silent. He slammed his fist against a marble pillar.

Hard.

Cold.

Like the new Maleta and everything else in this accursed land.

He buried his face in his arms. Goddess, he wanted to go home, afore he died from the lack of Light.

Hooves clopping on stone registered afore a soft muzzle came to rest in the curve of his neck. "You are not alone, champion." Kikeona's breath, sweet with hay, tickled his ear.

"I do not deserve that title." He turned and wrapped his arms around her neck, trying to take comfort from her nearness and warmth.

"The Lady thinks you do. She chose you, above all the rest. You dare call Her a liar?"

Cianan shivered, from the cold wind and his own doubt. "Never, but I did not think it would turn out like this. I cannot do this alone."

"You are not alone. I am with you, always. Partners, to the end."

Recognizing his own self-doubt did not make it go away, and he had dragged poor Kikeona down with him, into this dark pit of loneliness and despair.

She shoved him with her head, hard enough to make him stagger and catch himself against the pillar. "Enough. We cannot change what is. You have our situation. Now, what do we do about it?"

Urgency warred with futility. "We have two weeks until the storytelling. We cannot fix this alone." A calm flooded Cianan's whole being as he felt another presence. "Loren?"

"What has happened?"

Cianan groaned. "Everything has gone wrong, or rather, nothing has gone right. These people need my help, but Kikeona and I cannot overthrow Sunniva single-handedly." He sighed and shook his head. "Mayhaps with our army – "

"Nay." Loren's flat denial tempered. "I am sorry, but that is not possible."

Hot rage flared. Forget the king. How could his best friend deny him? "You were quick enough to come to Hengist's aid!"

"Against a demon. Mortals could not withstand the supernatural. That required our level of assistance. Sunniva, for all her evil, is mortal. She was born. She bleeds. She can die." Loren's tone brooked no argument. "I do not see the Shamari people rising up. You would have us fight for people who shall not do it themselves, for their own cause? You cannot ask that of your brothers. I shall not ask it of mine."

Kikeona snapped her tail. "They are afraid."

"Their fear is irrelevant." Loren was adamant. "We are not mercenaries for hire. I shall not leave our borders undefended against the dark to fight for people who refuse to stand by our side."

"Mercenaries." The mare's ears pricked. "Cary could get you in touch with more than Mrow and Ain. They might fight."

"What would you pay them with?" Loren sounded skeptical.

She tossed her head. "Sunniva's treasury. When she goes... away."

"Even their entire company would not be enough, payment or nay," Loren argued. "You need more men. Shamaru men and Shamari men fighting side-by-side for the land they share."

"Well, that would be interesting," Kikeona commented.

Cianan's head ached thinking about it. "They have to decide which is worse, Sunniva or each other."

"You... " Loren hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. "You could come home. I would not have you continue to beat your head against this rock."

Cianan shivered in the wind. "But she shall die without me."

"Many already have. What is this one to you?" Loren asked.

"She is elingrena. "

Cianan sensed Loren's surprise. "Leave it to you," the king stated. "Only you could find happiness in the ultimate challenge."

"I shall not leave her." Cianan crossed his arms and forced his jaw to relax.

"Nay, you shall not." Loren sighed. "So be it. Stay if you must. Rally them to fight if you can. It is the one hope you have of success. Lady be with you, champion."

"May the Light continue to lead you, my king." Cianan felt Loren's withdrawal. Kikeona continued to hold the Light, warming him as the snow fell. He should have grabbed his cloak. How that summarized his life – always rushing off without sufficient forethought. Thinking with his heart and not his head.

"It is a miracle you survived long enough to meet me," Kikeona agreed.

Footsteps crunched on snow-dusted stone. "I thought I'd find you out here, my son." Mother Tam stopped aside Kikeona, laying a gnarled hand against the war mare's shoulder. In her other hand she clutched a lantern which somehow did not flicker in the wind. How did her robes not catch fire from that flame?

Cianan stared down at the tiny, age-wrinkled nun. "I greet you this night, little mother."

Her smile radiated peace. "I felt the conflict in your heart, my son. How can I help?"

"Have you seen Maleta? What they have done to her?"

"That's betwixt Maleta and her house. Hedda handles Her Own, in Her own way. It shouldn't concern you."

"But it does concern me, Mother." Cianan's frustration twisted beneath Mother Tam's calm. "They wrongfully punished her. I am to stand aside and do or say nothing?"

"Punished?" Mother Tam looked astonished. "Why does that word jump to mind? Are you so familiar with our ways?"

"What else am I to think? Maleta is buried in a walking glacier with her face and voice."

"Hedda isn't punishing Her Own."

"What then?" Cianan challenged.

"Why do you care?"

"She shall die in this fight, if none aid her. Even her own Goddess turns Her back."

Mother Tam shook her head, her calm unshaken. "Hedda doesn't turn Her back. Hedda's desperate to restore the balance. She'll do whatever it takes, refocus Her people any way She can. Time's running out, for us all."

"How do I help Maleta?"

"With your Light."

Cianan smacked his head back against the pillar. "There is no Light in this cursed land! I am but one small candle against the dark."

The air stilled, all sound muffled as time itself seemed to stop. Mother Tam's shadow lengthened in the snow and she herself seemed to grow larger afore his eyes. "You don't stand alone," she reproved, glowing with an almost-familiar Light. Tinged with green rather than gold, it tasted of the first breath of spring. "Many of us have fought for years for the Light long afore you showed up, young man."

Cianan rolled his eyes. "Drop the pretense. I am older than you, little mother."

"Oh, pfft!" Mother Tam waved her hands, lantern and all. "Have you learned nothing in all your ever-so-long existence?"

"Your people shall not fight for themselves, and mine shall not fight in your stead! What does that leave?"

"Creative thinking." She poked him in the chest with her finger. "Or you can quit and go home and leave us to our fate."

Cianan raked a hand through snow-wet hair. His fingers caught in the freezing strands. "You do not understand. I cannot leave her." He pushed away from the pillar, took two steps toward Mother Tam and glared down at her. "I shall find a way to restore her to herself."

Mother Tam planted her fists on her hips. "Again you assume." She shook her head. "What's Hedda's Own to you?"

"The other half of my heart." His heart ached at the admission. "After three hundred years, I dream of her. Imagine seeing her death, over and over, feeling her final terror, her despair, knowing I could save her if I could just get to her." Cianan scowled. "I get here, and nothing is what it seems. I would help her take back her brother, her home; yet she avoids my gaze, my touch as though I would burn her. I have no secrets from her now, not since the sword, but she is closed to me."

Mother Tam blinked. "You can't find another?"

"That is not how it works. Elingrena. That is what we call it. My heart. My own. She shares my heart. I cannot cut her out without cleaving mine in two."

"You must enjoy a challenge, lad. Hers is a long, sad tale."

"What happened to her and her family? She told me she thought her brother dead, and found out he lives – as Sunniva's prisoner."

Mother Tam shook her head. "She alone must choose to share the rest with you. It isn't my tale to tell." Her face darkened. "You must help her rid us of Sunniva. Only then can Maleta hope of living free of demons. You may yet be her salvation."

And so they circled back into cryptic Goddess-speak. Cianan heard himself growling and stopped.

Mother Tam smiled. "Come back inside. Just so you know, Nerthus loves happy endings."

"Do you think there is one at the end of this tale?"

Her face glowed anew. "Do you need to ask, my son? I've seen love work miracles. Have faith in the Light."

"I do have faith in the Light, Mother." But Lord Elio's sword at his back would not hurt. "Go back to your rest, partner. I am sorry I disturbed you."

"Peace and Light, champion." Kikeona nuzzled his hair, turned and strode off into the night. Her warmth lingered in his soul.

Mother Tam reached out to pat his arm. "In the morning, Jana will lead you and Maleta back to Tzigana. You must bring her here. I'd speak to Tzigana, Maleta and you, the three of you together. There may yet be a way to save us all."

He did not see how.

Chapter Ten

All conversation died in the common room as Maleta strode in. Seeing the emptiness in her eyes, Cianan tried to choke down the egg pie around the lump in his throat. She glistened in the morning sun with a cold, otherworldly beauty. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass, pouring over her in a riotous mosaic of color. Without it, she would have been colorless within her woolen cloak of Hedda-grey. White-blonde hair, pale eyes that retained but a hint of their original aquamarine. Her skin seemed to shimmer with frost, skin the bloodless shade of a battle-corpse. He got a chill looking at her.

"Come sit by me," Jana piped up, patting the bench next to her. She poured a cup of watered wine and held it out in welcome.

Jana alone acted unfazed by Maleta's transformation. Could the young seeress spy something in Maleta no one else could? Like she had seen the glowing white elf-mare under the seeming?

Maleta sat next to Jana, across from Cianan. He noted her wooden trencher, filled with egg pie, toasted cheese on bread and dried-berry tart. Apparently Hedda did not mean for her servant to starve. "Good morning, vertenya," he said.

She nodded and began eating with indifferent efficiency. Taking a sip of wine, she turned to Jana. "You're to take me to Tzigana. Mother Tam would speak with us."

"You are not leaving without me," Cianan stated. "I told Tzigana I would keep Jana safe. Where she goes, I go."

"I thought it the other way around," Jana teased.

"I shall see about getting supplies." He rose, not wanting to be any closer to this new Hedda/Maleta in public than he had to, lest he say something he regret. He met Sister Maire in the frozen courtyard, on his way to the stables.

"Morning." Her cheeks flushed with the kiss of an icy wind, she lifted the hem of her robes above the snow-coated stone. "Bright fresh day, full of possibilities."

Bright for this place, mayhaps... Cianan stopped himself. In this place, in these times, these people had to take what brightness they could, from the weather and their lives. "We head back out to Tzigana's Camp. Jana says they move northward for the gathering."

"Wagons're slow. Ye'll have no difficulty catching up," Sister Maire reassured him. "I'll get supplies together while ye saddle yer horse."

"My thanks, Sister." Inside the warmth of the stable, he hurried to Kikeona's stall. The sisters had already fed the horses, and he found his partner quite content, finishing the last of her hay. It looked browner than he preferred, but all this place had. He pulled his gear off its peg and carried it back to her stall.

Grabbing a brush, he opened the door. "Ready to head back to the camp?" he asked her.

"Are you?" Kikeona eyed him with sardonic amusement. "Betwixt the one you want and the one who wants you, it could be an interesting visit."

His jaw tightened as he ran the brush over her coat. "I have no time for that. We must come up with a defense afore the gathering or Tzigana's people are doomed. The Shamaru shall be gone, Sunniva shall take her army south, and the rievers shall overrun what she leaves behind. My own interests must wait."

Not that Maleta was at all interested in him. He had no idea what to do about that.

Kikeona lifted a hoof for him to clean. "One thing about hard roads, I need no trim."

And war mares never put a foot wrong, so traveling in snow should not slow them down. But a mortal horse... Cianan finished cleaning her hooves, laid the saddle cloth across her back, followed by the saddle. "Can you carry three?" He tightened the girth.

"Not at speed for much distance. It takes a draw on power, which would be detected. And I would need time to recover – time we do not have. In an emergency, aye, but I would rather not unless it were necessary."

He found her objection valid. "Let us hope the abbey mule can keep up." He led her out into the courtyard.

Maleta waited there with a saddled and equipped bay mule. Cianan sized up its muscling and length of leg. Sturdy, bred for trail work, but any speed it summoned would be short-distance.

"Jana rides with me," he decreed.

Maleta eyed Kikeona's fine elven lines with a look of disbelief. "She's too delicate. We selected this mule for its strength and stamina. The weight will be negligible."

Kikeona's eyes sparkled. Cianan heard her silent laughter. "You carry the supplies. Jana rides with me. Believe me when I tell you it shall not be a problem." He strode over to Maleta, who stood in the swirling snow.

He grasped her arm and stepped close enough no one else would overhear. "I swear to you by all I hold holy, I shall help you find your brother. I have not forgotten him, and wherever you are, I know you have not either."

A spark of acknowledgement flashed in her eyes as she stepped back, away from him. It would have to do. Cianan fought down the anger all over again. She remained in there, somewhere. A prisoner in her own body. He choked on a mad impulse to curse the gods.

A sudden pain in his shoulder made him flinch. He turned to Kikeona in disbelief. "You bit me?"

Her eyes glowed an eerie shade of red. "Are you mad? Imprudent of a Lady's champion, cursing the gods."

He glared back and rubbed his shoulder. "Not all. Just one."

"In Her own lands? Do not be a fool! We know naught of this Hedda. Even the Lady could not save you in another's lands, provided She even wanted to."

Jana bounded up with the last of their supplies – refilled waterskins. "Let's go!" She tossed the bags at Cianan.

Distracted from Kikeona, he barely caught them in time. "What?"

"Have to hurry if we want to catch Tzigana." She leapt into Kikeona's saddle with the acrobatic grace of a born horsewoman.

Cianan tied the bags down and swung up behind Jana. Maleta mounted and headed out.

Mother Tam stood at the gateway, a tiny figure swathed in black. "Hurry back. We've plans to make. Nerthus' blessings on you all."

Even at a brisk trot it proved a long, cold ride. The winding snow-covered path hid slick, wet rocks, and there were more than a few stumbles as they threaded their way through the conifer forest. Icicles hung from spicy green boughs and jangled in the wind. The mule rolled its eyes but kept up. They ate lunch in the saddle. Soon after, they found the remains of a disassembled camp. Jana examined the cold fires, the tracks. "If we can keep going at this pace and ride through the night, we can catch them afore morning."

Cianan turned to Maleta. "Can your animal keep up?"

Those pale, cold eyes stared at him. "It will get me there in the appointed time."

Cianan had a sinking feeling she would ride the mule until the animal dropped dead at Tzigana's feet and she would not even blink. He examined her mount with a critical eye. Not winded, still alert. Its ears were still pricked and its eyes bright. If they dismounted and walked over the hills and stopped for a short supper, the animal should be all right with proper care at the end. Jana's people were expert horsemen. They would take care of the mule when they arrived.

"Good enough," he stated. "We ride on."

"We'll have to slow down in the dark. Need to make our best time now." Kicking her mule, Maleta pushed it into a rough canter. It brayed and bucked once, then forged ahead.

Kikeona flattened her ears and moved to catch up. She matched the other animal stride for stride, so Cianan could monitor its condition. But Maleta did not need his interference. She took her own breaks, leading it over rough ground, stopping for water, checking its hooves.

It proved a silent ride. Even Jana gave up after the first few attempts. Cianan wanted to get to the end. The first campfire glow appeared through the trees well after midnight. He heard the sound of drums and fiddles, quickly silenced, and his mouth watered at the smell of roasting meat. They stopped on Jana's signal and dismounted.

"Tia Jana!" she called. "Velkeshknya kommaru! Mou Tzigana atta pavarikil!" She turned to Cianan. "We walk in from here. Lead the animals and follow me."

Dagonet met them with a sword in one hand and a long knife in the other, flanked by a half-dozen other men. Tzigana ran up behind them, a blanket wrapped around her. "Jana, what're you doing here?" She glared at Cianan. "I told her to get you out of here. It isn't safe."

"Mother Tam needs to speak with you," Maleta stated. "She sent us to fetch you."

Tzigana stared at her appearance.

Jana grinned and turned to Dagonet. "I'm starving! What do you have to eat?"

Tzigana nodded to him, and he led Jana away. Seth came up to take the mule. Kikeona followed.

"Do not look at me – I am their bodyguard, remember? Where they go, I go. Mother Tam sent us for you. You need to come back with us."

She cocked her head. "You must be tired and freezing. We can discuss it over heated wine and the shepherd's pot, then you both need to rest."

"A few hours," Maleta said. "We must be ready to leave as soon as possible."

"You're exhausted. Dawn's soon enough," Tzigana argued. She led them to the central fire, where she poured them each a goblet of wine and served goat stew. Another man came up behind Tzigana as she handed Maleta her bowl, and Cianan swore he saw Maleta flinch at the sight of the newcomer. Cianan did not see anything remarkable about him. A warrior with a scarred face, a thatch of white hair and murky green eyes. But Maleta looked stunned, and the man looked no better.

"What the hell happened to you?" the warrior demanded.

Maleta blinked. "What are you doing here?"

Tzigana grasped the man's arm. "Wolf, I told you to stay in the wagon."

He turned from Maleta to Tzigana and grinned. Sardonic humor lit his eyes. "Like I'm going to hide in the wagon, woman. At least not without you."

The hot look that passed betwixt them told Cianan he no longer interested the Shamaru queen. Thank you, Lady .

Dagonet joined them. "Jana's in with Polkara," he reported. "So what's this all about?"

"This gathering, is it going to be in the traditional place?" Maleta demanded.

"Oh, good, no small talk. Let's get right down to business." Tzigana's sarcasm was lost on Maleta, but the men laughed. "Aye, where the first ancestors made camp."

"Sunniva knows it is there," Cianan reported. "That is where she shall meet you. Having you all together out in the open is a mistake. She outnumbers you, and you cannot defend a sprawled-out location."

Dagonet bristled. "We can fight... "

Cianan shook his head. "Not while she holds your women and children. Do not forget the cloudwort. If she forces your men to drink, most shall go over to her side. Those she cannot turn, she shall kill."

"You need to move the gathering," Wolf stated.

"We can't!" Tzigana cried. "Tradition demands – "

"Hang tradition!" he thundered. "What's more important, woman – your past or your future?"

Even Maleta looked impressed.

For a moment Tzigana's control slipped, and Cianan saw fear in her eyes. The Shamaru queen paled, and Wolf laid his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. "It's the gathering that's most important, not the place," he assured her.

"People are already on their way." Tzigana's voice trembled. "Can we find them in time? How?"

"Riders," Maleta answered. "You're proponents of tradition. You all stay in your own traditional campsites, travel the same routes to the same grazing lands and the same gathering point every year. Send riders along those routes in the direction of the other families. They'll find them."

"And send them where?" Dagonet asked.

"Nerthus' Abbey," Maleta replied. "We leave at dawn. Have everyone join us there."

"You're not going without me," Wolf stated.

Tzigana glared up at him. "I can take care of myself."

"True, but I'm going with you, woman."

"I'm coming too," Dagonet added.

Tzigana shook her head. "You're the family's protector. You're sworn to one camp, not one person. You stay here. Keep Jana with you. I'll meet you at the abbey."

Dagonet glowered, nodded and strode off to resume his watch.

Tzigana poured a goblet of wine for herself and Wolf to share. Maleta and Cianan gobbled their meal and rose. "Hedda's Own, follow me," the Shamaru queen ordered. "Wolf, take Cianan to Seth's wagon. Try to get some rest. Dawn comes early."

Cianan found himself in a simple wagon. He fell into a rope hammock lined with furs and blankets. One of the first things ranger trainees learned was to fall asleep at a moment's notice.

He swore he had just closed his eyes when Seth shook him awake. Outside, dawn sliced the horizon. Inhaling the cold morning air burned his nose but helped clear the sleepiness from his head. Kikeona and a piebald mare were being saddled. Tzigana's crimson robes flapped in the icy wind as she and Wolf led their mounts up, a flashy sorrel mare and a black-bay stallion. The latter arched his neck and eyed Kikeona with interest.

Breath steamed from Kikeona's nostrils as she flattened her ears and struck out at the stallion with a foreleg. "Do not even think it," she snapped at Cianan.

"What? Big muscles, shiny coat," he teased.

"Dumb as rocks," she retorted. "A mare has to have standards."

He grinned and watched Maleta approach. "Good morning," he called to her.

Pale eyes studied him. She nodded. She looked a natural part of the frozen morning.

His grin died on his face. Another fun day of riding in Hedda's presence. He could hardly wait.

Tzigana strode up. "The riders left an hour ago," she reported to Maleta. "The pied's for you. The mule's still tired. It needs more rest afore returning to the abbey. Dagonet will bring it with our string." Her tone of reprimand was unmistakable.

Maleta eyed her new mount. "She'll do."

"You're welcome," Tzigana muttered. She stalked away to help Wolf saddle the sorrel.

Maleta's gaze followed her to rest on Wolf.

"Who is that man who troubles you so?" Cianan asked.

"The man I let live. The one who told me Jovan's alive."

Cianan froze. The reason for Maleta's punishment. This day got more and more interesting.

"Riders up!" Tzigana called. "We eat on the trail."

Kikeona strode up to him. "Ready, partner?"

Cianan turned to face the rising sun in his daily morning ritual. He bowed. "Lady, we greet Thee. Bless this day and our mission. May we bring strength to the Light and honor to Thee."

"Strength in the Light," Kikeona added. "Hurry up – they are leaving without us."

Cianan swung onto her back, and they raced out of camp to overtake the others.

Chapter Eleven

Deep within herself, Maleta felt time slipping away from her. She pushed everyone without mercy. They rode all day and into the night, eating and drinking in the saddle, alternately cantering and trotting. They dismounted and walked their horses over the steepest hills and rockiest trails. No one spoke a word. Urgency gripped her, but she called a halt when they approached the final wooded hill.

Cianan raised a closed fist above his head and stopped. All three riders reined in and turned to face him. Maleta read tension in every line of his body as he sniffed the air.

"What is it?" she whispered, dreading his answer.

"Smoke."

Maleta sniffed, but didn't smell anything. "Are you sure?"

Cianan looked over at her, his face grim. "I am certain. From up ahead."

Wolf's mouth tightened. "The abbey's beyond those trees. Too late in the year, and too wet, for a forest fire."

Maleta stared down through the darkness. Her heart pounded. "Something's wrong." Afore she could kick the piebald to plunge down the embankment, Cianan reached over and grabbed her mare's rein.

"Do not be a fool," he snapped. "She shall break a leg. We get off and lead them to the bottom." He dismounted and drew his broadsword, the one that matched Hedda's.

Maleta beat on the wall of ice and screamed at Hedda to disregard his advice, to hurl toward the abbey with as much speed as the Shamaru mare could summon. But her hand drew Hedda's Sword, and her body dismounted. She began picking her way through the rocks in his wake, the piebald in tow. Tzigana followed with her sorrel, and Wolf brought up the rear. It proved a long, treacherous descent. The stallion stumbled, but caught himself with a lurch.

At the bottom, the smell of smoke increased. Cianan turned to Maleta. "Let me scout ahead. If something happened, I want proof they are gone afore we fall into the same trap."

"Mayhaps we can help," Tzigana suggested.

"Four's no great number." Wolf eyed Cianan. "Ranger?"

Cianan nodded.

"We'll wait here for your return."

Maleta crouched aside her mare, taking a minute to check the horse's hooves for stones. She ground her teeth at the inactivity. "I should go with him."

"You stay with us," Wolf ordered. "He'll be back with word."

Tzigana's sorrel pawed through the snow and found some grass to nibble on. The wait seemed interminable, but Cianan returned. His face grey, he looked ill.

Maleta tensed. No, Hedda. Please no. "What's happened?"

He gripped her upper arm. "Someone attacked the abbey. With force."

"How bad?" Wolf asked.

"Bad." Cianan's eyes were bleak. "That is what burns. Whoever did it is long gone."

Maleta forced herself to breathe as she launched herself into her saddle and kicked the pied into a gallop. Smoke clawed its way through the trees. In the distance she saw a terrible flickering glow. The mare got within sight of the abbey, but slid to a stop and would go no closer. Unprepared for the abrupt move, Maleta sailed over the horse's head and landed in the snow. Battered and bruised, she hauled herself to her feet and ran toward the burning ruin.

The blistered gates were smashed down. Flames licked at the scattered splinters. She had almost reached them when Cianan caught her. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to a halt. She spun around, swinging a fist up at his face.

He blocked the move with his free hand with ridiculous ease.

"Let me go!" she snarled.

He hung on. "You do not want to go in there."

"Those are my friends in there!"

"Aye," he agreed, "they were."

Maleta froze. Her scream came out as a strangled moan. "Nay – "

Tzigana and Wolf ran up to meet them. "We left the horses back in the trees," the Shamaru queen puffed. "They wouldn't come any closer."

"You two should go back with the horses," Wolf said. "We can search for survivors. I've seen worse in battle."

Maleta glared at him, jerking her arm free from Cianan's hold. "This isn't a battle. This is Nerthus' Abbey. These nuns never harmed a living soul. In Hedda's name, I'm going."

Cianan and Wolf shared a grim look.

"At least let me go first," Wolf said.

They picked their way through the flames. Every thatched roof and wooden structure burned or smoldered. Arrow-riddled bodies in black nuns' robes lay sprawled around the courtyard. Ignoring the stench of death, of burning hair and flesh, of blood and offal, Maleta raced past Wolf, straight for the blackened chapel and Mother Tam's office. She barely heard Cianan call her name for the blood pounding in her ears.

The stained glass windows were smashed. Every valuable object that could be carted away, gone. The altar had been pounded to rubble. It would've taken large men with large hammers to destroy it. Incense oil still burned across the benches. The scent of celia moonflowers wafted over the heavier scents of burning wood and flesh.

Behind the remains of the altar, Maleta found Sister Maire's half-charred body. Her throat had been cut. Maleta leaped over Sister Maire and through the open doorway. Mother Tam lay sprawled across her desk, pierced through the heart with a spear, a guard spear, painted with Sunniva's purple, teal and gold. They'd ransacked the room, but the desk itself – and Mother Tam – hadn't been burned. Maleta heard Tzigana vomit behind her.

How could You let this happen? "Search the outbuildings," Maleta ordered.

"What?" Tzigana choked. "Are you mad? These women deserve better than to be left here while we conduct a search."

"You look around. All I see are the nuns. Where are your people we left behind?"

"We have to hurry. I'll search the rest of the buildings," Tzigana said.

Wolf pointed to the spear. "Look around you. Sunniva did this. She really is the queen of butchers." He followed Tzigana out of the room.

Maleta tried to move Mother Tam, realizing the spear pinned her to the desk itself. She swallowed hard and ran shaking hands along the left side of Mother Tam's body. "Tell me you had enough time. Don't let me be wrong."

Her fingers found the indentation in the wood and pressed down. A tiny drawer slid open, and she moved around the desk to peer in. An ornate knife lay within, and she drew it out and turned to plunge in into a crack betwixt two stones in the wall. Something metallic clicked deep within the stone, and with a terrible groan, a hidden section swung open, revealing a staircase leading down.

Were they down there, the Shamaru refugees, headed for Hedda's Tempest? Had Hedda permitted anyone to survive this carnage?

"Let me get a light for you," Cianan offered from behind her. He drew his sword. "Paran luminoria." The sword glowed with a golden Light, more than enough to see by.

Maleta stared at the holy Light. Cianan moved to lead the way down the stairs, but she stopped him. "I need to go first."

"Where does this lead?"

She studied him. "Your silence, on pain of death."

He laughed at her. "My secrets, lady, are far greater than yours." For a moment, he flashed back to his real form, then Cianan-the-merc again. "My silence for yours."

"Agreed." If she couldn't trust a paladin with an aura of pure gold and a sword of Light, there was no hope left in the world. "There's a tunnel leads straight to Hedda's Tempest. Mother Tam," her voice wobbled a bit, but she steadied it, "would've sent everyone there and sealed the door behind them."

"Why do you need to go afore me?"

She drew Hedda's Sword. "There are certain... protective measures... that'll recognize Her sword, and me, and allow us to pass through."

"How did the Shamaru pass?"

"This is their home. They are Her people. Blood will tell." She led the way down the hand-cut stone stairs, which seemed to go on forever, into musty darkness. Cianan's sword lit up the entire passage. The large stones lining the walls and floor looked to be cut with such precision no mortar was needed betwixt them.

"How did you first find this?"

She stopped and looked back at him for a long moment, tempted to tell him her past was none of his business. But the concerned interest in his eyes somehow made her answer him. "After Sunniva destroyed our home and killed my parents, a local farmer brought me to Nerthus' Abbey. When I'd... recovered... " she took a deep breath, "Mother Tam smuggled me to Hedda's Tempest." Her heart ached, but Hedda allowed no tears to fall.

He frowned. "Why the secrecy?"

Again she hesitated. Again she answered. "Sunniva believes my brother's sister to be dead. Best she keeps thinking that, at least for now."

If he thought that wording odd he left it alone. She turned away so she didn't have to see the further questions in his eyes.

"How far away is Hedda's Tempest from Nerthus' Abbey?" he asked instead, studying the mold-tinged walls.

Would Hedda permit an answer? Maleta waited for her throat to close or her voice to fail, but neither happened. Because he helped with Hedda's mission? Maleta gave up trying to decipher the ways of her Goddess and answered the question.

"Far."

"How far?"

"The other side of the country, in the north."

Cianan froze in midstride. "How long did it take you to get there?"

"About an hour." She waited for his reaction.

He looked dumbfounded. "A gate. A gate in a land with no magic."

That explanation served as well as any. "Near enough. Come on."

Boot steps sounded in the dark ahead of them. They both froze. Maleta listened. Someone – several someones – headed for Nerthus from Hedda's end. Maleta listened to the unique step-scrape cadence that signaled Mother Kitta. "What is Hedda's Mandate?" she called out.

Mother Kitta appeared in the sword light, a dozen sisters in her wake, Reva and Raven among them. "'To protect the innocent, the weak and helpless. To treasure our past and guard our future, the old and the young.'"

Maleta's throat closed, afraid to ask the question. "Did we succeed?"

Mother Kitta placed a hand on Maleta's shoulder. "We did. All out, all safe. Tam?"

Maleta's eyes burned. Hedda froze the tears afore they could fall. She shook her head, strangling on the howl that refused to come out.

"'To rescue the oppressed and avenge those wrongfully sent from this life. To punish the wicked,'" Sister Reva intoned.

Raven stared at Maleta in shock and confusion. "Mal, what – "

Maleta held up a hand and shook her head. Not now. She couldn't deal with her friend's questions right now.

"'To fight so others don't have to, so we all may live in peace,'" Mother Kitta continued.

"As long as Sunniva breathes, there'll be no peace." Maleta bit the words out. "This isn't something anyone, Shamari or Shamaru, can ignore. A leader who can do this isn't to be trusted, nor followed. None of us are safe."

"'For freedom, justice and Hedda's glory,'" Mother Kitta finished.

"'For freedom, justice and Hedda's glory,'" the rest of them echoed.

To Maleta's own ears, her reluctance came out. "Sunniva dies. The balance must be restored."

"And will you lead them, Hedda's Own?" Mother Kitta challenged.

"I will," Maleta heard herself say. "There's no one else." She stopped, appalled. What of Jovan? All she wanted was to get her brother home and live in peace. She was not a revolutionary, a general to lead a rebellion. She was not her father. I'm not.

Hedda, apparently, was not listening.

"I know the person to replace Sunniva," Cianan stated.

Maleta had almost forgotten he stood there. "And will she?"

His face was grim. "She must. There is no one else."

Mother Kitta's grin turned savage. She was one scary individual. "Let's go fetch our queen."

Chapter Twelve

Cianan led Maleta and the rest of Hedda's followers out of the tunnel and into a veritable hornet's nest. Tzigana and Wolf stood, weapons drawn, betwixt the body of Mother Tam and a mob of Shamari farmers. Mother Tam had been removed from the desktop and laid on Wolf's cloak on the floor of her office, the bloodied spear aside her. The farmers aimed pitchforks and scythes at Tzigana and Wolf, but seemed to be working up the nerve to attack.

"What goes on here?" Cianan drew his own sword to stand on the other side of Tzigana.

One farmer with the arms of a blacksmith aimed his pitchfork toward the new threat. "This filthy Shamaru slut killed Mother Tam! We caught 'er with th' spear in her hand, Mother Tam's blood all over it." He turned to Tzigana and spat on the floor. "After all these women've done fer ye worthless drifter scum, this is how ye repay them?"

Cianan stared at the man, disbelieving.

"And this is how you honor Mother Tam, by spitting on the floor of her office, by drawing weapons in her chapel?" Mother Kitta demanded, stepping forward with Hedda's servants ringed behind her like a pack of wolves sizing up prey.

The farmer ducked his head, but did not lower his weapon. "We caught 'er red-handed," he protested.

"So the two of us alone ransacked the abbey, burning buildings and killing nuns, and then stayed to begin burial rites out of what – a sudden fit of remorse?" Wolf snapped. "Is that what we did, you old fool?"

"I know what I saw."

Tzigana turned to Cianan, her face blotchy with rage. Her eyes glittered. "And you spoke of peace betwixt the people and these invaders? Now do you see?"

"Enough!" Hedda's voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and through their minds. Combatants dropped their weapons to grab their heads. Maleta stepped betwixt the two groups. "Wilt thou waste time and energy fighting each other? Wilt thou further divide My lands rather than work together to remove the evil one who did this?"

She turned to the farmer. "Thou say thou knowest what thou saw. Thou saw what colors were painted on the spear."

"They were th' colors of th' crown," the farmer admitted.

Cianan blinked his eyes to clear them. His head still rang. "Does Sunniva hold any love for the Shamaru people?"

"Nay," a different farmer said.

"But you believe Sunniva would arm one with her own colors and send her off to slaughter nuns?"

"She might." The second farmer lowered his pitchfork. "Sunniva's capable of anything t' keep herself in power."

Mother Kitta spoke up. "Sunniva's days are done. With this act, she sealed her fate."

The first farmer saluted them with his scythe. "An' ye're goin' t' storm th' palace an' ask her t' step down?"

Sister Reva bared her teeth. "We won't be asking, little man."

He bristled. "Now wait a minute – "

"I said enough!" Hedda's voice shook the walls. Weapons clattered to the floor. Only Her own followers managed to remain standing.

Cianan clambered to his feet and helped Tzigana to hers. "Nice trick," he told Maleta.

A chill swept over him, a glancing blow that made him gasp.

Her face was all Hedda. "Go back to thy homes," She ordered the farmers. "Spread this tale of Sunniva's treachery. Return tonight for the homecoming."

The farmers seemed eager to escape, fleeing the building without a backward glance.

Wolf rolled his head, stretching his neck with an audible crack. He turned to Maleta and Mother Kitta. "We were moving the sisters to the sanatorium when they showed up. Tzigana had removed the spear. They misunderstood."

Tzigana still vibrated with rage. "They always misunderstand! There's no reasoning with those Shamari fools."

"I'm Shamari," Wolf reminded her. "Everyone in this room's Shamari, except you."

She glared at him. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying don't make the same mistake they do, by lumping them together into us versus them. Like the Shamaru, the people, they're individuals, both good and bad."

Cianan nodded his head. "He is right."

Tzigana stomped off, muttering under her breath. Wolf sighed and followed.

"We need to see to our dead," Mother Kitta said. She led them out into the courtyard.

Cianan sheathed his sword and knelt aside Mother Tam's body. His heart ached, remembering her kindness. He turned to Maleta. "Did You see this coming?"

"The abbey's fate wast sealed long ago," Hedda replied.

Cianan's jaw dropped. "And You did nothing? Nerthus let it happen?"

"Certain sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Dozens died so thousands canst yet live free. Nerthus welcomes Her daughters with open arms."

He scooped Mother Tam into his arms and rose. "You knew, and You said nothing, did nothing. If we had known, been here sooner, we could have prevented this."

"Thou canst not stop what We wrote in the stars."

"There is no justification for slaughter. There had to be another way." He carried Mother Tam out into the swirling snow. Maleta followed.

The sanatorium stood near the broken gateway. Wolf paced outside, standing guard on the threshold. "They're preparing the bodies for the homecoming ceremony."

Maleta touched Cianan's shoulder. "Men aren't permitted within during the preparations," she explained in her own voice. "I'll take her from here."

Cianan handed Mother Tam to her.

"Return to Mother Tam's office," Maleta ordered. "Bring what you find atop her desk."

He frowned, puzzled. "What?" But she had turned and already carried Mother Tam into the building. The crisp snow-tinged air could not eradicate the stench of smoke and carnage. Cianan wrinkled his nose and looked at Wolf.

The merc shrugged. "I'd do as she says."

"They knew. They knew this was coming and did nothing."

"Hard land. Hard gods."

"I do not understand your land or your gods."

"The strong survive. The weak don't. It's the way of nature, and the way of Shamar."

Cianan growled and turned away. People were not animals. There was a better way.

"Careful," Kikeona warned. "This is their way. They govern their own destiny. They have now chosen to fight Sunniva. We have chosen to help, to try to keep Maleta alive in the coming battle. We are not here to convert them to a new way."

"This way is madness." Cianan stalked back to the chapel, around blackened benches and over the bloodstained floor. The stench of death lingered. Slipping past the ruin of the altar, he crossed into Mother Tam's office. His gaze locked on the bloody spear, and burning rage filled him. He looked at the desk. Expecting the ghost of Mother Tam, he saw instead two folded stacks of bright silk robes. They were the pale green of new spring leaves. The color of hope. Cianan's eyes burned. Sadness replaced the rage as an almost-forgotten peace filled him. It possessed not the familiar golden Light, but an aura of tranquility, tinged with green.

"Thou hast a good heart, son of another land," an unfamiliar feminine voice said.

Recognizing the feel of a deity, Cianan dropped to his knees. "Lady?"

"I am Nerthus. The deaths of My daughters troubles thee."

Anger flared anew, but he could not sustain it. "The deaths of innocents always do, Lady."

"They are at rest, free of this world. We do not celebrate that which is necessary. My Sister's daughters shall see Mine home. Help lead My people into the ways of peace."

Nerthus vanished. Tranquility remained. The sorrow bearable, Cianan rose, gathered the robes and carried them back to the sanatorium.

Wolf's eyes widened at what Cianan carried, and he dropped to one knee. "Nerthus be praised."

Tzigana appeared in the doorway. Her face haggard, her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'll take those. We need fires, one for each of these sisters. Please see to it."

Cianan handed Nerthus' gift to the Shamaru queen and watched her disappear back through the doorway. "Already speaking like a true queen."

"This land couldn't hope for better."

They spent the rest of the day gathering stone and wood for two dozen funerary pyres. By ones, twos, handfuls, people from the surrounding countryside appeared, bringing food and pitching in to help. Pieces of the ruined buildings made up most of the wood, but Cianan knew the wood had been blessed and was perfect to carry Nerthus' daughters home.

Mother Kitta approached as Cianan stacked wood on the last pyre. She surveyed his work. "Not bad," she conceded. She looked at him. "Not your way, is it, champion?"

He shook his head. "Nay. We do not burn our dead. We have underground crypts, and bury our dead with all their possessions for the afterlife."

"Those of Nerthus take nothing with them from this world," Mother Kitta commented. "Nerthus will provide all on the other side."

"Nothing at all?" Used to the opulence of the rare elven funeral, Cianan found such simplicity disturbing. These selfless women deserved so much more. But he reconsidered. These women gave all they had to others. Fitting, after all.

Mother Kitta must have seen him reach his own conclusion, because she gave no further answer.

Tzigana exited with Maleta. Cianan saw the Shamari farmers stiffen, heard them mutter amongst themselves as they eyed the Shamaru queen with suspicion and veiled hostility.

Mother Kitta noticed as well, and frowned. "Those unable to send these blessed women off with hearts free of darkness should quit this place. Anger has no place here on this night."

"Tonight belongs to Nerthus," Maleta added, in her own voice. "These're still Her sacred grounds. Tomorrow belongs to Hedda, but tonight belongs to Nerthus. For all they've done for you over the years, honor Nerthus' daughters now. Stay in peace. 'Tis their homecoming."

Hedda's servants brought out the bodies of Nerthus' slain. They laid each green-robed nun on a pyre, in a circle. Maleta and Tzigana brought out Mother Tam last. One of Hedda's servants guarded each nun. They stood at attention with a burning torch and drawn sword. Mother Kitta stood by Sister Maire, leaving Maleta to attend Mother Tam herself.

Cianan did not know the protocol for the homecoming. In the silence, while the villagers encircled the pyres, he drew his own sword and took a knee at Mother Tam's feet. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his hands, wrapped around the pommel of the sword. Kikeona's presence, from the far side of the circle, steadied him.

"Lady of Light," he prayed, "bless my endeavors here. May I help guide these people out of the darkness. Let these blessed women be an example to all of what life should be."

