Chapter Seven

"Well, she certainly has nerve." Eloina Stormhold sniffed disdainfully and nodded down her regal nose at the woman entering the Great Hall down below. "Honestly, I wouldn't show my face in public for a year after being exposed like that."

"You would never have done any such thing in the first place," her sister concurred. "How positively gauche. Imagine getting caught throwing yourself at a crown prince, just to win a royal contract. Heavens, doesn't the creature have any subtlety at all?" She tittered lightly, and turned her head slightly to share her amusement with Roland Deerborne. "Her father had a most agreeable marriage arranged with Lord Farstaff's second son, but of course that's on hold now."

"And her father didn't even get the contract," Eloina added gleefully. "It went to Lord Rhys Baaldorf, younger brother of King Edwin Baaldorf. Oh, there he is now."

"Lord Rhys?" Roland sighed inwardly, prepared to show polite interest. The gossipy Stormhold sisters had been a find, and he had spent the better part of an hour learning all of the dirty secrets and hidden resentments of the Aperans royalty. The down side had been their gleeful fascination with petty insults and slights that could never be fanned into something useful. Keeping them on track had been as challenging as any duel. So where was this younger--?

"King Edwin Baaldorf and her majesty, Queen Lattinia Baaldorf." The crier's discrete but carrying announcement caught his attention and Roland watched as one of Camerand's most powerful rulers entered the Great Hall. The man, in his late fifties and showing the first signs of age's softness, nodded absently to the crier and escorted his wife into the room, where the two were immediately swamped by hangers-on and supplicants.

"I see that the Princess Baaldorf is not with them," Roland said lightly. "I hope that she hasn't been taken ill?"

"Oh no," Elena Stormhold replied with a catty little laugh. "The poor child might be witless, but her mother certainly is not. If Baaldorf and Greystone want to reinforce each other's power bases, they simply must make more of a show of Ariel's impending marriage to Erik Greystone. It's a wonderful match, but for all anyone sees of Erik by her side you'd think the Greystones were having second thoughts."

"When it's the Baaldorfs who should be rethinking things," Eloina added. "The mighty Greystone family is not in the best odor just lately, if you take my meaning." Until now they had stayed safely away from the events of the last two days, and Roland was curious to see what spin the ruling parties were putting on his little entertainments.

"Surely not the Greystones," Roland murmured in mild protest, raising his eyebrows in well-mannered disbelief.

"Who would ever have believed it? But recent events have certainly been interesting, haven't they...?" Elena trailed off, her sharp features softening into confusion. "I'm dreadfully sorry, what did you say your name was?"

Roland placed one hand on each sister's shoulder. "Who is that lovely creature down below?"

Both women shuddered, and Elena gagged briefly. Then their attention dutifully turned back down to the main floor, where a young woman with flame red hair and a haughty bearing was entering the room. With a gesture of disdain she waved away the crier and headed for a dark-clad group of men locked in deep conversation. She walked with a poise and aggressive self-confidence that he found very appealing.

"Marjorie Hartsfall," Eloina said faintly. She blinked, then seemed to recover herself. "There's another who could learn the meaning of subtlety, isn't there, sister? The only daughter of the Baron of Hartsfall, the single largest landowner in Karteia--aside from the Blackpools themselves, of course--but has she married yet? Twenty five if she's a day and still thinks she's a tomboy, running around in breeches half the time."

"And her father encourages it." Elena was clearly back to her old self now. "Cedrick Baaldorf tells me that old Dorian Hartsfall sends her to negotiate treaties on his behalf! Poor man, he must be beside himself, with his only son now dead and no others like to come along. He did himself a great disservice, marrying that Carrina Highcraig. I said it then, didn't I, sister?"

"Oh, but they were in love," Eloina said mockingly. "Whatever else could he have done?"

"Had an affair, a nice, sensible, discrete one, just like everyone else. Honestly, sometimes I do despair for our fellow nobility, sister. Don't you agree?"

