The caves, Meliande discovered, were a vast network of caverns cut into the side of the ravine. The cavern Larentius took her to seemed nothing more than a small opening hidden behind a tumbling mass of holly, but once inside, it opened immediately out into a wide chamber. A hearth had been built at the back, complete with a chimney through which blue smoke curled, and the cavern was lit with several balls of pale blue light. She thought they looked like tiny moons, hanging high above the men who sat there. Two played a game of chance on a rough wooden board, their pale hair glowing faintly blue in the light. Another lounged with his back against the wall of the raised hearth, idly plucking a stringed instrument. Its sweet tones were soothing, like a little cascade of tiny crystal bells.

But it was the man sitting cross-legged on the hearth, a sack of silver at his feet, who commanded her attention.

He put aside the silver cup he'd been polishing and rose. 'Princess.'

As a greeting, it lacked courtesy or finesse, the word bitten off at the end as his mouth twisted in annoyance.

'We found her at the bottom of the ravine,' said Larentius. 'Flavian's coming up with a hunter, too. It was a toss-up between shooting them both or bringing them here - you won.' He helped Meliande to a seat near the fire, a rough chair of stout tree limbs with the bark still on, and moss too in places. She sat with a grimace, and accepted a cup of hot wine poured from a pitcher on the edge of the fire. Poor quality wine, and with too much honey, but she drank it all down, suddenly grateful for any kindness or comfort. She had never felt so tired in her life.

'I fell,' she explained. 'There was a light and I couldn't see any more, and I missed my footing and fell. Larentius helped me back up.'

'Marvellous,' said the man who seemed to be their leader. His tone was dry, his eyes held no humour as he looked her over. Meliande held his stare, her sense of rank and status refusing her the option of looking away. Eyes of soft, deep green gazed at her, lit with golden fire. A few tendrils of pale hair had escaped the wool cap he wore, clinging to his shoulders in sweaty tangles. He wasn't young. Fine lines scored the corners of his mouth, and at the corners of his eyes, yet his skin was still smooth and he stood tall. His long limbs held strength and agility, and his hair shone like spun silk in the firelight. His face was hard. She thrust her chin out in defiance.

'Who are you?' she demanded.

'Lucianus Alexander Caeto,' he answered promptly. 'Don't bother to introduce yourself. I know who you are.'

She looked him up and down scornfully. She'd seen a Limean once before, watching him hang on Jaille's gallows with his pale hair loose and wind-whipped for all to see. She hadn't seen what was so horrible about them, but the citizens of Jaille evidently did, for they'd pelted him with rotting fish as he'd passed, shackled in the gallows cart. That had been before her tutors had educated her. Now, she knew Limeans to be sorcerers, and quite possibly violent murderers as well. Some even said there was a Limean ritual wherein they murdered the first child to be born at Midsummer, drenching ancient stone tables with its innocent blood…..

Her eyes flickered to Alexander's sack.

'I violated a shrine to Damacest,' he said. 'I stripped it of everything.'

'Then you're a heretic, and a heathen, as well as a thief and outlaw!'

'And Limean,' he said with a bitter smile. He folded his arms and returned her scrutiny with as much rudeness she'd displayed. 'You might wonder why I don't take a ship back to my former home, but the truth is, I find it much more lucrative to stay here and pilfer your shrines and rob your noblemen. There's a lot that will fetch a good price in Karon. And, they still buy slaves.'

She gaped at him, horrified. 'You wouldn't!'

Alexander reached out and wrapped her wrist in an iron grip. 'Don't count on it, princess. I'm a hard man and I do what needs to be done to keep myself and my men alive. I suggest you do nothing to endanger us.' He let her go as abruptly as he'd grabbed her, and folded his arms once more. 'Now. You had better tell us what you're doing here.'

'I don't have to tell you that.' She held his gaze, a few moments more, then her will crumbled and she looked away. Lying to him would be foolish.

'I'm surprised you got nothing more than a few bruises from that fall down the ravine,' said Alexander, changing tack. 'You're tougher than you look. But tell me – why did Erwillian want you dead?'

'Where's my bow?' Meliande asked. She was shocked at his question, but long training at court had taught her how to hide her feelings. But what...what is Erwillian..? Dead...me?