He thought of Mother Tam, standing in the snow with her lantern. He could still hear her voice, her words of comfort in his heart. "Sleep, little mother," he murmured. "Be at peace." Peace they had not found in this world. His resolve hardened. "May these deaths at Sunniva's hands come to an end."

The mournful cry of wailing pipes pierced the silence. Mother Kitta spoke. "Never afore have we held such a gathering. The homecoming rites of Nerthus are as simple as they are divine, but always afore they have been by the hands of Nerthus' Own daughters. Never have they been at the hands of those of a sister faith." She paused. "Nerthus is our Goddess of hearth and home, blesser of family, of children, of the sowing and the harvest. She's the nurturer of all Shamar's life. Without Her blessing, there is no future."

The music swept over them, heart-rending in its simple lament. "Blessed are all those who gather for this homecoming," Mother Kitta continued. "The daughters of Nerthus have brought Shamar peace and prosperity. They blessed your unions, delivered your children and healed your sick. They took in the orphaned, the displaced, never turning away a living soul. They treated all with equal compassion and dignity without asking anything for themselves."

"Let peace rule here this night," Maleta, not Hedda, called out. "As I call out each name, search your heart. Share your memories with all who are gathered here to celebrate our sister's lives. Send them home with your gratitude and goodwill."

And so it began. Simple farm-folk, merchant or mercenary, Shamari and Shamaru, each shared a tale of each of the slain nuns. Powerful in its lack of eloquence, the tales emerged of women who traded that which was easy for that which was right. Decent, hardworking and moral women who lived as mother and sister to all.

Maleta's voice quivered as she spoke of Sister Maire. "She was a nurse with extraordinary strength and compassion. She protected children against nightmares, armed with celia-moonflower-petal oil and a song."

Cianan could imagine the nightmares of a girl who had lost her family and her home. He remained silent throughout the tributes. When Maleta got to Mother Tam, he rose to his feet.

"I am a stranger here, yet Mother Tam took me in. She asked not of my land or my religion. She offered me food and a place to rest, a harbor of peace and tranquility, of warmth and acceptance. When I stood in doubt, she showed me a clear path." He hesitated. "I shall remember her kindness always."

"Nerthus is the heart of Shamar. Her daughters were Her hands," Maleta said. "Mother Tam oversaw all with honesty and honor. She didn't shy away from the truth because it was unpleasant, nor shirk the work when it was hard." She stood silent for several long moments. "Mother Tam was the noblest, most heroic person I have ever known."

Cianan's heart ached for Maleta. How much worse to mourn and be unable to vent it? To choke on every emotion? He tried to catch her eye in the torchlight, but she looked out at the gathering. He had the distinct impression she looked everywhere but at him.

"And so we send Nerthus' daughters home," Mother Kitta said. "These women have strong ties to this land and their people. In order to help them make it all the way home, let none utter their names aloud until the rising of the next full moon. We do not want to call them away from their well-deserved rest."

With that, the servants of Hedda lit each pyre. The pipes resumed wailing, leaving each to his or her own thoughts. When the lament ended, Mother Kitta dismissed the people. The glow of the flames would light their ways home. She gathered her women to her.

Tzigana and Wolf strode up.

"There's room with us," Mother Kitta said. "You shouldn't stay within these walls."

Wolf shook his head. "We'll make camp in the trees at the edge of the bluff. In the morning, I'll ride for my men. Tonight for Nerthus, but tomorrow for Hedda. We ride against Sunniva. We ride for Shamar's future." He stared straight at Tzigana, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind where he thought Shamar's future lay.

Mother Kitta turned to Maleta. "You should come with us."

To Cianan's utter shock, Maleta shook her head. "Hedda saw fit to bring all of us together on this venture. We started this together. We'll finish it together. I'm staying with my companions. Meet us back here in three days."

"Why here?" Tzigana asked.

"Here's where they drew their line," Maleta replied, traces of Hedda's ice creeping into her tone. "Here's where it starts. Here's where it ends."

Cianan disagreed. It would end at Sunniva's palace, where the queen of butchers would barricade herself in, where she held Jovan captive. But first they must ensure freedom for Tzigana's people. "I go to Soto, to Cary and the guild. I shall bring them back here."

Mother Kitta nodded. "Until later." She led her servants away.

"Let's go make camp," Tzigana suggested. She led the way back to the horses, where Wolf made a campfire. Maleta and Tzigana rolled out the bedding around the campfire while Cianan checked the horses.

"You are quiet tonight," he observed as he brushed Kikeona's mane.

"Your mind is cluttered enough for the both of us."

"I did not think she would stay with us," Cianan admitted.

"She is right. We are in this together." Kikeona paused. Cianan got the impression she weighed her next words. "You two have a connection. She may yet be yours." The mare did not sound altogether happy with that admission.

"This thought troubles you why?"

"Above all I wish for your happiness. She is not what I would have chosen for you. She is such a dark, troubled creature, and she is mortal."

Cianan smiled. "She is strong and valiant and beautiful. She truly is verteny a. I envied Loren, you know; Dara is extraordinary. I never thought to meet her equal, and yet I have."

"Well, you shall never be bored." Kikeona tossed her head. "I can keep watch tonight. You four need your sleep."

Cianan found Tzigana already in her bed. Maleta and Wolf argued about who would take first watch. "Enough," Cianan ordered. "My mare has been trained to stand guard, and I doubt either of you are sound sleepers. If trouble comes, she shall wake us."

Wolf nodded and crawled into his bed, his head near Tzigana's.

Maleta's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to sleep?"

"I expect you to be practical." Cianan sat down on his bedding and pulled off his boots. "We have had a hard day, and tomorrow shall be no better. Rest while you can."

A vulnerable expression flashed across her face, too quick to follow, almost... fear. "I do not sleep with men."

"Are those not words to warm a man's heart," Kikeona commented.

Cianan bit off the automatic response, and counted to three. Then ten. "You and Tzigana are on that side of the campfire, Wolf and I are on this side. Kikeona shall keep watch, and you and I shall sleep. I do not care if you sleep with a knife under your pillow, so long as you sleep."

He crawled under his blankets and pulled out his flute.

Maleta sat staring at the flames, her chin on her knees.

Softly he began to play, lullabies from home. He could read the tension in every line of her body as she fought to stay alert. "Lady of Light, time for her to rest, to heal," he prayed. A thread of Light wound its way into his song. He watched it curl around Maleta, watched her muscles relax.

She blinked. "I'm afraid to go to sleep," she confessed. "I've so many nightmares."

"Not tonight," he promised. "Lady of Light, for tonight, I take her nightmares as my own. It is in my power to request, and Yours to grant. Let her sleep untroubled this night."

Warmth filled him. He kept playing. Maleta crawled into her blankets with a public show of setting her knives within reach. He took care not to look at her, but out at the tree line where the horses were tethered.

When Maleta's breathing deepened, he looked over at her. Unmarred by worry, her face looked so young. Even Hedda-touched, he found her beautiful. He knew what awaited him when he fell asleep. Armies of skeletons and marigolds of bronze, asides whatever nightmares would have plagued her.

It mattered not. "My life for yours, if need be," he vowed. "I shall not let you die."

Chapter Thirteen

Maleta opened her eyes to the sight of Cianan putting more wood on the fire. She shivered, chilled despite his efforts. Hedda lurked, quiet for now. Maleta gulped, uncertain which troubled her more. That she'd fallen asleep, or that she'd not had a single nightmare. After everything that had happened, how could she sleep as if nothing were wrong?

"Good morning," Cianan said, not looking up from where he squatted aside the fire.

She stared bleary-eyed up at the sky to see if she could mark the time, but clouds obscured the stars. "What time is it?"

"Almost dawn."

The flames danced in wood that sizzled with moisture. Maleta rubbed her eyes and gazed across the campfire. Tzigana's and Wolf's bedrolls were gone. Farther beyond, the sorrel mare and the black-bay stallion were also gone. "Where is everyone?"

"Tzigana went back to her camp, Wolf, to round up his men."

She gasped. "Wolf's got a traitor in his group. I should've said something – "

"Relax. He knows." Cianan's gaze met hers. He looked like he hadn't slept well. Shadows lurked in his eyes. "He knows how you found him. His scribe shall be dealt with."

He looked like he'd had nightmares aplenty. A glimmer of suspicion arose. Did he have anything to do with her peaceful rest? What were the paladin's powers? She recalled relaxing to the sound of flute music, then nothing until she woke up. The thought he could put her to sleep against her will scared her. Maleta shivered in the cold air, aware it was just the two of them. What else could he do?

He gave her a piercing glance and moved away to the other side of the fire to rummage in a sack for a couple of tankards. "I made some tea, and there is hot water for washing. Food is ready."

She washed her face and hands, then accepted the tea. First meal turned out to be stewed dried fruit over toasted bread, with hard yellow cheese. She felt revived when she finished and washed the few dishes while he saw to the horses.

Unsure of what to say, she packed away the utensils and rolled up her bedding in silence. He loaded his own bedding onto Kikeona and turned to Maleta. "I travel to Soto, to the Broken Blade. You are welcome to travel with me, unless you have other business to attend to."

Do we? Maleta asked Hedda. The goddess had no reply. Maleta sighed. She knew Hedda wouldn't comment or act on that which was predetermined, but trying to fathom Hedda's wishes made her head ache. She stared at Cianan. Did she trust him enough to stay with him? Did she trust him enough to run around on his own, unchecked and unsupervised?

Why didn't Hedda say something?

"I need to spread the word to the people to meet back here with weapons drawn in three days," she informed him.

"You can do that on the way," he said, mounting up. "There is safety in numbers. I would not have you travel alone. Warn every house we come upon. Let them spread the word amongst themselves."

She should've felt safe in his presence. He'd shown himself to be all that was honorable and good in the world. Yet last night troubled her. His nearness disturbed her. She'd seen an odd expression on his face when he thought she wasn't looking. A look that made the back of her neck prickle. Not with fear, not exactly.

"Fine. We don't have much time." She swung up into the saddle and kicked the piebald into an easy trot.

Cianan pulled up even with her. He said nothing as they approached the first farmstead.

Maleta reined to a halt, and felt Hedda awaken. She fought the wall of ice to no avail. She could tell Cianan felt the change also. Resignation replaced the sorrow in his eyes.

"Citizens of Shamar, followers of Nerthus and Hedda," she called.

The farm folk gathered on the porch, a farmer and his wife, their two grown sons and their wives. "What'dya want with us?" the old man demanded.

"Thy allegiance to this land," Hedda replied in that cold, hollow voice. "The one who destroyed the abbey shall be no more. Gather at the abbey in three days' time, with all thy kith and kin, with every weapon thou canst find. Thy Goddess commands. Obey, or face My wrath."

The old man paled and bowed his head. Maleta felt Hedda recede and she kicked her mount into a canter. She turned her head as Cianan rode up alongside. He wore a disgusted look on his face.

"What?" she asked, in her own voice.

"Very diplomatic."

As if she had a choice in what Hedda said. Didn't he understand anything? Choking on an undiplomatic retort of her own, she kicked the mare into a gallop, riding away from him, grateful when he let her go. Common sense raised its head soon enough, and she eased back on the reins afore she tired her mount.

Cianan stayed a few lengths back. The next few farmsteads were a repeat of the first, with Hedda coming and going at will. At least Cianan kept his opinions, and his looks, to himself. Maleta's head ached by mid-morning. How she resented being used. As if Hedda didn't trust her to do the right thing.

They stopped atop a rise for lunch, dried meat with more bread, cheese and water. Cianan looked down into the brush-dotted gulch below and frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Mayhaps nothing." His tone sounded uneasy. "That is the perfect spot for an ambush."

She studied it, as well. "It's the only way out of here."

"Exactly."

"So we'll be careful." Maleta finished eating and tightened the piebald's girth again. She mounted up and drew her sword. She turned to see Cianan stringing his bow. He swung up on Kikeona's back.

They picked their way through the rocks down into the ravine. Maleta kept her eyes and ears straining for any hint of company. For long silent minutes they rode, surrounded by concealing spruce and firs. Her neck prickled a warning, but she couldn't see or hear anything.

"There should be birds," she whispered.

He nodded.

A woman's scream pierced the silence up ahead. Men shouted. Maleta kicked the piebald into a full gallop, Cianan a stride behind her. In a small clearing stood a merchant's wagon. Maleta reined the pied in at the edge of an encampment swarming with bandits.

Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and threw herself at the nearest bandit. His hands full of jewelry, he was unable to draw a weapon in time. A burning rage filled Maleta at the sight of the merchant and his wife lying still on the ground. She swung at the bandit's neck, severing his head.

One of the raiders took off running. Cianan's arrow struck him down from behind afore he reached the edge of the camp. Kikeona slid to a stop and Cianan hit the ground running. He drew his own blade as two more bandits rushed him. He parried the first down stroke, but the two separated and attacked from both sides.

Maleta threw a knife at another fleeing bandit. He fell face-first in the mud. She ran up to the merchant and his wife. Both dead. "Hedda, I'm sick of this. Where does it end? Cowards," she thought with contempt – robbing and slaughtering an unarmed couple, fleeing when confronted with well-armed people who could fight back.

She scanned the campsite. Cianan fought two at once but held his own. Kikeona rounded up the scattered horses. The back of Maleta's neck prickled a warning. She whirled and blocked the down stroke of a bandit's sword. Judging by the quality of his armor, their leader. The force of his blow knocked her down, but she rolled free and rose.

"Shoulda stayed out o' this, wench," he growled, thrusting the point of his sword at her face. "'Tis no concern of yers."

She knocked the blade aside. Hedda's Sword gleamed golden in the fading sunset. "That's where you're wrong, dog," she spat. "The slaughter of innocents is exactly my business. Prepare to meet Hedda's justice." She swung her weapon. He blocked it. She kicked out, swept his legs out from under him. Stepping on his sword, she laid Hedda's Sword against the bandit's throat. His eyes widened as all his sins rushed back to greet him – every theft, every murder.

Her own eyes widened as well. No mere bandit, this, but one of Sunniva's guards, sent to entrap Cianan. Sent to kill him. Sunniva had changed her mind about wanting Cianan alive. Maleta said the ritual words: "I stand here as judge, jury and executioner. You've been found guilty of murder. Give my regards to Hedda." She thrust the tip of the sword through his throat and turned to check on Cianan. "Watch out!"

He dropped the first of the two bandits, whirled on the second. A hair too slowly – his attacker ducked under his reach to bury his knife in Cianan's side. Cianan brought his own sword up, impaling the bandit on the blade, but the damage was done.

Kikeona shrieked and galloped to his side.

"Cianan!" Maleta screamed, running across the campsite.

Cianan yanked his sword free and the dead bandit slumped to the ground. He pulled the bloody knife from his side and frowned. "Fear not, elingrena, it is but a scratch. I have been wounded far worse."

Maleta couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

A puzzled look crossed his face, and Cianan slid sideways and crashed to the ground.

Kikeona nuzzled him, making anxious whickering noises. Man and horse seemed to shimmer, shift. The mare glowed like a steed from legends – to Maleta's own eyes, not to Goddess-sense. Which meant anyone could now see them as they were.

Maleta knelt aside Cianan in the mud, slid her arm under his neck. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Slanted cobalt eyes stared up at her, the mask of the man gone. "So... cold. Seeming failed – cannot hold it together," he whispered.

Fear seized her. "Wiggle your toes."

"Are you asking me to dance?" A violent shudder cut off Cianan's teasing tone. "Dracken rue, it hurts!"

She pulled his shirt up to reveal telltale purple tendrils spreading out from the knife wound. "Oh, Hedda, no. Not that. You can't let it be that." She schooled her face into stillness as she met Cianan's gaze. "Can you move your feet?"

He stared at her. "I just did. Nothing?"

"Nay. I'll rebuild the fire. We've got to keep you warm." She dragged him aside the fire and covered him with both their cloaks. He looked faded and grey and trembled uncontrollably. "Don't you go and die on me." Tears burned her eyes. She felt Hedda's ice rise, and fought it. "Oh, no, You don't. Not this time." She brushed a lock of hair from Cianan's forehead. "We need you. I can't do this alone."

Cianan's eyes glazed with an unspeakable pain. "I thought you... did not require aid... from anyone, elingrena."

Kikeona nuzzled him. Sweat broke out across his forehead, tinged with blood. Maleta thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her as the mare's glow brightened. The lines of pain around Cianan's mouth eased.

"We have to help him, Hedda. He tried to help us." Maleta's red-hot fury shattered Hedda's wall of ice. "I lied." With shaking hands, Maleta poured water from her waterskin on her sleeve so she could wipe his face. "You can't leave us."

Cianan grimaced, his voice a whisper. "Knife was poisoned."

"Aye. Darkweed. Popular assassin tool. Sunniva sent them to kill you. The merchant was the bait." She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "There's no known antidote – why we use it."

"Ah." Another shudder shook his body. He arched his neck, fighting what Maleta had been told was horrific pain. Darkweed paralyzed the muscles, stilled the heart and lungs.

Death came brutal and quick. She had no idea how he clung to life so long. His strength of will did him no favors. It but prolonged the agony. Maleta wavered. With no antidote it'd be quicker, and a kindness, to end it –

Kikeona flattened her ears and speared her with a glance full of malice, almost as if she'd caught the thought. She left Maleta with the unmistakable impression if she made a move in that direction, the mare would stomp her into a rug. A very flat, very bloody rug.

Cianan caught Maleta's hand in his. "I can try... to trance-heal myself, elingrena. Works with wounds. Do not know... if it works... with poisons." His gaze held hers. "Do not... interfere. No matter what. She shall kill you. Mission or nay." His eyes closed, and he relaxed – as much as the pain would let him. His lips moved in a silent prayer.

Maleta turned away to draw her sword. She eyed the darkness beyond the firelight. The fact she guarded a dead man was not lost on her. Her heart ached. She'd never heard of anyone surviving a darkweed strike, priest or nay. At least he was guaranteed a shining afterlife. It would take a miracle to turn the tide now.

"You sent him to us for a reason. Our task isn't done yet. Stay Your hand, I beg You."

"Help arrives, My Own. Remember. Do not stray again."

The cold within vanished. The contrast staggered her.

The roar of a whirlwind sounded behind her, and the light increased a hundredfold. Maleta whirled to see her innocent campfire flare skyward to three, four times her height. A form shimmered into view within the flames, solidifying into something woman-shaped. She stepped barefoot from the fire, falling to her knees to vomit.

Maleta raised her sword as her gaze took in a scaled, red-haired woman garbed in velvet robes befitting a queen. Seeing Maleta's raised sword, she hissed and brought up her own clawed hands. The red stone in the gold torque around her neck glowed, and dark fire crackled around her fingertips. Maleta took one step forward. "Keep away from him, demon!"

"Stop!" Like a flash of white lightning, Kikeona moved betwixt them.

Maleta shook her head, her ears ringing from the mental shout. What the... "Out of – "

" – my way, Kikeona."

Maleta stopped as the stranger finished the command. A shiver shot up her spine. The woman resembled the fire-wielder in Cianan's sword-vision. "How do you know them?" she demanded. "Who are you?"

"Dara te Sheena, queen of the eastdawn elves – his best friend's wife," the odd-looking woman snapped, lowering her hands. Her uncanny gold eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet. "Kiki, step aside so I can see."

"Are you flesh, or are you spirit?" Maleta demanded. She squawked as Kikeona shoved her aside so the newcomer could make her way to Cianan.

Dara knelt by Cianan's side. "We're losing him. What happened?"

"Darkweed – assassin's poison," Maleta reported. "Muscle paralytic. There's no antidote."

"Oh, we'll see about that. You don't escape us that quickly, ranger." Dara closed her eyes and collapsed, limp as a child's discarded rag doll.

Maleta's skin crawled as Dara stilled. She gripped her sword tighter as she felt a swirl of energy like a hot summer breeze. It came from Kikeona, from the campfire, and flooded Dara's prone body. Maleta gulped as a gold mist left the queen's body and vanished into Cianan's.

Healer energy, she decided, moving to gather more wood for the fire. Removing the poison from Cianan's system, strengthening a weakening heart, reversing the damage – it would take a miracle. Maleta trembled, unable to feel Hedda's grip. Was She gone?

The clouds cleared. The Bear shambled its way across the heavens and down into the tree line. Maleta used it to mark the passage of time in the clear, cold night while she gathered wood and kept the fire tended.

Being surrounded by all the prone bodies, most of them dead, felt decidedly creepy. She dragged a bed out of the wagon, laid the old merchant and his wife on it and covered them with blankets. She piled the dead bandits downwind and stripped them of their armor, weapons and any and all valuables. The confiscated goods she piled into the wagon. They could use the merchandise and money to help pay for the mercs.

It'd be best to burn the bodies. Maleta stole a burning brand from the campfire and started two separate pyres afore returning to her vigil. Her heart ached. So far their quest to drive out Sunniva proved a stunning success. The strongest among them had fallen and Sunniva remained in control. She still held Jovan prisoner and worked to eradicate the Shamaru.

But half the Bear shone visible when Dara stirred. Immediately, a stream of fire, hurled by an unseen hand within the campfire, shot into her. Nay, Maleta corrected herself, into the red stone in the torque, which glowed with the infusion of raw energy. Dara blinked her uncanny gold eyes and sat up.

Aside her Cianan groaned.

Disbelieving, Maleta dropped aside him in the next heartbeat. "Still with me, priest?" she whispered. "How do you feel?"

He opened his eyes and raised a shaking hand to her cheek. "Almost... alive," he croaked. "Nasty stuff, that. Bad dreams." He glanced over at Dara. "Am I still dreaming, vertenya? "

"You must be. If this were real life I'd kick your butt for almost getting yourself killed!"

Kikeona nuzzled him.

"How... did you know?"

"Loren," Dara replied. "Let me tell you, feeling you dying half a world away got his attention in a hurry. He sent me forthwith. I'd better let him know you're still with us."

Maleta took Cianan's hand in hers. Hot tears, unchecked by Hedda, splashed onto his fingers, and he moved to brush them away. "Tears for me, elingrena? "

Dara's head snapped around at that word. She looked over Maleta with renewed interest. "So I've been told. Best of luck with that, ranger. I sensed no binding. It would have helped to ground the healing. See to it. Soon."

"Aye, ma'am." Cianan saluted. "Vertenya, I owe you more than I can ever repay – "

She waved it off. "Friends don't owe each other anything. That's what friends are for." Dara staggered to her feet. "I'd love to stay, but I have to get back. There are rules about how much magical interference this part of the world can take – bossy gods, or so I've been told. Who knew?" She placed her hands on Cianan and Maleta's shoulders. Maleta felt a rush of hot energizing power flow into her. "There." The queen stepped back into the fire. "Come visit us when all this is over, little sister," she invited Maleta, and vanished.

Maleta rubbed her arms. She stared at the fire for a long moment, then shook herself back to sense. Retrieving her waterskin, she poured a cup for Cianan. "Take a drink."

He drained the cup and lay back. "This must have been quite a... shock."

"What? Fire dragons raising elves from the dead?" She waved her hands. "Happens all the time. Just not to me."

"Are you angry?"

"Right now, I'm glad you're alive," she admitted. "Later I'll be angry. Are you sure you still wish to help?"

"I came to help. At least this time there are no demons." He shuddered. "One human queen should prove easier. I did not expect a poison my body could not overcome."

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?"

"Are you still going to face Sunniva?"

"Aye."

His gaze was fierce. "Where you go, I go."

* * * *

The tension in Maleta gave Cianan the mother of all headaches. Kikeona kicked at her when Maleta passed too close. "Enough," he ordered. Maleta cared if he lived or died. She had stood up to Hedda, and won. He stared at Maleta, once again the woman she had been. Hedda's frost had vanished. It gave him hope.

"She has a strange way of showing her affection. She considered killing you, warrior. You do recall that part, do you not?"

Cianan shook his head. He recalled the agony of dying, and the fleeting desire to release him that had nearly cost Maleta her own life. Dara's intervention had been a near thing. "Warrior's Way," he sent to his partner.

"Not on my watch." Kikeona shook her head and sighed.

"I would like us to be friends and work together." They needed to move on by morning, to get Cary afore the appointed time.

Maleta rose from the fireside log where she'd been sitting, laying down the sword she'd been cleaning with an oiled rag and sharpening stone. Not that the toshi blade needed sharpening, but he recognized her need for mind-clearing by repetitive action. He knew her uncertainty of him, of his expectations. In this world where everyone had a price, no wonder Maleta assumed he, too, would have an agenda. He thought that loss of innocence the greatest tragedy of all.

Cianan saw Maleta hesitate. A guarded look crept into her eyes. It drove him to distraction, the wariness that dogged her steps, every time he tried to get a little closer. A defensive wall that had nothing to do with Hedda. He was through avoiding the issue.

"Why do you not trust me, Maleta?"

Chapter Fourteen

Maleta stared at him, defiance over fear. She was going to try to bluff her way out of a straight answer. He saw it in her eyes. "I don't trust anyone, priest."

"Aye, you do," he pushed, frustration making him relentless. If she did not trust him, the chances of that horrific vision coming true increased tenfold. He would be unable to save her, and the emptiness he returned home with would be unbearable. "As Hedda's Sword you trust your sisters. You trust those you rescued to keep silent. You trusted Mother Tam."

"You aren't Mother Tam." Her face flushed, her eyes glittered. "I hardly know you."

Lord and Lady, she made him forget to breathe. "You saw me through your sword. You found nothing to condemn me, or I would be dead by your hand."

"I'm trusting you now. Believe me, that's no small thing."

"With the mission, aye, Hedda's Own. After Nerthus' Abbey you dare not." He frowned. Best pull back from that edge right away. No sense provoking both of them into a shouting match over what she could not help. "But you, Maleta, do not trust me, Cianan. Goddesses and missions aside, always you are wary, always you pull back."

She stared at him, the conflict in her eyes breaking his heart. He saw the question form, felt her hesitate. "Did you put me to sleep last night?"

"Careful," Kikeona warned.

He did not need an empath's powers to feel the anxiety rolling off her like a dark cloud. For one who had had all her power and control stripped away, what could be worse than someone doing it again? The fact he had not forced, but coerced, was a fine hair he knew she would not split. That he had done it for her own good made no difference. Hedda thought the same.

"I did not," he told her. "What I did do was take away the pain and grief for a night. I claimed your nightmares as my own. Without all that weighing you down, your own body relaxed enough to sleep. You fell asleep on your own. I merely made it possible."

She came over to his makeshift bed on the ground. She stopped out of reach and squatted down, still able to spring away. Always prepared, always wary. Only once had he seen her with her guard down, on that night when they had met back up in the abbey. He would give anything to see that Maleta again.

"Why would you do this?" Puzzlement clouded her gaze.

A declaration of undying love would send her running. "If I can help ease someone's burden, I have to do so."

"A vow, priest?"

He smiled and shook his head. "More of a personal moral. I think my habit of noble interference is what caught Her eye, and She made me Her champion as a result, not the other way around. She gave me more power to do so."

"Who's Tegan?" Maleta blurted out.

He blinked. That question he did not expect. "Tegan te Lacey?"

"The sword showed me two women you saved from mortal peril," Maleta pressed. "One I met last night. Tegan was the other."

"Tegan te Lacey was a fourteen-year-old kitchen maid possessed by a demon." His jaw tightened as he recalled the image of the mutilated man on the rack, the screams as Tegan transformed yet another lost mortal soul into a demonic ba-pef warrior, with knives and chains and her own fatal kiss.

Maleta's voice shook him back to sense. "You saved her from that?"

"The Lady of Light saved her from that. Loren, Dara and I helped." Cianan paused, then pressed the issue foremost in his mind. "You also fight for the Light. You challenged your goddess on my behalf."

Maleta shook her head. "She let me go. And I didn't save you. Your fancy witch-queen did."

"Dara healed me," he agreed. Quicker than she could react, he leaned over to grasp her hand in his.

She didn't move right away. Shock flashed in her eyes, then they narrowed in anger. "So eager to test those self-healing skills, priest? You might wish to call her back. Release me, or I vow you'll need a healer again."

The scent of her fear warred with the strength of her hand. She trembled with the conflict. He saw her heart pounding in her throat. "Giving me a fair chance by forewarning me? How sporting of you," he teased. His thumb slid across the petal-soft skin gracing the back of her hand, so at odds with the sword calluses on her palm.

She gave a half-hearted tug. "What do you think you're doing?"

He stared at her instead of answering. Chain mail and armor, the scar on her cheek, bloody bits in her hair. He remembered that night in Nerthus' Abbey, the way the firelight and the soft material of her nightgown had hinted at the womanly curves she hid with the garb of a warrior and the cold persona of Hedda's Own. He turned her hand over, tracing the parallel scars.

"What is this?" he asked.

"My blood oath to Hedda. Our first rescue mission." She gave him a piercing look. "Jana was one of the victims we saved. A nine-year-old girl heading for the Marcou slave markets, most likely a waterfront brothel."

Dracken rue! There were many things to hate about this land, but that was the worst. "What happened?"

"A dealer killed Sonja. I decided I'd enough of the dealers."

"So that was where you got the name Sonja."

"She was my best friend." A bleak look crept into her eyes. "Guess I'll be joining her soon enough."

He frowned. His grip tightened. "What do you mean?"

"You saw me die." Her voice shook.

Cianan clenched his jaw. "I can prevent that. I am no average warrior, vertenya."

"Unless they have darkweed."

"Well, aye, there is that," he admitted. "But we have our own secret weapon against it."

Maleta shook her head. "She healed you because you're one of them. Because her husband's your friend and sent her."

"She is also my friend. I left Poshnari-Unai with their blessing... for you. I came to Shamar... for you. I fight Sunniva... for you. Should you fall, Dara would heal you if I asked."

Maleta being Maleta, she started to squirm. But she didn't pull away.

"Sit down afore your legs go numb and you fall over." Cianan sighed over yet another wary look, but to his surprise she did so, closer than he would have thought. Small victories, like taming a feral cat.

"Have you never moved heaven and earth for love of kin?" he asked her. "You have. You challenged Wolf in the name of your family. We ride against the queen of butchers to free your brother, to free Shamar. For love, vertenya." He searched her face. "Do you want to know why I think Hedda released you? Because you are strong in the Light, driven by love. Love for your land, for your people, for your family, and there is no treachery there. You shall see it done, without Her coercion."

"Hedda stands for balance betwixt Light and dark."

"Yet I have seen you struggle with that."

"I'm an assassin, priest. Never forget I kill people."

Cianan shook his head and sat up. "Dark men. Evil men. Dealers, bandits, slavers. You free children. I understand Nerthus is the nurturer, Hedda is the protector. As long as They push for the ascension of Light, you fight for Them. If Hedda were to push for the dark, in the name of balance, would you follow? If She had told you to kill Mother Tam yourself, that it was necessary for the greater peace, would you have done it?"

She lashed out with her free hand and slapped him. Hard. "No! How dare you say such a thing!" Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

Cianan rubbed his jaw, surprised at her strength. "Mother Kitta would, if Hedda demanded it. She cannot use you in such a manner, and that is why you shall go free, vertenya. You and your brother shall live free, once again in your own home. I swear it on my life."

Without Hedda to stop them, Maleta's tears fell. Cianan reached out to wipe them away. His fingers trailed down her cheek, along the path of the scar.

"How did this happen?"

"Interrupted a man beating his wife. I took exception to that. Was teaching him better manners when it happened."

"He got in a lucky blow?"

She sniffled and flashed a rueful, watery smile. "Nay. She did. The wife. I thought she'd be grateful – never saw it coming till I had blood running down my neck."

She could have been blinded if that woman had had better aim. The thought gave him a sick feeling. "You do not have to do this alone any longer."

That teetered on the edge of the life-mate vow. It burned in his chest, screamed to come out, to tell her what elingrena meant. But she was not ready for that level of bonding. The spiritual joining would feel too much like possession unless she trusted him.

She pulled away and rose to her feet. "We should get moving if we want to get to Soto and back in time. I'll hitch the horses. No sense in leaving the wagon." The brawny black geldings stood while she harnessed them.

Cianan saddled Kikeona and the piebald, tying the latter to the back of the wagon. "You have been quiet today," he commented.

Kikeona did not answer, as closed to him as she could get.

He frowned. "I cannot fix what I do not know is wrong."

She sighed, and relented. "There is no going back for you, is there?"

"From Shamar?"

"From her."

Cianan watched Maleta fasten the horses' traces to the wagon. She bent over to hook the chains to the axel, and his body tightened at how her breeches pulled across her shapely backside. He shook his head. If she caught him staring, he was dead where he stood, but still he stared.

"Nay, partner. She is beautiful, she needs me, and I love her."

"She may never accept you as you need, as you deserve. There is a darkness in her. Always her first thoughts are of the worst, not the best."

"This is not a land or a time breeds optimism, and yet she fights to uphold the Light, weak though it is here." Cianan patted her neck. "So valiant, my elingrena, so unwilling to ask for aid, so worthy of the title vertenya. Mayhaps too good for a rogue like me, eh?"

"Reformed rogue, and she is not half good enough for you."

"Well, our reason does not always choose where our hearts would go. What troubles you?"

"I miss home."

"We shall live to see Poshnari-Unai again," he promised her.

"What if your precious elingrena shall not leave her home?"

He frowned. "Why would anyone want to stay here? When all this is over, and Tzigana sits on Shamar's throne and Maleta's brother holds Kunigonde and Bronwyn's Pass, we shall be free to return home. And Maleta shall come with us. Already she thaws toward me."

Kikeona pawed the ground. "Glaciers melt faster."

Maleta strode back to them. "We're ready to go?"

Cianan felt more than happy to escape this clearing. "Aye."

"Get in," she ordered. "I'm driving. You need to save your strength."

Kikeona all but snickered.

Cianan bridled at the mere thought. "I am not an invalid."

Maleta rolled her eyes at him and fisted her hands on her hips.

He tried not to stare at the curve of those hips.

"You almost died," she argued. "Healing or no, that has to take some recovery time. If we ride into battle again, you'll need to rest up. I drive, you rest."

Lady Goddess, she could whip first-year cadets into shape without raising her voice. All the warmth and softness gone, as if a momentary lapse.

Except for the merest flicker of warmth in her remarkable aquamarine eyes.

Cianan clung to that like a shipwrecked man to driftwood. "My death would have troubled you."

"I only just admitted to needing your help, priest," she gritted out. "Don't push your luck. Even yours must have limits."

"So you can admit it when you think I am dying, but not when I am living?" He shook his head. "What sort of logic is that?"

"My logic." Maleta turned away and climbed into the seat, gathering the reins. "You riding or walking?"

One part woman, one part porcupine and one part feral cat. Cianan gathered his dignity and climbed aside her.

"I can't wait to get to a town with a bath." Maleta grimaced. "I feel disgusting. If I have to wait all the way to Soto, I'll scream."

"What about the next farmhouse?" he suggested. "You have to talk to them anyway, for Hedda, right?" He stared at Maleta. A part of him wondered if Hedda would make another appearance.

Maleta squirmed in her seat.

"What?" he asked.

"I wonder who's going to issue the proclamation, me or Hedda," she confessed.

Was the bond working even without the vows, that she followed his thoughts so closely? Cianan shook his head. He gripped her cold hands with his, willing a little of the Light's warmth into them. "Faith, vertenya. She has stepped back, so long as you follow this course."

"Hedda might strike me down for this, but I'm tired of following this course," Maleta groused. "Or any course. What's so wrong about wanting a life of my own?"

Cianan stared at their joined hands, at how she didn't seem to notice this time. Or mind. He wanted to cheer. Already she pushed for her own future. Goddess willing, it would include him if he had anything to say about it.

"Not a thing," he replied. "Everyone should have the right to their own life, free of harassment and fear. Those who lead the fight to win such a reward need it most of all. You shall not have to do this forever. By the storytelling, all shall be decided."

Maleta finally seemed to notice the heat. "Thanks." She pulled her hands free.

He let her go, turning to watch the trail ahead. The trees thinned out to fields, and yet another farmhouse appeared in the distance. He felt her tense aside him. "It will be all right. Just give them the message, tell them to pass it along, and we can go."

A thin old woman met them at the door. At the sight of their breastplates, she bowed low. "How may I serve, Hedda's Own?"

"Sunniva destroyed Nerthus' Abbey," Maleta told her. Cianan felt her body relax as her own voice pronounced the words. She finished her instructions.

"I'll send my boys t' Delph," the old woman said. "That'll save ye a side trip. Ye can continue straight t' Lann."

"Thank you, little mother," Cianan said.

Maleta urged the geldings on. "Wolf headed for Lann," she said. "His men are stationed there for the winter. We can continue to Soto. We need Cary and the guild."

It proved slow going. The horses did the best they could over the rough road with the heavy wagon. Cianan knew Maleta dared not force them to go faster. He and Kikeona could ride ahead, but he did not want to leave Maleta alone with the wagon.

"We're not going to make it by nightfall," Maleta fretted.

Cianan considered. Traveling after dark was ill-advised; the horses would not be able to see the road. "How far is it?"

"Half a day yet."

"Do you think we could rest at the next farm? Get a hot meal, mayhaps a bath and a bed in the loft?"

Maleta looked doubtful. "Most folks are wary of travelers. Hedda tends to make people feel nervous or guilty. But if we pay, mayhaps. Coin is always appreciated in the lean season."

Cianan considered how many of the mercenary guild were working for the dealers, for just that reason.

Maleta snorted. "Of course, many of the guild will try to give that excuse as a reason to work for the dealers. There must be a better way."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. Once was coincidence, but twice in a row? "What did you say?"

Chapter Fifteen

Maleta frowned at him, puzzled. "Did being resurrected from the dead affect your hearing?" He looked like someone had gotten a good ringing blow upside his head.

"I think it a shame it has to come to this, that everyone has a price."

The horses pulled the wagon around the bend of a hill, and Maleta noted a field of shadow-ferns sweeping back to the edge of the tree line. A feeling of great age and peace curled around her, tinged with healing green. "Feel that?" she asked Cianan.

He nodded. "Weak, benign magic? Aye. From where?"

"Their magic isn't weak, it's subtle." She indicated the shadow-ferns. "Dream-walkers use those for vision-quests. Means a son or daughter of the land lives nearby. Someone who follows the old gods."

"How old?"

"Really old. Beliefs that predate the Shamaru."

"Shall they help us? Shelter us for the night?"

Maleta shrugged. "Depends on which of the Old Ones they've sworn to, but aye." She pulled on the reins, stopping the horses at the edge of the clearing. "We can walk the rest of the way. Don't worry – horses won't touch shadow-ferns."

Kikeona shook her heavy mane. Cianan hopped out of the wagon. Maleta led the way to an enormous oak tree, with a door cut into the base, half-hidden among the exposed roots. A tiny stooped woman with a face like a wizened apple opened the door. She had a peaceful aura like Mother Tam, but felt much more ancient.

"Welcome, children." She smiled. "I knew you were coming. Bring your horses into the woods. They shall be safe here tonight; the dark ones avoid my glen. You need a hot bath, a hot meal, and some sleep. Come now, in the name of Orthia, come in and rest."

"Orthia?" Maleta bowed her head. "I greet thee, little mother."

Cianan gave her an inquiring look.

"She's an ancient goddess of life," Maleta murmured under her breath. "Most people in this part of the world still honor her fertility aspect."

"Please, bring the horses." The old woman smiled. "I have hot springs waiting for a nice relaxing bath for you."

Kikeona appeared through the trees, leading the other horses and the wagon. Cianan unsaddled her while Maleta unhitched the geldings from the wagon and staked them out to graze. Then she freed the pied and staked her out, as well.

The aged wisewoman took their gear into the tree. Maleta ducked into the house. A peat moss fire burned low in the stone hearth. Venison-and-vegetable soup bubbled in an iron cauldron hanging over the fire.

"I'm Namula," the wisewoman said. "Come, come." She touched Maleta's sleeve. "Let me show you where you can wash away the battle."