She had turned back to him, but Roland only had eyes for the woman down below. She had joined the group she had been approaching and was now deep in discussion with men two and three times her senior. From where he was standing Roland could see no sign that they found her presence unwelcome or surprising.

"But she's not nobility, is she?" A preening fop wearing Blackpool colors tried to offer her a glass of wine and she waved him away impatiently. From behind him there was only silence as he watched the girl turn back to her conversation, her disdain for pointless social niceties evident. "The Hartsfall line is one of the royal lineages of Aperans, is it not?" He turned to face his companions. "Making her considerably more than just another noble, wouldn't you say?" He watched in amusement as the smug superiority fell from their narrow faces. "Hers is a line of kings. Unlike some. If you will excuse me, ladies?" He didn't wait for an answer, but left the small second floor alcove and headed directly for the main stairway.

Time for one last game, before the night's entertainment commenced.

# # #

His new clothes itched.

Erik Greystone rubbed at his neck, trying to make the gesture seem natural and not a nervous twitch. He was nervous, of course, but it would be very bad to show it at the moment. Focusing on minor annoyances like a stiff new tunic kept his mind from wandering on to bigger things, which was definitely a good idea right now.

"...well, she said that the colors were all wrong for him, but I think--Erik, are you listening?" Ariel put one finely manicured hand over his, and with a start Erik realized that he'd lost track of what she was saying. Not that it was hard; Ariel's conversation seemed to be limited to fashion, the weather, and court gossip, none of which were of exactly riveting importance to him. He smiled gamely and nodded, his eyes searching the crowds still milling around the hall. Ariel started talking again. Where was he, damn it?

"...of course red isn't a color for everyone, and oh look, there's a dragon come to eat all of us."

"Huh?" Erik jerked to attention, one hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword. Where was it? Why didn't he see it come...oh. He looked down a little sheepishly at the hand on his forearm.

"Now you're listening to me." Ariel had a sort of sad half-smile on her face. "Erik, I know you're probably bored to tears, but could you at least try to look interested? People are starting to talk."

"They did that hours ago." Walking into the hall tonight had shown him that much--Justin hadn't been exaggerating about that, at least. It seemed like half of the Camerand contingent and all of Karteia were convinced that they, the Greystones, were behind the attacks of the last two days. The warm reception he'd received on the first day had been replaced by a cool, considering look and non-committal answers to even the most polite of questions. Never in his entire life could Erik remember being treated that way. It had been a relief to ascend to the dais and sit down beside his father, Ariel at his aide. Dinner would be served soon, and then some sort of obligatory entertainment would be provided. Then, barring an attack by a very dead warlock and his equally dead soldiers, this long day would at last be over.

Thinking of the warlock and his soldiers brought Justin back to mind. Justin, who still hadn't shown up. Justin, who'd been acting really strange ever since the night of the first attacks. Their fight still gnawed at him, as did Justin's weird insistence that he knew more about what was going on than he possibly could. The whole idea was crazy, of course, but a small part of him was glad that their father had indulged his younger son by leaving their men on the castle walls and in the fields beyond. His gaze scanned the crowd again, and this time he saw Justin's familiar figure. Erik hid a sigh of relief as his brother, clean shaven and dressed in his best clothes, greeted a few friends and then headed directly for their dais.

"I'm sorry, Ariel. Did you say something?" He'd thought he'd heard something, but when Erik turned to look Ariel was sitting quietly, twisting her handkerchief between slender, jeweled fingers. She shook her head and smiled sweetly, then quickly looked away toward a female cousin who had approached their table. He felt like he was missing something there, but then Justin arrived, offering their father a subdued greeting and settling into his own chair without any of his customary banter. Ariel's cousin returned to her own table and they sat in silence, waiting for the dinner to begin.

# # #

Tessa dipped the rag into her mug of cool water and then patted lightly at her forehead before rubbing the cold rag against the back of her neck. She took a deep breath, and then another. She would not be sick. She would not.

"Guessin' I know who's got stage fright tonight." Gregory plopped down beside her on the narrow bench, the tin of his mock armor rattling noisily. "You want I should fetch the chamber pot?"