'Broken. I've sent Felix to look for another bow stave for you - you'll need it. Now answer the question.'

Meliande sighed. 'The Lady Elisabeta ordered my execution. I don't know why. We've never got on, but...'

'She's a ruthless woman,' Alexander interrupted. 'But I suspect there's more to it. What, I don't know. All I know is you're safe here, and nowhere else. You can't go on.'

'Won't I be in the way?'

'No,' Alexander smiled, 'you can cook and clean, sew and do the laundry. And if you're handy enough with that bow, you can hunt too.'

Her jaw dropped in dismay. Clean? Cook? Servants did those things!

'I can't cook,' she said. 'And I won't clean. I'm a princess!'

'You're an outlaw,' he snapped. 'And we're risking life and limb as it is – with you here it'll be even worse. So if you want to eat our food, you'll share our chores. Or, I could send you off to the Karoni slave traders….'

And that was that. She knew he was right; she was safer here than anywhere else, for though they were outlaws, they were Limean, and enemies of the Lady. They would do whatever it took to prevent Elisabeta finding her.

She got up and hobbled back outside, perching on a fallen tree trunk at the side of the path. Alexander didn't follow her and she didn't want him to. How could he, an outlaw, understand her situation? She couldn't remain here forever, no matter how safe it was. She had to get her throne back, and dispose of that cow Elisabeta. There was no question about that. How was another matter altogether. She couldn't do it by herself, that was for certain.

'It's warmer inside, princess.' Alexander had pushed aside the holly and now stood watching her, silhoutted against the cavern opening. From inside came the scents of roasting meat, and she realised she was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. He came to sit by her, his face softened with a glimmer of sympathy.

'Look,' he said, and placed his hands together. She watched, fascinated and yet terrified as he drew his hands slowly apart, a faint, pale glow beginning to show between them until he held a ball of pale blue, like the miniature moons that lit the cave.

Alexander's hair sparked and crackled with the electricity the power he was currently moulding generated. Pale strands of silk floated in the air around his grave face, accompanied by tiny balls of golden light that looked little more than dust-motes shining in the spring sun. Her jaw dropped as Alexander began to gather those motes in his hands, moulding them into a ball of light, which he then flung at a rotting tree stump. It shattered with a shower of sparks, and he grinned in triumph.

'That is what your stepmother, and your countrymen, are so afraid of,' he said. He sat down, drew his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms round them. Meliande returned him stare for stare, used to being gawped at by the common folk, but Alexander was far from common. She was beginning to realise that here in the forest, her title meant nothing. Here, she was nothing more than an inconvenient woman, and a dangerous one too.

'Are you afraid too?' He smiled at her, a smile that touched his eyes this time, but only just.

Blushing, she dropped her eyes, and sprang to her feet.

'I'll be on my way to Karon in the morning,' she said.

'No you won't.'

'What?'

Alexander rose slowly to his feet, his eyes never leaving her face. 'The Karoni will send you straight back to Jaille,' he told her sternly. 'And whatever Elisabeta wants done to you, will be done.'

Meliande's mouth turned down at the corners, her lower lip trembling a little. She refused to cry, not in front of this stern man who could mould and control spirit power. A Limean.

'Erwillian will have got back to her already,' she whispered. 'He'll tell her where I am, and of you. None of us are safe here, Lucianus Alexander. So let me go to Karon, and when her men come calling, you won't have me to worry about.'

For answer, Alexander took her by her wrist and propelled her back into the caves. His expression, softened the last few moments, now seemed harder still, and Meliande chewed her lip to keep the tears at bay.

He snapped his fingers, and the shadows came alive, twisting and snarling like dragons in the night. She yelped and cowered, and let him lay her down on a bed, pulling the blankets over her with a jerk of his arm. 'Go to sleep,' he told her. 'We'll talk more in the morning. Don't bother to try and escape. I'm warding the entrance tonight.'

'If I'm ever able to return to my home and throne, it won't be Elisabeta you'll fear,' she snarled at him as he pinched out the candles in her tiny sleeping chamber. 'It'll be me. I swear on my crown that I will hang you one day, Lucianus Alexander - you, and your filthy men!'

'Good night, princess,' said he, and let the heavy leather door curtain drop behind him, and she was left in darkness.