"Bless you, mother," Maleta replied. Heaving a sigh of relief, she grabbed a change of clothes and followed Namula down a winding root staircase and into a small underground cavern with three pools of water. It intrigued her, this fascinating place of earth and stone, roof and walls held in place by entangled roots. She breathed in the rich, loamy scent of springtime after rain. The tree gave Maleta a sense of immense age.

"You can wash in the lower first. Release the water by lifting this." Namula indicated the rope handle. "There's soaproot aside the pool. The middle is for soaking afterward. Pull this handle to drain the middle into the lower, drain the lower when you are done."

"Thank you." After Namula left, Maleta stripped and stepped down into the hot mineral water, scrubbing the blood and filth away. She did it a second time to make sure. The soaproot smelled clean and mild, a vast improvement from her earlier state. Feeling guilty about soaking in a hot bath when Cianan surely desired to do the same, she dried, dressed and emptied the pool, refilling it with clean hot water from above.

When she appeared above, she saw Cianan and Namula at a small wooden table, deep in conversation. Namula looked up first. "Thought you'd be a bit yet." The old woman rose and poured Maleta a cup of hot tea laced with honey.

"Thank you." Maleta took a cautious sip. Rose hips. She turned to Cianan. "I thought you'd want a bath as much as I did. It's all ready for you."

"I shall take that as a hint." His eyes twinkled when he smiled. Maleta cursed herself for noticing, staring into her cup as he left the room. She looked up to see Namula's amused, sympathetic expression. "What?" she asked.

"He's not like other men, you know," Namula said.

"He's not a man at all," Maleta answered.

"No more man than I am exactly an old woman," Namula agreed. Afore Maleta's eyes, she shimmered into a rough-faced sprite of ancient grace. "I am Namula, and also Celtar, sprite for this tree. Orthia blended our life forces together to grant me long life and power, and to give Celtar a way to communicate and interact with the outside world. But I can never leave the boundaries of this tree. The outside world must come to us – as you have."

"Why would you do that?" The thought of being trapped by a tree for centuries made Maleta shudder.

"There is always a price for knowledge, for power. In order to help my people, I willingly traded it long ago." For a moment Namula looked sad. "I did not consider how the world would move on without us. There are few now who remember the old gods, fewer still honor them. A few wisewomen, healers and midwives, but more follow Nerthus than Orthia."

Pain stabbed at Maleta's heart, sharp and aching. "Not so many follow Nerthus now."

"I know. The Elder Son told me. Orthia grieves for Nerthus' loss."

"Can you see what will happen with the coming battle?"

Namula sighed. "Nay. My tie with Celtar and Orthia are rooted in the past and the present, not the future. All I can tell you is Queen Sunniva's cruelty knows no bounds and she has angered Hedda, Nerthus and Orthia."

"Why can't one of them strike her down with a bolt of lightning and be done with it?" Maleta cried, frustrated.

Namula handed her a bowl of soup and a crust of brown bread. She patted Maleta's shoulder. "That's not how it works. All three are nurturers and protectors of this land, but always They've used human servants as Their hands. If They started striking people dead, how long would it be afore people came to fear and abandon Them?"

Maleta took a sip of hot broth and sighed. Namula was right.

Cianan returned. Namula got him a bowl of soup, bread and tea, as well as a cup of tea for herself. They ate in companionable silence.

"I would like to do something to repay you for your hospitality," Cianan said.

Namula shook her head. "I have a local farm family who comes and brings me deadwood and peat moss for my fires and who keeps my home in repair. My students bring me food in exchange for lessons. If you wished to do anything, you could bring me some more shadow-ferns, in that bag over there." She indicated a small burlap bag hanging by the door.

"Gladly." Cianan rose and bowed. He grabbed the bag on his way out the door.

Maleta rolled her head on her shoulders.

"You should go have a hot soak," Namula told her. "You get precious few moments to relax, Hedda's Own. Take this one I offer you. I promise you, he won't disturb you. It isn't his way. In the coming days ahead, you must be able to trust him, with more than your life. Your greater and lesser destinies depend on that fact."

Maleta felt foolish. "I thought you couldn't see into the future?"

"I can't, but your life force and his are entwined like these roots." Namula patted the wall. "Go soak. I'll ready your room."

Maleta headed back down. Hearing those words from the old sprite shook her. She didn't want any connection to the paladin. When it was all over and done with, she and Jovan would go home to Kunigonde and Cianan could go back to his home in the east. A naggling thought she'd miss him, that he was good company, brushed her mind. She crushed it down. She filled the second pool with hot mineral water, stripped and stepped in. Tonight she'd rest. Tomorrow they'd join up with the men from the guild and make their way back to the remains of Nerthus' Abbey. One way or another, their fates would soon be decided.

* * * *

Cianan stepped through the shadow-ferns. He selected the largest, most mature plants, the ones with dried pods hanging from the undersides of the fronds. The stalks were tough, with sticky sap that clung to his hands. Harvesting the fronds, he shook the pods loose, ensuring the next generation of shadow-ferns. "I wonder what sort of vision-quest they send a dream-walker on."

"One for the initiated," Kikeona replied. "They are dangerous. The paths are seductive and difficult to return from."

Yet another example of survival of the fittest. Wolf was right – hard land, hard gods. Cianan filled the bag. When he returned to the tree, Namula waited aside Kikeona. He handed the old wisewoman the bag and tried to wipe off his hands on his breeches.

"My thanks," she said to him. "I've prepared a room for you and Hedda's Own." She turned to Kikeona. "You shouldn't keep secrets from your partner. Tell him. He will understand."

Kikeona flattened her ears as the old woman reentered the house.

Cianan could not penetrate her shield. "Partner? What is wrong?"

"Nothing. Ignore her."

"I think not." Cianan laid a hand on her shoulder. She trembled at his touch. "You have been... not yourself... for days. This obsession with getting home, like you fear we shall not return? Is it death you fear?"

"Of course not. All living mortal things die." Kikeona shook her heavy mane. "That would be a foolish fear for a warrior."

"Then what?"

She glowed in the dappled moonlight. "It is foolish. Ignore me and go inside."

"When your thoughts are tinged with sadness, with... regret?" Cianan frowned. "What would you have to regret?"

She sighed and relented. "That I would die without family to mourn my loss. I want to know there will be family to follow after I am gone. Hani'ena thinks I am a foolish war mare, but I would like to be a mother someday. To watch a foal of my own grow up to enter the academy stables."

Cianan's heart ached. "Why would you be afraid to tell me?"

"Because I do not see us going home, and I refuse to raise a half-common baby here. We are partners in war. Motherhood has no place in my life. I made my choice."

"There are always choices. I do not think you are foolish." Cianan wrapped his arms around her neck. "I think you shall make a fine mother. Always you have mothered me. I promise you, I shall get you home."

"But our oath? How – "

"We shall find a way. Did you have a particular stallion in mind?"

Now she looked downright embarrassed. "Mayhaps."

"Anyone I know?"

"Gloreriell."

"Dara's stallion? He is big and strong – he shall sire good foals."

Kikeona sighed. "He is so brave, and he has handsome eyes. He said I fought well in the Shadowlands."

Cianan grinned. "See? He is smart too. You have already caught his notice, and his admiration."

She brightened. "Do you think so?"

"I do. We shall return home covered in glory. He shall not know what hit him."

"You should go inside and rest. Tomorrow comes soon enough." She nuzzled him. "Thank you."

"We are partners, and friends. I love you. It is not a foolish dream, and I will do everything in my power to see it come true." Cianan turned and went inside.

Namula took one look at his face and nodded. "You've spoken to her. Good. Everyone should have something in the future to look forward to. Hope drives us on. You, too, must cling to hope."

"Kikeona's dream has a better chance of coming true." Cianan helped himself to another cup of tea.

"Be not discouraged." She frowned at him. "You've had it too easy for far too long. Were you not the one who complained you were bored? You've gotten spoiled, young one. It does you no harm to have to work harder for true love. Mayhaps you'll appreciate her more."

"Where is Maleta?" he asked.

Namula nodded toward the stairs. "She's coming up now."

Maleta appeared in the doorway, wearing clean breeches and a loose tunic. Her cheeks were flushed with the heat from the hot springs. Cianan noticed she had left her breasts unbound. They jiggled with every step, her nipples visible beneath the plain brown homespun. The breeches hugged every curve and the tunic hinted at more. He cursed as his body tightened in reaction.

Namula chuckled. "There you are, child. Let me show you both where I've put your gear for tonight. I'm for bed. I'm not so young anymore."

"I washed our clothes too," Maleta said. "Where can I put them to dry?"

Namula indicated a rope stretched across the corner by the fire. "Hang them over that. They'll be dry by morning."

After spreading the clothes, Maleta followed the old woman up a winding set of steps to the next level. Cianan followed behind, watching Maleta climb afore him. Lord and Lady, she was beautiful enough to stop his heart! Why did she downplay her femininity? Unless she deliberately hid herself from men, did not want to draw their attention to her in that way. He thought about her earlier comment about interfering with the wife-beater. Had someone in Maleta's past hurt her? That would make any woman want to avoid men. There was so much he did not know about her – and she seemed unlikely to ever share.

In the next room up, their armor, weapons and packs were stashed in the far corner, their bedrolls in front of them. Cianan swore he could feel the warmth from the fire even up here. Because of the tree's design, the room was tiny. He and Maleta would be in close proximity, even with separate bedrolls.

"Here you are," Namula said. "I hope you'll be comfortable. I'll see you both in the morning." She retreated back down the stairs.

Cianan turned to Maleta. "I'll take Guard position." The stairs' side, the first to be attacked.

"Fine." Maleta tossed him his bedroll and unrolled her own blankets along the far side. Only a few feet separated them. She didn't seem to notice, any more than she seemed to notice she hadn't grabbed a weapon to sleep with.

He, however, was acutely aware of both. Did she trust him enough to sleep unarmed in his presence? He settled into his own blankets and watched her settle into hers. She lay with her back to him, facing the wall, but squirmed about for several minutes afore she turned over to face him.

"I have to sleep on my right side," she confessed with a jaw-cracking yawn.

He grinned at such an ordinary comment. She acted so relaxed around him tonight, for which he was grateful. He never wanted to see that feral wariness directed at him, not ever again. "Go to sleep."

"If you snore, I'll poke you," she threatened with a fierce frown. Her face lightened and she smiled. Her eyes shimmered at him in the dim lighting. "Good night."

"Good night."

She closed her eyes and relaxed. Cianan watched with disbelief as her breathing steadied and she drifted off to sleep. He watched her sleep for a bit, but she did not seem to be troubled by nightmares. Orthia's doing, mayhaps. His own eyelids grew heavy, and he, too, drifted off.

He stood in a mist-shrouded primeval conifer forest. A pale lady with starlit eyes and blowing silver hair stood afore him. He dropped to his knees. The Lady of Light never visited his dreams without purpose. "Lady, how may I serve?"

"We need thy help, champion. Orthia would ask a favor of thee."

He opened his eyes to an armed-and-armored Maleta shaking his shoulder.

"C'mon, time to get up," she said. "Namula's getting food ready."

He frowned at her breastplate. "Did you have any odd dreams?"

"Nay. Did you steal my nightmares again?" She eyed him. "Because I slept with good dreams. I reunited with Jovan, and we lived in Kunigonde again."

"Nay. I had no nightmares, either." Cianan frowned, trying to remember. "But it was odd... "

"Well, tell me about it on the road," she said. "Day's not waitin' for us." She grabbed her bedroll and pack and disappeared down the stairs.

He rolled his bedding and geared up. Within minutes he descended the stairs.

Maleta set her things outside the door. Namula glanced up from her pot as Cianan entered the room. "Oat stirabout with honey?" the old woman asked.

"Sounds good," he replied, handing his belongings to Maleta to add to the pile.

"Have you considered our request?" Namula filled three bowls with porridge.

Maleta turned to Cianan with curiosity in her eyes.

He frowned. "You made no... " His voice trailed off. A forest in the mist ... "My dream. My Lady came to me in a dream, asking for my help." He tried to remember.

Namula sat at her table and motioned Maleta and Cianan to do the same. Maleta began eating. Cianan still struggled to recall the details. "A successor?"

The old woman nodded. "My time on this plane is finite. I've none to leave my knowledge to. I must find someone to take my place or Celtar and her tree die with this body. It must be a woman with the Sight, a woman of this land. Orthia told me you've met such a woman, young though she be. She'll be powerful indeed when she matures." She leaned forward, her eyes pleading, almost desperate. "You must bring her to me."

He shook his head. "I do not have that power."

Maleta stared at him, aghast. "You dream-walked with the gods last night?"

"Oh, dear, did I forget to mention you should always wear gloves when harvesting shadow-ferns?" Namula clucked. "Thoughtless of me. My mind must be starting to wander."

Maleta arched a brow. "I'm not the only one who jumps when a goddess snaps her fingers."

Jana. Namula referred to Jana the wild, Jana the irrepressible, that free-spirited Shamaru child? Queen Tzigana's little sister, chained to an ancient goddess and an ancient tree for all time? Knowledge and power aside, they had the wrong girl, seeress or no. He could not do that to the child. He would not. "Her family shall not let her go."

"It's a great honor to be chosen," Namula argued. "Orthia saw her in your dreams. The child would be the perfect choice. We won't force. Only mention it to her family. That's all we ask."

"Very well. I shall ask." Cianan thought that a safe bet. Tzigana would never agree. He rubbed his hands on his breeches again, as if he could still feel the clinging sap. Anger rose, anger and a sense of outrage and indignation. He could not believe the old woman had tricked him like that, had drugged him. Did no woman in this land not use coercion and deception?

"You are sitting across from her," Kikeona reminded him.

Maleta kicked him under the table. "We should get going soon. We have to make Soto by nightfall."

Namula nodded. "In exchange for delivering my message, I can tell you the ones you seek to contact in the guild are here already. You shall meet them afore noon."

"That'll save time," Maleta approved.

They finished their meal and went outside to saddle the horses. The day was cold, but clear. They should make good time today, Cianan thought to himself as he checked Kikeona's hooves for stones. Namula stood in the doorway, watching them prepare to leave. He glared at the old woman. "You should have told me. You should have asked."

"You might've said no."

"I might have said aye, but now we shall never know." Cianan tightened Kikeona's girth and strapped his gear to the saddle. "I said I shall ask, and I keep my word. But it is wrong to cage a hawk, and her family shall refuse."

"But there are other planes to fly than this one," Namula retorted.

Maleta walked the pied up to them, leading the two geldings tied to her saddle. She handed one of them off to Cianan. "We'll come back for the wagon."

Namula nodded. "You'll make better time without it. It will be safe, here. Come see me when this is all over. Orthia's blessing on you both." She went back inside the tree and closed the door.

Cianan secured the gelding's lead rope to Kikeona's saddle and swung up onto her back. "We head to Soto. We turn back to Nerthus' Abbey when we know Cary and the rest are come."

Kikeona broke into a trot, the pied following a half-stride behind.

"You shouldn't be angry with Namula," Maleta said. "She did what was necessary."

"Expediency," he said, "is no excuse. You of all should be able to relate to that."

Maleta flinched; her eyes narrowed. "That was low, priest."

"Truth hurts," he retorted. They rode in silence for several minutes. The morning was alive with small black-capped birds with bright eyes, and white hares with large hind feet. Once Cianan thought he saw a white fox floating along the tree line. A farmhouse appeared in the distance, smoke curling from its chimney. As they drew closer he saw two bony brown milk cows in a split-rail paddock. A pregnant woman fed a flock of chickens in a pen and a young man split wood nearby.

The man noticed them first. Cianan saw his grip on the ax tighten, Hedda's breastplate not withstanding. "What can we humble folk do for Hedda's Own?" the farmer asked, wariness in his tone.

Maleta delivered Hedda's message without looking at Cianan. "You must come with us," she finished.

The farmer's wife blanched as she approached her husband's side. "Will you need the mule?" she asked. Her voice trembled.

"Nay," Cianan replied. His heart ached for these people. These were not warriors. They should not be called on to make such a sacrifice. "You may ride one of the black geldings. We have food, but bring whatever weapons you have."

"Hedda wishes all able men to gather at Nerthus' Abbey," Maleta said. She turned to the woman. "Are there others nearby you can spread this message to? We ride to join up with a force coming from Soto."

The woman nodded. "There is another farm over that far hill." She pointed to the north. "I can tell them. They've a lad can ride to a few others." She turned to her husband. "Let's go get your things."

They entered their home, returning a few minutes later. He bore a bow, a quiver of arrows and a heavy boar spear. She followed, her eyes red-rimmed as she carried two wrapped bundles she tied onto the designated packhorse. "Clothes and bedding in one, and food in the other," she explained.

The man swung up onto the free gelding, laying the spear across his lap. "Have Giselle stay with you until I return," he said.

His wife nodded, hands resting on her belly as she watched them ride off.

"What's your name?" Maleta asked.

"Ty," he replied. "I've fought afore. Most of us owe the crown forty days after harvest. And I hunt." His eyes gleamed with the enthusiasm of the young. "It'll be an honor to hunt the ones who can murder sisters in their homes."

Cianan sighed. Enthusiastic amateurs made him twitchy, but a fighting body was a fighting body and they needed all the help they could get. He pushed Kikeona into a trot, Ty and Maleta following.

Hours passed in idle chatter, mostly Ty's. Maleta stayed quiet in his presence, riding tail as if to keep an eye on him. They stopped at another farm and were joined by Hal and Ham, twin brothers in their late teens, on a pair of sturdy mules. Each was armed with a sling and bow. Their parents stayed on the farm. The three young men drove Cianan to distraction with their incessant questions and speculations and boasting. Maleta said nothing at all. Cianan saw she now rode with her hand on her short sword and stayed well back of the group. It made him wonder about his initial impression of her, the fear-of-men that had been intertwined with her fear-of-discovery. Hedda had thrown the fear-of-discovery caution to the winds, but the other fear lingered in Maleta's eyes, in her stiff, wary posture.

Again he considered. There were many reasons for a woman to fear men, abuse and rape foremost among them. It made him wonder...

A familiar sound from up ahead caught his attention. Cianan ordered a halt and silence. Many boot steps, in precise double-time, and an unforgettable voice. "Aw'right, ladies! Let's move out! My granny can run faster'n you lot! Th' cap'n said move yer asses!"

Cianan grinned. The guild was on the move. For the first time in a long while, he dared to hope again.

Chapter Sixteen

Maleta lowered her sword and staggered back from Mrow's prone body. She gasped for air and swiped at the sweat running into her eyes as Mrow lumbered to his feet. "Again?"

He shook his head, his own sides heaving like bellows. "Nay, lass, I need some water."

She nodded and followed him to the well. They headed through guild and sisters instructing Shamar's civilians in the finer points of combat. There'd already been too many amateur-induced injuries. The Shamaru and Shamari agreed Sunniva had to go, but they couldn't seem to work together. The worst injuries occurred when they squared off as sparring partners against each other. She glanced over at Cianan, watching him step betwixt yet another match.

Off to the side, the guild captain and Mother Kitta were deep in some discussion. They waved her over. She stared at the well with longing, sighed and changed direction, stopping afore her superior. "What?"

"We march in the morning," Captain said. "They're not ready, but we're out of time."

"I'm surprised Sunniva hasn't come after us already," Maleta commented.

Mother Kitta and Captain shared an amused look. "Why chase around the countryside when you can barricade the city?" Mother Kitta replied.

Maleta frowned. "We're not set up for siege warfare."

"Nay, we're not," Captain agreed. "But we've a plan. Your little Shamaru friend says there's a series of sewers running beneath the city and out to the river. What leads out can lead in. She'll guide a small force in to take the west gate, and they'll open it for everyone else."

Maleta didn't like the idea of fighting in the city. Too many noncombatants could get hurt or killed. But there was no way to lure Sunniva out. She was too canny. She stared at Raven, instructing a line of Shamaru women in the art of wielding halberds, and her gaze came to rest on Cianan once again.

He'd moved back to the archery field, where he corrected Ty's stance. As if he felt Maleta's gaze, he looked up at her and smiled.

Maleta's cheeks heated and she turned back to the conversation at hand. "Who goes?"

"Jana, you, Cianan, Sarge, Gayle, Dagonet, Raven and Reva," Mother Kitta stated.

Maleta liked the idea of a child coming along even less. "Can't she draw us a map?"

"Nay," a small voice piped up, "she can't." Jana glared at her as she thrust a dripping cup into Maleta's hand. "The ways are old and in disrepair. I can find a safe way through, and better yet can show you a back way into the palace itself."

Maleta gulped down the cold water. "How do you know this?"

"I made friends with the palace baker. She likes children, even drifter ones."

"I never want to hear that word out of your mouth, not ever again," Mother Kitta scolded.

"Aye, ma'am." Jana's face turned earnest. "Asides that, though, the earth speaks to me. I'll be able to see a way through once I'm down there."

"You'll stay behind us when we reach the gate," Maleta ordered.

Jana rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"Go get our team," Captain told Maleta.

Maleta nodded and turned to find Jana at her heels. "Where are you going?"

"You heard Mother Kitta." Jana grinned. "I'm part of the team."

Hedda help us all. "Fine. Go get Raven and Sister Reva."

"And Dagonet." Jana shot off like an arrow from a bow.

"She shall never be happy chained to a tree," Cianan said from behind Maleta. "Namula is mad to suggest it."

She whirled, hand on her sword. "Don't ever do that."

He raised his hands and stepped back. "Were you looking for me?"

Maleta nodded, cursing her jumpy nerves. Would she never be free of the fear? "We're off to open the gates of Soto. I need you to go get Sarge. Have you seen Gayle?"

"In the orchard. Last I saw, Gayle mistook Ain for a tent stake and pounded him into the ground."

The apple orchard. Maleta whimpered and closed her eyes. Her father's face flashed in her mind's eye, his head rolling to a stop at her feet, his eyes staring up at her.

"Heyla, are you all right?" Cianan reached out to grasp her upper arm.

Quicker than thought, she struck out and spun away. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced over to find him staring back at her.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she stated. "Go get Sarge."

Those cobalt eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "What happened?"

"Forget it." Maleta stalked away on shaking legs, wiping her clammy hands on her breeches. Heart pounding in her throat, eyes wide, she approached the orchard. "Gayle!"

"Here." The rangy brunette strode toward her.

"You're with me. Special mission. Let's go." As Maleta turned to go back to Mother Kitta, Gayle fell into step aside her. Maleta watched Gayle's braid swing as they walked. "Aren't you afraid someone will grab your hair in battle?" Maleta blurted.

"If they're close enough to grab my hair, they're within reach of this." Gayle smirked and pulled her long knife. She sobered. "Trick is to never go unarmed – not even to the privy."

Maleta nodded. Hard lessons learned too late.

"How old were you?" Gayle's gaze was sympathetic.

"Sixteen. Sunniva's guards killed my parents. Guess I got off lightly."

"Except you can still see his face in every man you meet." Gayle looked around the camp and nodded toward Sarge and Cianan, striding toward Mother Kitta. "He's different than the others, you know. Honorable. Nice. He wears nobility like a second skin. It shines in his eyes." Her mouth twisted. "He wouldn't give the likes of me a second glance. You, on the other hand, he can't take his gaze from. I sat in the taproom the night you two met. Surprised the whole place didn't go up in flames. I know why you ran, but you should have stayed to see his face. A part of me would give anything to have someone look at me that way."

Maleta found herself looking at Cianan as they approached the meeting, that pure golden aura blazing back at her. What would it have been like if her parents had lived, if she'd grown up normal? She'd be married by now, with children, she supposed. And Cianan would never have come. They'd never have met at all.

Instead, he'd met a hard, broken creature. A weapon. A killer. He'd told her he'd come to prevent her death, but she'd a sinking feeling she was meant to die anyway. Mayhaps 'twas for the best. Marriage and children were no longer for her. Part of her heart ached at that loss. The mere thought of a man touching her in that way made her shake. But did she want to spend the rest of her life as an instrument for judgment?

Cianan strode over to her, blocking her path. Gayle continued on. "Are you all right?" he asked.

That rich whiskey voice sent a shiver down her spine. He stood close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his body. What was she supposed to say? "As long as you don't sneak up behind me and startle me, aye? As long as you don't touch me, aye? As long as you don't stand too close, or look at me like that, aye?" He must think her insane. "I'm fine."

"I worry about you."

"About whether I'll be a liability on this mission?" Her mouth twisted. "I told you, I'm fine. A few dead watchmen, Sunniva's head and the Shamaru freed, and I'll be even better."

He reached out to encircle her wrist with his fingers. "Nay, about you. Forget the mission. I am concerned for you. I wish you would talk to me."

She tried not to tremble at his nearness, at his touch. "There's nothing to say. Everything's fine."

"Something is not fine. You are jumpier than a glamoured witch in a room full of mirrors."

"Ah-hem." A throat clearing behind them broke the tension. They turned to see Raven standing several feet back, out of earshot. "We're waiting on you two snails."

Maleta had never been so happy to see her friend. "On our way." She tugged free of Cianan's hand and hurried over to where the group waited.

"You leave at midnight, cross-country, on foot," the captain said. "We'll follow at the crack of dawn, day after tomorrow."

Tzigana stood with Mother Kitta, raw agony in her eyes as she stared at Jana and Dagonet. Cianan strode over to her. "As we travel to Soto on foot, I have no need of Kikeona for now. She is a battle-trained war mare and will protect you better than any here. You most of all must reach Soto in one piece, or this is all for naught."

Maleta saw Dagonet and Wolf relax at Cianan's words. Tzigana's eyes glittered with what Maleta suspected were unshed tears. She grabbed Jana in a crushing hug, glaring at the family's protector over the girl's head. "I hold you responsible for my sister's life. If anything happens to her, don't come back."

Dagonet jerked. Wolf's jaw tightened.

"I can't breathe," came Jana's muffled voice. She pulled away from her elder sister and frowned up at her. "I'll be fine. I'll be in the back, clear of the fighting. They're sending me out with seven bodyguards, for Goddess' sake."

"Sarge is mission commander, on the basis of his knowledge of the area and leadership experience," Mother Kitta decreed.

The group looked at each other. All professionals, none objected.

"All right. Go get some rest. You head out at midnight." She strode away with Sister Reva and Raven. Tzigana dragged Jana off, with Dagonet and Wolf following. Captain spoke with Sarge and Gayle.

Maleta turned to Cianan. "Go with Tzigana so you can get her set afore we go."

"Come with me."

"I don't think so. I've packs to prepare and we all need sleep. Sarge'll set a fast pace."

"We have not finished our discussion."

"Aye, we have." Maleta stalked to her tent and began stuffing her gear into her pack.

"Can I come in?" Gayle called from the doorway as Maleta finished the last of it.

"Come." Maleta watched Gayle carry in a pack and bedding. "Moving in?"

"Just for tonight. Made it real obvious so you could have some peace." Gayle smiled, but her expression remained serious. "You need to talk to him, but on your terms, not his."

Maleta collapsed in her bed and threw an arm across her closed eyes. She didn't want to talk about it at all, least of all with Cianan. She did a quick Mandate in her head and started her sleep-inducing counting. The next thing she knew, Gayle called her name. The camp looked dark beyond the opened tent flap. Gayle stood there with a shielded lantern and a covered bowl.

"Got some food for you," Gayle said.

"Thank you – for everything." Maleta rose and rolled up her bedding, tying it to her pack. She took the bowl and wolfed down the mutton stew. "I'm ready, let's go."

The camp sprawled quiet. Mother Kitta saw them off. "Hedda be with you."

Sarge took point with Sister Reva, setting a brisk pace. Gayle, Raven and Dagonet made a small circle around Jana in the middle. Maleta positioned herself as rear guard. To her dismay, Cianan dropped back to join her.

"Want some company?"

Aye, just not yours. "No." Frowning as she tried to focus on Gayle's swinging braid, Maleta braced herself against the coming interrogation. But he surprised her by remaining silent as he strode aside her.

'Twas a beautiful night. Maleta stared up at the stars, watching the Swan trying to take flight and the Bear marching toward the other horizon. The distant shadows of the forest approached. They traveled by moonlight alone, maintaining a pace Maleta suspected was set by Jana. The trees swallowed them up, into shadow. Maleta scanned their back trail as they wound their way through the trees.

Cianan kept one hand on his short sword as he, too, scanned the woods. But there were few night creatures about. An owl floated overhead, sending small animals scurrying. They stopped for their first break afore dawn. Raven and Gayle took Jana off to relieve herself in privacy. Sarge waved Maleta and Cianan over to where he crouched with Dagonet and Sister Reva. He drew a rough sketch in the snow with a stick.

"Here's where we are, 'bout three leagues west o' Delph. We can cut through th' hills an' make camp at th' old hermit's lodge. It's abandoned, but we've kept it in good repair an' it's shelter off th' ground an' out o' th' snow an' wind." He drew a line toward a big square. "Here's Soto. This is th' west gate," he drew an X "which is guarded by a couple o' watchmen. They patrol th' residential areas after dark. We should be safer slippin' through that quarter than Nobility Hill."

Dagonet's face twisted into a vicious sneer. "They're Sunniva's cronies, gotten rich off th' dealers. Th' council are th' worst. They're th' second thing Tzigana plans t' disband."

"Right after the dealers themselves," Sister Reva stated. "Hedda's sisterhood volunteered for that task."

Maleta nodded. "I've no problem with using Hedda's Sword on them." Seeing Jana return with her guards brought back the memory of Sonja's death all over again. She noticed Cianan following her gaze. Jana grinned and waved at him. He smiled back. The kindness in that smile was almost enough to make Maleta reconsider her vow not to talk to him.

Almost.

Sarge stood. "Move out." They headed toward the old hermit's lodge. 'Twas a long, cold march, silent save for hushed tones at infrequent breaks. They paused for a hasty meal at mid-day, if dry journey bread and tough-as-leather jerked beef could be considered a meal. Maleta gave Jana credit – the girl wasn't a complainer, and kept up. They approached the cabin in late afternoon. It stood against the gleaming snow in the last waning glow of daylight, hunched betwixt two giant pine trees. Sister Reva scouted ahead while the rest of the group waited in the shelter of the tree cover. Once she waved the all clear they joined her.

Maleta got a small fire going in the hearth, enough to melt snow into water for tea. There were six cots in the main room, and Gayle and Raven settled Jana into the one closest to the heat. Maleta brought her the first cup.

"Thank you," the girl said.

Dagonet came over. "Raven, you're off watch duty t' stay with Jana. Reva an' I take th' first watch. Sarge an' Gayle are going t' take mid-shift. Maleta, you an' Cianan greet th' dawn."

Maleta froze. "Who made those assignments?"

"I did." Sarge plunked his gear on the cot closest to the door. "Problem?"

"Of course not," she lied.

"Good." He grunted as he removed his scabbard and sat down to pull off his boots. "Sleep." He rearranged a makeshift bed as Dagonet and Sister Reva went back outside.

Maleta watched everyone settle in with more cold rations as she took the cot in the far corner. She stashed her gear under it and tugged her boots off, then burrowed into her blankets with a winter bar. The image of the one-eared squirrel flashed into her mind's eye, and she smiled at the memory. Across the room, from the cot beyond Jana's, Cianan's eyes gleamed at her. She stopped smiling and frowned. He grinned back. She turned her back on him, repeated Hedda's Mandate and started sleep counting.

A woman's voice dragged her out of sleep. "Rise and guard, Hedda's Own." She opened her eyes to see Gayle holding out a steaming cup of tea. Sarge collapsed into Cianan's cot – Dagonet lay snoring in Sarge's. Cianan had already gone outside. Maleta rose and took the tea, letting Gayle crawl under the still-warm covers.

She pulled her boots on, armed herself and carried her tea out with her, cradling the cup for warmth. Cianan stood at the corner of the cabin, facing toward Soto. He glanced over at her as she approached.

"Morning," he greeted her. "Walk the perimeter with me."

She nodded and yawned. Taking a sip of the tea, she recognized the acidic bite of merc root, a powerful stimulant guaranteed to clear the cobwebs. She drank it down, grimacing in distaste as she walked with Cianan around the cabin. All seemed quiet and still.

"I am glad for how this assignment turned out," he told her. "It is past time we talked, vertenya, without any interruptions."

She eyed him. "About what?"

"You know what."

Tired of the backed-into-a-corner feeling, Maleta felt her temper flare. "Why do you push so?"

He stopped and turned to her, moonlight and shadows etching the hard lines of his face. "Because we have a connection, you and I. I know you feel it. You spend every waking moment avoiding it, running away from it, or fighting it. A moment of closeness, like that night in the women's sanctuary or after my healing, but then you shove me away, like earlier today." His gaze burned into hers. "One moment I am a person, and the next a demon. Why?"

Unable to hold his gaze, her own skittered away. Sweet Hedda, must he be so direct? "Your imagination runs away with you. We're allies for the Light, naught else."

"But there is something more." He grasped her arm. "Elingrena, look at me."

What did that mean ? Fear clogged her throat. If she looked at him, she'd be lost. "Let me go."

"Nay. Not this time." Cianan brushed the hood back from her face.

She flinched at his touch.

"You believe I would hurt you?"

No. And aye. How did things get so complicated? She looked into his eyes. The frown of concern there made her heart skip a beat. The underlying heat, the awareness, a man's desire for a woman, made her stomach roil. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I cannot. You ask the impossible."

Blood pounded in her ears. She took a deep breath of frosty air. "What do you see when you look at me?"

His slow smile was both melting and heartrending. "I see a beautiful, brave and compassionate woman, committed to making her world a better place."

Sweet Hedda, if only she was. Maleta shook her head. "You don't know me. That woman you speak of doesn't exist. She died a long time back."

"When you look in the mirror, what do you see?"

Tears burned her eyes. "What I am. Just a killer. Hedda's Own. When you view the future, what do you see?" She turned his question around on him.

"You, with me." He cupped her cheek with his hand and stepped closer.

Blind panic struck. She couldn't breathe, and slapped his arm away, yanking herself from his grip and spinning out of reach. "Don't touch me!"

Cianan froze. An unspoken anguish crossed his face. "So that is the way of it. That explains much." He stepped back and held out a hand. "Walk the perimeter with me, vertenya."

She rubbed her arms as she moved forward to do another round. He strode aside her, silent as the night. Her thoughts were all jumbled with emotion. The sharpest, the most painful, was regret. Regret she could never be the woman he described. Were she anyone else, he'd be perfect. He at least deserved to know the truth. "Sunniva turned me over to her soldiers after she killed my parents and took Jovan."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Sunniva could do that to another woman?" His voice turned low and deadly.

"I was sixteen."

He snarled something incomprehensible and took a deep breath. "It is a miracle you survived. You are an amazing woman, elingrena."

She had to know. "What does that mean? Elingrena?"

He hesitated. "It is a term of endearment. It translates as My Heart. My Own."

She stumbled to a halt, appalled. "You speak of love ? You're mad!"

"There is someone for each of us. I am for you."

"But that's impossible!" she blurted. "You're years too late. My path is carved in stone. Find someone else."

He moved around to stand afore her, tilted her chin up so her gaze locked with his. "I cannot. Even if I could, I do not want to. You are for me. You are strong and filled with Light. What you do, you do for others, as a protector, a true vertenya."

The heat of his fingers burned her skin. She wanted to run, but couldn't move. She stood there, trembling, mesmerized by those eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the night. He would never hurt her physically, she knew that, but he would shatter her heart if she let him in. "But you deserve a whole woman, who can have a normal relationship and bear your children. I'm not that woman, not anymore. She died at Kunigonde six years ago."

"There is more to being a mate than a housekeeper and a broodmare."

She didn't know what to make of that, and frowned in confusion. Women could be set aside if they proved barren. "Don't you want sons to carry on your family name?"

"What I want is an equal partner, with strength, courage and honesty." Cianan trailed his fingers down her cheek, down the side of her neck. "I have waited a lifetime to find you. You are a true miracle."

She bit her lower lip. "Somehow I can't see you in a relationship without sex."

"Do you think me so shallow, to place my own desires afore your needs?" He shook his head. "I trust you shall learn to think better of me in the days ahead. All I ask is that you let me in a little. Let me be a friend. Have you so many you could not use one more?"

A male friend. Now there was a contradiction. Maleta stared at him hard, but saw no deception. She read sorrow and sincerity in his gaze, and admiration. She didn't know what to make of him, and turned away to continue walking, to hide her confusion. Cianan strode aside her through the snow, silent and alert, like that hunting owl. Strong and steady. Capable. Deadly when he had to be. He glowed as much with the Light within as the moonlight without, a true enemy of the darkness that dogged her every step. Was he strong enough to break those chains, or was she deluding herself? What if she could never be free? Was she strong enough to find the courage to live within that reality? Or would those visions of death even give her the option?

She glanced sideways at him. He'd given them all hope. Things could change. If Shamar could change for the better, did she dare to hope for Jovan? For herself? "You're a dangerous friend," she commented. "You make me want to reach for the impossible."

"Hope is the strongest weapon we have against the dark," he told her. "Its strength lies in the possibilities. Not what is, but what can be. What we can dream, we can make real. Not so impossible."

They finished their patrol in silence. Sarge came out as the Bear disappeared over the far horizon. He bent over to fill the pot in his hand with snow. "Report."

"All quiet," Maleta stated.

"Go pack up. I'll make tea."

Maleta led the way into the lodge. Gayle tied Maleta's bedding into a compact bundle. "You didn't have to do that," Maleta protested. "But thank you."

"No trouble," Gayle replied. They ate winter bars while the water heated. Each of them grabbed a cup of the merc root tea. They left the lodge afore the sun rose, moving single-file, silent and swift down the trail.

Maleta shouldered her pack and kept one eye on their back trail and the other on Jana. Raven had braided the girl's hair like Gayle's, and Maleta watched the two braids swing in tandem. At times Jana seemed so young, dancing in place, twirling in the sun, a child. Other times so old, a child with seer-sight who had seen too much. That she wanted more than anything – children to be children, to play with dolls and mud pies without worrying about dealers and slave markets and parents disappearing.

Maleta thought about Namula's request, tried to picture Jana blended with Celtar and tied to that tree in the service of Orthia. She stood with Cianan on this. It did not seem a kindness to the girl. But once Namula had been a young girl, as well. Maleta wondered what Namula-the-girl had dreamed of becoming. Surely one didn't wake up one morning and decide, "Today I want to leave this world and become a tree."

Any more than one woke up one morning and decided to become a sword. Sometimes life chose for you. She shook her head and scowled. Nay. The fact they marched on Soto, to depose Sunniva and free Shamar from years of oppression, said that wasn't how it had to be. There were always choices. One could choose a different path, if one proved strong enough. Brave enough. Why had it taken her so long to figure that out? Why now?

Because Cianan had come, had shown them all a better way. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. What was in it for him? Her? "I am for you... You are for me." She snorted to herself. She was no bargain.

They marched until the sun climbed high overhead and stopped to eat a quick cold meal. The wind picked up. They found limited shelter aside a rock cairn, a marker honoring one of the forgotten Old Ones, turning their backs to the wind, protecting Jana from the worst of the swirling snow.

Sarge crouched down on the ground, drawing another rough map. "Here's us, 'bout four hours outta Soto. Here's Soto, here's th' west gate." He handed his stick to Jana. "Where's th' sewers' exit?"

She frowned at the map and did a curious thing. She closed her eyes and held her hand over the sketch. Her lips moved in a silent incantation and her fingers dropped to a point north of the gate. "Here." She opened her eyes to look at Sarge. "There's a hole in the rocks here. It comes out on a side street here." She pointed to a spot within the square that represented Soto, not far from the west gate itself. "Or you can follow it due north to the palace itself."

"Can we use th' sewers t' get in?" Dagonet asked.

Sister Reva nodded. "Aye, an' t' get Sunniva's prisoners out."

Cianan agreed. "With all the commotion of the fighting above ground, the sisters should be able to get them out, and they can protect them in case any of Sunniva's cronies have a similar escape plan."

Raven's eyes narrowed. "Jana and Dagonet come with us, to reassure them we're here to help."