"No." Her voice seemed to come from very far away.

"Don't know why you're fussin', anyway. Not like you haven't been singin' plays since forever." Forever to Gregory was any time past five years ago, when he'd first joined their little band. She took another deep breath and wet her lips.

"We've never performed this before. And the last performances of Evanda's story weren't exactly well received by the nobility, were they?" But fear over a few pieces of thrown fruit or even a lashing from an annoyed royal were the furthest things from her mind. He was out there. She could feel his unnatural presence like poisonous ants that crawled over her skin and across the surface of her thoughts. But the sensation was faint, untraceable. He could be anywhere.

The courage of an hour ago seemed to have left her, replaced with self doubt. Should they have chosen to run? It might not be too late, even now. Who was she to think she could get involved in the ways of royals and their wizards and live to tell the tale? Her royal "protector" had obviously abandoned her, leaving them open not only to wizardly attack but also to royal disapproval, should 'Evanda' not fare well.

From behind her Talmor finished his tuning and played the opening bars of King Highcraig's second act solo on his lute. Automatically Tessa ran her mind through the stirring lyrics.

The future stands before us
In darkness wrapped so tight
But if we dare to fly
If we but dare to try
That hateful doubting chorus
Will melt 'for brav'ry's shining light

She smiled, feeling the doubt slip away. Talmor was right. Justin had been right, too, even if the advice had been too strong a cup for him to sip from himself. The future stood before them all, waiting. You could run from it, or stand still, fearful of change, of challenge, and let it pass you by. Justin had made that last choice, she knew now.

Or you could stand and face it, like the coming of a new day, and make of it what you would. Tessa set the rag down and patted her imitation finery into place. Let the crowds laugh. Let the wizard come.

"It's time."

# # #

The dinner was a disaster. Oh, it had started off well enough. Erik had appeared at her door at the arranged time, looking wonderful. He had bowed and offered her his arm, and they had swept down the grand staircase and into the great hall just as she had imagined it a hundred times. Everyone there turned to look as they arrived, and she had basked in the warm glow of attention.

Well, at first. But as they crossed the room, greeting and being greeted, she began to hear whispers. People were less friendly than they had been, and some seemed actually...mean. No one had ever been cruel to her before. Daddy wouldn't let them. And she had always tried to be nice herself, even when the person was old, or boring, or ugly. But now for some reason people were saying one thing and looking another, then saying things she could almost hear as soon as she and Erik had passed. She wanted to ask Erik what was wrong, but there was no way to do it with so many people around. She turned to ask Mother and then remembered that Mother and Daddy had gone ahead, leaving her to follow alone with her betrothed.

Not that Mother and Daddy had been very helpful earlier. She had been all but locked in her room all day, while people ran to and fro down in the courtyard and servants gossiped just out of reach. If she'd been home she would have known which ones to ask, but here Ariel was all but alone. Cassandra had talked to Marko earlier and knew something, but would say only that Mother said not to worry. Honestly! How was she ever going to be Queen herself if she wasn't allowed to know what was going on?

And something was going on, that was for sure. Erik had paid even less attention to her than usual during dinner, his eyes a thousand miles away. Everyone else was still subdued from all the people lost in the dog-thing attacks last night, or else nervous and watchful like Erik. Even Justin seemed jumpy! And no fun at all, when she tried to get him involved in a word game when they were between courses. Wasn't it all over with? Mother had told her so, and the Tournament flag was flying again. The hall was full of people, but no one was having any fun.

After what seemed like forever the final course was taken away and the musicians who had been playing quietly on the stage erected to her right got up and left. An old man in wizard robes and a young soldier in armor came out and started placing unlit lanterns on the stage.

"Erik? What's happening?" She had never seen this particular wizard before. Weren't there only two? And his robes looked strange. People had been talking about wizards lately. New, evil ones. Vague alarm started to build. Was this the danger Erik had been looking for?