"Let's go," Sarge said, standing up. "Be dark in four hours. We can enter th' sewers under cover o' darkness."

The march resumed. Anticipation tingled along Maleta's nerves. A sense of excitement and dread she'd have to channel or risk tiring herself out afore they even reached the city. Every step brought her closer to Jovan. Soon he'd be free, free of Sunniva, free to go home. She wondered what he looked like, this long-lost brother of hers. Would she even recognize him? Would he look like their mother, tall and willowy, or their father, big and blond with red in his beard? The thought of her scrawny twelve-year-old brother with a beard made her smile. Would he even recognize her ?

Her steps faltered. She stopped smiling.

Cianan reached out to squeeze her hand. He caught her eye and nodded. "These are his last days as a captive, this I swear to you, vertenya. Tell me about him, this brother of yours."

Maleta hesitated. Where to begin? "He's younger by four years. He loves music and philosophy, hates history and mathematics. He was afraid of bees and horses. He used to run away from our weapons master and hide in the music room. He was particular about his appearance and paranoid about his hands."

"What about you?"

"Once upon a time, you mean?" She frowned in thought, trying to remember the time afore. "I used to love to stand on the parapet and watch my father ride off, and come back home. He had a big roan stallion I snuck apples to. I broke my right arm trying to ride him when I was seven. It still aches on cold, damp days."

Cianan winced.

"I climbed up into the trees in the orchard to read. I tramped through the woods, finding mushrooms and picking berries. I sat at the window watching thunderstorms roll in. I loved watching my mother brush her hair afore the fire. I hated brushing my own." She smiled. "My father used to bring my mother flowers. She loved orange cerias the best of all."

"They must have loved each other very much."

Her eyes burned. "They did."

"How did you get along with your brother?"

"I didn't. We bickered all the time." Her lips thinned. "Children never appreciate things until it's too late."

"True, but it is not too late. You two shall have a lot of catching up to do."

Maleta sighed. What would it be like, to go home? To stand once more on the parapets? Would she remember her father coming over the hill, or Sunniva's soldiers? Would she ever be able to stand the smell of apples? To walk through the orchard without seeing the blood?

"Homes are filled with good memories too," Cianan told her. "They help balance out the bad."

Thoughtful hours passed. Daylight faded. Lights appeared ahead in the deepening twilight – the lights of a city. Soto. They'd arrived at last.

It was too late to turn back now.

Chapter Seventeen

Maleta grimaced as Sarge and Dagonet hauled the grate aside to open the sewer. The smell was beyond foul. There were no words. "They don't have to see us coming – they'll be able to smell us at a hundred paces."

"It's dry if ye stay in th' middle," Sarge replied. "There're gutters on either side channel th' worst of it." He turned to Cianan. "Sewer gases make flames dangerous. We can't carry candles or torches."

Maleta saw Raven and Sister Reva also stare at Cianan.

He nodded. "I can make the path visible."

They'd also be visible, but Maleta doubted anyone would be standing guard down there.

"How hard's it going to be for our people to get out?" Jana asked. The girl danced in place with barely leashed anxiety. Maleta felt her vibrating.

"There are steps, not ladders," Sister Reva assured the girl. "If we have to, we'll carry every last one of them out, I promise ye. No one gets left behind." She went down first.

Cianan's sword lit the way, enough for them all to see by. Jana indicated the location of the grate inside the west gate. They took turns rotating up to the top of the stairs for a breath of fresh air.

Gayle glared as Sarge. "We deserve double hazard pay for this."

Dagonet nodded. "I'll speak t' Tzigana. If we succeed, ye can prob'ly name yer price." His face was grim. He was too hardened a veteran to squirm like Jana, yet every muscle clenched with restraint. Maleta could see it, so close were they to their ultimate goal.

Maleta empathized with that sentiment. Somewhere, above and forward, Jovan waited. Knowing it to be his last day of captivity almost proved worse than discovering him alive and a captive in the first place. She wanted him now .

"I'm going t' bathe for three days straight," Gayle muttered.

Maleta grinned, then sobered. "How long do we wait?"

Cianan tested the grate, loosening it enough to move when the time came.

"Gayle an' me go first," Sarge decreed. "Whoever's on patrol is familiar with th' guild. They won't expect an attack from us. Once we take out th' first patrol, we'll let th' rest of ye out. We hide in th' back ways till th' rest get here. Then we take an' hold th' west gate. Once they're through, it's back down th' hole t' th' palace." He turned to Jana. "Do ye remember th' way back t' th' kitchens?"

"Easy." She nodded.

He turned to Cianan. "An' th' dungeons?"

"Only from the corridor."

"Can you feel them if you get close?" Sister Reva asked.

"Aye."

"Jana should be able t' lead ye straight through the tunnels t' the dungeons. Hedda's Servants'll follow with Dagonet an' get them out," she decreed. "The ruckus of the main force topside should distract the palace guards."

Maleta caught Cianan staring at her. "You help get Jana's people out. They'll need your sword to light the way. They can't use flames in the sewers. Tzigana's coming for Sunniva. I can use the confusion to look for Jovan. I'm pretty sure he'll be low on the list of priorities."

He shook his head. "I stay with you."

"Nay." Maleta fisted her hands on her hips. "One person or many? We need you to help find the prisoners. They've been here long enough." She smiled. "No one will even notice me."

The horror of the vision lurked in his eyes. She didn't care. The thought of the children trapped under the palace, starving to death, made his concerns for her a distant second. She had to find Jovan and had a better chance of searching and not getting caught if she searched alone. She shoved the image of herself falling under the skeletons' blades to the back of her mind where it would have plenty of company with the rest of the nightmares. She'd lived with so many for so long, what was one more?

The first patrol marched by. Cianan moved the grate to stick his head out above ground.

"How many lines on th' candle?" Sarge asked.

"Nine," Cianan reported. He came back down.

"Next patrol should be in another mark," Gayle said. "This is disgusting, Sarge. I'd rather wait topside, in the shadows. We can spread out."

Sarge considered it, nodded agreement. "One at a time."

Cianan being closest, he went first, followed by Gayle. Maleta stayed by Jana. After the rest of the fighters had secured the area, she allowed the girl to go out. It was safer below the street, but Maleta didn't have the heart to keep the girl there. As soon as Jana exited, Dagonet and Raven pulled her into the shadows across the street. Maleta joined Cianan behind the street lamp.

Fresh air had never smelled so good. The next night watch patrol came by right on schedule. One man wrinkled his nose. "Pgah! Th' sewers're goin' from bad t' worse."

His partner scoffed. "Be glad we're here. Sunniva's sewers make Soto th' most advanced city in Shamar. I hear even in Marcou they toss chamber pot contents right out th' windows into th' streets."

"We're lucky t' have her. She's a true visionary."

They continued on their route. Sister Reva caught Maleta's eye from across the way. Maleta watched her jerk her head toward the eastbound street. Unexpected boot steps approached. Sarge rose in his position, drawing his sword. Cianan strung his bow. Gayle broke into a sudden grin and motioned everyone to put their weapons away as Cary and several guild members who hadn't gone to Nerthus' Abbey appeared through the gloom. Sarge stepped into the light to intercept them.

Cary clasped Sarge's forearm. "Few less dealers t' worry about," he reported. "Ev'ry man here dispatched his current contract an' came here." He eyed Sister Reva and Maleta. "We answered Hedda's call."

Sister Reva nodded. "She shall remember."

They slipped back into the shadows again, their number doubled. The long wait felt interminable, but eventually there remained but one mark on the candle. When the boot steps of the patrol approached, Sarge nodded to Cary and Gayle. They staggered out into the light with boisterous laughter as if in drunken revelry.

"An' then she said – " Gayle gasped.

"What's this?" the watchman with the rust-colored beard demanded. "Ye're not s'posed t' be out here."

"Oh, relax," Gayle drawled, raking a nail down Cary's chest. "We were jus' havin' a bit of fun."

"I'm thinkin' ye could be havin' a bit of fun with us," the watchman said.

Gayle stumbled into him. "I couldn't agree more," she said, driving a knife into his chest. As Cary took out the other watchman, she watched the first one fall at her feet. "Pig!" she spat, kicking him in the ribs.

They dragged the bodies into the shadows.

They formed up. Raven and Dagonet kept Jana where she was. Sarge led the rest of them toward the gate. Half a dozen watchmen sat around the polling table, passing a dice cup around a pile of coins.

Maleta inspected the surroundings. Wide open and well-lit. Their approach would be seen. Cianan was the only one with a bow. "How fast are you?" she whispered to him.

"Not fast enough for silence, even with double shots," he whispered back, notching two arrows on the string. "It only takes one to raise the alarm."

Maleta eyed his hands, impressed. Two at once? She didn't know anyone who could do that with any reasonable certainty of being accurate. She'd seen it work firing into a crowd, but not with specific targets in mind, let alone killing shots.

He let loose, striking the two guards facing them betwixt helmet and breastplate and bringing them down. Sarge already led the charge as Cianan loosed two more arrows. One of the last two watchmen managed to reach the alarm bell. He got in three tolls afore Sister Reva stopped him.

Shouts and many boot steps sounded in the distance. "Here we go," Cary called.

The guild gripped their shields and drew their swords. Maleta, Sister Reva and Cianan also drew swords. They were rushed by a mob of night watchmen, armed with axes, maces and swords. A blond giant of a man plowed betwixt Sarge and Cary right through to Maleta. When he approached close enough for her to see his green eyes in the torchlight, he raised his axe. Hedda's breastplate didn't seem to faze him. Maleta blocked the strike, but his strength forced her to her knees.

"Where a woman belongs," he sneered.

She swung for his belly. He jumped back and aimed for her neck. She dropped to the ground, beneath his blow, rolled free and leapt to her feet. "I'm no woman," she retorted. "I'm Hedda's Own, and She can't wait to meet you."

"Your Goddess is as dead as you're about to be."

Hedda's Sword weighed heavily, not meant for one hand, but Maleta managed long enough to draw a long knife and bury it in his groin, slicing deep to cut the big vein in his leg. She sheathed the knife, regripped Hedda's Sword as She meant It to be carried, two-handed, and watched the shock fade from his eyes as he paled and fell.

Two more watchmen replaced him. The battle was pitched and desperate. Outnumbered three to one, they were pressed on all sides. Time slowed to a crawl, marked by the clash of weapons and the occasional scream or curse as blade cut flesh.

Maleta found herself back-to-back with Cianan. The fleeting thought of his promise, "so long as you fight for the Light, I shall fight with you, at your back and by your side," flashed through her mind. Burning sweat trickled into her eyes. When she wiped it away, her hand came away bloody. Praise Hedda, not her own.

A light flashed high in the sky – a flaming arrow from the other side of the wall. Maleta wanted to cheer. She had no breath to spare. Mother Kitta and the rest of the Shamaru-Shamari force had arrived. Cianan had no time to reply. They had to secure the gate first. She launched herself at her opponent with renewed energy, beheading him. The night watch was good, but the guild proved themselves better. Even as their numbers dwindled, the guild soon enough had even odds. One by one, the watchmen fell. Eventually, there were none left to replace them. Whoever commanded them from afar probably fell back to defend the palace.

The west gate was theirs. Sarge had delivered on his promise. Maleta and Gayle threw open the gate as Cianan launched a burning arrow of his own into the night sky. Maleta watched the guild captain lead their army toward Soto, but Cianan tugged at her sleeve.

"Cary will greet them," he said. "It is out of our hands now. We go back to the tunnels."

Maleta grimaced but nodded. Gayle looked grim. With Sister Reva and Sarge, they ran back to where Dagonet and Raven waited with Jana. Sarge dragged the grill aside, and down into the dark and stench they returned. Cianan closed the cover behind them and called the Light back to his sword. He led the way with Jana a half-step behind him.

Maleta focused on breathing as shallowly as possible. Like rats in a maze, she thought, working their way through innumerable twists and turns. Closer, ever closer, to the palace. To Sunniva. To Jovan. Her heart hammered in her chest and blood pounded in her ears. Her muscles quivered in her struggle to walk, when all she wanted to do was charge ahead and get there. Cianan threw her a warning frown. She nodded back. The foul air wrapped around her like a death-shroud, threatening to suffocate her. She shook off the feeling and followed Cianan's Light.

They paused as the tunnel split in two directions yet again. Jana hesitated and Cianan held up a warning hand. Jana pointed down the cleaner of the two. "That way leads to the kitchens," she reported.

"But the prisoners lie in the other direction," Cianan added. He looked Maleta in the eye.

"Seems this is where I leave you," Maleta said.

Gayle eyed the cleaner tunnel with longing. "I could go with you."

Maleta shook her head. "Best I do this alone." She wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about it, but she knew she was right. Conviction burned in her breast. She and she alone had to get Jovan out.

"Be careful," Sister Reva warned.

Maleta had eyes only for Cianan. Would she see him again when this was over? "Always."

"The head baker is Mistress Renai, very fat with a wart on her chin and a limp from a bad right knee," Jana reported. "She can help you."

"Thank you." Maleta turned down the tunnel to the kitchens. It got black as pitch when Cianan led the other group away, and she drew Hedda's Sword. Although it didn't light up the way Cianan's Goddess-blade did, it showed her the true lines of the tunnel so she didn't stumble. Just as well she wasn't lit up like a beacon. Some instrument of stealth that would be.

She followed the tunnel until it ended at a T-junction. The left trailed back toward the dungeons, Maleta guessed it meant an outer wing of the palace. She took a chance the right turned toward the main palace. As she crept along the wall, it appeared she'd guessed correctly. The sewer stench faded, soon replaced by the smell of soured milk, rotting food and the scritch-scritch of rats scurrying about in the dark.

She shivered. She hated rats. Up ahead she saw an unevenness in the wall. As one familiar with hidden passages, when she drew closer she noticed a portion of wall split. A doorway left sprung and cracked open. She forced it open farther and slipped into a small buttery. Stairs led up to the rest of the kitchen. She squatted down behind the butter churn as the door at the top of the stairs opened and a large woman stumped down the stairs with a lantern. Maleta noticed the wart on the woman's chin right away, and stood up, sheathing Hedda's Sword.

"Mistress Renai?"

"Who're ye?" the woman demanded in a loud whisper. Grey curls escaped her wimple to frame her lined face. Flour and bits of dried dough decorated her apron. She held up the lantern, further illuminating Maleta.

"My name used to be Marete of Kunigonde Keep," Maleta answered. "A friend told me my brother still lives."

Renai nodded. "Von Jereon's boy, Jovan?" She peered closer at Maleta. "Ye look nothin' like him."

"Nay, I take after my mother, Van Agna." Maleta swallowed hard. "Is he here?"

Renai had eyes only for Hedda's setting-sun breastplate, but she raised her gaze to meet Maleta's now. "Aye. He's kept in a room on th' second floor, in th' south wing."

A woman screamed above them and loud voices came from the kitchen. Renai turned to Maleta. "Ye didn't come alone."

Maleta shook her head. "I'm here for Jovan. The Shamaru are here for their own. And Hedda's here for Sunniva. Will you help?"

"Praise Orthia," Renai sighed. "Is it true? Nerthus?"

"Aye." Maleta swallowed hard.

"Wait here, behind th' stairs. I'll clear th' kitchen an' show ye th' servants' stairs t' th' second level," Renai said. She went upstairs, opening the door to a cacophony of hysterical babble and even more distant shouts.

Maleta barely got behind the stairs in time afore two dozen men and women in servants' garb fled down the staircase and out into the sewers. Renai followed right behind them.

"'Tis safe t' come up now," the old woman reported, leading the way up the stairs. "I barricaded th' kitchens from th' rest of th' palace. I'll show ye th' stairs, then I'm gone with th' rest of them. I'm off t' my daughter's 'til this all sorts itself out." She took Maleta to a small unassuming doorway aside the fireplace. "Follow th' chimney up t' th' next level. There's a door. Turn left. He's down that hall. All Sunniva's important prisoners reside there. Watch out for th' guards."

"I will." Maleta placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Go with Hedda. Find your brother." Renai turned and disappeared back into the buttery.

Maleta wasted no time slipping into the tiny stairwell and crept up the stairs. Jovan waited somewhere above her. Renai had remarked she looked nothing like her brother. He must take after Jereon, after all. The thought made her smile, but then another wiped it right off. Renai had also mentioned guards. Maleta hoped they were all called away to fight off the invasion force. Otherwise, her plan was doomed.

She reached the upstairs door and drew Hedda's Sword. She eased the door open a crack and listened. Nothing. She peered out. The corridor went in both directions. Renai had said to go left. Maleta would have to trust Jana's instincts and trust Renai's information. If not reliable, this would be a short day. She'd done her best by Hedda, and that must count for something. She hoped Tzigana prevailed.

Maleta crept down the corridor, listening for approaching footsteps. Her heart pounded in her throat, like rushing surf to her ears. She wrestled down the urge to charge ahead screaming Jovan's name. The first two doors on the left were locked up tight, but there were no sounds coming from the other side. The first door on the right revealed a storage room for extra furniture, the second empty save for a loom and a stool. She tried the third door on the right. She tensed as she heard muffled sobs, and she tried the latch. It lifted easily, silently, and she opened the door. The hidden person sounded female, not male. Not Jovan. But Maleta recognized the fear, the despair, in the cry and couldn't leave.

She peered around the door. Man's room, spartan. A naked Shamaru woman lay in chains on the bed, surrounded by lit tallow candles. Black curly hair, black iron shackles. The woman must have heard her, because she raised her head, and Maleta's heart stopped. Not a woman. Just a girl. She couldn't have been sixteen yet.

The girl tried to stifle her sobs. "Who are ye? What are ye doin' here?"

"Getting you out of here," Maleta declared. Jovan or not, she couldn't leave the girl there, not like that. She approached the bed, and sheathed Hedda's Sword so she could examine the restraints. "We're getting you and the rest of your kin out of here."

The girl's eyes widened at the sight of Hedda's breastplate. "Ye can't stay here. He's comin' right back, an' ye don't want him t' find ye here."

Maleta peered at the chains. "He's got the key to these?"

The girl nodded. "But he won't be givin' it up."

"Oh, I think he will," Maleta disagreed. "I won't be asking."

The girl's eyes widened with horror, and she focused on something – or someone – over Maleta's shoulder. Maleta frowned and straightened, drawing Hedda's Sword.

"Well, well, well," a familiar, loathsome voice sneered behind her. "What have we here? Lose yer way, traitor? Hands off my property. I found her first."

The girl whimpered. Maleta couldn't even manage that. She froze at the echo from the past. Even after Sunniva had turned her over to the false Black Wolf, others had tried to take her. Tried – and failed. A giant ogre with blue berserker eyes framed by greying hair. She recalled his foul breath as he licked her mother's blood from her neck. Her skin crawled even now. She felt herself turn, but as if in deep water, slowly, like a dream.

Like her nightmare.

She tried to close her eyes, and couldn't. She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She clenched her shaking hands as Hedda's Sword dipped toward the floor.

"So. Not a lad." He laughed, an evil chuckle that raised the hair on the back of her neck. He leered at her breastplate, unfazed by Hedda's setting sun. "Warrior nun, eh?"

Hedda's Sword had never been so heavy. It was as if someone had greased the pommel. Maleta could barely keep her grip. She locked her knees to keep her legs from folding.

He drew his own sword. "Or mayhaps not so warrior. I'll settle for th' nun. I missed out on all th' fun at Nerthus' Abbey, but better late than never." He pointed his blade at the girl on the bed, at Maleta. "Who's first?"

The girl struggled in her chains like a trapped animal. Deep within, Hedda's ice burned, stealing Maleta's breath. "Who art thou?" Hedda demanded. "Remember My Mandate."

Maleta's shaking lessened as she found her anger. She was a woman grown, not a girl. She wouldn't leave another girl to suffer the same fate she had. She found strength enough to look him in the eye. "You want her, you have to come through me."

"Through ye, in ye," he laughed, "either way I'll have my reward."

She shuddered. "I swear, this is your last reward from Sunniva," Maleta retorted.

His eyes narrowed, and he peered closer at her. "Do I know you?"

"You know me," Maleta spat. "I'm your mother's heartbreak at birthing a monster."

He lunged, and she leapt to the left as she knocked his blade aside. Come what may, she had to stay betwixt him and the girl. She swung toward his head. He ducked backward, away from the bed. She followed, swinging again. He met her blow, their weapons crossed betwixt their bodies. He gripped her sleeve and drew her lover-close. The repair to her jerkin gave way. The stench of his breath, the solid weight of his body and the sound of ripping cloth closed over her mind like a suffocating pillow. She fought the paralysis as he drew her stiff body even closer.

"I know ye, don't I?" he whispered in her ear. "Ye've th' look of yer bitch mother. I still recall th' taste of her blood on yer skin." His tongue touched the side of her neck.

With a wild cry she jerked away, tearing the sleeve off. The chain mail dug into her arm. The pain helped her focus on here. Now. She fought the revulsion, the panic. That had happened years ago. She wasn't Marete anymore. She'd survived as Maleta, and she was strong, damn it, strong enough to make him pay.

He laughed, rooster-cocky. "I recall th' taste of ye, as well." He took a deep breath. "The smell of a woman's fear. There's nothing like it."

Anger built, further burning away her fear. She swung Hedda's Sword at him. He surprised her by swinging his own sword low, the flat of his blade hammering against the side of her left knee. Something popped. Her world exploded into a red haze of pain, and her leg buckled beneath her. Hedda's Sword clattered to the floor as she clutched her knee. Tears of agony clouded her vision. Approaching skeletons and glinting blades flashed through her mind.

He flung himself on her, pinning her to the floor. "Now this feels familiar," he growled, holding her wrists above her head. He ground against her, and for an instant she flashed back to Kunigonde, staring up at him from the mud. She blinked and refocused on the wooden beam far above her head. They were not in Kunigonde, and she was not that helpless teenaged girl.

She squirmed. Her left leg refused to move. A wave of nausea rolled over her at the attempt. But her right leg bent up, and she slid it up along the side of his body, curling around his thighs as she snapped her head forward. She caught him square in the nose with her forehead. As he released her wrist to grab his broken, bloody nose, she reached down for the knife in her boot, thrusting it in his side below his ribcage.

With a howl he rolled off her, crushing her knee anew. But it gave her enough room to roll aside and grasp Hedda's Sword. She dragged it to her and flipped over so the blade came to rest against his throat.

He froze at the touch of the consecrated Goddess-metal, unable to escape the rush of past sins. She shook, wondering if she was strong enough to bear it. A countless sea of faces flashed through her mind's eye, other young girls asides herself. She saw not an ogre, but a man. A snaggle-toothed, dragon-breathed man whose grey hair thinned and whose waistline thickened. A man who'd been unable to take grown women, even whores. A usually impotent man who stood shorter than she. A sick man who'd fed off the fears of young girls. Only then had he been able to... Just another murderous criminal in need of Hedda's judgment.

This she'd feared? This she'd let steal her dreams, her hope, her future? Well, no more. It ends here, she vowed. "As Hedda's judge, jury and executioner, for your crimes against the innocent children of this realm, I sentence you to death. Give my regards to my Mistress." She resisted the urge to aim a great deal lower and drove the point of Hedda's Sword through his throat. Hedda had no sense of humor about that sort of thing.

Maleta frisked his body until she found a ring of keys. She yanked them off his belt and tossed them to the other girl, who unlocked her chains and moved to help Maleta up. Her left leg hung useless, unable to bear her weight at all. The Shamaru girl took an axe down from above the fireplace mantle and chopped the back of a chair apart, using two of the slats and some torn bedding as a splint.

"I'm Hajnal," the girl said. "Thank you for saving me."

Maleta lost the battle with nausea. When she finished, she sheathed Hedda's Sword and sat down on the bed, her injured leg stretched afore her. "You're welcome."

Hajnal wrapped herself in a sheet, toga-style, then nodded at the man's crumpled body. "You, too?"

"When I was sixteen. I never even knew his name, until now," Maleta confessed.

"Well, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Hajnal's expression was hard and bitter. "What were you doing here?"

"Looking for someone. My younger brother. Sunniva stole him from me some six years ago."

Hajnal gasped. "Describe him."

"Well, I'm guessing he looks like our father, since I've been told he looks nothing like me and I know I look like our mother. He'd be a big man, with reddish curly hair and blue eyes. He loved music."

Hajnal's eyes snapped with excitement. "Did he play the lute? The lyre?"

Maleta nodded. Hope swelled. "Do you know him?"

"It was my job to bring food to Sunniva's special prisoners. I know where he is. I can take you to him."

Chapter Eighteen

Maleta lurched off the bed, balancing on her one good foot as she held onto the bedpost for balance. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

Hajnal eyed Maleta's injured leg. "It's a long hallway, and he's all the way at the end, last door on the left. How are you going to make it?"

Maleta tried putting weight on her leg, but the pain in her knee proved too great, even for her. Crawl, aye. Walk, nay. Not how she'd planned on reuniting with Jovan. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to think.

"Ye can lean on me," Hajnal said. "But it'll be slow going an' we'd be nigh helpless if we get caught. I'm not a trained fighter."

Maleta snorted, and she sat down on the corner of the bed. "I can't fight either, at the moment." A sound caught her attention from the other side of the door. "Someone's coming."

To her surprise, Hajnal lunged for their dead enemy's sword and held it afore her. It would be obvious to almost anyone she barely knew which end to hold, let alone how to use it. But her Shamaru grit wouldn't let her go down without a fight, short-lived though it be.

The door slammed open, and there stood a bloody and rumpled Cianan, minus his sword and wielding another's.

"Stay back," Hajnal warned. "I'll stick yet like a pig do ye come any closer."

He had eyes only for Maleta. "Are you all right?"

"He's with me, Hajnal." Maleta staggered back up onto her one good leg, leaning on the bedpost. "Cianan, what are you doing here?"

"The vision," he replied. He glanced down at the crumpled body. "That him?"

Hajnal backed up, but kept the sword betwixt Cianan, and Maleta and her.

"Aye." To Maleta's utter horror, she burst into tears. In a heartbeat he moved past Hajnal and afore her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, holding her close. That pure golden aura, the warmth of his body, his wild masculine scent, enfolded her like a familiar blanket and felt too comforting to reject. He buried his fingers in her hair, disregarding the blood in it, and murmured reassurances in her ear. She couldn't understand the words, but she felt the relief pouring off him while she clung to him. Eventually she ran out of tears, and regained a semblance of composure with shudders and hiccups. He kissed her forehead and stepped back as she swiped at her eyes.

"You are a strong woman, you know. You shall find a way to go on with the rest of your life. He did not take that away from you. Believe me."

"What are you doing here?" Maleta repeated.

"They needed my sword more than they needed me, so I loaned it to Jana. No offense, but Hedda is too dark. Nerthus would have been ideal but Orthia is as close to the Lady as I could get in that tunnel."

"Jana's people follow Orthia?"

"The seers do, aye." Cianan eyed her leg. "How bad?"

"I can't walk on it," Maleta confessed. She thought of Namula requesting to meet Jana. Jana was halfway there already.

Cianan knelt and examined the wound, careful not to touch it. He shook his head. "The knee joint is destroyed. I cannot heal others, but I know someone who can." He checked the hallway and locked the door. He closed his eyes for several moments, then opened them to stare into the fire in the hearth. "You two might want to stand back."

Flames shot from the fireplace, and out rolled Dara. "I've got to work on my queenly entrances," she muttered as she staggered to her feet. First thing she looked at was the body on the floor. "That the raping, murdering bastard?"

"Aye." Hajnal nodded, wide-eyed with shock.

"Give me your sword, girl."

Hajnal handed it over gingerly. "It's his sword."

"Perfect." Dara's eyes glowed red, as red as the stone in her torque. With a guttural, non-elvish-sounding curse she drove the sword through the groin of the man's dead body. "Next time, aim lower, small target though it be."

"You have been spending far too much time with Pahn, vertenya," Cianan reproved. "Does she not know any nice dwarvish phrases?"

"They would be entirely inappropriate for the occasion," she retorted. She turned to Maleta, who stood gaping at Dara's once-again gold eyes. "So. I hear he got in one good blow afore he died. Let me see." Dara knelt by her side, and her hands glowed with a golden light as she ran them down the sides of Maleta's knee without touching the ruined joint.

Maleta felt warmth and then no pain at all. The relief alone made her want to cry anew.

"There. Now you can quit being so stoic," Dara stated. "Well, that edimar got you just right, but I've seen worse. Stay sitting down. You can't stand on it yet."

Maleta saw Dara close her eyes. The golden glow intensified and went right through her knee. With the pain gone, Maleta could bear to look at it, and watched in amazement as the splint disintegrated and the blood disappeared. After several minutes, the flesh returned to its regular color and the swelling receded.

Dara opened her eyes. "All right, now you can stand on it."

Warmth and strength flowed into Maleta's entire body from Dara's hands, and she stood, leaning on her left leg. She took a couple of steps toward Cianan, then turned back to Dara. "Good as new. Thank you."

Dara motioned Hajnal and Maleta over to her and placed a hand on each of their heads. "No more nightmares. Not about him. They die with him."

Maleta felt a shadow she hadn't known afore dissipate, and Hajnal started to shake.

Dara's gaze softened to warm honey. "I can't undo the past, but I can make the nightmares go away – for good." She turned to Cianan. "So, I hear I'm missing a good fight... " Dara and Cianan both flinched. She scowled. "He never lets me have any fun!"

"Best get back home, vertenya," Cianan replied. "About the other thing... "

Dara nodded. "When you're ready, call Anika. Anika will send her sylphs to help." She turned to Maleta. "Until we meet again, little sister." With that, she disappeared back into the fireplace.

"Who was that?" Hajnal asked.

"A friend," Cianan replied.

"Who's Anika?" Maleta demanded. "What are sylphs and what are they supposed to be helping with?"

"Later," he promised her. "Just trust me for now."

Trust me. She was beginning to. Maleta grasped his sleeve. "You came back for me."

He searched her face. "Always, elingrena. You are free now, free to find your brother and restore him to your home. Free to choose your own destiny."

She trembled at the thought. "With you?"

"If that is your wish."

"Why me? Out of all the women you've known, why settle for me when you could have so much more?"

He frowned, and cupped her cheek in one hand. "Everything I want is right here. I love you because of who you are, not in spite of it."

She struggled to understand. "I... " Taking a deep breath, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his. Even so brief a contact sent a small spark of awareness jolting her back to herself. Shocked at her own daring, and appalled, she jerked back. Her cheeks burned. When she found the nerve to meet his gaze, she saw warmth and a bit of humor, there.

"Bravest woman I know," Cianan whispered. He turned to Hajnal. "Well, I take it you know where Jovan is. Take Maleta to him. I shall watch your backs."

Hajnal slipped out into the hallway, Maleta on her heels. Cianan brought up the rear, sword drawn and ready. Maleta felt him behind her, a warm steadying presence. Her lips still tingled. She'd thought the fear, the revulsion would come back, but no. She had an insane desire to turn around and try it again. Her choice, he'd said. Her wish. Was that what made the difference? Mayhaps a future with Cianan could be possible, after all.

Hajnal stopped at the last door on the left. "This is it. He's kept in here, at Sunniva's beck an' call."

Maleta held her breath as Hajnal knocked on the door. She tried to slow her racing heart. Her fingertips tingled, and she curled her hands into fists to give them something to do.

"Enter," a male voice called. A man's voice, deep, reminiscent of her father's. A wave of dizziness struck Maleta. She held her breath until her head cleared.

Cianan took her arm. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

She nodded, exhaled, and turned to Hajnal. "Open it."

The Shamaru girl drew back the bolt and pushed open the door. "Jovan, you have a special visitor."

"We shall wait out here," Cianan said, and Hajnal nodded and stepped back.

Maleta took a final deep breath and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. A man stood afore the fireplace, warming his hands. His back was to her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with short curly chestnut hair. At the sound of the door closing, he turned, and his blue eyes met hers. Their father's eyes stared at her, from Jovan's face. His was thinner than Jereon's, unlined, with their mother's nose.

Maleta stared at the handsome stranger who had once been her little brother. The blood turned to ice in her veins as the childlike expression in his vapid blue eyes registered. This was Von Jovan, heir and guardian of Kunigonde Keep, upon whose military prowess all of Shamar depended? Sweet Hedda, were they in trouble!

"Hello, Jovan." She held out a hand, palm up.

His head cocked to one side. "Hello," he parroted. "Do I know you?"

How to answer? "Do I look familiar?"

Jovan's eyes narrowed. "How do you know me?"

"Do I look familiar?" Maleta repeated.

A shadow crossed his face. "Mayhaps."

Maleta's heart sank as she stared into the too-young eyes of her brother. The twelve-year-old she'd left behind was still there. This was not a man fit to rule Kunigonde and guard Bronwyn's Pass. Whatever Sunniva had done to him, she'd left him unfit for much else, other than what he was. A minstrel. A woman's plaything.

She couldn't leave with Cianan. The realization struck like a fist to her midsection. Her hope of being with Cianan crumbled to dust. Cianan wanted to go home, and Maleta had nobody to leave Kunigonde Keep to. She had to stay here. Even if Cianan spoke the truth and Arcadia had no designs on Shamar, the threat of the rievers still loomed.

"Are you here to escort me to banquet?" Jovan picked up his lyre. "I've new songs all ready. I'm sure Sunniva will be pleased."

Maleta stared into his spaniel gaze. He didn't know anything. She pointed to one of the floor cushions, resigned. "Sit."

"But we'll be late." Jovan trembled. "Sunniva hates to be kept waiting."

Maleta braced against his fear. What had that monster of a queen done to Jovan? She scowled. "I said sit. Believe me, boy, she's past caring about time or banquets."

He dropped to the cushion with the fluid grace of a cat. "What are you talking about?"

"Jovan, who am I? "

He flashed a brilliant smile. "You're my older sister, Marete, visiting from the abbey. But Sunniva said you were cloistered, had rescinded all ties with the outside world... " That too-bright smile reappeared. "I'm glad they let you out to visit."

"Which abbey?"

"Sunniva said you were staying at Nerthus with Mother Tam."

I'll bet she did. Hedda, grant me patience. "Nay, Jovan. I've spent the last six years in Hedda's Tempest. Sunniva destroyed Nerthus' Abbey because the nuns there were helping the Shamaru. Mother Tam is dead."

His eyes widened. "You lie! My queen would never do such! She's a great lady."

Maleta's patience snapped. "Your great lady killed our parents and tried to kill me! She kidnapped you. She stole our home. She destroyed Nerthus' Abbey and killed everyone there. She tried to wipe out the Shamaru people, down to the last brown-eyed baby."

"Nay!" Jovan glared at her. "The Black Wolf destroyed our home. Sunniva rescued us."

Maleta rolled her eyes, recalling that song and dance. "I've met the Black Wolf, the real one – he's not the man who attacked us." She shook her head. "Sunniva's reign is over. You're free. Shamar has a new queen, Tzigana."

To her shock, tears welled in Jovan's eyes. "Sunniva's dead?"

She wasn't good at this. She had no time for diplomacy. Not that she was any good at that, either. She wanted to hug him, but feared he'd push her away. "I don't know," she admitted, "but she's no longer queen." If it took the last breath of the last one standing, someone in Hedda's force would see it done.

"What will become of me?"

"We – you and I – are moving back to Kunigonde Keep." Hedda help them all.

Jovan started to shake. "I can't go back there. That place is evil."

The same fear haunted her. "It's not evil. Evil things were done there, but the keep itself is not evil. Kunigonde is our home. Mother and Father would want our home in our hands, not those of some murderous bitch's lackeys."

Hajnal slipped into the room. "Ye'd best get going. I'll stay with him until ye send someone for us."

Maleta took Jovan's hand. "I'll go make sure it's safe for us, then you'll never be locked in another room again – I promise." She tried not to feel hurt when he jerked away from her. He didn't know her anymore, and he'd grown up with his own version of what had transpired that awful day. She slipped out of the room with a heavy heart.

Cianan waited for her. He opened his arms. "Come here."

She leaned into his embrace. "He acts like he doesn't know anything she did. He treats me like the villain and Sunniva the victim."

"He remembers her rescuing him," he said. "Jovan may never remember what happened."

"Well, we can't let him run around blurting it out to everyone. The first person he praises Sunniva to is liable to kill him on general principle." Maleta straightened her shoulders. "I have to take care of him, keep him safe. He's all the family I have left."

Cianan took a deep breath. "Well, get ready to put that to the test. Tzigana wants to see us."

Chapter Nineteen

Maleta stiffened and pulled back so she could look him in the eye. "They're all the way in?"

Cianan nodded. "She is waiting for us, in the throne room. Sunniva's surviving troops are all corralled in the courtyard, disarmed and under guard." His jaw clenched. "There are a lot of dead, on both sides."

She swallowed. "And Sunniva?" If they succeeded, it was all worth it. It'd have to be.

He hesitated. "She barricaded herself in the treasury room behind the throne. Thanks to Jana's help, Sister Reva and Raven guard the secret exit out of there. Sunniva is trapped. Tzigana and Jana wait for us – and Hedda's Sword."

"What about Jovan?"

"Bring him," Cianan replied. "He needs enlightenment as much as the rest of them."

"Do you think he'll be able to come back?" Maleta bit her lower lip. "He's more child than man."

"I do not know. I have a strong suspicion they used more than cloudwort to break him." Cianan's expression was sad. "You must prepare yourself, elingrena. It may well be permanent."

Icy rage welled without Hedda's interference. "Sunniva has even more to answer for. Let's go." She opened the door. "You two are coming with us."

Hajnal indicated her bedsheet toga. "I can't go like this."

"You can," Maleta retorted, "and you will. They'll pay for what they've done."

Hajnal straightened her shoulders and led the way down the hall. Like a cowed dog, Jovan followed after one wary look at the sword in Cianan's hand. Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and strode aside Cianan. As they made their way down the main staircase, she couldn't help wondering, what to do when all this ended? She couldn't leave Jovan and go with Cianan. Would Cianan be willing to stay to defend Shamar with her?

Kikeona awaited them at the foot of the stairs. Cianan placed a hand on her neck, but didn't take his gaze off Jovan. Once his boots hit the hard marble floor, though, Maleta felt Cianan stiffen at the sight of the peacock throne. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

Those cobalt eyes were gemstone-hard. "I have unfond memories of this room."

Dagonet and Wolf waited with Tzigana and Jana. Sarge and Cary were there as well. Maleta saw Tzigana glance at Jovan, and the Shamaru queen's jaw tightened. "This is my brother, Von Jovan," Maleta announced. "Jovan, this is the real Black Wolf. It's like I said. Sunniva lied to you."

Jovan stared at Wolf's breastplate, and frowned in puzzlement. Suddenly he grabbed at his temples. Then, with an incoherent cry, he bent over and vomited. Hajnal took his arm, speaking to him. She tore off a piece of her makeshift toga and handed it to Jovan to wipe his mouth.

Maleta's heart ached. Some strong conditioning had to be in place for so violent a reaction from trying to recall a true memory. She met Wolf's grim gaze. He shook his head. She stiffened. No. It was not a lost cause. There was a way to bring him back. She had to find it.

"We'll bring Sunniva out when you're ready," Tzigana told Maleta.

Cianan nodded, placing his hands on Maleta's shoulders. "If Hedda would permit, when you put her to Hedda's trial, I can make it so everyone present gets the same information you do. I can unravel truth from lie and have each man find his own path back. That should break the cloudwort's grip. Those who follow Sunniva because of the drug shall be free." He paused. "Those who genuinely follow her shall have to be dealt with separately."

Maleta closed her eyes and sought the grey path. That familiar icy wind blew through her, and once again she found herself afore that dilapidated bridge. Hedda awaited her, as cold and dispassionate as ever. "So, My Own, thou hast cornered thy prey in her den. Thou hast found thy long-lost family. Art thou ready to end it?"

"I am. Cianan can help Your people shake off Sunniva's drug, but he needs the assistance of his own Goddess. If She is willing to aid people not Her own, will You permit Her doing so?"

"I am familiar with his Goddess of Light." Hedda sounded a bit sour. "It involves sorcery, which I hath banned from my lands for a purpose. Difficult enough to maintain order amongst the bullies without bringing magic into it. Doth he invoke this truth-to-all spell, he shalt also be revealed as he truly is. Art thou both prepared for that?"

Maleta was. She just wasn't sure about the rest of Shamar. "Might we ask him?"

The wind kicked up again, and Cianan appeared aside her. When he saw Hedda, his puzzled look changed to a disgruntled one, but he did bow his head. "With respect, Grey Lady, forewarning would be appreciated afore You remove a person from the here-and-now."

"I hath a question for thee, elder son," Hedda stated. "I banished magic from these lands long ago. Thine shalt not work doth I forbid it, and thy Goddess shalt not infringe on these lands. Dost thou invoke thy truth-to-all spell, thou shalt be revealed, thy people shalt be revealed. No more hiding, no more secrecy. Art thou prepared for that? Art thy people prepared for that?"

"I am." Cianan stood tall afore Her. "We are. It has already been discussed and approved. It is long past time for Shamar to enter the rest of the world."

"And thou?" Hedda turned to Maleta. "This spell doth not discriminate. All of Sunniva's sins and treachery shalt be revealed, to everyone. What wast done to thy family, to thee and to thy brother. Art thou strong enough to know what wast done to Jovan? Art thou strong enough to bear others knowing what wast done to thee?"

Was she? Could she relive every awful memory, have Cianan relive it with her? Could she go through whatever had been done to Jovan to break him? Could she make their private hell public? Her eyes burned and her throat tightened. She turned to Cianan. "Is there no other way?"

His own eyes shone with unshed tears. "I do not know. If I knew of any other way, I would take it. I do know this way shall work. If we know what was done to Jovan, healers shall have a better idea of how to help him. I shall stand with you till the end, come what may."

The immediate freedom of hundreds hinged on this decision, the freedom of thousands. The fate of a nation. She never imagined her little quest could end on so grand a hinge as this. She'd wanted to free her brother, but she'd never thought to be in a position to free everyone else. What was one woman compared to that?

"It is not just you," Cianan assured her. "She did heinous things to many people. She is a monster."

"And I'm the monster-slayer." Maleta straightened her shoulders. "So be it."

"So be it," Hedda agreed.

Maleta found herself back in the throne room with Cianan and everyone else staring at her. "So, that was Her way of granting permission?" she mused. When Cianan nodded, she took a deep breath and turned to Tzigana. "I'm ready. Bring her out."

Tzigana nodded to Wolf and Dagonet. "Open it."

When Wolf opened the door, they found Sunniva sitting on the floor clutching a bleeding knee and Raven standing over her with sword drawn and a scowl on her face. "What happened?" Wolf asked.

"She's hard of hearing," Raven retorted. "On your feet, you treacherous bitch. It's not broke."

"I am still your lawful queen and demand I be treated as such." Sunniva glared as she hauled herself to her feet and took one dramatic limping step toward the doorway.

"My queen!" Jovan fell to his knees with a rapt expression on his face that broke Maleta's heart, even as it turned her stomach.

Wolf remained unmoved. "You'd have a better chance of being treated as a queen, did you act like one, cousin."

"You're no cousin of mine, traitor," Sunniva sneered.

"Our mothers were cousins whether you admit it or nay," Wolf retorted. "I'm the only family you've left alive."

"A mistake easily rectified. Guards!"

None came. She stilled as Wolf smiled, a cold, deadly smile. "You killed every family member you could find, to protect your throne, save one. Me. You never could quite catch me."

Tzigana stared at him, aghast. "You're related to her?"

Sunniva spat at him. "Never!"

Wolf backhanded her to the floor.

"No!" Jovan protested, jumping to his feet. Cianan had to restrain him.

Wolf's eyes glittered with malice and hatred as he glared down at Sunniva. "I was in the north, chasing the rievers back into the sea, when she had me declared outlaw, killed my family and confiscated my lands," he replied. He turned to Maleta. "Sound familiar? You're not the only one to lose family. I had a wife, a pregnant sister and a son. He was not yet three years old. Murdered, all of them. She was setting me up even then, but I was in Marcou when Kunigonde fell. I've been on the run, in hiding, ever since. Until you found me and convinced me to stop running. To take a stand."

Tzigana looked like she'd swallowed poison. Maleta knew a long, loud discussion loomed large on the near horizon regarding that omission. Her heart ached for Wolf's loss. At least she had Jovan. Wolf had no one. "'Tis time to begin anew," she declared. She glanced over at Sister Reva.

Sister Reva nodded. She held Cianan's sword out to him. "Jana wanted you to have it back, with her profound thanks. Take Sunniva to the courtyard. Let us begin."

Sunniva struggled in Dagonet's grip. Raven drew her sword, held it an inch from Sunniva's right eye. The queen froze as the Sister stated, with deadly calm, "Come quietly, with a little queenly dignity, or I swear I'll break your legs and drag you by your hair, Your Majesty. Either way, you'll make it to that courtyard, alive."

Watching Cianan sheath his sword, Maleta wondered what had transpired in the treasury afore the door opened.

"The title is Sovereign," Sunniva gritted. But she strode in the direction of the courtyard with no further fuss. She stepped out onto her balcony and her surviving force all raised a cheer and dropped to their knees.

Mother Kitta awaited them on that balcony. Her face could have been carved from granite and her eyes were flint-hard.

Cianan dragged Jovan forward. Maleta's brother had eyes only for his queen.

Maleta surveyed the courtyard. Night watch and guard, along with ensnared Shamaru, surrounded by guild and sisters and free Shamaru, all stared back at her. "This land has struggled for years," she began. Her voice rang out to every corner of the yard. "Against famine, against the winter cold, against rievers and dealers." She paused. Most everyone present nodded. These were truths both sides could share. "Against the oppressive hand of a queen who cared more about furthering her own power than in taking care of her people."

Sunniva's men cried out their denials.

Mother Kitta held up her hand. Everyone fell silent. "I have seen the latest victims of Sunniva's hospitality, the women and children locked away in the dungeons without food and water. Shamar has been misled and misruled long enough. I hereby accuse Queen Sunniva of genocide." She motioned Maleta forward. "I order her to stand trial afore Hedda, for crimes against Shamar's people."

Maleta drew Hedda's Sword and gripped it with two shaking hands. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Cianan had his hands full keeping Jovan away from Sunniva, but gave her an encouraging nod. She saw his lips form the word elingrena .

For you, Papa. "Once upon a time, I was a Kunigonde girl named Marete. Six years ago that girl died, and Maleta was born, reborn as Hedda's Own, Hedda's Sword." She took a deep breath. "What is Hedda's Mandate? 'To protect the innocent, the weak and helpless. To treasure our past and guard our future, the old and the young. To rescue the oppressed and avenge those wrongfully sent from this life. To punish the wicked. To fight so others don't have to, so we all may live in peace. For freedom, justice, and Hedda's glory.'"

She swallowed hard. "Please, Hedda, don't let my personal feelings enter into it. Give me the grace to judge her on behalf of all. Give me the strength to handle what I learn." Maleta straightened as she turned to face Sunniva. "I hereby put you to Hedda's trial, Sunniva Shamari. May Hedda judge you worthy of your life."

Utter silence reigned in the courtyard as Maleta placed the burning tip of Hedda's Sword against Sunniva's throat. Sunniva froze at the rush of icy wind, blowing back the gauzy curtains of time. Maleta saw a teenaged Sunniva arguing with her father about making Shamar great, greater than all other kingdoms. Her father on his deathbed and Sunniva running the kingdom in his stead, opening borders to merchants, improving the Marcou harbor for trade ships. Sunniva declaring religious tolerance for followers of all gods and goddesses.

Sunniva smothering her dying father with a pillow to ease his suffering. Maleta heard that rationalization – thanks to Cianan's magic, they all did. Sunniva, crowned, ordering street lamps, paved roads, the building of the sewers, all done by slave labor and prisoners. She gloried in the praise of her improvements, her vision – at least at first. But she'd underestimated the cost. Even when she increased taxes and religious tithes to pay for it, people rationalized they invested in their own future. She convinced the council to create new ones when that wasn't enough.

She didn't understand why they protested. Progress didn't come cheap. Couldn't people see she built an empire for them? Protests, even from her own family. The protestors, the dissidents, were put into the work details. When they protested, she dissolved the original council on fabricated charges and her own supporters stepped in to replace them. They created the night watch to maintain order. Sunniva ordered them to kill her own family and arrange it so the Wolf, her own cousin Von Berend, would be blamed.

That she could never catch him drove her to distraction.

When that money ran out and expenses threatened her personal treasury, she negotiated with the dealers for a cut of their profits. Stronger dealers weeded out the weaker. Sunniva turned a blind eye for a hefty bonus. Hard times forced more and more people into servitude, forced them to sell off land, possessions, and finally children to pay for food and shelter.

Complaints arose even from her own troops. One of the dealers convinced her to try cloudwort on them. The results delighted Sunniva. Instant obedience, instant loyalty – after a bit of seductive persuasion. She became their queen, their goddess.

Rumors of rebellion fomenting in the south reached her ears. An absent Berend served as a convenient scapegoat when she sent her masquerade army into Kunigonde. She sent half her force in as the Black Wolf's marauders, and when they secured the keep, she rushed in with the other half of her regular night watch and guard to "rescue" the survivors. If people saw how hard she tried to maintain order, they would cease fighting her.

Maleta's stomach churned. She had been mere payment for that watchman. Maleta was relieved the sword revealed no more – it showed what Sunniva knew for fact. Sunniva didn't care what happened to Von Jereon's girl brat.

She did, however, want Jovan alive and well. To show her benevolence, to keep a firm grip on Kunigonde's heir. To help her open the gateway to the south, a literal huge gateway that opened only to the family blood. Sunniva's guards tortured and starved Jovan. After each session Sunniva rushed in to comfort him, feed him, heal him. Over and over the pattern repeated itself, for months, until his mind snapped. Only Sunniva cared about him. Only Sunniva mattered to him. He now lived to please her, in any way she wished, and Sunniva gloried in that absolute power.

But Sunniva'd misunderstood the stories. No matter how she tried to persuade him, Jovan wasn't the key. The gateway could only be opened by a female of the line. But it was far too late – Marete was long gone.

Tears streamed down Maleta's face, but she couldn't wipe them away. Her stomach roiled. Jovan hadn't stood a chance. Her grip tightened. She had to maintain her hold on the Sword, to finish it. She knew there was worse to come.

The famine hit, two bad harvests in a row. No money to pay for importing food. Too many mouths to feed. Sunniva had taxed the law-abiding Shamari to death. Hunger and disease ran rampant. She couldn't feed them all.

Food and wealth awaited them in the south, if she could get there. But her little country couldn't sustain everyone, and she needed a bigger army. Motivated by hunger and dreams of wealth and ease, many Shamari sons flocked to her banner. A toast with cloudwort-laced wine sealed their fate.

But the Shamaru refused, disdaining her reign and rule. They infuriated her. If they would not contribute to her kingdom, they would be removed from it. She ordered them to pay equal with the Shamari. The Shamari resentment their Shamaru counterparts were not held to the same standard caused tremendous friction. Sunniva encouraged it. She ordered the Shamaru men into her army. When they refused, she took their women and children hostage, forcing the distraught men's compliance with cloudwort. Many capitulated to the drug and her commanders' skillful powers of suggestion. The few who resisted the drug were locked away with the women and children.

Or, as in the merc Cianan's case, in a private cell like Jovan, to await more intensive conditioning. Sunniva burned to possess Cianan. When he foiled her by escaping, she'd put up wanted posters, offered a reward. But like Berend, Cianan had eluded her. She'd underestimated both men.

As she'd underestimated Nerthus. In total disregard to the leniency she'd showed religion, those treacherous black-robed women dared to harbor Shamaru fugitives, hiding the lawless within their abbey, sheltering them from Sunniva's rightful justice. She'd ordered the razing of the abbey, as an example to all of what happened to those who defied her. Rebellion would be crushed, pure and simple. Only those who followed her had a future in Shamar. But Mother Tam outsmarted her. All the refugees vanished, without a trace. Free Shamaru worried her. Anyone she could not control became a direct threat.

They must be removed. All of them.

There wasn't enough food to feed the prisoners. What little Sunniva spared for them was not enough. She hit on the idea of ridding the land of the lawless Shamaru. The men were placed at the front of her army – shock troops who would die in battle while their families were eradicated in the dungeons. A larger, more powerful Shamar for the Shamari people. She'd be viewed as the most powerful ruler in the world, and her people would glory in their newfound wealth and prestige. They'd thank her for this one day.

Now she had Cianan back and Von Jereon's daughter within her grasp, the key to that accursed gateway to the south that refused to open to Jovan. Sunniva was so close to achieving her goals, if she could get her men to help her, to free her...

All this swept over the courtyard. Cianan's seeming flared, and died, as the sword's power faded. Maleta stared in shock. Sunniva rationalized away every bit of the corruption, every abuse, every cruelty. A means to an end. The more people who died, the less she had to share.

The courtyard had fallen silent. Men clutched their temples, shook their heads. They blinked their eyes as if awakening from a dream. They stared at their captors in bewilderment, as if they had no idea how they'd come to be there in the first place. One by one, they hauled themselves to their feet and looked around. One by one, they recognized a friend or a relative and began asking the questions. The truth seeped into their consciousness, and one by one they turned back to Sunniva.

Not with fawning devotion. Not with declarations of undying loyalty.

With a rage so vast their roar for Sunniva's blood shook the walls.

Mother Kitta raised her hands for silence.

Maleta watched in amazement as the men obeyed.

Sunniva stared at Cianan in shock. She paled, as if she now understood the depth of her error. She saw her own life not as she perceived it, but how the rest of her country saw it. The truth at long last revealed, even to her. She turned to Wolf, Von Berend, her last remaining family.

He shook his head, eyes hard in a mask of ice. No forgiveness dwelled there.

Mother Kitta lowered her hands. "You have all seen the truth of Queen Sunniva's reign. Aye, she made some improvements to Shamar, but was the cost worth it?"

"Nay!" the people cried.

"Should Queen Sunniva remain in power?"

"Nay!"

"What is a fitting punishment for her crimes against you, your families and all the people of Shamar?" Mother Kitta continued.

The word "Death!" hammered over them.

Jovan moaned and sank to his knees, head in hands. Maleta wanted to go to him, but she had to finish her task as Hedda's Own first. Her heart ached. Always Maleta's wishes had to be secondary to her goddess'. Hedda had made that clear.

Mother Kitta turned to the others on the balcony. "What say you?"

"A death for a death," Tzigana stated.

Wolf, Von Berend and Dagonet nodded their agreement.

"In my opinion she cannot remain in power, but as I am not of this land I cannot vote in this matter," Cianan said.

"She can explain herself to Hedda," Sister Reva stated.

"Aye," Raven chimed in.

Mother Kitta turned back toward the courtyard. "Shamari and Shamaru have suffered equally under Sunniva's regime. Only together can we work our way toward a new future. As Tzigana of the Shamaru and Von Berend of the Shamari have come together, so can we all come together, as one nation."

Tzigana looked appalled, Wolf, amused.

Mother Kitta turned to them and lowered her voice. "The Shamari will not accept a Shamaru queen, and the Shamaru will not accept another Shamari king, not anymore. The only way this will work is with co-rulers, a joint effort on behalf of both peoples. You will find a way to work this out."

Sunniva laughed, a mad cackle with a frantic edge. "You'll never make it work. You would destroy all I have built."

"A land built on lies and blood shall never know peace," Cianan reproved.

"Go back to your little lives," Sunniva sneered. "There is no greatness there. Let civil war tear this land asunder, and know I will laugh from afar at your folly."

Tzigana paled, but Wolf grasped her hands in his. "We can make this work," he said. "We've spoken of our dreams for this land, and they aren't dissimilar."

Maleta knew neither Tzigana nor Wolf envisioned what amounted to a sword-point wedding. She tried to think of another way, but Mother Kitta was correct. The two halves were too polarized. They needed to be made whole somehow.

Mother Kitta turned back to Sunniva. "You have been judged unfit for rule and are hereby removed from power, to be replaced by Tzigana Shamaru and Von Berend Shamari. The recommended and endorsed punishment is death. This sentence shall be carried out in accordance to Hedda's Trial." She nodded to Maleta. "Time to finish this, girl. Our people have waited long enough to be free."

Maleta took a deep breath. "Sunniva Shamari, you have been found guilty of genocide against the Shamaru people, abuse and exploitation of the Shamari people and the murders of your own family and the goddess Nerthus' nuns. As Hedda's judge, jury and executioner, I hereby sentence you to death for these crimes. May whatever god or goddess you follow have more mercy on your soul than the goddesses of Shamar will. Give my regards to Hedda, Nerthus and Orthia." Gripping Hedda's Sword in both hands, she drove the blade through Sunniva's black heart.

Jovan issued an incoherent cry and dropped to the ground in a fit as Sunniva's body fell. Maleta dropped Hedda's Sword and dodged Jovan's thrashing limbs to kneel aside his rigid body. As he cradled Jovan's head, Cianan's gaze met hers. She read the sorrow and regret there. Jovan gradually relaxed and stilled, but he couldn't be roused, no matter how much Maleta shook him or pleaded.

Tzigana placed a hand on Maleta's shoulder. "I ordered a stretcher. Let us take him where he can rest until the healers arrive."

"Take him to his room," Cianan suggested. "Post a guard."

"I'll stay with him," Hajnal said. "He... he's always been kind to me. Let me return the favor."

Maleta staggered to her feet. Cianan took her in his arms, holding her while she cried. Dagonet appeared with the stretcher. He and Sister Reva each took an end. With Hajnal and Raven trailing after, they carried him away.

Mother Kitta addressed Wolf, Von Berend. "What would you like done with her body?"

"Burn it," he ordered. "Gather up her dead and burn her body with theirs. Let them go to hell together."

Maleta sniffled and pulled away from Cianan's chest. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Careful, or I'll make you rust."

He smiled and stroked a hand through her hair. "It does not rust, but you are welcome to try. The tears are long overdue." He edged her aside as Sarge and the guild captain climbed the stairs into view.

"We let the Shamaru prisoners leave with their people," the captain said. "The east wing's being used as an infirmary and morgue, the guard barracks a prison for the guard and night watch. The cloudwort's gone, but we don't know if we can trust them yet."

Sarge stared at Cianan, hard. "Who are ye? What are ye?"

"A friend. We shall talk about that later." He turned to the captain. "I can help decide their trustworthiness. I can tell truth from lie. I shall meet you down there."

The two mercs nodded and went back down the stairs.

Cianan cupped Maleta's chin in his hand. "Go sit with Jovan. I shall see you later."

She searched his face. "We made it. We're alive. The vision didn't come true." Her voice shook, her entire body shook.

"Aye, we did. All we have to look forward to is the future. Together." His gaze burned into hers.

"Together," she repeated. The concept scared her less than she'd expected. Somehow he made everything seem possible, within reach.

"Believe in our future. Grab hold of it with both hands."

Maleta found herself recalling that first quick almost-kiss and wondered if she dared do it again afore she returned to her brother. She bit her lip, uncertain.

His gaze heated as it dropped to her lips. "If you do not leave now, I may have to kiss you right here in front of Mother Kitta and everyone," he murmured. "You cannot look at me like that, elingrena, and not have my eternal optimism take it as an invitation."

She quivered at that lethal whiskey tone, at the warmth in his gaze. Her cheeks heated, and she knew her face flamed. He held her loose enough to release her if she wanted to pull back, but she didn't. He looked so sure in the idea of them she found herself wanting to test her own courage. His eternal optimism and her newfound hope. "Mayhaps it is," she whispered.

His head dipped, and her eyes closed in anticipation mingled with dread. The first touch of his lips stunned her; she squeaked. Then all she could do was feel. His lips caressed hers, slowly, warm and firm. A tingling spread from her lips downward, igniting a warm glow deep within. Hesitant and unsure, she kissed him back, the slightest of movements against his mouth. He kept the kiss light and gentle. His tenderness left her shaking, melting, and wanting more.

Cianan pulled back, and it took her a minute to gather the courage to open her eyes. The love in his eyes made her blush anew. If he let her go she swore she'd melt to the floor. She didn't trust her voice to speak.

He smiled. "You are a wondrous woman, elingrena. Go to your brother."

"C-can we save him?"

His gaze warmed. "One miracle at a time, elingrena. Now go."

Maleta pulled back, amazed she stayed on her feet. "I'll see you later?"

"Absolutely."

Her face expressionless, Mother Kitta stepped up to them and handed Maleta Hedda's Sword. Over her shoulder, Tzigana gave Maleta a sympathetic nod. Maleta sheathed the sword across her back. Sunniva was gone. Tzigana and Wolf, Von Berend, poised to take her place. The beginning of hope. For her country, and for herself. She had to believe that. She took a deep steadying breath and squared her shoulders.

"I'll be with my brother should you need me."

Chapter Twenty

Cianan turned to see Mother Kitta walking away and Tzigana and Wolf awaiting him at the top of the stairs. He shook his head to clear it of the life-mate vow Maleta was not yet ready to hear. Patience was the best way to go, but the feel of Maleta in his arms electrified his entire body and reminded him of what was missing in his life. The newfound hope and trust she displayed humbled him.

"Focus," Kikeona reminded him. "We have work to do, deciphering the true beliefs of those who once worked under Sunniva. We needs ensure Tzigana's and Wolf's safety as much as possible afore they begin their reign."

"You are right. Let us go." He followed Wolf and Tzigana to the barracks, through the entire corps of the guild, and stood behind them with Kikeona as Cary and Gayle led the first of the guard out. The man was battered and bloody from the battle. Like all the prisoners he had been disarmed and stripped of his weapons. Winds, bear me the tale of his heart. Cianan felt the merest rustle of breeze as the elven air mage Anika's elemental sylphs curled around him like playful kittens.

"Name and rank, soldier?" Wolf began.

The man answered, nervous but truthful.

"Where were you stationed?"

"On the south watch tower, with Maltos and Belach."

Tzigana's mood was anything but playful. "Did you have any dealings with the Shamaru prisoners?"

He had not, and was taken aside as his compatriots Maltos and Belach were questioned next and joined him. It was the beginning of a long evening. Hours of truth-seeking followed as Sunniva's ranks were divided into groups – those who had been professional soldiers or Sunniva's personal guard versus those who had dealt with the Shamaru prisoners or exploited the honest factions of Shamar. The former were rehoused in the barracks, the latter went to the dungeons they'd held their prisoners in until Wolf could calm down enough to pronounce judgment on them.

He was all for walling them up until they crumbled to dust. Cianan hoped to persuade him to a more merciful end.

Dagonet strode up to them as the last of the prisoners cleared the courtyard. "We should send out criers with th' announcement for th' general population." He turned to Wolf. "Do any of th' old council still live?"

"I believe so." Wolf turned to Sarge. "I'll start the notices. I'll need a dozen men to deliver them, and I would speak with your captain."

Sarge nodded, returning in minutes with the guild captain and his scribe. The underling began drawing up the notices to Wolf's specifications.

Cianan moved off to speak with Tzigana. "We should have the guild take up the night watch patrol duties and arrange body removal detail."

She straightened her drooping shoulders with visible effort. "I'll put Cary on patrol coordination and Sarge on body removal. Most of the Shamaru prisoners were taken to the local house of healing. I was going to check on them next."

"Might I accompany you?" Cianan asked. "I wish to see Andorjan, ensure he is all right." He stared at Tzigana. "I hated leaving him there. I shall always regret not being able to take him with me."

"We do what we can," she stated. "I regret all of them – my parents most of all."

They entered the house of healing, where a robed cleric showed them to Andorjan's bed. He was freshly bathed, his leg set, but he was unspeakably thin, his eyes hollow. It broke Cianan's heart to see the man try to sit up and smile at their approach. "I'm glad you succeeded," he greeted them.

Tears spilled down Tzigana's cheeks. "I'm sorry we took so long."

Andorjan shook his head. His gaze met Cianan's. "You kept your word," he said. "I am in your debt."

"Nay. We came as soon as we could. Not soon enough." Cianan tried to tampt down the rage at what Sunniva had almost done. The thought of children in Andorjan's condition – or worse – was almost too much to bear. "I am glad you shall be all right."

"We all will be," Andorjan stated. "Thanks to you."

The cleric returned. "He needs rest."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Tzigana promised.

Cianan followed her outside. "What will you do? After Soto is secured?"

"We have to march on Marcou and clean house," she replied. "We have to hold in the north and the south. I've already spoken with Wolf – Von Berend – about returning to his old home." Tzigana eyed Cianan hard. "We need a viable force in Kunigonde also. Maleta and Jovan. By right Jovan would rule, but that isn't possible. I intend to name Maleta fortress commander and guardian of the southern pass."

Cianan's jaw tightened. "You cannot do that to her. She cannot go back there."

"She must. We're stretched too thin. She has the family blood and the military training. The gateway must be guarded by a woman of that bloodline – that's where Sunniva went wrong. I won't make the same mistake."

Cianan saw the do-anything-to-keep-her-people-safe side he always knew Tzigana had, that core of toshi strength. "No matter the cost to her?" he demanded.

"We've all paid a high price. Wolf also goes to confront his ghosts. At least Maleta has family. Wolf's family was the one doing the butchering."

"He did not watch while they slaughtered his family afore his eyes," Cianan argued. "He was not turned over to a monster to be raped to death."

Tzigana was woman enough to flinch, queen enough to stand her ground. "I'm sorry, my mind's made up. I'm telling her in the morning." She laid a hand on his sleeve. "We're done here. You should go to Maleta. She needs you more than we do tonight. We can take care of everything here. And Cianan?"

He turned back. "Aye?"

"Thank you for today. I'm sorry for tomorrow."

Cianan swallowed a growl and inclined his head. He did not await a second invitation. He accompanied Kikeona to the palace stables, saw her settled in luxurious settings with the aid of the guild blacksmith, and charged up the stairs three at a time back to Jovan's room.

Hajnal opened the door to his knock. She had changed to a simple servant's gown. "I was going for some food." She inclined her head toward Maleta. "She hasn't left his side."

"Has there been any change?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nay. He still lies as if dead."

Lady, how am I going to do this? Cianan slipped into the room. Jovan lay in his bed. Maleta wrung out a wet cloth over a basin on the nightstand. She placed it on her brother's forehead, her hands lingering, then turned to Cianan. She had removed her weapons and armor, and washed the blood of battle from her skin. She wore the same breeches she'd worn all day, but had changed her tunic. He wondered if she had borrowed one of her brother's – it looked big enough. He took in her pale face and reddened eyes, the slump to her shoulders. His heart ached for her losses, and he held out his arms to her. "Come here."

"You must be exhausted." Her voice wobbled. "You should get out of that armor. I've got hot water for washing, and Hajnal went for food... "

Cianan stripped off his breastplate, chain mail and weapons belt, and piled them in the corner with her own. Then he strode over to her and hauled her into his arms. She dropped her head under his chin, her cheek over his heart. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. He rubbed her back with both hands. "Ssh," he whispered into her hair. "Easy, elingrena. The worst is over. Now the healing can begin." He could have stood there all night, holding her.

The sobs subsided and she pulled back enough to look at him. Reddened eyes shimmering with tears, blotchy face – he still thought her beautiful. Her lips were inches from his, and he dipped his head for a gentle kiss, meant to comfort. She clung to him for a too-brief moment, until a knock at the door and her gurgling stomach broke them apart.

He grinned. "I hope that is Hajnal with your supper. You must be starving." He kissed her forehead and released her.

Hajnal entered with a loaded tray of bread, cheese, hard-boiled eggs and fruit. Another Shamaru girl followed with a pitcher of honey mead and cups, with a couple guild men dragging mattresses behind them. "I figured you two would be staying here, so I thought these would make you more comfortable. If you don't mind, I'd like to check on my people. I'll come back to stay with him in the morning."

Maleta nodded. "Thank you. Go rest."

They were left alone with their meal. Cianan grabbed an extra quilt off the foot of Jovan's bed, shook it out afore the fire and placed the food and drink atop it. "Where is the wash basin?" he asked her.

"Over here," Maleta replied. "The water's almost warm." She perched on the edge of the bed by Jovan, and ran a hand through her brother's hair, brushing the curls away from his forehead. She kept her gaze averted, focusing on Jovan's face as Cianan stripped off his tunic and stepped up to the bedside table.

Cianan sponged the blood and sweat off with the tepid water, amused to see but the top of her head as she blindly handed him a drying towel. Not once did she look at him. He could not bear the thought of putting that filthy tunic back on. She was going to have to deal with him shirtless. He strode over to the quilt and dropped to the floor afore the hearth. Tossing his hair back over his shoulder, out of the way, he stuck the cheese onto the toasting fork and held it out to the flames while Maleta changed the water and freshened the cloth on Jovan's forehead.

She joined Cianan on the quilt to pour them each a cup of mead. She took a big swallow and reached for a peeled egg.

He felt her gaze on him, but left her with her thoughts as he placed the softened cheese on its plate and spread some on a piece of bread. He held it out to her and she traded it for a cup of the mead. The wood popped in the hearth. Maleta jumped, spilling a bit of mead over their wrists. He smiled and took the cup from her hand. "Are you all right?"

"I'm nothing but nerves," she confessed. "I've felt like a bowstring forever, ready to snap." She tucked her knees under her chin and stared through him, into the flames.

Were she any other woman, Cianan had a solution for releasing that tension. If not for the presence of her brother, the scene could have been the perfect setting for seduction. The mere thought made him burn. He snorted to himself at the irony of being with the one woman oblivious to her surroundings. He realized the twisted compliment that she didn't view him in that way, as she still viewed sex as a threat, but it was small comfort when he wanted her so. The few chaste kisses she'd dared return made him yearn for more.

He had to think on something else. "There is hope for your brother," he told her.

"The healers have already been here, on Tzigana's order." She turned bleak eyes to his. "They said there's nothing they can do, that he's beyond all aid."

Cianan stared at Jovan's still form on the bed. Jovan breathed. His heart beat. But his mind and spirit were gone, withdrawn away from the world, hiding deep within his body. Cianan had seen such collapses afore, from overwhelming trauma and stress. "Not all." He turned to Maleta. "Eat. Drink. Get some rest. Jovan is not dead. He is not going to die. Come morning, we shall start looking for a solution. But not now, not when we are both exhausted."

She finished the food in her hand in silence. "Do you think Dara can help him?"

"I think Benilo, our Minister of Healers," Cianan mused. "He is the most powerful spirit healer we have." He felt the king's presence. "Loren?"

"Are you both all right?" Loren asked.

Cianan sent his memory of Sunniva's trial and Jovan's collapse. "I hoped Benilo might have a suggestion."

"Let me get back to you on that," Loren said. "I shall let you know what he says by morning. You both should rest."

"Cianan?" Maleta's voice masked Loren's withdrawal.

"What?"

"Where did you go?" she asked. "You seemed so far away."

"Finding the person to ask the right questions," he replied. "Loren is going to ask Benilo and get us an answer by morning."

"Dara's husband? You communicate with him?"

"Always. He worries when his people wander far afield." Cianan smiled. "Now he knows how his father felt all those years while he ran all over the land."

"And you remind him of that every day."

"Well, mayhaps every other or so," he admitted.

Her own smile wobbled a bit. "He's your best friend?"

Cianan nodded. "We grew up together. It never mattered he is a royal prince and I am a nobody. We went through warrior academy, ranger school and were chosen together. Our war mares are sisters. We are brothers by all but blood."

"You've never spoken of your real family," she said.

"I have none," he replied. "I was an only child, and my parents died when I was but a youngling. Lord Elio raised me, Loren's former weaponsmaster and now Minister of Defense."

"I'm sorry," she said. "How did they die?"

"My father Daneal was plain infantry, a regular soldier killed in battle," he replied. "My mother died in an accident a year later." To his shock, she scooted forward to wrap her arms around him. "What is this for?"

"No one should be alone in life," she declared, her voice rough with unshed tears.

"It was a long time ago, elingrena, and I have a new family. Family is not blood ties." He stared down at her. "I am not alone. Lord Elio, Loren and Dara are my family. You and Jovan are also my family. You are not alone anymore, either. We now have each other." He captured her hand to place a kiss in the palm.

She glanced up to search his eyes. Hers shimmered in the firelight. "You came here for me?"

"Aye. You know of the dreams. I was not about to let you die."

"I don't understand. You didn't know me."

"I knew your courage, your spirit." He brushed his lips against her inner wrist. Her skin was so soft. "You were meant to live free."

She gasped at the contact, but did not pull away. Her fingers curled around his other arm, slid up to his shoulder. Her touch was feather-light, hesitant, barely there – it burned to his soul. The warrior gave way to the woman within. For him. Words failed him. He released her hand, searched her eyes. Shock and confusion flared in her eyes, but no fear. Only her fear would have stopped him. He leaned forward to capture her mouth with his, in a slow, gentle kiss. He touched her with his lips alone, giving her every chance to pull back, move away. He prayed for her to stay.

Maleta stiffened for a moment. He felt her tremble with indecision. Then the hand on his shoulder slid up to cradle the back of his neck, and she relaxed into him. Her mouth opened under his, and her fingers tangled in his hair. Her kiss soaked into him like rain after a long drought, heated his blood quicker than a brushfire. Many times in the past had he unwound with a woman after a battle. Now his body burned for release. With his true life-mate's kiss, the vow screamed anew for him to start the binding ritual, not to let her get away. Hedda and Tzigana be damned.

He fought for control, not to let passion slip its tether. Her trust was too new, too fragile. Seducing a virgin was easier – she knew nothing. Maleta was much more difficult – all she knew of sex was horror and abuse. All she knew of soul-binding was Hedda's possession. But in this moment she trusted him to show her a gentler way. They kissed for long moments, until he caught the first hitch in her breath and she moved closer, both her hands anchored in his hair. He stroked her lower lip with his tongue. She started, whimpered into his mouth, then – miracle of miracles – she touched her own tongue to his.

It was like being struck by lightning. Cianan went rigid with the holding back. Slow, dark, sensuous, drugging kisses, over and over, again and again, that had Maleta shaking and clinging to him. He dared not touch her, dared not fall back onto the quilt afore the fire, although he could barely hold himself upright. All he wanted was to lose himself in her touch, in the taste of her, the feel of her, the scent and sound of newly awakened passion. The blood pounded in his ears and in parts of him a great deal lower. He was lost and pulled back from the precipice to prevent himself from taking that final leap. It almost killed him, but he gentled the kiss, stilled her hands, and was the first to pull back and open his eyes.

Her skin was flushed, her lips glistened. She dragged her eyelids open, and the sultry, smoky look in her eyes stole his breath. He saw the exact moment clarity returned – her cheeks flamed scarlet. He turned away to pour them each a cup of mead, to give her a moment to compose herself. She took the cup from his hand with a shy smile, and took a sip.

"Are you all right?" Cianan asked.

Maleta nodded. "I feel... almost normal, I guess. Hopeful. If I can come back, there has to be a way for Jovan to come back too. Sunniva didn't win."

"Nay, she did not." Cianan paused to take a drink – and a deep breath. "We shall meet with Tzigana and Wolf tomorrow. They shall move to solidify their hold on Soto, march to Marcou." He hesitated. "They need to send a force to the south, to secure the fortress at Kunigonde. Dara's family lives in the south, and her father wished to send an ambassador here to check out the situation because he knew of Sunniva's invasion plans. He wants to be sure Tzigana and Wolf have no similar ambitions. You and I are the logical choices to greet them. You know Kunigonde better than any, and I am a familiar face to any clansman or Arcadian sent to Shamar. Are you prepared for that?"

* * * *

Her blood turned to ice. Return to that house of horrors? How could she not relive the screams, the blood, the slaughter, the...

Cianan gripped her arm, just hard enough to draw her focus back to his face. "That was your home, Marete. A place of warmth, of love and laughter. Think how many celebrations those halls have seen. Weddings, birthings, knightings? Feasts and tournaments?"

Her father's booming laughter rang through her mind. She remembered, little things. She recalled her mother unraveling her embroidery threads for the umpteenth time, her brother and herself sneaking up into the loft to spy out a new litter of kittens, herself slipping a loathsome vegetable under the table to a hound pup that was not so choosy. She smelled bread baking in the great ovens, saw the men coming in after a successful hunt and heard her mother scolding them for tramping mud all over the newly scrubbed floors.

Everyday things. Ordinary things. Normal things.

"I remember Jovan once switched the salt for the sugar when it was my turn to make tarts," she told Cianan. "I was running late and in a hurry... and my father choked down the entire thing rather than hurt my feelings." Even remembered mortification made her smile. "They were horrible. I chased Jovan through the entire keep, but that little rat sure could run fast."

He grinned. "What else?"

"A maid told me babies were found under cabbages, and I tore up the entire garden looking for one." She shook her head. "The housekeeper was pregnant with twins, and I tried so hard to figure out how the babies got from her stomach to the cabbages. She used to sit in the rocking chair in the evenings – her husband always had to haul her out of it or she'd sit there flapping her arms like a bird trying to get airborne."

He laughed outright, his face settled into a tender look. "And those walls will hear the laughter of children again, elingrena. Six years of sadness cannot undo decades of warmth and happiness." His eyes twinkled. "Although I hate to break the news to you – babies do not come from cabbages."

Maleta sputtered on her mead. "Cianan, I was four!" She quivered at the warm glow spreading through her. He was right – Kunigonde wasn't a fortress, it was her home, and the good had to temper the bad. Mayhaps someday she'd even be able to eat apples again.

"We should get some sleep," he suggested, rising to move the remainder of the food and drink up to a table. "You can move your mattress betwixt Jovan and the fire. I shall sleep by the door."

"You're doing it again," she commented, dragging one over to Jovan's bed and stealing the fire-warmed quilt to throw atop her chosen mattress.

"What?"

"Standing guard over me. I'm a big girl, Cianan." She fisted her hands on her hips.

"I know you are. That was never in doubt." He strode over to her. "You do not have to bear the weight of the world alone anymore. Let me take some of it. We can take on anything together."

Maleta rolled her eyes. "You are the most stubbornly optimistic person I've ever met!" she burst out.

"So I have been told, on numerous occasions," he retorted. He curled a hand behind her neck and pulled her close for a thorough, mind-shattering kiss that scattered her every thought and made her knees tremble. "Give us a chance, elingrena," he whispered against her lips. "I shall grow on you, you shall see."

"Like mistletoe?" she shot back.

He grinned. "Like hot water. Like sunlight."

"No ego issues there," she muttered, slipping free of his arms. She frowned at the sense of loss she felt as she moved away from him. "Good night."

"Good night," he said, moving away to set up his own bed.

Maleta bent over Jovan and kissed his forehead. "I will find a way to free you and bring you back," she promised him. There was no response. Resolve hardened her heart. She had not moved heaven and earth to find him, only to lose him again. If to Kunigonde they must return on the morrow, they'd do it together, as a family.

Chapter Twenty-one

Maleta opened her eyes to the clunking sound of Cianan tossing more wood on the fire. She glanced up at Jovan. There was no change – he was as she'd left him last night. She turned her gaze to Cianan, and stared at his bare back, the hard muscle sliding under unmarked skin as he moved. How could a warrior be so free of scarring?

"Good morning," he said, without even looking at her.

How had he known she was awake?

"I heard your breathing change," he said, turning around. "I felt your gaze on me."

She couldn't stop staring. Daylight revealed what last night's firelight had hidden. "There aren't any scars." Not even from the darkweed-poisoned knife.

Cianan shook his head. "Nay. My people are taught self-healing from a young age. Most of us cannot heal others, and it takes deliberate effort to heal ourselves. We can still be killed, if we are rendered unconscious or wounded too severely. We cannot heal a mortal blow."