"It's a play," Erik explained patiently. "A musical one, I think." He looked over at Justin, who didn't look back. "It'll be okay." He patted her hand kindly, if a little absently.

"Oh. Okay, then." He must think she was a real idiot, not recognizing a play being set up. How many had she seen in her life? But the wizard robes had confused her, as had the way everyone had been acting. It seemed funny that they were going to do something so, so...ordinary. Ariel opened her mouth to explain and saw that Erik wasn't thinking about how dumb she was. He wasn't thinking about her at all, but looking from Justin to the stage and back again, a frown on his face.

He wasn't thinking about her. And there were no bad guys here to fight, no icky dragon to kill. He just...wasn't thinking of her. Didn't care what she thought. Of course arranged marriages weren't made for love, but she always thought, always assumed... Blinking back tears, Ariel put on her best cheerful face and watched the stage, hoping that they'd dim the lights soon. Right now all she wanted was for this terrible night to be over with.

# # #

"Everything is arranged?" Dirk gave his wizard the most absent of nods as the man returned to his seat, pretending to be lost in the performance in front of them. The performance was the usual romanticized drivel, of course, but it did hide a great many necessary activities. Activities such as the one he'd laid on Vector.

"It is, my lord. Captain Stoner tells me that all of your horses are ready to be ridden out at your command. Most of the men have already left, as I am sure you have noticed."

"Yes, this little musical production is proving most distracting. Remind me to thank King Tronin for his thoughtfulness."

"Of course, Sire. I have also done a little research, which I am sure you will find quite fascinating." He paused as one of the barons passed too close to them on the way back to his seat. At Dirk's nod he resumed. "The words the servant girl spoke were necromantic, as I have said. It is not my particular specialty, but this spell seemed oddly familiar. Then I remembered something that Greystone fool said."

"Erik? Which particular thing?"

"Not him. The other one. Justin." The dislike for both royal brothers was clear in the wizard's voice.

"Ah, yes. The blight on the Greystone's precious good name. What could he have said to interest you, Vector?"

"That the spell that killed the warlock's men was no accident. Of course at the time I dismissed his ravings like everyone else, but given the fact that we now know that the warlock himself survived, just as Greystone predicted, made it seem worth pursuing. With some time and not-inconsiderable effort, I have been able to divine the spell." He leaned in closer to his prince and explained in the barest of whispers.

"Really?" Dirk leaned back and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I must say I am impressed. What an…efficient use of one's enemy's resources. A pity we cannot convince him and his master to join our side."

"Mmm." Vector clearly wanted nothing to do with this mad wizard he kept fussing about. "Well, since we cannot, my lord, I have taken the liberty of setting a minor detection spell. It should give us ample time to flee before the…effects of that spell are fully felt here."

"Not too soon. I want to see their faces when they first realize what they're up against. And watch as we blithely escape before their very eyes. I could sleep well for a week on the look in Erik's eyes alone."

"My lord, should we wait too long—" Vector began.

"We won't. We will warn the barony as soon as the time is right, of course; I'm sure that we can think of an appropriate way for them to thank me later for that. But you and I will teleport out, Vector. I trust you will have enough energy left for that?"

"Barely," he admitted grudgingly. "Without the monocle, everything I do is ten times as difficult. Don't forget, you also required personal protective wardings for yourself and your brother." He handed Dirk a plain leather pouch. "Wear this, and make no offensive gesture toward our enemies, when they appear. If you follow these simple instructions they will simply not see you at all."

"Useful." Dirk tied the bag around his neck and stuffed it beneath his leather breastplate for protection. "Speaking of which, how is my dear little brother? Still alive? I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't able to attend our little dinner affair." It wasn't a thing of great importance, but occasionally Geoffrey did prove useful. And, more importantly, he had ordered Vector to heal him.

"He will live." Vector growled. "His injuries were quite severe, and I have little interest in the healing arts." He said it as though the word left a foul taste in his mouth. "The only reason I know them at all is that a basic familiarity is necessary if one wishes to learn the darker arts of flesh manipulation. But he will live, my lord. Though you may wish to have one of our guards retrieve him when the moment is right. Geoffrey is far too weak yet to move under his own volition."