Maleta remembered him mentioning trance-healing, but she'd no idea it worked so flawlessly. She sat up and ran a hand through her short spiky hair, doubly self-conscious now. She'd never thought much about her battle scars afore, but faced with an image of physical perfection, with a man used to the most beautiful women, unblemished women...

"Hey, now," he broke into that train of thought, "none of that." He moved close, to kneel at her side. "Do you not know how beautiful you are to me? Your heart, your courage, your sense of justice and your spirit – they shine through your eyes. That is what I noticed first. Those eyes."

How could he be so in tune with her, as to read her thoughts?

Cianan shook his head. "Easy, elingrena. I but read your expressions, nothing more."

Maleta felt foolish, but Dara's words came back to haunt her, "I sensed no binding... See to it. Soon."

"But Dara said... "

He sighed and sat down, reached out a hand to cup her chin. "Say what is on your mind."

Maleta shook off the urge to lean into him. "The more time I spend with you, the closer we seem to get. It's like you know what I'm thinking and feeling."

"I have more heightened senses than a human, Maleta," he told her. "I have had years of experience reading expression, body posture. Every emotion has a scent I can pick up." A wary look crept into his eyes. "Nothing supernatural about it."

"You're being evasive," she stated. "I miss you when you're gone. Not like my parents or Jovan, but like an actual piece of myself disappears. Like I'm only whole when you're here." She cursed herself for starting to shake, for starting to doubt. "Dara mentioned a binding. Coming from a sorceress, that sounds like a spell. If you're manipulating me through some elven paladin magic – "

"Nay." Cianan dragged his free hand through his hair. "It is not manipulation, it is not even conscious. Look, every soul in this world has another that completes it, a true life-mate. When we find our other half, we are whole. The Light brings us together in stages. The first attraction is instinctual, but the binding vow can only be deliberate, conscious, verbal – and mutual." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You think I may be taking you over?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Rest assured, lady, you already have me. I was yours afore we even met." He leaned closer. "Those other women you think of competing with, the ones you saw in the sword-vision and believe are so perfect? Appearances can be deceiving. All too often it leads to shallowness, selfishness and vanity. All that beauty without and none within. Heart and soul, I am yours and yours alone. There is none other for me."

"And what of me?" Her eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm going to spend the rest of my life mooning over you and pining away every time you step out of the room... "

"Do not fear on that count. You shall not, nor would I wish you to," he said. "That is not love. That empty feeling is but an impetus. Do we take the vow, the bond fills and completes us. There is no uncertainty. We can feel each other's feelings, share each other's thoughts. In or out of the room, we are always together. No secrets, no straying. Two halves of a whole."

Maleta froze. She couldn't have heard that correctly. "Every thought? Every feeling? No secrets? No surprises?" She shook her head. "Are you mad? Count me out. Go find someone else."

"Not all at once," he said.

"I said no." She shuddered. "I was getting used to the idea of mayhaps – someday – a home and a family, a husband. A normal marriage. What you're suggesting is so far beyond normal – sweet Hedda, beyond impossible – I can't even imagine... " She jerked back and stumbled to her feet. "I can't even handle me in my head. I don't need you in there too."

A knock sounded at the door. Maleta had never been so relieved. She stomped over to the door to admit Hajnal, who bore a fresh tray of food and a pot of water for tea. Maleta forced a smile. "How is everything this morning, Hajnal?"

"Th' healers have been busy, but there's hope all will recover," the Shamaru girl reported. "Th' wounded are recoverin'. Th' nighttime patrol was peaceful. All th' city is assemblin' in th' square this morning. Queen Tzigana's not slept a wink, nor th' Wolf – er, Von Berend. They'd meet with ye after th' general announcement, but ye need t' be there – in uniform. Mother Kitta insisted." Hajnal shivered as she gathered up the old pitcher and tray. Her gaze met Maleta's. "She's scary. Ye have an hour. Don't be late."

The last thing Maleta wanted to do was anger Mother Kitta again. "I could use a bath." She jerked her head in Cianan's direction. "We both could."

"I'll have hot water brought for th' tub," Hajnal nodded. "Assembly's in an hour. Ye'd best hurry." Her gaze strayed to Jovan. "How is he?"

"The same," Cianan replied.

"I'll come sit with him when ye need t' go," Hajnal offered.

"Thank you," Maleta said, relieved she would not have to leave Jovan alone.

"I'll be back in an hour. Hot water should be here soon." Hajnal showed herself out.

Maleta glanced at the tea Hajnal had brought and frowned. "Something tells me I'm going to need all the help I can get today." She pulled merc root from her pack and dumped it into the pot to steep.

"Maleta – "

She held up a hand and turned to glare at him. "Nay. Not. Now." Through Hedda's Sword she'd been in far too many heads during the past two years. The thought of being locked with one not her own, for the rest of her life, made her teeter on the edge of panic.

"I was going to suggest you eat something," Cianan retorted. "Merc root is not something to take on an empty stomach."

The thought of food made her stomach roil. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to find some clothes and take a bath." She poured herself a cup of the tea and made a big show of drinking it down in front of him, fighting to keep her face expressionless at the bitter taste. It hit her empty stomach hard, and for a moment Maleta feared it would come right back up.

"You are being foolish," he snapped, shoving a piece of bread into her empty hand. "You are only hurting yourself. Eat." His eyes blazed at her, and, with a growl, he turned away. "I am going to find Tzigana and Wolf. I shall meet you out there." Grabbing his gear, he slammed out of the room.

Maleta felt herself splinter, just a bit, with his exit. She choked down the bread and turned to Jovan. He lay as if dead. Only the rise and fall of his chest marked him among the living. "Where are you?" she whispered, sitting down aside him on the edge of his bed. "You have to come back. You can't leave me to face that place alone. Please." Tears slid down her cheeks as she stroked his hair. "I need you to break Sunniva's hold. Please come back to me."

In spite of the happy memories resurrected the night afore, the thought of returning to face the Kunigonde demons alone still chilled her. Easy for Tzigana to order her back – what did she know of it? What did Cianan, for that matter? He hadn't been there. Just the thought of walking through that orchard, standing in that courtyard, turned her blood to ice.

Another knock sounded at the door, and, as she stood, a line of guild and former guard entered bearing buckets of hot water. One of them was Mrow, who frowned at her. "He's in a rare mood," he stated. "What'd ye say t' him?"

"Tub's in there," she evaded. She watched them fill the tub, ordered them out.

Mrow was the last to leave. "Will ye at least talk t' him?"

"Nay." Maleta turned to Jovan's closet and grabbed the smallest pair of breeches she could find, along with clean tunic and hose. She entered the bathing room and stripped to the skin. Afore getting in the tub, she stared at her hands. Winter-rough skin, short ragged fingernails, sword calluses, the blood oath scar. They were not the hands of a gentle lady, of Van Marete. How could she ever go back to that? What did she recall about running a keep? As a girl she'd avoided those lessons like poison. Now, as a woman, all she knew was fighting, killing, fasting and prayer. What kind of wife would a warlady nun make?

She studied her reflection in the mirror. Short hair unevenly cut, the scar that disfigured half her face. She stared at the eyes Cianan had commented on, but saw nothing extraordinary there. She had the same curves as any other woman's, but other than her breasts there was no softness about her. Hard living resulted in hard muscle, and she was criss-crossed with many scars from punishment and combat. Unlike Cianan, she had to heal the slow way, and each healing left its own blemish.

"He's blind," she muttered, sliding into the tub of warm water. Conscious of Hajnal's warning not to be late, she scrubbed and dressed. The breeches were big in the waist, but her hips would keep them from falling to her knees. Under her brother's tunic, nobody could see them anyway. She checked her reflection again – a riveting image of womanly perfection stared back at her. Absolutely. She rolled her eyes and snorted. He'd have to get over it, that whole soul-bonding delusion. He'd come to his senses soon enough.

He had to.

Hajnal awaited her. "Hurry up," the Shamaru girl said.

Maleta yanked her boots on and grabbed up her armor and weapons. Sweet Hedda, in her worry over Jovan, she'd forgotten to clean any of it. Sister Reva would set her hair on fire. She dressed on the run down the corridor, buckling on the weapons belt as she dashed down the stairs. She nearly bowled Raven over at the bottom.

"Easy, Mal," her Sister said. "You aren't late yet." She frowned. "Forget something last night?"

Maleta glanced down. "How bad is it?"

"You look like you've been butchering queens," Raven replied.

Lovely. "Well, mayhaps it shall reinforce the reality for the citizens of Soto?" Maleta tried.

"I dare you to try that justification on Sister Reva. Come on, let's go." They crossed through to the throne room, to the stairwell leading to Sunniva's private balcony. Mother Kitta, Tzigana and Wolf, and Cianan awaited them. Sister Reva was not present, for which Maleta was grateful. The ice in Mother Kitta's eyes was bad enough.

The stiffness in Cianan's stance was worse. Under the anger she read hurt in his eyes. It cut like a knife. Read, or felt? She didn't know anymore. His pain at her rejection of him, of his beliefs, was her pain as well. How to explain her fear? She cursed him for doing this to her, making her feel again – a woman's feelings, along with all the uncertainties. She didn't need this now, on top of everything else, but here it was anyway.

Mother Kitta led the way up the stairs, followed by an exhausted Tzigana. Wolf kept a supportive hand on her back. Then came Raven, followed by Maleta. Cianan brought up the rear. He didn't touch her. In the wake of Wolf's obvious solicitude, she felt her own loss that much more keenly.

An unfamiliar banner snapped and fluttered overhead – a black raven holding an oak branch with leaf and acorn in its beak, imposed on a gold background. Wolf looked back over his shoulder at her. "Mine," he stated. Nobility, merchants, artisans, laborers and soldiers packed the courtyard. Maleta saw Cianan whisper something and wave a hand. For a moment he glowed. A slight breeze swirled around her, startling because it felt warm rather than cold.

Mother Kitta raised her hand, and all eyes focused on her. "Queen Sunniva's reign of terror is over," she pronounced. "The old council is restored, the night watch are no more. Last night we replaced Queen Sunniva with Queen Tzigana and King Berend, to rule jointly on behalf of both the Shamaru and Shamari peoples. Hedda's Own judged Queen Sunniva, by Hedda's Sword." She motioned Maleta forward.

A wave of murmuring greeted that announcement. Maleta blinked. If she'd known she'd have to give a speech, she would have prepared something – and cleaned her breastplate. She stepped forward. "This land has struggled for years, against famine, against the winter cold, against rievers and dealers. Against the oppressive hand of a queen who cared more about furthering her own power than in taking care of her people. Queen Sunniva misled and misruled Shamar long enough. Hedda's Sword convicted her of genocide against the Shamaru people." She looked at Cianan. He nodded. "Behold the truth of Sunniva's trial."

The entire progression from the day afore repeated itself, start to finish. People were silent, stunned by the steady disintegration of law, order and reason into paranoia and madness. The murders of the entire royal family, of Von Berend's and Maleta's families, paled in comparison to the outright slaughter of an entire population. The magnitude of Sunniva's treachery could not be denied by even the most biased Shamari.

"No longer will the exploitation and annihilation of others be tolerated," Wolf's voice rang out. "We are one country, Shamar, and one people, Shamarans. Together we rise, and together we will shine as a beacon of hope. These dark days will end. Queen Tzigana and I have authorized the immediate arrest of all known dealers and their associates, as revealed by Sunniva's own council. Hedda's servants are combing the streets and back alleys as I speak. Return to your homes. The street patrols and curfew will continue until we can ensure the safety of all."

Tzigana stepped forward. "Go in peace. There are better days ahead, for us all." She led the way back down the stairs. In the throne room, she turned to Maleta. "I found something that belongs to you. Wait here."

Wolf gave a slight nod of encouragement. Tzigana disappeared into a side room, returning minutes later with her hands behind her back. "Sunniva kept her most prized trophies of conquest in that room," Wolf said, his voice grim. "Where we found my standard, among others. It's where we found this."

Tzigana brought forth a folded green cloth. Unfurled, it revealed a leaping brown stag against a green background, all surrounded by a border of white interlocking knotwork. She handed it to Maleta. "Yours."

Maleta stared at the standard of Kunigonde, the symbol of her family, her father, clutched in her hands. A great yawning chasm of pain opened, and she dropped to her knees, burying her face in the stiff cloth. She fought tears. What use were they now? 'Twas a miracle anything of hers, of her family's, survived, and she was more grateful than she could ever express to Tzigana. Mayhaps Wolf alone understood the conflict in her heart. She might well have tried to hold back the sea as her own tears. She strangled on them until she could barely breathe.

A pair of hands clasped her shaking shoulders, pulling her back against a warm, masculine chest. Cianan, as always, offering his support and love despite her earlier rejection of him. She leaned back against him, accepting the comfort he gave as Tzigana and Wolf knelt afore her. "It deserves to fly over its own once more," Wolf stated. "Take it home, Van Marete. Fly it with pride and with honor in your family's name."

She raised her gaze to Wolf's. His eyes reflected her own pain and sorrow. "And you and yours?" she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded. "Aye, and me and mine." Tzigana slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. She looked up at Wolf, and their gazes met for a moment. They shared a gentle smile afore he turned his gaze back to Maleta. "At long last, we all fly free."

Maleta nodded. "We leave in the morning." Cianan helped her stagger to her feet. She wrapped the banner around her shoulders, like a hug from her father.

"Sunniva left a hundred men there, under the command of a single captain," Cianan told her.

"We can spare but forty guild to accompany you," Tzigana said. "I'll send Gayle, Mrow and Ain among them."

"Raven goes as well," Mother Kitta decreed. "And Jana and Hajnal to ride with Jovan."

Tzigana gave her a venomous look. "Jana belongs here, with her people. Safe."

Mother Kitta was unmoved. "She is needed in the south. She will prove helpful."

"Then Polkara and Dagonet go along with Jana," Wolf amended. "You can fly the guild standard and mine beneath your own."

"You and Raven will represent Hedda," Mother Kitta said.

"Well, if that does not scare the occupation into flight, nothing shall," Cianan remarked.

"What if they barricade themselves in against a siege?" Raven asked.

"Ask Jana," Mother Kitta replied. "Sister Raven, you're with me." She eyed Maleta with an odd mixture of emotions. "Until tomorrow, Hedda's Own." She and Raven left the room.

"We have much to do afore tomorrow," Cianan said. "Send Mrow, Ain, Gayle and Dagonet to Jovan's room. We shall make our plans there."

Tzigana nodded. "They'll be along in an hour or so."

Maleta clutched her father's standard around her as she and Cianan returned to Jovan's room. She didn't trust herself to speak. She stumbled through the doorway and struggled out of Hedda's trappings. She heard Cianan dismiss Hajnal, but she moved to Jovan's bed and draped Von Jereon's colors across the still form of his son. "We're going home, Jovan," she whispered. "We found father's stag. Kunigonde will rise again. Hold on. Just... hold on."

Cianan removed his own armor and weapons and strode to her side. "Benilo shall meet us there." He reached for her shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "He says put Jovan in his childhood room, surround him with as many things from the time afore as you can find, and then call him. If we wake Jovan in a place of security and good memories, he might find the courage to come back."

"'The courage to come back,'" Maleta repeated. Courage she herself needed to find, to cling to. She stared at that stag. It seemed to stare back at her. She thought of what Cianan offered. "Dara and Loren are bonded, like you said?"

"Aye." He sat down aside her on the edge of Jovan's bed.

"Dara's human, like me?"

"She's half human and half dragon, but aye, she was raised in your world, not ours, if that is what you ask."

There he went again, flexing that uncanny awareness again. But Maleta did not allow it to distract her this time. "So they can feel what the other person feels, hear each other's thoughts? How do they not go mad?"

He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, he smiled at her, but his expression was serious. "When a neighbor invaded Dara's land, her pregnant stepmother Moira ran for her home, the very mountains your Kunigonde butts up against. Loren had made the vow with Dara never to leave her, to always be there for her. But against his wishes Dara sent him off to find Queen Moira and protect her – the fate of a kingdom, she said." He grinned for a moment. "Dara can be persuasive when she wishes to be."

He sobered. "After he left, the invaders took Dara captive, stripped her naked, branded her as a slave and chained her to Jalad's bed to await his attentions. Chained with iron shackles, a powerful poison against dragon kind. Bound, without power, and alone. But she was never truly alone. Loren was never apart from her, save in body. Everything she went through, he felt. Not being able to get to her nearly drove him mad. Were it not for his war mare Hani`ena and his own sense of duty, he would have lost his mind."

"This Jalad was the man who sold his soul to a demon? Who corrupted Tegan?"

He nodded. "Count Jalad of Westmarche, aye."

"How did Dara survive?"

"Our vertenya queen? She fought back like a cornered bear when he made a mistake. He got close enough for her to almost strangle him with her legs." He leaned forward. "Later, Loren's brother was badly wounded in a goblin attack. Loren was unable to save him. His guilt at that failure would have crippled him and endangered the entire elven kingdom, but Dara was there to support him through that guilt, his grief and his ascension to king. Because of the bond they share, neither faced these past challenges alone, and they shall be there for each other in future struggles. They are each individually stronger for it."

"But the thoughts? No privacy?"

"It does not happen all at once. That is what I was trying to tell you this morning. The vow itself enhances awareness, emotions and physical monitoring. Only when bonded life-mates join as one flesh do their minds and souls link as well."

Her face flamed at the thought of that joining – with love, not violence.

"But it would happen to both of us. I have never done this, either, elingrena. What I know of it comes from the testimony of many, men and women I trust. None of them have run mad. They all seem disgustingly happy." His eyes twinkled at her.

She grinned.

"In truth, I envy them," he confessed. "To never be alone, to be with the one person in the world you can trust with all, and never fear?" He reached out to cup her scarred cheek, brushed his thumb across her lips in a feathery caress. "To share your hopes and dreams with the other person, to have someone brace you through your fears, help strengthen your weakness? What is there to fear in that?"

All she felt was the warmth of his body, the touch of his hand. All she heard was the persuasiveness of his voice. It all sounded so reasonable... Her eyes closed as she swayed closer, enfolded in his wild, slightly fey masculine scent. She swore she could hear the blood rushing through his veins... or was it hers? She needed this, needed him. Only he could complete her... Only Cianan...

"Take the vow with me," he whispered against her lips. "Know how much I need you. Say aye, elingrena. Make us whole."

His kiss prevented her reply. His tongue stroked hers and scattered her thoughts. This kiss was new, different, desperate. She burned for him, ached for his touch. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough... She felt herself fall back, reached out to catch herself. Her hand brushed the green standard of Kunigonde, and the body of her brother beneath it. With a wild cry she tore herself free from Cianan's arms and leaped off the bed. Her heart pounded as she struggled to focus. "Stop it! What are you doing to me?"

His face was flushed and his eyes glittered, but he took a deep, shuddering, breath. "What I do to you and what you do to me are becoming one and the same, elingrena." A trace of humor crept into his voice then he sobered and shook his head. "I do not think we shall be able to fight this much longer. The sooner we come together as mates, the better off we shall be."

"I can't do this now." Maleta rubbed her temples. "I'm already bound, to Shamar, to Hedda, to balance. I owe Hedda for everything, body and soul, and She takes that debt seriously. Until She releases me, I cannot be distracted. You saw what happened the last time I broke my oath. What if next time She makes it permanent?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Do you want this?" he demanded. "Do you want me?"

"Aye!" she cried, exasperated, frustrated. She froze, hearing her answer, feeling the depth of her own yearning. "Aye," she repeated softly. "More than my life, more than anything, I do want you. I want a future with you, none other."

"So be it." His gaze captured hers as he strode over to her, grasped her shoulders with his hands. "Maleta, Van Marete, Hedda's Own, I bind myself to you. Whenever, whatever your need, I shall come to you. To you do I answer with body or blood. My life for yours. My soul to yours, 'til our last breath. Never again shall you be alone. You are mine, in this lifetime and the next. I shall ever be yours, for always. We are now one." He closed his eyes and took her mouth with his.

She should have been shocked. She should have stopped him. She didn't move. She didn't want to move. She'd been lost from that first moment their eyes had met back in the Broken Blade. Yielding to the inevitability of fate, she melted into the heat of his kiss. If Hedda damned them both, so be it. Warmth flooded her, filling the emptiness. Cianan had bound them in spirit until she wasn't sure where she ended and he began. She sensed him hovering on the edge of her mind, in her heart, in her blood. A part of herself flowed into him with her surrender, with her very breath.

He broke off the kiss, and she could only gape at him. "What have we done?" she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-two

"What have you done?" Kikeona echoed.

"What we had to." Cianan took a deep breath and threw his head back, closing his eyes at the overwhelming flood of sensation, of emotion. Relief as his world righted. The gaping wound of envy in his soul, the slow bleeding into emptiness, was gone. Those were his. Aching, burning need for the woman now bound to him – that was definitely him.

Shock, fear of Hedda's reaction, a feeling of losing himself, of drowning – that was Maleta. He could feel her shaking, trying to pull back from the fire in his soul. She was so young in her feelings, they were so new to her, she had no experience at all to help her cope. With no escape, she began to panic.

He had but a moment afore her panic became his own. Using every bit of self-discipline he had developed over the centuries, he grabbed onto the sense of relief, of rightness, and superimposed it over the need, cooling the flame with the ice lurking deep within Maleta herself. He captured her gaze, held it through sheer force of will. "Maleta, look at me. Listen to my voice. Stay with me. No more emptiness, no more loneliness, can you feel that? Focus on that – the rightness, the relief." He felt her try, and when the heat receded, so did her panic. He felt her relax, and with that, the pressure eased.

Maleta clung to him. Her heart pounded. He felt her reach out to sift through the feeling, the emotion. "You have such an old soul," she murmured. Her voice shook. "I'm far too young for you, you know."

He felt the choppiness of her inexperience, but also her willingness to accept, to try. "You are perfect for me," he corrected her.

Her clarity of thought slowly returned. "I thought you said the vow had to be mutual."

He held her gaze. "It does."

"But I didn't – "

Cianan smiled. "Aye, you did. When I asked if you wanted this, if you wanted me, heart and soul you answered aye. That makes it mutual and binding. I have waited weeks for you to make up your mind about me. About time you took pity on me and put me out of my misery."

Maleta shied away from the desire again, but slid back to the beginning of his feelings. "Our first meeting?" Her jaw dropped. "How could you be so sure that soon?"

"You forget, I have known all along what to look for. It took but a split second, simple recognition." Cianan curled his hand to trail the backs of his fingers down the side of her neck. Her shiver was his own. "I think you felt it, also. That is why you ran. I was a threat to all you had been. Not a threat to the warrior, vertenya, or you would have run me through and been done with it. A threat to the woman, and you were not ready to face that. You had to get to know the person afore you could face the man."

"I had to get to know the woman first," Maleta whispered.

"And the woman standing afore me is a wondrous creature, indeed. I shall strive every day to prove worthy of the gift."

She searched his face. "Cianan, what am I supposed to do with you?"

He laughed outright at the disgruntled tone, as if he was a stray pup who had followed her home. He felt her uncertainty, her fear of the sensuality that was such a part of him. But she had fire in herself, as well – a fire she yielded to all too seldom in temper. Fire could easily turn to passion. Familiarity bred trust, and with trust came sharing. Sharing their hearts, their bodies and their souls. "We have years now for you to figure it out."

A knocking sounded at the door. Maleta pulled free. "Back to the real world."

"Time to go home," Cianan told her. "Come in," he called out.

Mrow marched in, sized them up with one quick glance. "Ye talked t' him. Good."

"What? Does everyone have an opinion about my personal life?" Maleta burst out.

Gayle grinned from behind Mrow. She carried a ceiling-high standard-bearing pole. Cianan saw a fleeting glimpse of sadness in her gaze, quickly masked. "When we're going into battle with the two of you, 'tis nice to know if you're going to save the enemy the trouble," she mocked. "I feel safer already."

"You need to clean that breastplate and weapons," Raven reproved. "Do you still stand for Hedda, you'd best look the part, Hedda's Own." Something was different about Raven, Cianan sensed. A distance, a coldness. Not Hedda's ice, not quite, but similar. Dark.

A shaky wave of sadness came from Maleta, a sense of loss, of fear. Every step she took toward the Light distanced her farther from the grey, from balance. Cianan was surprised Hedda thus far had no comment or reaction to their impulsive action. What was She waiting for?

"I will," Maleta promised. She strode over to her pack and settled in to do just that while they held their meeting.

"How far is Kunigonde?" Ain asked.

"Two days' hard march, afore dawn and past dusk," Maleta reported. "With the snow, with the wagon – " she glanced at Jovan, "no faster, possibly even three."

Gayle nodded, and rested the pole against the wall aside Maleta. "For your banner."

"Thank you."

"We have th' banners of raven an' guild under th' stag," Mrow said. "We'll be marchin' on Kunigonde as a united force, a united Shamar. Odds're greater than two t' one, but there's not a one in this room can't handle that, an' that goes for th' forty pros backing us up." He shook his head. "Ne'er thought I'd live t' see th' day. 'Bout fell over when I saw Von Berend back from th' dead."

"They shall barricade themselves in against a siege," Cianan said. "We cannot storm a castle with forty men."

"Nay, but we can sneak into one," Gayle commented.

Maleta scrubbed Sunniva's blood from Hedda's Sword. "Not how I'd planned my homecoming."

"That's why Jana's coming with us," Raven reminded them.

Cianan's temper rose. "She is but a child. She belongs in a schoolroom, not on a battlefield."

"She belongs to Orthia," Raven retorted. "She's a seer and a land-speaker."

Namula's tree flashed into Cianan's memory, and he felt Maleta start – she must have recalled the same thing. She looked at him, horror in her eyes, and a wave of crippling terror crashed over him, emanating from her. It had nothing to do with the tree. He held firm to his own sense of self, to offer her an anchor of equilibrium. "What is it?" he asked.

She struggled to grip his calm. "There's a tunnel leads from the outside to a secret room. It was our hiding place of last resort." Her voice shook. "They came at us from the inner hallway and the outer passage at the same time."

"Who knew of these passages?" he demanded.

She frowned in thought. "The family and Captain Tian, for certain. I don't know about anyone else."

The blood pounded in his temples. "You were betrayed."

"I've always thought so." She nodded. Her eyes narrowed, and pure rage replaced the terror. "I swear I will find out who – and why."

Women were emotional quicksilver, sliding from one emotion to the next with an intensity and a suddenness that left him gasping. The irony was not lost on him. She feared his lust? When all that intensity turned into passion, she would set the bed afire. He would never survive.

But he would die a happy man.

Kikeona snorted in the back of his mind. "Focus," she ordered.

Maleta's face blazed.

"So, there's a tunnel leadin' in," Mrow continued. "They for certain know of it. But after six years, how lax've they become? Do they still guard it, an' in what numbers?"

"How big's the tunnel and the corridor?" Gayle asked.

"Narrow," Maleta said. "We'll have to go single file."

Ain frowned. "That's quite a back-up with over forty goin' into a bottleneck."

"Under cover of darkness, it's possible," Gayle stated. "I'll go commandeer a couple wagons and see to supplies and horses."

"I think we're done here fer now," Mrow decided. "Th' rest can be figured out in camp 'long th' way." He rose, and led everyone out.

Cianan grabbed his gear and dropped to the floor aside Maleta as she labored to scrub Sunniva's blood off Hedda's neglected sword. "Can I borrow the oil?" he asked as he took a cloth from his pack. She slid the tiny pot over to him. They worked side by side in silence. She was a jumble of conflicting emotions and tension, all of it too fleeting for him to grasp. He let it swirl around and over him, and focused on staying still and steady within himself should she reach out to him.

Maleta finished, set everything aside and leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed. Her exhaustion beat at him, and he set his own things to the side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, took her free hand in his. "Clear your mind," he murmured. "Take a deep breath." She did, and he did with her. He felt her sliding toward sleep, and maneuvered her over onto her makeshift bed on the floor. She curled against his arm as he covered her with her quilt, pulling him down aside her. He gathered her close, as he felt her consciousness flee.

* * * *

The icy wind blasted Maleta's cheeks, stealing her breath as they rode out the west gate of Soto. The piebald tossed her head as Maleta nudged her into a trot. Kikeona and Cianan matched them stride for stride. She stared ahead at the three standard bearers leading the procession and looked up at the stag leaping its way back home. She and Jovan, as well. He rode in a wagon behind them, with Hajnal, Jana and Polkara. She'd worried about Jovan not eating or drinking for days on end, but Polkara had assured her his body required little in its present state, and he was in no danger.

She glanced over at Cianan, his dark hair spilling over his green cloak and blowing behind him in the breeze. She couldn't believe she'd slept with him, and in the middle of the day. One minute she'd been sitting up and leaning against him and then she lay flat on the mattress. The next thing she knew it was morning and she draped across Cianan like a second blanket. She'd awakened disoriented, to her body on fire, aching to the point of pain, but he'd grinned ruefully and reassured her it was his reaction to her, not the other way around. The strength of his body's demands had scared her, but somehow he'd laughed it off.

"When a man wakes up with his beautiful elingrena in his arms such a reaction is inevitable, but I am the master of my own body and I shall never, ever take you against your will," he'd promised her. "When we come together, it shall be your choice, and I guarantee you shall burn every bit as fiercely as I."

She was mortified still. She'd never be able to look him in the eye ever again. The pied shied beneath her, snapping her back to the present. The wind hissed through the trees. The bare branches seemed to be reaching for her. She shook off the feeling. I'm going home, she told herself. Kunigonde is still my home. We've been gone long enough. I won't give Sunniva this last victory .

It was well past dark when they found a semi-sheltered clearing to make camp. They maneuvered the wagons to block the worst of the wind, and set up tents. Maleta joined Gayle and others in scavenging firewood. Her arm ached from the cold, and she could barely feel her fingers around the wood she picked up. Would be a wonder if any of it burned. When they returned with the first batch, Cianan staked out the bay draft horses to forage what they could under the snow. Mrow and Ain directed setting up the tents. Raven and Jana collected pots of snow for water. Dagonet started a central fire with a surprisingly deft touch, and Polkara and Hajnal set up a cauldron of water for stew.

Maleta dragged armload after armload of deadwood to add to the growing pile. The sound of axes rang across the clearing as men cut enough to last through the night. She returned to see Cianan carrying her gear into a tent. Kunigonde's standard waved afore it. Kikeona stood at the entrance, head down and tail tucked against the wind. To her surprise, Cianan held open the flap and the mare stepped into the tent. Curious, she hurried over to the tent. Inside were Kikeona, Cianan and a couple of iron braziers. All their things were piled on two cots. It was a tight fit. She froze. "What are you doing?"

"Come over here and warm up afore you go see to your brother."

She eyed his belongings, and frowned. "You're staying here?"

"There are no single accommodations. We have our privacy, but there are still two cots, and a chaperone."

Kikeona tossed her head. Maleta got an impression of amusement. Was he laughing at her?

"That would be Kikeona, not me," Cianan assured her. "You should be able to feel her, through me. She finds the position of chaperone an amusing conundrum, since I always accuse her of mothering me and now she gets to mother you too."

At least the mare wasn't still harboring the impulse to smash her into a rug. A feeling of resignation brushed Maleta's mind. Apparently Kikeona had decided to go along with, if not support, the current situation. That more than anything reinforced the permanency of the bond. "A bit high-handed not to ask," she retorted. "Now everyone will think... " She felt her cheeks heat.

Cianan radiated satisfaction. "Good. We are not a secret. Couples are expected to stay together. Go see to Jovan. I shall finish up here."

Polkara was with Jovan. "He'll be fine," the old seer told her. Her gaze sharpened. "When you face the gods, do it together. You're stronger as one."

Three days later as they crested the final hill late in the afternoon, Maleta still reflected on that particular comment. There it sprawled, against the rocky backdrop of the Dragons' Back Mountains and Bronwyn's Pass. Kunigonde. The stone walls glowed red in the setting sun. Red like blood. She shuddered.

Aside her, Cianan leaned over to grip her hand. "Look up."

She did, and her gaze focused on the stag. Cianan and Kikeona had borne her father's standard this entire last day. Aside her, Gayle carried the guild standard, while on Cianan's other side, Dagonet held Wolf's raven, representing Lord Berend's Ravenscroft.

"Remember the cabbages," Cianan reminded her.

Startled, Maleta gave a burst of laughter. Cabbages and babies. Housekeepers stuck in rocking chairs. Gayle threw her a puzzled look but didn't ask. Maleta stared down at Sunniva's peacock banners, languishing over the drawbridge, and a sense of outrage filled her. Sunniva had no business there.

Ain strode up with a white parlay flag, followed by Raven. "Let's go give them one chance to leave quietly," her sister told her. Ain and Raven led the way. Surrounded by Shamar's new colors, Maleta followed. At their approach a horn sounded – just like it had on that fateful morning six years past. The familiar "ah-oom" made her shiver. She squared her shoulders. They stopped well clear of archer range and waited.

The drawbridge lowered, and three horsemen appeared. An unforgettable roan stallion bore the rider in the middle. He was much grayer now, swaybacked and a bit stiff-jointed, but he still carried his head high and his eyes gleamed in the waning sun. His rider wore the uniform of a guard commander – and a familiar angular face.

Maleta gasped. "Lieutenant Ford!"

"Commander Ford." His hazel eyes narrowed on Hedda's breastplate. "So, ye live, Van Marete."

She'd forgotten his sanctimonious tone. "Do you wish to say the same, Lieutenant Traitor," Maleta replied icily, "you and those you command shall vacate these premises at once. For the sake of the fools misguided into following you, I give you this one chance to spare their lives. Resist, and every murdering son of a whore you lead faces Hedda by morning."

Heavy brows lowered, and his face flushed a splotchy red. "You dare defy Queen Sunniva? You learned nothing from your parents' fate? Sunniva rewards those who support her and destroys those who oppose her."

"Why did you do it?" Maleta choked on the words.

"I tired of taking orders, of soldier's rations and soldier's pay. Sunniva granted me title of Commander and now I rule this fortress."

"Sunniva's dead, and her orders mean less than nothing now. Lord Berend is now king and hereby orders you to stand down. Kunigonde has been restored to Von Jereon's family."

"Leave or die, edimar," Raven added.

Gayle handed Ford the orders signed by Wolf and Tzigana. Maleta struggled to maintain her composure as she stared at Captain Tian's once-trusted second. Loyalty destroyed by ambition, so many dead, years lost. All because of one man's greed. She watched his thin lip curl as he read the proclamation and he glanced over at Dagonet.

"Shamari and Shamaru united? What nonsense is this?"

"A united Shamar, for the Shamaran people," Cianan corrected him, speaking for the first time.

Ford frowned at Cianan's breastplate. "Since when does Hedda take man servants?"

Cianan bared his teeth in a savage smile. "I do not belong to Hedda. Do not mistake the rising sun and the setting sun. Bow to your new commander and live."

Ford sniffed with disdain. "I no longer recognize the sovereignty of the stag and I will not yield. We can bar the gates and guard the tunnel." Ford stared hard at Maleta. "I remember that tunnel well. You'll never get in that way, and we can hold out against a siege for longer than you can bear to mount one. You have not the force to sustain it." He wheeled Von Jereon's roan stallion about and galloped back to Kunigonde, his aides with him.

"So much for negotiations," Maleta sighed, rolling her head on her shoulders. Sweet Hedda, she tired of the conflicts. Would it never end? They returned to where Mrow waited with the wagons and their troops.

The merc laughed. "So he chose the hard way, did he? So be it. Jana has something to tell ye."

Maleta dismounted and climbed up into Jovan's wagon. The little girl sat with her eyes closed, her hands hovering over a map with a bit of charcoal. "Jana?" Maleta asked.

"Here." Jana drew a line from the mountains to the fortress. "Plan C."

Maleta's jaw dropped. "There's another tunnel?"

"Many." Jana opened her eyes. "The fortress is older than you know, built by others afore yours. It once guarded mines – there are many other tunnels from the fortress to the mountains. This one comes out behind the stables."

"What did they mine?" Maleta asked.

"Silver, mostly, and opals."

Cianan had followed Maleta in. He took the charcoal from Jana. "We are here. Follow around these foothills and come into the mountains up here, and we pick up the tunnel?"

"Aye." Jana nodded.

"So be it." Maleta turned to Cianan. "Leave Dagonet and a dozen men here to guard the wagons, in case Ford gets any ideas. Everyone else comes with us."

It was a long, cold walk, hidden from the gaze of Kunigonde, followed by a short brutal climb. Ain and Gayle proved to be expert rock climbers, with ice-climbing gear. Maleta stretched up to the next piton hammered into the rock face, grateful she'd never been cursed with a fear of heights. Soon enough she was squeezing through a crack in the rocks and into the tunnel leading to the Kunigonde stables.

"I'm sick of impersonating a mole," she groused.

Aside her, Cianan laughed. "Remind me to tell you about my own days as a gopher." He drew his sword and light filled the tunnel. Even forewarned, there were murmurs of awe from the guild mercs. "Time to go home." Evidence of the tunnel's previous pastime was everywhere – an abandoned lantern, bits of chain and frayed rope, a forgotten pick-axe that Cianan picked up. After one harrowing crossing of a dubious bridge, they began the descent into Kunigonde.

Maleta searched the walls for the trigger, and found a brick with a tiny stag head carved in the lower right corner. When she placed her hand over it a curious tingling sensation warmed her hand. The brick slid back with grinding ease, and a metallic click of gears. The wall opened a crack, and there it stuck. Age and disuse had taken its toll. Cianan handed his sword to Maleta. Taking hold of the pick-axe with both hands, he used it as a pry bar to force the door open.

The sword glowed in Maleta's hand and she felt the warmth of its Light flow around her, through her, easing the chill within.

Aside her, Raven glared. "No mercy for Sunniva's men."

Cianan turned at that. "They are professional soldiers sworn to follow the lead of an arrogant fool. Do they lay down their arms and yield, you shall spare their lives."

"Would they grant us the same clemency?" Raven demanded.

"We are not them." He stared at Maleta. "Justice and mercy. It must begin somewhere. Do we show people a better way, a new Shamar, let it begin here. If they fight, take them down. Do they lay down their arms and yield, spare their lives. Any unarmed civilians, servants, spare them as well."

Maleta choked on a momentary urge to kill all the invaders, but the Light gentled it away. "Listen with thy heart," a silvery voice whispered in her ear. She shook her head and stared at the sword. She lifted her gaze to Cianan's.

"It shall be all right," he assured her.

Maleta handed the sword back to him, drew her own and slid through the opening into the dark courtyard. She crouched betwixt the stable wall and a mound of dirtied straw bedding piled higher than her head. Cianan and Raven were right behind with weapons drawn. She scanned the battlement walls, trying to count heads.

"Thirty," Cianan whispered. "Archers. Keep to the shadows."

She nodded, motioning Mrow to the armory. He slid away with a dozen guild.

Cianan sheathed his sword and strung his bow. "I can cover you from here. Head for the kitchens."

Maleta reoriented herself. The kitchens were clear across the yard. They'd have to move fast. She took off running. A shout from above told her she'd been spotted and men poured down a stairwell to intercept them. Several fell to Cianan's white-fletched arrows, and Ain moved to block the rest.

"Keep goin'!" he yelled.

Maleta continued with Raven, Gayle and a handful of men. The kitchen door was unbarred and when she entered, there stood a familiar old woman with a raised skillet in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. Maleta froze. "Ana?"

The woman's eyes filled with tears and she lowered her weapons. "Van Marete? Ye're alive?"

Maleta grabbed her in a fierce hug. "Jovan too. Sunniva's dead. We've come home."

Gayle cleared her throat. "Touching as this reunion is, we've got a traitor to capture and a gate to open."

"She's right," Ana sniffled. "I'll take care of the gate. Ford's in your father's chambers, gathering up funds for a quick escape."

That tunnel Maleta knew well. "I don't think so," she stated. "You men comb the keep. Gayle and Raven, you're with me." She ran up the servant's stairwell to the second level, slipping into a sewing room where a handful of female servants cowered. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. "You'll soon be free of him." They stared at Hedda's breastplate and remained silent as Maleta led her two companions into the passage concealed behind the loom.

The torches flared to burning life as Maleta entered the narrow corridor. She hurried to cut off Ford's escape, catching him just as he emerged from the tiny doorway and forcing him back with a sword point to his throat. Gayle circled around to block the door to the main hallway.

Maleta knocked the leather money pouch from Ford's hands with her sword. "Going somewhere?" She eyed the belt around his waist, holding more bulging pouches. "Take it off."

"It's my money. I earned it."

"From the blood and sweat of my people!" Maleta cried. "Take it off with your own two living hands or I swear to you I'll take it from your cold dead body."

Raven moved behind him, slid her own sword over his shoulder. "You can bleed while you watch her do it, traitor. To betray your captain and your master was bad enough, but the blood of an unarmed woman is on your hands. I can smell it, even now."

He paled at the venom in her tone, the ice in her eyes. The bags and belt dropped to the floor with a heavy clanking of metal on gemstones, followed by his weapons.

Maleta shivered at the new Raven as well. What had been her friend was mostly gone, gone over to Hedda and darker than Maleta had ever considered becoming. "And the ring," Maleta added, staring at his right hand. "I'll take my father's ring, as well."

"It's my ring – "

"It is worn by the Lord of Kunigonde. That's not you. It passes from Von Jereon to Von Jovan. Give it to me or I'll take the hand that wears it."

Ford slipped the ring from his hand and tossed it to Maleta. She caught it and curled her fingers around the stag seal that had marked every document that had left her father's pen.

"Let's go," Gayle ordered. They escorted him down the main stairwell, into the grand hall and out into the courtyard where Maleta's men guarded the few remaining from Ford's force. The gates stood open, as Ana had promised. The two wagons, escorted by Dagonet, approached.

"How many?" Maleta asked.

"Eleven captured," Cianan reported. "Eighty-two dead."

Something flickered in Ford's eyes, even as Maleta did the math and came up short. A burst of alarm flared in Kikeona, and Cianan turned back toward the wall as an arrow streaked down from a hidden bow. A sudden tearing pain sliced betwixt Maleta's neck and shoulder, and she couldn't breathe. The ring dropped from her nerveless fingers onto the stone and Cianan caught her as she sank to her knees. She saw the shaft of the arrow from the corner of her eye. She couldn't turn her head. The drowning sensation was horrible. She tried to cough it away, but it didn't help. "There... were no arrows in the vision," she whispered.

Cianan's arm held her up, but it didn't help. Hedda's cold spread, she could barely feel him holding her. "You cannot leave me."

Maleta clawed at the stone. "The ring... " Cianan stared at her, uncomprehending. She felt him willing her next breath, the one that seemed so elusive. Gayle knelt aside her, curling Maleta's fingers around her father's seal. Maleta forced it into Cianan's hand. "For Jovan. Your promise... I hold you to it." She searched his eyes. The world narrowed to his face. "Was... " she coughed again "... not meant to be."

"Stay with me," Cianan ordered.

She felt him reaching for her, trying to hold onto her as she began to lift free of her body. "We're free," she whispered. "I... love you." She heard a faint "Nay!" as she sank into the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-three

"Nay!" Cianan reached desperately to catch Maleta's fading spirit, unable to comprehend he could lose her just that quickly. "You stay with me. You hear me? You hold to this plane." Rage flared. They had only just bonded. She could not leave him now.

The vow they had taken but days ago came back to him. Unbidden, the words came to mind with an overwhelming compulsion to speak them anew. "To you do I answer with body or blood. My life for yours. My soul as yours. Your life, my death, 'til our last breath. Never again shall you be alone. You are mine, in this lifetime and the next. I shall ever be yours, for always. We are now one. One heart, one breath, one soul."

Instant, gut-wrenching pain ripped through him, burning agony the likes of which he had never known. The darkweed paled in comparison. He clenched his jaw as Maleta's spirit hesitated. He would bear any amount of pain if she would stay. He could just catch her by her hand. Even in spirit form, she was cold to the touch. As his hand clasped hers, that cold transferred to him, burning heat replaced by breath-stealing cold. His heart stuttered in his chest.

But she was warmer, brighter. He felt it, saw it. "My life for yours," he thought. "Only let her live free, Lady," he prayed to the Light. "That is worth any price... "

He felt a twisting, a tearing, and abruptly found himself staring at the arrowhead within his own chest. Not questioning how his consciousness came to be in her body, he sent out a small pulse of healing energy. Her heart fluttered and began beating again. So the wound was not truly mortal. He had no idea how he was able to heal someone other than himself, but began the trance-healing just as if he had been the one shot. As his real hand removed the arrow, he worked to stop the bleeding, reknit torn muscle and flesh. He felt Kikeona feeding him extra power when his reserves thinned – her own gift to the woman he loved. When he was done, he opened his eyes, back to himself. He leaned over and gave her her first breath.

"Come back to me," he whispered against her lips.

Maleta's eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. Those uncanny aquamarine eyes glowed. Nay, she glowed, lit from within. With the Light, like elfkind without the seeming. And there were no scars. "What did you do now?" she whispered.

Thunder rumbled, the ground shook, and Cianan found himself afore Hedda and Her abysmal bridge. Maleta leaned against him, barely able to stand. Kikeona appeared on the other side of Maleta, lending her strength and support. "Partners, to the end," she told him.

Hedda's red eyes burned like fiery coals. "How dare thee?" Her voice hammered into him. "Thou hast caused an irreconcilable shift from balance in My Own. Thy insolence shall cost thee dearly." Black fire crackled within her armless sleeves.

"It was love, not insolence," he told Her.

A blinding flash of Light flared behind them, and a hand came to rest on Cianan's shoulder. He turned to see the Lady Herself standing behind him, silver hair and robes blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Her other hand came to rest on Maleta's shoulder. "Greetings, Little Sister," the Lady interrupted. "I wouldst think Thou wouldst compliment My champion on a job well done, and thank him for aiding Thy people in throwing off the yoke of Sunniva and restoring freedom to Thy lands."

Hedda actually hesitated. "Thou art a long way from home." Her tone suggested the Lady hie back to whatever realm from whence She came.

"I am wherever My people need Me," the Lady replied. "I sent My champion to Thy aid, and Thou owest Me."

"He hast corrupted My servant. There is no balance there." Hedda sounded sulky.

"Thou hast another darkling daughter to take up Thy sword. Release Maleta to Cianan. She is a daughter of Light now. She always was. Ever she hast struggled against the dark."

Cianan straightened as the realization hit him. "You sent me for Maleta, Lady."

"To save her life, and her soul," the Lady agreed. She turned to Hedda. "And to save Shamar. Thy land is free and united. Take back Thy sword. Free Maleta to the rising sun, where her heart truly lies. I claim her as My child, a daughter of Light. She shares the immortal soul of an elder. The life force burns in him, and so long as he lives, so doth she – and him I forbid Thee to harm."

Hedda glared at Maleta. "Thou wouldst abandon My Mandate?"

Maleta straightened. "I'll always fight injustice, but I can't fight for the dark. I won't do what Kitta did. Raven is already Yours. I can see it, feel it. I love Cianan and Jovan, and I want my home with them." She turned to the Lady. "I don't know why You bothered... Cianan almost died... but I choose the Light. Thank you for my life."

The Lady inclined Her head. "The vow pledges a bond as old as time immortal. One heart, one soul, but it takes a great love to make it reality. Thou shalt live free, together, forever, until Cianan's death. If death takes him, it takes thee both. As he gave thee his soul, his breath, so he shall take it back in his final moment. Together in life, together in death. That is the strength, and the weakness, of the vow."

Hedda yielded. Her sword and armor vanished from Maleta's body, to reappear at Her feet. "Van Marete, Maleta, thou art no longer My Own. I release thee from My Mandate and My service. Thou hast done well, and I thank thee. Go, and live free."

Cianan felt the cold and the shadow leave Maleta, and she took a deep breath. The Lady filled Maleta, Kikeona and him with Light and power. "Thou hast fulfilled thy own quest as My champion, and as thy predecessor did with Arcadia, so thou hast freed the land of Shamar from tyranny. Thou hast found thy destiny, and so I release thee from My service, Cianan ta Daneal." His sword and armor vanished. "Live free together and be at peace." She turned to Hedda. "Until next time, Little Sister."

* * * *

The Lady vanished. Hedda and Her bridge vanished. Maleta found herself and Cianan back in the courtyard, with everyone staring at them. She glanced down at her torn, bloodied jerkin. No chain mail, no breastplate, no sword. She held out her glowing hand and gasped. "There's no scar."

Cianan closed his eyes, and Maleta ceased glowing.

She raised her hand to her cheek. "Is it gone too?"

"They all are." His voice was tight. When he opened his eyes, they shimmered and he swallowed hard.

"You were dead!" Gayle's voice shook. Her hand closed around Maleta's arm as if to confirm what her gaze beheld. "I saw you die. 'Tis a miracle."

Maleta reached out to lay her hand on Cianan's chest, over his heart. His Lady's champion armor had vanished with her own. "You did it. We're free."

He hauled her into his arms. "We are free," he whispered.

Her heart was too full for mere words. Maleta pulled his head down for a thorough soul-searing kiss. Cheering finally broke them apart, and she laughed through her tears as she turned to Gayle. "It is a miracle," she agreed. She looked over at Ana. "Come here, dear Ana."

The old woman approached. Cianan took Ana's hands in his and dropped to his knees. "You saved her life, and I can never repay that debt."

Her lip trembled. "Ye brought her back t' me. 'Tis I who thank ye."

Maleta took a deep breath. "Ana, would you show us home?"

"I've been waiting six years for ye to say that, child." Ana smiled as Cianan climbed to his feet. "Come with me."

"Your orders, Van Marete?" Gayle asked.

Maleta looked around the courtyard. "Lock up the prisoners in the barracks behind the armory. Have the wounded moved to the great hall and tended to. See to the dead." She raised her gaze to the opened gateway, where the peacock banners fluttered in the breeze. "I want every bit of Sunniva torn down and burned. Hoist our colors."

"With pleasure, lady." Dagonet bowed.

"I'll see it done." Gayle turned to the men. "Don't just stand there like posts! You heard our lady – let's move!"

Mrow grinned and prodded Ford. "Ye lead these men. Ye can lead them straight t' yer prison."

"Your sentence shall be decided later," Raven intoned.

Maleta turned to where Jana and Polkara waited by the wagon. "Come inside, and bring Jovan." She stared at the keep. She'd stood in the courtyard where her parents were murdered, and survived. It was the same courtyard where Cianan had brought her back from the brink of death, and freed them both from the service of the gods. Cianan was right – this wasn't an evil place. It was home, with both good and bad memories. She looked at Cianan, and squeezed his hand. "Time for some new memories."

He smiled. "Good ones."

Maleta entered the great hall. Servants had already taken Sunniva's banner from over the throne, and tossed it into the fire. Maleta pointed to Ford's throne. "Get rid of that. I never want to see it again. The family table goes up on the dais." She turned to Ana. "You still have Mama's rugs and tapestries?"

Ana nodded. "They're stored away."

"I want this room restored. I want everything restored, as much as possible."

"Understood." Ana went to gather the servants.

Maleta took a deep breath as she stared up the stairwell. Cianan placed a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his love soothed away the fear. She closed her eyes. A giggling eight-year-old Jovan ran up the stairs, fleeing his outraged older sister. Her father coughed and sputtered on a salted tart as her mother poured him another cup of ale. "Those damn tarts." She opened her eyes and smiled. "He locked himself in his room, where I couldn't get him. Come on. We'll start there. See if it's ready for Jovan."

"Benilo is ready whenever you are," Cianan assured her.

Maleta climbed the stairs. Ana was a fastidious housekeeper. Even as a military outpost, the keep was spotless. She stared down the corridor to her parents' room. She couldn't go down there. Not yet.

"You can always turn it into the best guest chamber," Cianan suggested.

She burrowed against him, clinging. "I'm so glad you understand."

"I know how hard this is for you." He rubbed her back with both hands.

She took a deep shuddering breath and lifted her head to search his eyes. "I'm all right, honest."

Cianan closed his eyes and dipped his head to capture her lips with his. She whimpered and opened her mouth under his. His tongue stroked across her lower lip, making her shiver. She reached up to curl her hands around his neck and pull him closer. Her whole body tingled, and she let his kiss sweep her away as far as it would. Her breasts ached strangely, her nipples pebbled against her shirt as she slid against him. His skin heated beneath her hands, and she found herself drawn to the fire.

Cianan broke off the kiss, only to rain more down the side of her neck and back up to whisper, "I love you, elingrena," in her ear. "You amaze me," he whispered against her lips afore taking her mouth in another searing kiss.

She clutched his shoulders as her knees threatened to buckle. She felt his hands rubbing warm circles on her lower back, sliding lower to cup her backside, to draw her closer against his burning erection. An unexpected stab of panic struck her, and she froze.

Cianan immediately pulled back. "Elingrena, look at me."

She dragged in a shuddering breath, and opened her eyes to see his familiar cobalt gaze. "I'm sorry, I – "

"Shh, easy now," he soothed. "It is just me. Do not apologize. I apologize to you. It was not my intention to go this far, in an open corridor in a keep full of people. But you are irresistible. You go straight to my head like fine wine. Forgive me. I shall never hurt you."

"I know that." Tears of frustration burned her eyes. "What if I can't... what if I never... " She couldn't bring herself to say the words. Her heart pounded with fear, even though her body still tingled with lingering passion.

"Breathe. Just breathe." He joined her as she did so, and she swore his heart slowed to match hers with each calming breath. "Shh, relax. You can, and you will, when you are ready." He ran a hand through her hair and smiled at her. "For now, let us go find your brother's sanctuary, and then yours."

Sanctuary. It had been years since she'd considered Kunigonde in such a light. "It's up on the next level – his room and mine." Maleta climbed the stairs and turned down the corridor. Her heart pounded as she approached Jovan's door, and she reached a trembling hand to the latch. She lifted it, and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Someone had maintained it in good repair. She gasped, too stunned to speak. It was as if the last six years had never happened. There sat his bed in the far corner, the table and chair he used to study at.

"My lady?" A female voice startled her. Maleta turned to see an unfamiliar servant hovering a few feet away. "With yer permission, my lady, we could start a fire an' change th' bed linens. Mistress Ana made sure we kept the room aired and cleaned, so it should only take a few minutes." She was as good as her word. With the lighting of the fireplace and wall sconces, more was revealed.

Kunigonde's stag draped over the study table, an inkwell and parchment ready for Jovan's hand. His old lyre and lute stood in their old familiar places. The rug her mother had woven still graced the floor. Maleta picked a book off the bedside table. "This was Jovan's favorite book of poetry... " She flipped it open to the marked page, and her eyes brimmed with tears as she pulled out a badly embroidered bookmark of musical notes on uneven lines. "I made this for him, for his tenth birthday. He kept it? I thought he'd burn it – it's awful." She started laughing, and suddenly found herself crying. "I'm sorry, this is stupid of me – "

Cianan pulled her to him. "You are not being stupid. I think you will find little things like this bookmark all over this place. Family. Home. I think the little rat must have loved you, after all."

She swung back to laughing again and wiped her eyes to look over at the wardrobe. A man's clothes hung in there. Maleta stepped closer, shivering as she recognized her father's things. She reached out to caress the sleeve of a velvety tunic. Time and Ana's washing had removed her father's scent from the cloth, but she could still picture her father wearing it on special occasions. "These were my father's. They should fit Jovan fairly well." Her voice shook.

"I think this room will be perfect," Cianan said. "We should have Jovan rest in here for the night and call Benilo at sunrise, when the Light first cracks the dark – that is when the Lady's power is strongest. A good omen."

A knock sounded on the door. Hajnal stood in the open doorway. "Can we bring him up?"

"Aye," Maleta stated. She and Cianan stood aside as Mrow and Ain carried Jovan in on a makeshift stretcher. After the men got Jovan settled onto the bed, Maleta tucked the covers around him and brushed the hair from his closed eyes.

Hajnal settled into the chair at the table. "Will he be all right?"

"Sunrise tomorrow," Maleta told her. "We're calling a special healer, one of Cianan's people. We think he might be able to wake Jovan up."

Hope lit the girl's brown eyes. "I pray Nerthus makes it so," Hajnal said. "I'll stay with him tonight."

"You're a true friend," Maleta told her. "Thank you for looking after him all these years." She kissed Jovan's forehead and then left the room with Cianan right behind her. She rubbed her hands up and down her crossed arms. "I'm almost afraid to go down there," she confessed, staring at her own door.

"I have to tell you I am dying of curiosity," Cianan said. "But if you do not want to do this, I understand."

Of course he did. He had been all that was steady and supportive while she went to pieces – repeatedly. She had to pull herself together. Maleta took a deep breath and crossed the hall to her room. Reaching out and faltering, twice, she curled her fingers into a fist to prevent her hand from shaking and lifted the latch on her third try. Like Jovan's door, hers swung silently. Like Jovan's room, hers had been cleaned and aired.

"Let me get a torch for the fire," Cianan offered. The room sprang into light, and he looked around with interest.

Maleta stepped onto the braided rug she'd made herself, and froze. Marete still lived in this room. Her embroidery stood in the corner, a half-finished unicorn standing amidst orange flowers. Tears stung her eyes as she crossed over to it. "Orange cerias, Mama's favorite flowers." She traced a line of thread with her finger, then turned to the dressing table, where a comb, a silver hand mirror and various hair ribbons lay aside a wash basin and pitcher. She ran a hand through her short spiky hair and picked up a blue ribbon. "Guess I won't be needing these anytime soon." Her laughter was brittle and forced.

Cianan placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against him to place a tender kiss on the back of her neck. "I love your hair the way it is. It makes those gorgeous eyes stand out even more. You are beautiful to me, elingrena." He fingered the ribbon she held. "We could always make more bookmarks."

Genuine laughter bubbled up from nowhere, relaxing her enough to walk over to the balcony door. "I used to stand out there, staring out over the mountains, wondering if there was another girl in the south staring northward at the same time as me. I wondered what was out there, if there was more to life than housekeeping and dancing lessons. I longed for adventure... " Her voice trailed off, and she started to shake. "Be careful what you wish for, hmm?"

He silently handed her the rag doll from her bed and pulled her down to sit aside him on the mattress. She clutched the doll and leaned against him, just breathing. Breathing in his scent, the warmth of his love. She felt his heart aching along with her own. Knowing she wasn't alone made the pain more bearable.

"You never cease to amaze me, elingrena." Cianan's voice was hoarse. "You are the strongest, most beautiful woman I have ever known. I do not deserve you, but I shall love you with every breath for as long as I live."

She turned in his arms and laid a hand against his cheek. He leaned in for a lingering kiss, at once comforting and reverent. They held each other for a long time. Polkara was right, Maleta thought. They were stronger together.

* * * *

Maleta wrung her hands and stared at Jovan as Cianan finished his explanation. "Benilo is prepared to cross over. Are you ready?" he asked.

Ana's eyes were wide, but she nodded and poked at Maleta.

Startled, Maleta jumped. "Aye."

"All right. I shall be waiting in your room." He reached out, cupped his hand under Maleta's chin so she met his gaze, and he smiled. "This is it. Your final miracle." He let himself out and closed the door.

The wardrobe wavered and shimmered. Sparkling violet and lavender split asunder, and a tall blond elf in green, with blue eyes, stepped into the room. The gate vanished behind him.

"Oh my." Ana dropped into the chair.

"What color was it this time?" He motioned behind himself.

"Purple," Maleta blurted, trying not to stare. Agelessly handsome, he had the most compassionate eyes she'd ever seen.

Those eyes twinkled as he grinned. "Hmph. Last time it was green. Gwen must be bored." He bowed. "My name is Benilo. You must be Cianan's lady, Van Marete?"

"Maleta and this is Ana." She gestured blindly.

"Oh my," Ana said again.

He looked around the room. "Mistress Ana, I have you to thank for this room? You have done well."

Ana turned a peculiar shade of pink and squeaked something that might have been thanks.

Benilo turned to Jovan, and those breathtaking eyes melted. "Oh, lad, what have they done to you?" He strode over to kneel by the bed. Closing his eyes, he placed a glowing hand on Jovan's forehead. Benilo remained that way for several minutes. Maleta saw him grimace and shudder. When he opened his eyes, his complexion was a bit green. "Dracken rue ! " he gasped. "In all my years, I have never seen such a people as this."

"Can you help him?" Maleta asked.

"Aye, lady, I can." Benilo turned to take her hand and Ana's. Warmth and reassurance flooded her with his touch, and she found herself believing him wholeheartedly. "What I need are your memories of Jovan, from his birth to the day afore the attack. Just try to remember the first time you saw him as a baby. I want you to concentrate on the love you feel for him. You shall not feel a thing, I promise, and I shall not cause a single memory to be lost or dimmed. I also swear I shall not touch a single memory not of Jovan. Now, close your eyes and think of a baby crying... "

Maleta scowled up at her father. She'd wanted a sister, and this screeching infant looked like a little piglet wrapped in a blanket. But then her father placed him in her chubby little four-year-old arms, and Jovan had stopped crying and looked at her – sort of. She loved him fiercely from that moment on. Even when he followed her everywhere, when he entered her room without knocking, when he tried to do everything she did. When a guard asked two-year-old Jovan what he wanted to be when he grew up, he stared up at his sister with adoring blue eyes and piped, "Marete." She'd played blocks with him, played hide and seek with him, taught him to lace his boots. She loved how his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth and he scowled when he focused really hard. She'd read to him at night, listened to him read to her. He'd practice his music while she sewed or embroidered. She loved his laughter.

Her eyes snapped open, and she wiped away the tears. Ana was in no better shape. Benilo smiled. "And I promise you, he loves the two of you just as much. What I want to do is lock up the past six years of Jovan's life. He shall know Kunigonde was attacked and your parents are dead. He shall know he was a prisoner of Sunniva and that you rescued him. The specifics shall come out gradually, as he gets stronger, when he is ready, as he begins to question and reach out for more. He shall awaken as you found him, a twelve-year-old boy, but he shall grow into his body. I want to give him your memories to reinforce his, the buffer of safety and home and love."

"Sweet Hedda, can't you just wipe Sunniva from his mind forever?"

Benilo nodded. "I could, but is that what you really want? If I did that, he would remain a child in a man's body forever. In order for Jovan to grow and mature, he must handle the bad with the good. But not until he is ready. He is not the child you remember. Deep within is a man with your father's strength. He shall be able to handle the truth of his own reality. As you did."

Maleta bit her lip. She wanted so badly to undo what had been done. If she couldn't undo it, at least erase the memories of the monsters.

Benilo took her hands in his. "You fought your monsters, he needs to fight his."

She nodded reluctantly.

He knelt aside Jovan's bed again and placed a hand on either side of Jovan's head. For a moment Maleta thought she heard a ghostly echo – "We love you. Come back to us." Benilo rose and stepped back. "Come up here and call him. I shall be right here by the table, but he should wake to you, not me."

Maleta knelt aside Jovan, Ana perched on the edge of the mattress just aside her. "Jovan? Jovan, it's Marete. You're home safe now. We're free. It's all right, we're home safe. Please, Jovan? Come on. Open your eyes." She reached for Ana's hand, placed both their hands over his. "Ana's here. We're safe at home, the bad men are gone. It's all right to open your eyes now. I love you. Come back to me."

Jovan took a deep breath, stirred, and opened his eyes. "Marete?"

"Aye." Tears spilled down Maleta's face as she brushed a hand over his hair. "Welcome back." She saw him glance at Ana and then around the room afore meeting her gaze again.

"I'm home? Sunniva?"

Maleta took a deep breath. How would be react? "Sunniva's dead, Jovan. We're free."

"Good. She was... " he seemed at a loss for words "... very bad." He frowned at her. "You cut your hair."

She laughed through her tears, not expecting that comment. "The abbey, remember?"

"But Mama and Papa said nothing about... " His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard. "They're dead, too, aren't they?"

"Aye, Von Jovan, they are," Ana replied. "Sunniva killed them, and a lot of others."

"But we brought you home," Maleta said. "You've been... asleep for a long time."

"There was someone at the palace." Jovan looked alarmed. "She was a friend. I need to know she's safe."

Benilo moved to the door and placed a hand against it. Maleta knew he'd sent Cianan for Hajnal – not that she'd be far. She squeezed Jovan's hand. "You've been unwell, and we called for a healer. There may be some things you have a hard time remembering, but we'll help you."

The door flew open, and there stood Hajnal and Cianan. The dark-haired girl was garbed once again as a Shamaru woman, and she rushed over to the bed. "You're all right!" she said.

Jovan flushed. "So are you. I'm... glad."

"We're all safe. Maleta and Tzigana got them all out."

Maleta turned to Benilo, impulsively jumping up to give him a big hug. "I can never thank you enough for what you've done. You brought my brother back to me."

"You brought your brother back. I but cleared a path."

Cianan cleared his throat. "You can let go of her now, my lord."

Benilo's eyes twinkled as he released Maleta. "That I shall take as my cue to leave. My work here is done. Until we meet again." He turned and strode through the door. A flash of light told Maleta he never made it out into the hall.

Cianan caught her to him. "It worked. You have your family back." He pulled her in a thorough kiss that left her hot and breathless.

"Eew." Jovan's voice broke them apart. "If you're going to be kissing my sister like that, warrior, I think as head of this family I need to know your intentions."

"You can't be serious!" Maleta laughed.

"If he intends to keep on kissing you, his intentions had better be strictly honorable. I insist he ask for your hand properly."

Cianan smiled at her. "Well, since he insists." He got down on one knee. "Elingrena, light of my heart, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

It was all she could do to nod. She trusted her heart to give him her answer.

Chapter Twenty-four

Maleta stared at the huge bronze-bound gate and placed a hand against the wood. "We didn't just guard the pass. We were an embassy to the rest of the world. Traders, storytellers, adventurers, scholars – they used to come through here all the time, and we'd welcome them."

"And so it shall be once again," Cianan assured her. "Release the lock, elingrena. Tell the gate it is all right to open to the world once again. A very special visitor arrives."

Maleta placed her bare hand against the lock. It warmed against her skin, and fell open. The chains fell down into the snow. She bent down to pick them up and attach them to the two large draft mares harnessed and waiting. She took the reins of one and clucked to her while Cianan grabbed hold of the other. The horses leaned into their collars, and slowly, with a groan, the gates swung open. Standing on Mrow's and Ain's shoulders, Jana and Ana's granddaughter Tessa applied grease to the neglected hinges. An old man on a chestnut horse approached from the mountains.

Maleta halted her mare, warming her hands under the coarse black mane as she eyed the newcomer with interest. "Who's that?"

Cianan grinned. "Auger Xavier, Queen Moira of Riverhead's seer. Come, I shall introduce you." He strode through the gateway toward a greybeard on a shaggy chestnut gelding. Maleta followed in his wake.

"You made good time," Cianan called.

Xavier hopped out of the saddle and onto the ground with the spryness of a much younger man. He patted the horse's red neck. "Queen Dara told me to make haste, and Queen Moira told me to look things over and make my report back to her. When two queens snap their fingers, an old man learns to hustle. Asides, Manu here is used to urgent missions requiring speed."

"Xavier, this is Maleta. Maleta, Auger Xavier of Riverhead."

Xavier eyed Cianan and Maleta. "I can see the bond betwixt you two. Good thing the Lady made me Her honorary priest, as well. I take it I was called to perform a wedding?"

Cianan smiled. "You are the perfect choice."

Maleta motioned Jana over. "Jana, this is Xavier. Could you take his horse to the stable?"

Jana grinned. "Aye, lady."

Xavier watched her lead Manu away. "She has the sight."

"She follows Orthia," Cianan stated. "Orthia's high priestess has selected her to be her replacement, but she needs training and supervision."

Xavier nodded thoughtfully. "So she's a land-speaker too? I sense a story or two there. Tell me what's going on here first, though. We got word the border was open and safe for travel – bad weather notwithstanding. Hengist and Moira were... curious. I was sent as their representative."

Maleta bowed. "Ambassador."

Cianan motioned. "Come, Xavier. Bring your pack and I shall show you where you can rest and get cleaned up. I can bring you afore Von Jovan at the midday meal. We shall dine together. Official business can wait until then, I trust?"

"Easily." He turned to Maleta. "Tell me, lass, what they're like? This new king and queen?"

"Informal. Direct. Von Berend is Sunniva's cousin, but is a just and fair man. Tzigana is native Shamaru – they're wanderers, gypsies. Their societal structure is extended families, not necessarily bound by blood. They make a good pairing."

"As they go, so goes the land?" He nodded. "Noble idea, when it works."

"It shall work," Cianan affirmed. "Now let's get you out of this cold. We have business to attend to while you rest."

Maleta grimaced. Ford and those of his men who truly followed Sunniva would be tried and convicted today. The gallows had already been built. Time to close that final chapter. Cianan saw Xavier to his guest quarters while Maleta went to see Jovan. She found him in the music room, his favorite refuge. "Good morning, Jovan."

His gaze was troubled. "I watched them building the gallows. Do I have to go?"

"As the leaders of our people, of Kunigonde, we need to stand together at the sentencing," she said. "You don't have to bear witness to the executions if you don't want to. I can do that."

"How?" he asked her. "How can you bear the blood on your hands?"

"By telling myself that every evildoer destroyed makes it that much safer for everyone else to live free," she said. "That's what guardians of the Light do, Jovan. What Papa did. What I do. What Cianan does."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Aye, I do. He gave me back our future." She took his hands in hers. "I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. I want to finish this. I want to hear the laughter of children again. I want our gates to stand open in welcome. I want to learn of the outside world, and for them to learn of us."

They stood together, hands clasped, on Maleta's balcony. Maleta eyed their men with pride. Redressed in the Kunigonde stag and led by their new captain, Gayle, they brought out the half-dozen prisoners who'd refused the offer of clemency. Cianan kept one hand on Maleta's waist and the other on Jovan's shoulder. Raven lurked in the background, garbed as Hedda's Own, in ice and darkness. Polkara and Dagonet stood with them. Maleta wondered if Jovan was strong enough to do this, but his voice rang out sure across the courtyard.

"Lieutenant Ford, you were Captain Tian's second, entrusted with the safety of this keep and the lives of her people and our family. We gave you everything, and you repaid us with betrayal and slaughter. Queen Sunniva is no more. You were given orders to stand down, signed by Shamar's new king, Von Berend. Yet you refused and fought to prevent our rightful return. You further led these men into this treachery, and when defeated you still refused to lay down your arms. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I refuse to go back from commander to second," Ford snarled. He glared at Gayle, clad in Captain Tian's uniform. "I'll never follow a woman."

"You followed Sunniva," Maleta called.

"I followed a queen," he retorted. "A queen who made me rich and powerful. I'll join her in death."

"Would any of the rest of you care to recant your earlier statements?"

They stood silent.

Jovan sighed. "So be it. You stand accused of high treason. I hereby convict you of it. The sentence is death by hanging, to be carried out immediately." He stood, his face grim, as the prisoners were prodded to the gallows. When it was all over, he turned to Maleta. "May we never have to do that again."

Maleta wrapped her arms around him. "Nay. Things will be different now."

"They already are." Jovan took a deep breath. "Leave them until nightfall, then use the wood from the gallows for their pyre." He looked at Cianan. "I'd meet this seer priest."

* * * *

Cianan stood in the snow at the northern gate with Kikeona, waiting for the elven Gate to open for his family. The air shimmered with a silvery line, and three riders on white horses slipped through. His gaze settled on Lord Elio's face as the old elf leaped from the saddle and strode forward to grab him in a fierce embrace. Cianan hugged him back. His eyes burned. "Father, I am glad you are here."

"I hear thou hast been busy, my son." Elio reached into a pocket, and slipped something small and metal into Cianan's hand. "For thee. I hath been saving these for the appropriate moment."

Cianan opened his hand to the glitter of two exquisitely crafted gold rings, with "Forever" etched on the insides. His throat tightened. "These were my parents'."

"Thy mother wished thee to have them for thy own bride," Elio said.

"Are you going to leave us standing in the snow," Loren teased, "or do we get to meet this paragon of virtue who broke a thousand maidens' hearts?"

Cianan laughed. "Come on, afore she wears a path in the floor." Maleta paced from the kitchen to the great hall entry, he felt her anxiety as she doubtless badgered Ana and Jovan near to death. He led the way to the courtyard, when Dagonet directed men to take the horses. Cianan placed a hand on Kikeona's neck, distracting her from staring at Dara's stallion, Gloreriell. "Perhaps you'd like to show him the way?" he prompted.

"Oh, of course." Kikeona turned to her sister. "Come, I can show you where we can rest."

Hani`ena gave Cianan a look that said she was not fooled for an instant, but she and Elio's mare Milisena went along with the charade.

Maleta met them at the door. Jovan and Ana had vanished. Dara broke the ice by giving Maleta a quick hug. "I'm so glad to finally have a sister!"

Maleta looked at Cianan. He held out his hand to her. "Come, elingrena. I want you to meet my father. Father, this is Maleta."

* * * *

Maleta faced the old elf with trepidation. This was a truly ancient being, full of knowledge and power.

He eyed her, and she felt him weigh and measure her worth. "So, child of man, thou art the one who dragged my son off on this quest, and stole his heart." He smiled and inclined his head. "I welcome thee to our family."

"You always have to start out with that child of man rhetoric," Dara complained. "It puts people off." She turned to Maleta. "He scared me spitless when I first met him, and I wasn't the one marrying his son."

"Nay, thou wert the one marrying my king," Elio reproved.

King? Then the other one must be... Maleta paled and dropped to a deep, awkward curtsy. "Y-your Majesty."

"Great goddess, Maleta, stand up." Dara dragged her to her feet. "We left our crowns at home, and he doesn't like to wear his in the first place."

Loren's leaf-green eyes twinkled at Maleta. "I am happy to meet my brother's vertenya bride. We surely must be starting a new tradition, here."

"About bloody time too," Dara retorted. "You were way overdue."

A knock sounded on the doorway, and a shy-faced Jovan peeked in. "Is this a private party?"

Cianan grinned and shook his head, motioning him to join them. "Nay, little brother. It is a family gathering, of which you are most certainly a part. We were about to get you."

Jovan came in, bearing a tray of hot spiced wine for everyone. Maleta saw Cianan take a deep breath, brace himself and then smile. "Jovan, this is my father Elio, my brother Loren and his wife Dara. Everyone, this is Maleta's brother Jovan."

Jovan stared at Dara. Cianan grinned and grabbed the tray afore the man dropped it. Loren sighed. Dara rolled her eyes at the both of them as Maleta began pouring the wine. "What's going on?" Maleta whispered as she handed Dara the first cup.

"It's some weird dragon curse that turns men into complete fools around me. I have no control over it. Ignore them."

"A toast," Jovan said. "To the upcoming marriage of my sister Marete to Cianan, odd though that feels to say."

"What's an elvish wedding like?" Maleta asked Dara.

"Well, ours was a bit unusual because we blended both cultures."

"First the couple present a token of their childhoods, to be burned on the Lady's altar as a gesture that they are ready to leave their childhoods behind them," Loren replied, "and then they offer a token of their adult vocations."

"I like that idea," Maleta decided.

Cianan smiled. "Jovan stands with you, and my father with me. Xavier asks who gives you to be my wife, and Jovan answers, 'I do, as her brother.'"

"What if I say no?" Jovan asked. Maleta kicked him. Cianan glared.

"He shall ask me, 'Who accepts this woman on behalf of his son?' and I reply, 'I do, as his father,'" Elio continued. "Then we join your hands together and go sit back down."

"We wrote our own vows, to be recited in two places," Dara added. "Why we chose each other over anyone else, then we had to declare our intent." She looked at Maleta. "What do your people do?"

Maleta thought hard. "It's been a long time, but... Oh, I remember. The women accompany the bride to the groom's home, with flowers and singing. She wears her mother's wedding dress and a wreath of flowers on her head and brings with her all her household goods, and he wears his finest and presents her with the chatelaine keys." She frowned. "Of course, it's freezing cold out, and I take it it's an awfully long walk to your home, and there're no flowers... "

Cianan cupped his hand beneath her chin. "There shall be flowers, elingrena. This I swear to you."

Maleta blinked away unexpected tears. "Everyone else tells the groom why the bride is perfect for him, and the bride why the groom is perfect for her, and there's a lot of laughter and it tends to get very boisterous and loud, but eventually the groom agrees he has the perfect bride, asks her to be his wife, and she agrees. They drink from the same cup, kiss, and he carries her inside to the feast. They eat from the same plate and drink from the same cup."

"That sounds like fun, like the whole community gets involved," Dara said.

"There's lots of toasting, and every time someone raps on the table, the newly wed have to kiss," Jovan added.

Loren laughed. "I can see the bride and groom not getting much to eat."

"They tend to get a bit... blurry," Jovan admitted.

"The bride gathers all the unmarried maidens after the feast, and tosses her head wreath," Maleta said. "Whoever catches it is supposed to dream of their betrothed that night. There's lots of dancing."

"The groom tosses coins to the guests when he and the bride leave the party," Jovan said. "Everyone else just keeps partying until the food and drink runs out or there's no one left standing."

"I think we're looking at another blended wedding, people," Dara said.

"I like the idea of the community," Cianan said. "After all these people and this place have been through, what better way to ring in the new year than with a big celebration?"

"We can have the ceremony in the chapel and the feast in the great hall," Jovan said. "Maleta can walk from her room with the women out into the courtyard, and meet Cianan there. After we talk them into actually getting married – "

Loren snickered. Dara frowned and poked him.

" – Elio and Cianan follow Xavier into the chapel, followed by me and Maleta," Jovan continued. "We do our part, you two say your vows."

"We could drink from the same cup and kiss at the altar," Cianan continued. "I carry you from the chapel into the hall."

Maleta choked. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm as big as you are. That tradition's only for little brides."

Cianan handed Loren his cup. Afore she even knew what he was about, he swept her up into his arms. She nearly spilled her wine. "You were saying, little bride?" His eyes twinkled, mere inches from hers.

Maleta's cheeks blazed and she laughed helplessly. "Put me down!"

"Not until you admit you were wrong," he argued.

"Prepare to stand there all night, then," Jovan said. "She's never wrong. Just ask her."

"He's right," she told Cianan. "I'm never wrong." Maleta laid her free hand against his cheek. "I'm certainly not wrong about you. I love you." She watched his eyes darken, and leaned forward that last little bit to kiss him.

"I can tell it shall take a great deal of convincing on our part," Elio observed.

"Thank goodness," Dara retorted. "It's cold outside!"

Cianan smiled against Maleta's lips. "Kiss me again, and I shall let you go," he whispered.

"What if I don't want you to let me go?" she whispered back. "You'll just have to keep holding me, then, won't you? All I have to do is... not... kiss... you." She squeaked as his mouth captured hers, and his tongue slid across her lower lip. She quivered and opened to him, stroking his tongue with her own.

"Technically," Loren broke in, "he kissed her, so it should not count."

Cianan pulled back with a rueful laugh, and set her down. She slid down his body, and her own reacted with a tingling restlessness. His gaze heated. "You can, and you will," he murmured for her ears only. "I guarantee that promise, elingrena."

Later that evening, Maleta sat on her bed brushing her hair when Ana knocked on the door. She entered carrying a pale blue dress. "I wanted t' bring ye yer mother's wedding dress t' try on, so we can make alterations if we have t'. Blue for new beginnings. A good omen." She smiled.

Maleta stared at the dress, reached out with a shaking hand. "I've never seen this dress."

"Well, ye wouldn't have, would ye?" Ana sighed. "I wish she could have been here t' see this day. She'd be so proud of ye. He's a handsome one, and so good t' ye. I wish ye both great joy. Now let's try this on."

Maleta slithered out of her nightgown, shivering as Ana slid the gown over her head. "Don't I wear anything underneath it?"

"Of course not." Ana laced the back tight. "Well, stockings."

"Oh, good," Maleta retorted. "At least I won't be naked." She gasped as Ana yanked the strings tighter. "Is breathing optional?"

"Raise your arms," Ana told her.

Maleta started to, only to hear "Stop!" She froze.

"We have t' let the sleeves and shoulders out a bit."

"Sorry. Too much sword work."

"And lengthen the skirt about three fingers' worth – ye're taller than yer mother," Ana decided. "Myst can do that tomorrow easily enough. We'll try it on again tomorrow night." She released the strings and helped Maleta take the dress off again.

Maleta hurried to don her nightgown again, and Ana whisked out with the dress again. The housekeeper nearly ran into Dara.

"They told me your room was down here," Dara said. "Can we talk?"

"Please." Maleta indicated the rocking chairs afore the fire.

Dara sat in one, waiting until Maleta settled into the other. "Cianan sent me to interrogate you on what flowers you wanted for the wedding, and the wreath."

"I have a little bottle of perfume on my dressing table that I like." Maleta felt her cheeks flush. "I don't know the name of the flowers, and I'm too ashamed to ask Ana – then she'd know I forgot."

"I have a pretty good nose. Let me try." Dara strode over to the dressing table and picked up the crystal vial, lifting the stopper to sniff the oil inside. "Light and fresh... springtime... new beginnings. It's freesia, how perfect is that?"

"I'd like orange cerias in the chapel and banquet hall," Maleta said wistfully. "They were Mama's favorite flowers. If she can't be there, I'd like the flowers there in her memory."

"Absolutely." Dara smiled gently. "My mother wasn't at my wedding, either. She died when I was little. Loren's grandmother gave me the wedding night speech."

Maleta grimaced at the thought of the wedding night.

"Cianan told Loren you have concerns about the bonding. They thought if you could talk to one who took the plunge and lived to tell the tale, maybe it wouldn't be so scary. You know you already share his heart and soul."

Maleta nodded and drew her legs up to wrap her arms around her knees. "Are dragons immortal?"

Dara shook her head and retook her seat. Her eyes shimmered in the firelight. "Nay. Elves are immortal if they aren't killed, and you're immortal now because Cianan gave you half his soul when you lay dying." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm only immortal because Loren's father gave me his own immortality and died – he went to be with his wife, for whom he'd grieved for years. Gracing a mortal with immortality and Light can only come from great sacrifice, to ensure so precious a gift is not squandered."

"Can you really hear each other's thoughts, all the time? No secrets? No privacy? How do you not go mad?" Maleta bit her lip. "There are things about me that Cianan knows about, but he doesn't really know. I don't know that I want to put him through that."

"Life-mates take the bad with the good," Dara said. "Cianan told me about Hedda's possession, and I've seen your friend Raven. I can see why you're concerned. But it's not like that. Aye, you can hear each other's thoughts, feel each other's emotions. But with love and Light, it's a constant warmth, an affirmation, a reassurance. Private discussions, little private humor that only the two of you comprehend. Total love and acceptance." She grinned. "And the sex is unbelievable!"

Maleta bit her lip and tried not to cringe.

Dara immediately sobered. "Asides being your sister, I'm also your healer. I know it's hard to believe after what happened to you. But the man who violated your body is dead. He did not take away who you are. The woman I saw today laughed in my brother's arms, teased him, kissed him back with passion."

"But yesterday when we kissed I completely snapped out on him."

"What did he do differently? Specifically?'

Maleta's cheeks burned. "He grabbed my backside and rubbed against me. How are we to ever have sex if I can't even handle that?"

"Slowly, with great tenderness." Dara leaned forward. "As you make love, you begin to feel what the other person feels, literally, physically. You lean against his shoulder, and you feel his skin against your cheek. But you also feel your hair against your shoulder. You feel what he feels, what you do to him, how you affect him. It's incredible to know how much he needs you, how much he wants you to feel pleasure at the joining. What you fear isn't Cianan. What you fear is force and restraint."

"But to be under a man again?" Maleta shook at the very thought. Immediately warmth and love flooded her. Cianan didn't know what scared her – he just reacted to her fear with reassurance.

"See what I mean? He loves you. More than life. He would never do anything to hurt you." Dara slouched back in her chair. "You fear being under Cianan in bed? Then don't be under him."

"Pardon?" Maleta thought she'd strangle on the word. "I don't understand."

"Trade places – you be on top. You keep the control. There are many ways to make love, Maleta, and all of them bring nothing but pleasure." She grinned, mischief in her eyes. "Trust me, Cianan won't be complaining. It'll be all right." Dara stood. "Cianan's working on his vows. You should do the same."

* * * *

Maleta stared at her reflection in the mirror. The ice-blue dress formed a V, from the point of her shoulders down betwixt her breasts, outlined with shimmering silver and white embroidery, tiny snowflakes with seed-pearl centers. The long sleeves were still tight, and Maleta cared less about her tiny waist than in her ability to breathe, but the skirt flowed like water over her hips to the ground. Silk stockings and slippers completed the outfit. Maleta thought completed was a purely subjective phrase for someone wearing no especial undergarments. They'd found a use for the hair ribbons after all – a dainty circlet of freesia encircled her hair, the ribbons hanging down her back. She'd bathed in water scented with the same oil, and her skin shimmered in the firelight. She barely recognized herself.

"Ye're beautiful," Ana stated. She flung a blue woolen cloak over Maleta's shoulders and drew the hood up carefully. "Otherwise ye'll be the same color as yer dress in no time. Jovan can take it off ye in the chapel, and then we can all watch yer warrior faint, overcome by the beauty of his bride."

Maleta rolled her eyes. "Did you get a head start on the toasting, perchance?"

Dara knocked on the door. "Time to go."

Maleta took a deep breath and left her room. Accompanied by Dara and Ana, she strode down the stairs and out into the sunny courtyard, where Cianan awaited her with Jovan, Xavier and his family. Cianan, Loren and Elio were garbed in what had to be dress uniforms of hunter green velvet, complete with medals and gold braiding. All the servants and guard cheered as she appeared.

"A brave knight awaits our lady's hand!" Gayle called out. "Pray tell, sirs, why he deems himself worthy of her?"

And so they were off and running. Boasts and offers and counteroffers, jests and laughter, as the bartering see-sawed back and forth from the absurd to the heart-wrenching.

"Enough!" Cianan raised his hands. "Van Marete is indeed the very paragon of womanhood I have sought all my life. Fair lady, would you consent to become my wife, forever and always?"

Maleta's sides ached from laughing. "If I must, I suppose I could do worse than a handsome warrior who worships me," she teased. "Aye, I'll have you as my one and only."

Everyone cheered.

"To the chapel!" Xavier cried, holding up the chalice of honey mead and leading the way. Cianan took his place up front with Loren and Elio. The guests found their seats. Jovan closed the door behind Maleta and him. Her eyes burned as she noticed the orange cerias placed about the chapel and at the altar. Jovan carefully helped her off with the cloak. There were gasps from all around. Cianan's jaw dropped.

Maleta blushed. It suddenly occurred to her he'd never seen her in a dress afore. Jovan led her to the front. Maleta and Cianan had eyes only for each other.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" Xavier asked.

"I do, as her brother," Jovan replied.

"And who accepts her as wife for his son?"

Elio cleared his throat. "I do, as his father – wholeheartedly."

Cianan and Loren grinned.

"On this day, Van Marete Shamari and Cianan ta Daneal have chosen to set aside their childhood and take their adult places as husband and wife," Xavier continued. "As a gesture of this transition, I would receive their tokens of childhood."

Ana and Elio each handed Xavier a box. Xavier removed a penmanship stylus for Maleta and a grass whistle for Cianan. He turned to the altar. "Lady Goddess, receive these tokens of childhood, and with it, Maleta's and Cianan's pledges that they have indeed chosen this first step into their adult union." As the incense-scented flames devoured the offerings, Xavier turned back to the couple. "You stand here today on the brink of adulthood, no longer in the care of your families. Gentlemen, I dismiss thee."

Elio and Jovan joined Cianan's and Maleta's hands, and went to sit in the front row with Ana.

The priest smiled at the couple. "I would receive their tokens of adulthood at this time."

Dara and Loren bowed and presented two more ornate boxes. Xavier accepted a small symbolic sword and a candle for Maleta.

"I bring to this union my skills as warrior and my newfound devotion to the Light," Maleta announced. "I swear to always fight at your side against all foes, and guard your back against the same."

Xavier took a miniature bow and quiver of arrows for Cianan.

"I bring to this union my vow to always provide for you, and keep danger to you at a distance, to strike it down afore any harm reaches you," Cianan stated.

Xavier laid the tokens at the base of the altar. "Lady of Light, mother of all life, accept these symbols of Maleta's and Cianan's eternal vows." He turned to the gathered attendees. "If there be any here today who judge that these two not be fully prepared for this union, let him – or her – come forth."

No one moved, or spoke. Xavier waited for a count of thirty. "So be it. Henceforth, let no one act against this union or seek to unravel these bonds." Taking a braided horsehair cord from around his neck, he wrapped it several times around Maleta's and Cianan's hands. "Two lives shared. Two bodies, two minds, two hearts, two souls – two halves of a whole. No longer apart, no longer separate." He looked at Maleta. "Van Marete, why do you choose this man above all others?"

Maleta had eyes only for Cianan, and she took a breath. "I was lost in the darkness of this world, living a life of survival and vengeance with no hope for the future. And then you came along and showed me a better way. You gave me the courage to reach for the Light and hope for freedom. You accept me for whom and what I am. You gave me belief and strength when mine wavered. You set me free, and helped bring my family back together again. You're my conscience, my heart and my soul."

"Cianan ta Daneal, why do you choose this woman above all others?"

His eyes glistened at her. "I traveled to Shamar on the power of a vision. I saw you fight the darkness alone. In a life that would have broken most, you rise above it. You are truly vertenya, and I stand in awe of your strength and courage. You lean on me, you gift me with your trust, and it challenges me to always prove worthy of such a gesture. You are my vision, my love."

Xavier beamed at them. "Van Marete, afore this gathering, declare thy intent."

Maleta's throat tightened around unshed tears. She couldn't believe she was really doing this. Her voice shook. "I come to you today rejoicing. Heart and soul, body and mind, I give myself into your keeping. I'll fight by your side against all foes. I'll counsel you and comfort you. I vow to be an equal partner and helpmate in our home. I'll honor your friends and your family. I'll be a good mother to our children."

"Cianan ta Daneal, afore this gathering declare thy intent."

Cianan raised their hands to his lips, she felt him kiss her fingers. His gaze never left hers. "Today I vow you shall be an equal partner in all things. We shall face all things, together, side-by-side. We have proven we are stronger together than we are apart. I take your heart in my keeping and give you mine in return. I shall honor your friends and your family. I shall be a good father to our children."

"Who bears witness to these vows?" Xavier demanded.

"We do," the entire gathering answered.

Xavier turned to Cianan. "The rings."

Maleta frowned at Cianan, baffled. This was a surprise – he'd said nothing of this.

He smiled and uncurled his free hand. In his palm rested two gold rings. "These rings belonged to my parents. The inscription reads Forever. My mother wanted me to have them, to share them with my chosen bride. I was hoping you would consent to wear these with me, as a symbol of our pledge today."

"I-I would be honored." Honored? More like overwhelmed. She watched him slip the dainty gold ring on her bound hand, and struggled to do the same.

"Van Marete, Cianan ta Daneal, with the blessings of our Goddess I now declare this union sealed until your last breath." Xavier offered the chalice to Maleta, and she took a drink, then he gave it to Cianan, who turned the chalice so his lips touched the same spot hers had. Xavier poured the remainder of the honey mead on the altar. "Cianan, you may kiss your bride."

Cianan curled a hand around Maleta's neck, and took her mouth in a burning kiss that made her tremble. When they parted, Xavier unbound their hands, and Cianan kissed the ring on her finger. To enthusiastic cheers, Cianan swept Maleta up into his arms, and true to his word carried her into the great hall, up onto the dais to their seats at the table. His heated gaze swept her from wreath to slippers and back again, lingering on the bared flesh above the gown.

Maleta bit her lip. "I know, I look really different, and – "

His lips silenced her, his tongue teasing hers in an openly carnal kiss that weakened her knees and had her clinging to his tunic in a desperate attempt to remain standing. He broke off the kiss to bury his face in the curve of her shoulder. He took a deep breath, and trembled. "Lord and Lady, you take my breath away," he whispered. She gasped as his breath tickled her skin. "You smell so sweet, part freesia, part you. I tried to envision what you would look like in your wedding dress, but I could have never imagined this. You are so very beautiful, elingrena."

Maleta focused on the medals to avoid the heat in his gaze. She brushed a small white horse. "What's this one for?"

He smiled, accepting her shy withdrawal. "I got that when Kikeona chose me as her partner, to symbolize my ranger status. They all mean something. The half-risen sun you already know stands for the Lady and the Light. The sword is for my graduation from the academy. The bow and quiver affirm my skill as an archer – the circle around it means I am an instructor of the same. Each bar represents fifty years of service to my king."

"And the book?"

"That represents the quest to the Isle of Mysts, to retrieve a book of spells Dara needed for the war against the demon. We had to travel through the Shadowlands to get there. All who went wear that book as a reminder."

The shadow in his voice made her look up. She saw the same shadow in his eyes. "The battle I saw in the sword-vision?" she asked. He nodded. She reached up to brush back a strand of black hair over his shoulder. "And the shield that bears the book?"

"He's the only one with that distinction," Dara said from behind him. "When he saved my life. I fell from my horse, and he placed himself betwixt a goblin sword and me. A living shield. It seemed appropriate."

"And I have one more to give him now," Loren said quietly. "With Aletha and Everett's blessings and the Lady's permission, we have created a symbol for Lady's champion."

Maleta and Cianan turned to face Loren and Dara. Elio stood behind his king and queen, his eyes glowing with pride as his gaze rested on his son. Maleta watched Loren pin a hand holding a burning torch aloft to Cianan's tunic, and noted the same medal on his own. Cianan trembled, just a bit. She squeezed his hand.

"Wear it with pride, the rest of your days," Loren said. Dara stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "And I have one more announcement," the elven king added. He turned to the assembly. "I hereby appoint Cianan ta Daneal as my ambassador and personal representative to the kingdom of Shamar, and authorize him to use Kunigonde as our official embassy."

"I accept thy resignation from the academy, in light of thy new promotion," Elio added.

"We could certainly use an archery instructor here," Gayle called. "Mostly we use sword and shield."

"I am honored to host the new Arcadian and Poshnari-Unai embassies here, on behalf of Shamar," Jovan said. "Marete, Cianan, I grant you the east wing as your own."

Ana bustled forward. "Yer suite has already been prepared, but ye can tell us how ye wish the rest."

Maleta's eyes burned. "We're staying?"

Cianan smiled. "This is our home. Asides, I imagine ambassadors must travel back and forth to the kingdom they represent, just to keep in touch."

"Frequently." Loren's eyes twinkled.

"Then I accept my new position."

Maleta threw her arms around his neck for a heartfelt kiss, a kiss Cianan took full advantage of.

"A toast," Elio interrupted. "I would celebrate this union and welcome my new daughter to my family."

Cianan's gaze never left hers as he drank the toast with the rest. "I would say a word of my own, in honor of my bride. Cerilyrian avariel, elingrena. You complete me, My Heart." He drank alone, for her.

Maleta trembled at the words, and had to sit down afore she fell down. That signaled the start of the banquet, and servants began passing platters of food and refilling pitchers. Ana herself brought the food to the head table. Maleta frowned in puzzlement at variety of fresh fruits and vegetables provided. Lettuce, pea pods, strawberries? She glanced at Cianan, but it was Elio who answered.

"Since the bride's family hosted the location and the ceremony, the groom's family provided the provisions," he stated. "A bit backward from what thou told us was thy tradition, but we would honor thy ways as we can."

"And we've sent ships to the harbor at Marcou, filled with food and supplies to see Shamar through the winter and next year's planting," Dara added.

"It truly is a new beginning," Maleta whispered. She barely tasted the strawberry Cianan brushed against her lips. Someone rapped on their table, and Cianan grinned.

"Here we go," he murmured and kissed her as her tradition demanded. He handed her the goblet, filled with a golden elven wine. "We shall probably have to eat fast, to keep a clear head. I should hate for you to get me drunk and take unfair advantage of me."

Her cheeks flamed at the image that called to mind. There was laughter, toasts and kisses, and she knew she ate some, but it was all a blur. All she could feel was the warmth of Cianan's love, the sureness of his belief in them. The heat of his desire for her flickered within the glow of his love, and his need awakened a longing within her. After the meal, he pulled her up, and led her down to the middle of the room for the first bridal dance. Maleta marveled at how right it felt to be in his arms, at how the fear just disappeared. She was Cianan's bride, and tonight would be his wife in truth. She wanted the magic Dara spoke of.

Cianan stopped dancing. "I sense where your thoughts lead. I can feel you melting, can scent your desire with every breath I take. I want to take you away from here so badly I am shaking." His eyes blazed. "I would be alone with my wife and spend the rest of tonight showing her indeed how much I worship her. Are you ready to go where I lead?"

She trembled at the strength of his need for her. She needed this too. Needed him to complete her, to make her whole. She nodded and reached up to pull the wreath slowly from her head. Chairs scraped back as Kunigonde maidens gathered, giggling, around them. "You have to cover my eyes," she whispered. "The hand of fate must be blind when I throw this." He moved behind her and covered her closed eyes lightly with his hands. She heard the girls circle, and threw the wreath backward, behind her and Cianan. A shriek of glee told her someone had it. Cianan uncovered her eyes, and they turned to see Jana laughing and clapping her wreath-free hands.

Next to her stood a frozen Gayle, staring with astonishment at the beribboned wreath in her hands. Her stunned gaze rose to Maleta's. "What did you do?"

"The Destiny Hand," Cianan said.

"Mayhaps 'tis time for your own miracle, Captain." Maleta smiled. "Sweet dreams."

Cianan untied the moneybag from his belt. Reaching in, he grabbed a handful of gold coins and tossed them into the air. They bounced and scattered all about the great hall until the bag was empty and every guest had one. "Rejoice in our happiness," he said. "Ana?"

"Aye, my lord?"

"We take our leave now. Would you guide us to our new home?"

"As you have guided me my whole life," Maleta added.

Ana's eyes shone with tears. "With great pride and honor, my lady."

Chapter Twenty-five

Maleta looked around what had once been the best guest suite, with a bedroom, sitting area, bathing chamber and wardrobe. A door opened to another bedroom, which could easily be converted into a nursery. She blushed at the thought. Her rocking chairs and rug graced the sitting area, along with her embroidery stand and an unfamiliar large wooden chair with green velvet cushions. Their personal weapons hung over the fireplace mantle. She felt Cianan's start of surprise at the chair. "Yours?"

He nodded and glanced at Ana.

"We might've sent for a few things of yers," she admitted. "Lord Elio sent them through with the help of someone named Gwendolyn. If ye'll excuse me, I'd bid ye good night."

"Good night, Ana," Maleta said. "Thank you."

"Dear Gwen." Cianan smiled as he took Maleta's hand and led her back to the bedroom. The old bed had been replaced with a massive four-poster, with a headboard and footboard of golden wood carved with the sinuous forms of vines and leafy trees. A matching chest of drawers stood in the corner, aside her little bookshelf. Her chest rested at the foot of the bed. A tray of food and a pitcher of wine sat atop her table, flanked by her chairs. A stunning tapestry of a white rearing horse against a starlit background hung over her dressing table. Vases of freesia and beeswax candles stood on every flat surface. Their scents glossed the heavier smell of burning pine from the two fireplaces. Her draperies covered the windows and the doorway to an east-facing balcony, blocking any chill. Leaf-embossed runners graced the floor on either side of the bed.

Maleta tried hard not to stare at that enormous bed.

"Our people must have worked all day on this," Cianan observed. "Amazing how Kunigonde's colors match my own. We blend together seamlessly. Already I feel as though I have come home."

"It's beautiful," she agreed. Did the bed have to be so big, so... there?

He smiled. "You are beautiful." He grabbed a quilt folded at the foot of the bed. "Grab the tray."

"What?" She blinked at him, but he was already spreading the quilt afore the fire in the sitting room.

"Bring the food out here." He appeared in the doorway. "I shall grab the drinks."

Maleta glanced at the bed. "But aren't we – "

Cianan quirked an eyebrow at her. "Are you sleepy?"

"N-n-no."

"Then bring the tray." He picked up the pitcher and cups and carried them over to the quilt on the rug.

Mystified, she picked up the food and followed him. Once in the main room, away from that bed, she breathed easier.

He chuckled and dropped to the floor. "You do not have to be quite so relieved, elingrena. I feel as though I have granted you a stay of execution."

Since that was exactly how Maleta herself felt, she wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't mocking her, but still she blushed.

"I can take that off your hands." He set the tray down for her, then held out his hand. "Come. Sit aside me." Cianan pulled her down. He kicked off his boots and sprawled on his side, head propped up on his hand. She removed her slippers and sat aside him, spreading her skirt over her legs while he casually cored a pear. "This is a great deal more peaceful without all those people staring at us, hmm?" he asked. "You hardly ate a thing." He sliced the pear and held a piece to her mouth. "Here."

She took it from his fingers, shivering when his thumb slid across her lower lip as he pulled his hand away. He ate his slice off the knife. The next piece he offered her dripped juice down his hand. Without thinking about what she did, she caught the drop on the tip of her tongue, tasting the salt of Cianan's skin along with sweet pear. He sucked in a breath. His gaze never left her face as he brought his hand to his mouth and licked off the rest of the juice.

Her eyes widened at how such a seemingly harmless activity changed in a heartbeat, and wondered at this unfamiliar game. Could two play? She picked up a slice of pear.

"Careful, elingrena, I bite," he teased gently. His voice roughened with passion, but she caught the humor in his eyes and a feeling of admiration from him that she was willing to try so quickly.

It emboldened her. She hesitated, then placed the fruit on his tongue. He sucked her fingers unto his mouth along with the pear, and his teeth scraped her skin ever so slightly as she pulled free. She gasped at the tingling sensations that caused, and his eyes darkened. He caught her hand in his, brought it close to kiss her palm, her wrist. Her nipples tightened in reaction, and she shifted restlessly as he scraped his teeth lightly over the unbelievably sensitive skin of her wrist.

"Shh, easy, elingrena," he soothed. Cianan picked up another piece of fruit, tracing her lips with it afore allowing her to take it from his hand. She slowly sucked the pear into her mouth, and he shuddered. A flash of hot desire hit her as he groaned, "You are killing me, wife."

Had she done something wrong?

"Nay, never," he assured her. "You are just very good at this." He rose up to brush her mouth with his, teasing the juice from her lips with his tongue and then pulling away. "It is a simple bonding game, elingrena."

Maleta slipped him another piece, and he traced the lines of her palm with his tongue.

"Do not be afraid of your feelings. Just let them happen," he murmured.

She stared into his eyes.

"Trust me. I wish only for your pleasure here, this night." Cianan curled his fingers and reached up to trail the back of his knuckles down the side of her neck, then stroked along her jaw.

Maleta needed to kiss him. She leaned in to brush his lips with hers, breathing in his hot male scent. His mouth opened under hers, and she stroked his tongue with her own. A tingling fire quickly spread. They kissed for long moments, tongues tangling, his breath becoming hers. Her breath becoming his. Her breasts swelled against the confines of her dress, her nipples rubbing against the material until they were points of need. She whimpered into his mouth, wanting more. She pulled back to catch her breath, and he trailed a line of fire down her neck, scraping over the pulse pounding in her throat with his teeth. "Please!" she gasped.

"So sweet," he whispered against her skin. "Sweet Goddess, you make me burn." He brushed his fingertips along the edge of her gown, dipping into the slight hollow betwixt the tops of her breasts. "I need your touch on me," he coaxed, curling her fingers around the hem of his tunic. "Take it off," he urged. "Tell me to take it off."

Her hand slipped under the material but was hampered by the stitching. His groan was pure encouragement, and she wanted to keep going. "Take it off," she echoed. She slid the tunic up, gliding over hot skin and the hard muscle along his sides. He yanked the tunic over his head, tossing it carelessly across the room. "You should hang that up," she teased.

"Later." He pulled her down into an open-mouthed kiss, teasing his fingers along the top of her gown again. "Let me touch you." He cupped a hand around each breast, squeezing gently, stroking his thumbs across her nipples through the material.

The circling caress shocked her, but felt too good to object. She needed... something... so badly... A growing tension built, and she shifted restlessly against him. He slid his leg betwixt hers, easing the ache a little.

"Feel the fire," he whispered. His fingers quickened their pace. "Burn with me."

Her heart pounded as she moved on him, straining toward some mysterious end. "Cianan," she cried out in shock as his mouth closed over her breast and he tongued her through the material, suckling hard. An answering dart of fire struck low in her abdomen and she clutched his hair, arching into his mouth.

He released her breast, and she could have cried at the loss. "Go on." His voice was raspy, hoarse. She quivered at the sound. "Let go. Trust me, I have you." Then he switched to her other breast, pulling hard ... and her entire world shattered in a rush of stars. She screamed. His name. His kiss silenced anything else she might have expressed as her nails tightened on his shoulders and she shook in his arms. Gradually his kiss gentled, his hand slowly stroking her arm and her back.

Maleta gasped for air and opened her eyes, dazed, exhilarated, exhausted. She couldn't move. Her skirt was bunched up every which way about her legs – and his. She still quivered. Cianan rubbed circles against her lower belly, which helped her relax. "Oh, my stars!" she gasped. "What just happened?"

Cianan smiled. His eyes glowed. She caught a feeling of pride, of awe. "You are an incredible woman, elingrena. So sensitive, so passionate. You flew – and I never even got you out of your clothes. That feeling is what happens during true lovemaking, when you trust and give yourself over completely to your lover. No pain, no fear. Just pleasure after pleasure." He rained a trail of fire with his lips down her neck, across her shoulder, and reached around to tug at the lacings of her gown. "It feels even better when skin can slide against skin – plus you can now, finally, take a deep breath."

Maleta laughed, but as the gown loosened she was able to breathe easier. "So you're always right too? That could be a problem."

"When it comes to you and me, to us, neither one of us shall ever be wrong," he murmured.

She ran a hand along his side and felt him shudder in reaction. She caressed his heated skin, her hand sliding around to his belly and up to his chest. His heart hammered under her hand. "You're burning up," she whispered.

"Oh, aye." Cianan closed his eyes as her hand lowered, her fingers just brushing the band of his breeches. "And we shall burn a lot hotter afore morning breaks." He opened his eyes, and slid her dress down over one shoulder. "Take your arm out of the sleeve."

She grabbed at his hand. "Why?"

"Because I do not want your arms restrained when this dress comes down." He searched her eyes. "You can look and touch all you want, get used to me, to my body. Nothing is forbidden, nothing is wrong. But I need to see you, touch you too, I want my chance to please you again." Cianan closed his mouth over her shoulder, caressing her with his tongue. "No pain, no fear. Just pleasure after pleasure, and the slide of hot skin against hot skin," he whispered in her ear. "Take off the sleeves. Trust me again to show you how good it can be."

Trust me. She did, but was struck with a wave of shyness as she sat up and wiggled out of the sleeves. She clutched the rest of the gown to her chest.

He smiled, rising up to kneel afore her. "Do you not know how beautiful you are to me? How desirable?" He nibbled at her ear, teasing his way down her throat and over her shoulder. One hand cradled her head, his fingers buried in her hair. He caressed her arm with his other hand, fingertips gliding across her skin.

Maleta trembled at his words, his touch. She stroked a hand up his chest, finding a flat male nipple and pinching it lightly betwixt her fingers afore continuing up to curl around the back of his neck. She heard his breath hiss at the contact. "Kiss me," she whispered. When his lips captured hers, she reached up with both hands to pull him closer, threading her fingers through his hair.

Cianan slid his hands down her shoulders and back, hooking the material of her dress and pushing it down to her waist. She sucked in a breath as her breasts sprang free, and his caresses drew her more firmly against him. Her nipples puckered as he slid against her, and he groaned. "Lord and Lady, you feel good. So soft... " He fell back onto the quilt, bringing her down with him, rolling over so she lay aside him with her back to the fire. Cianan eased back. "I have waited so long for you, elingrena. Let me look at you."

Maleta's face flamed, and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to cross her arms over her breasts. The open love and appreciation in his eyes eased her shyness. She couldn't panic when he reached out to cup her breast – there was such gentleness, almost reverence, in his touch. It was all she could do to remember to breathe as he circled her pale pink nipple with his thumb, and she swelled in his hand. Her nipple tightened, begging for his mouth. "Please," she whispered.

"So lovely." He nuzzled betwixt her breasts. "So sweet. I need you, elingrena. Cerilyrian avariel."

She turned in his arms, daring to brush her nipple across his lips. "Please," she whispered again.

"I love a woman who knows what she wants." Cianan drew her into his mouth, stroking her nipple with his tongue. He reached down to cup a hand around her leg, sliding upward beneath her skirt, kneading the muscles under her stocking. His hand met bare skin at her thigh, gliding up to lightly squeeze her backside, and he groaned. "Sweet Mother, wife, you wear nothing beneath your gown?"

Maleta shook her head, panting. She drowned in a sea of heat and sensation. More, she needed more. She must have spoken the word aloud, because he suckled harder. Her legs shifted, and he drew one over his hip, trailing his fingers along her inner thigh. It would have tickled had she not burned so. Then his fingers tangled in the damp curls betwixt her legs, sliding across her swollen, molten core, and she was lost to a wanton creature of fire and need. She felt his fingers probe deep, first one, then two. She rolled her hips into his hand, clutching his head and arching into his mouth. His thumb located a point of pure heat, and he circled it, mimicking the motion with his tongue on her nipple. She started to shake, and he inserted a third finger into her as her body jerked and the world exploded once more. She felt herself pulse around his fingers, coming to coherence enough to marvel at the truth of his words: "No fear. No pain. Just pleasure." Twice now, the pleasure had been entirely hers.

"Not entirely your own," he murmured in her ear. She opened her eyes to see his blazing inches from her own. "Have you any idea how magnificent you are, elingrena ? After all you have been through, to trust me enough to lie here with me? To not only accept the touch of passion but to throw yourself headlong into it? You make me feel ten feet tall."

She blushed at his words, but felt herself glowing at his sincerity. "I love you."

"Cerilyrian avariel, elingrena. I love you too." Cianan stood, pulling her to her feet as well. Her legs still quivered with aftershocks, but she clung to him as he slid her skirt down over her hips. It pooled around her feet, and she stepped clear of it. "You are in my heart and in my blood. I want you, I need you so much. I want us to come together in our bed. Take that final leap with me. Make us whole."

Tears burned her eyes, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. He stood afore her, heart and soul open to her. Burning for her. Only her. A nod was all she could manage – and a squeak as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to their bed. He laid her down on the coverlet, but didn't join her right away. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

"I am admiring you, wife," he said. "My beautiful vertenya bride, in my life and in my bed at long last."

Maleta sat up and took his hand. "Then come join me. Our bed wasn't made for one, husband." She pulled him up aside her, wrapping her arms around him and brushing his lips with hers. She marveled at being able to lie here like this, naked and wanting a man. She shivered at his strength, his restraint and gentleness. He had awakened her heart, and her body, and she wanted nothing more than to share both with him. She wanted him to know how much she wanted him, needed him too. She slid against him, stroking his hot skin with her hands, leaning down to rain kisses across his chest, to run the tip of her tongue over his nipples.

Cianan groaned something incoherent and ran one hand through her hair. The other stroked down her back and over her hip. Maleta's caress moved lower, and his stomach muscles clenched beneath her hand. When her fingers teased along the waistband of his breeches, he sucked in a breath and palmed her breasts in his hands. He burned against her skin. He pulled her up for an open-mouthed kiss of pure fire, his tongue sliding over hers.

She trembled as her tongue dueled with his. Her breasts swelled at his touch, her nipples peaking into his hands. She felt their points against her palms, smelled the sweet scent of freesia. She felt her hands running over his sides, trailing along the edge of her breeches. She faltered. It was Cianan. She was feeling what he experienced, how he burned at her touch. She breathed in the scent of hot, aroused male, of salt and sweat and need. She broke off the kiss to run her tongue along his collarbone, over his nipples. She felt his skin slide against her breasts, felt her hair tickle his skin. She felt the moist heat gathered betwixt her own legs.

Cianan grabbed at her hand, turning it to trace the veins of her wrist with his lips. She gasped, slipping free of his hand and reaching down to dip her fingers along the waistband of his breeches again. They stretched tight over an aching erection. He longed to be naked with her, ached to the point of pain, but she had to ask. He'd promised himself she'd have to ask – when she was ready. She rained kisses over his belly, and the flash of heat made her moan. His hips lifted off the bed, straining toward her.

"Take them off," Maleta whispered, her voice hoarse. "I'm asking now. I want nothing betwixt us."

His eyes blazed at hers as he removed his breeches and hose. Only his loincloth remained. She'd have to take it off herself. He captured a breast, suckling on her. She moaned at the flash of heat that caused, felt herself swelling, softening. He shuddered as well at her liquid response. Her scent drew him to her. Afore she knew what he intended, he kissed his way down her belly. His hands slid over her inner thighs, teasing her legs apart. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, Cianan moved betwixt them.

Maleta cried out in shock at the touch of his mouth... there. She had no idea men did such things... His tongue swiped a line of fire along her wet, swollen flesh, delving deep into her aching core, and all thought ceased. All she could do was feel – feel the decadent pleasure of his mouth, teasing her most sensitive flesh with tongue and lips and teeth. Her mouth watered at the tangy, salt scent and taste of her woman's cream, and she sobbed as she moved on his mouth. He wanted this, thirsted for the proof of her passion. She needed this more than her next breath. Together they burned to the edge of exploding with a need beyond desire.

Mine, echoed in her head, an intense satisfaction in the knowledge that none other had brought her this pleasure, that she needed him. She caught Cianan's desperate need to sheathe himself within her hot, voluptuous core until she shattered around him. He ached for release. Her soul cried to give it to him.

She pulled him up for an open-mouthed kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on her lips. She reached down to fumble with his loincloth, her hands brushing against his erection as the cloth fell away. She faltered. He was huge in her hand. They'd never fit.

"Aye, we shall fit," he whispered. He scraped his teeth across the pulse pounding in her throat, circled her nipples with his thumbs, keeping her on the razor's edge of desire and not allowing the fear to fully form. "I was born for your pleasure, elingrena. You are so ready for me – I can feel your need. Your body cries out for mine. Mine burns for yours and yours alone. No pain, only pleasure."

Dara's advice came back to Maleta. She wouldn't let him hold her down. Immediately he rolled onto his back so she straddled his thighs. "What do I do?" she whispered, a quiver in her voice.

"Take me into your body as you brought me into your heart," he murmured. "As I brought you into my soul. Join us, complete us." He grasped her hips and guided her over him, gritting his teeth with restraint as her wet heat slid along his length. He reached down to grasp himself, moving to tease her sensitive hidden jewel with the tip of his penis, coating himself with her cream.

Maleta gasped at the flash of pleasure and eased down to take just the tip within her. She pulled back, then took more. His hands on her hips steadied he as she took him with exquisite slowness, a little more after each equally slow withdrawal. She stretched around him. There was a sense of fullness, but no pain. She gasped again as her body pulsed around Cianan. He groaned as she sank down on him completely, and she hesitated as her body adjusted.

Cianan reached up to caress her breasts, pinching her nipples. Maleta felt a flood of wet heat around him. She shifted, and the stab of fiery pleasure made them both moan. She moved on him with slow rolls of her hips, finding an angle that caused a sharp twinge of excruciating pleasure. Her body swelled and pulsed around his shaft. She felt the rising heat, his rising passion.

"Trust me now, wife, and we shall fly together." Cianan rolled her over onto her back, sliding her legs up over his shoulders. He eased almost completely out of her, then back in slowly. Maleta cried out at the new sensations. Her hips rose, trying to quicken his pace. With a groan he obliged, with short, quick thrusts that rubbed a point of intense pleasure deep within. She squeezed around his shaft, her body tightening unbearably. He thrust harder, faster, as his blood boiled within her and she felt herself tighten around him – and then explode as his seed burst forth.

"Cianan!" she cried.

"Cerilyrian avariel, elingrena." He shuddered as her hot sheath milked him of every last drop of himself. He lowered her legs. Bodies still joined, he rolled onto his side, pulling her into his arms. She quivered as he kissed her shoulder. A feeling of completion, of contentment, washed over them. The scent of their lovemaking hung in the air, curling around them.

Maleta was stunned. The strength of their combined passion left her completely drained, exhausted. Thirsty.

"I shall get some wine, as soon as I can move," he promised.

He had not spoken aloud. His voice reverberated in her head. "Cianan? It's true, then?"

She felt the warmth of his love filling her, a sense of wonder, of peace. "My final miracle."

Cianan took her hand in his, pressed a gentle kiss to the ring on her finger, turning her hand to place another kiss on her palm. "You are my miracle. My heart." He rose from the bed, poured water into the washbasin and cleaned away the evidence of their passion from his body. Then he brought the pitcher and cups to the bedside table. He handed her a cup of wine, and gently washed her with a soft cloth while she drank.

She handed him her half-full cup. "Here, for you," she said.

"Are you all right?" he asked. His gaze never left her face as he drained the cup and set it aside, with the cloth.

"Better than all right." Maleta drew him up aside her, snuggling into his embrace. "I'm free. It was wonderful. You've made me whole again." She kissed him.

His mouth lingered on hers, with great tenderness. "You complete me, my heart, my love."

"Forever," she vowed. "My final miracle... is you."

Epilogue

Cianan stood at attention and faced the class of warriors he had taught. "I have been granted the position of Ambassador to Shamar by our king and have resigned my post as your instructor," he told them. "You have done well, and I am very proud of you. I expect to hear good reports in the future. I salute you."

Maleta slipped her arm around his waist as the academy class filed out. "It's so beautiful here. How can you bear to leave it?"

"It is not so beautiful as you, and I would not miss it as I would miss you," he told her. "Like my next breath, like the beat of my heart. What are they compared to that?"

Sweet Hedda, he'd make her melt to the floor. She turned in his arms, pulled his head down for a tender kiss. Her heart was so full she thought she'd burst, but she pulled away, laughing, when he tried to deepen the kiss. Even though he made her tingle in secret places, and there was no one else present... "Stop that!" she laughed. "Oh, no you don't. I'm on to that trick, my lord husband."

He looked mournful. "You learn far too quickly, elingrena. Later?"

"Absolutely."

Lord Elio met them on the front steps. Maleta threw her arms around him. He frowned at the public display, but his eyes twinkled down at her as he hugged her back. "Greetings, daughter." His eyes shone, and he smiled at Cianan. "My son."

"They are all yours now, Father."

"Will we see you later, at dinner?" Maleta asked.

"Tonight only. This is supposed to be a two-week retreat for thee, alone." Elio cracked a rare smile. "The presence of a parent would be quite counter-productive, I should think." He nodded. "Kikeona awaits thee. Go."

Cianan and Maleta strode down the steps to where Kikeona stood. Her brown eyes glowed, and she nuzzled her partner and his wife. "Thank you for bringing me home," she said. "I expect I shall soon not be the only one with a youngling underfoot."

Maleta's face flamed. Cianan laughed and placed his hand on the mare's neck. "We shall always be partners. I love you." The three of them walked down the winding lane to the academy pasture, where Hani`ena awaited her sister. Maleta opened the gate, and Kikeona entered the field. Cianan smiled. "You shall make a wonderful mother, but remember – if you ever need a break, Hani`ena can foal-sit."

"What?" If a horse could look appalled, Hani`ena did. She flattened her ears and took off at a gallop. Kikeona joined her a moment later.

"Are you sad?" Maleta asked.

"Oddly enough, no," Cianan replied. "Everyone should follow their dreams. I did, and look what it got me." He pulled her close. "My beautiful elingrena. Forever."

She smiled. "Forever. Take me home, husband."

About the Author

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