"Very well," Dirk sighed. He gestured languidly, and one of his personal guard stepped forward immediately. "Give this to Prince Geoffrey, then instruct the guard in the infirmary to be ready to retrieve him at a moment's notice. We may be leaving rather abruptly this evening. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sire." The man, already well briefed in their plans to flee, bowed deeply and then cut easily through the crowds towards the kitchen, where the last of the seriously injured were still being kept.

"Well, that's taken care of." Dirk sat back and watched the performance for a moment. At least this bunch wasn't off key. Under the guise of enjoying the entertainment on stage, Dirk Blackpool watched the real show going on all around him. What would they say if they knew the horror that was coming for them?

He'd find out soon enough.

# # #

He was doing just fine, right up until the start of the last act. All through dinner he'd been able to keep a mad on that worked real nice at keeping him from thinking about anything, much less about everything that happened in the last couple of days. But Justin just wasn't the kind of guy who could keep a good mad on, and by the time dessert rolled around he'd gotten past that. Staring moodily into a glass of wine while he thought about how badly he'd managed to screw things up was good for a little while longer, letting him miss Tessa's entrance and the guilt looking at her was gonna bring out.

Yeah, guilt. There wasn't much point in denying it any more. He'd let her down at least as much as he had his father and their kingdom, and he knew it. Father had Erik, after all, and a bunch of knights and well trained soldiers to back him up if things went the way Justin figured they were headed. Tessa didn't have anyone but him. He'd promised her he'd take care of her. That he believed her. And what had he done? Let his mouth get the better of him, making sure that nobody would believe a word he said, then try to drown his sorrows in a barrel of ale and the first warm female body he came across. The look on Tessa's face when she found him with Lucille wasn't something he was likely to forget anytime soon.

And there she was. Standing on Tronin's stage, Talmor beside her, he dressed as King Highcraig to her Evana. Highcraig was singing something about courage, about how he needed her, how their kingdom needed her. The old bard did a good job of it, but Justin couldn't tear his gaze from Tess. The look on her face as the old man urged her to accept the crown looked a little too much like her own expression when he himself had urged her to stand her ground that morning. Had it really been only that day? It felt like a thousand years ago.

She was pale and trembling, and not without cause. More than a few of the nobility in the audience were stirring uncomfortably. This was the big taboo, the supreme arrogance. A commoner queen? He started to wonder if maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The crown came down on her head, Gregory's cleric intoning the words that would make the ceremony complete. The hairs on the back of Justin's neck began to bristle. The audience was doing more than just stirring now. Any second now they be on their feet. Just how many kinds of fool had he been to think that this was gonna work?

Then she rose from bended knee and the room seemed to fall silent. Fear appeared to flow from her face, replaced by brave determination. Her shoulders straightened, her chin came up. This was no frightened commoner, no timid king's advisor. This was a queen.

One hand on her 'husband's' arm, Evana/Tessa stepped forward to address the crowd. In a clear, bell-like voice she sang about the troubles before them, how it would take the courage of all of them to make it past these troubled times. Evana had been speaking of the terrible famine that had held the land in a stranglehold for five years, but the words and the conviction with which Tessa sang them spoke clearly to the present day. Justin was dimly aware that the crowd had grown quiet, their dissent stilled. The rest of him was lost in her spell as surely as if she was a witch.

A few minutes later the death of the ailing King Highcraig came, followed by Evana's song of mourning. The song was equal parts heartbroken grief and determination to go on, and with it the silence in the audience was broken. From all around him Justin heard the sounds of muffled grief as those who'd lost family members here found a moment of solace in her brave, strong words. The thought of what it must be like for those folks made his own chest grow tight, and Justin turned toward his father and brother. Sure enough, they felt it too. Father's hand was on Erik's shoulder, and after a moment they both turned to look at him, their faces set and grim. Ariel sat between them, sniffing delicately into a handkerchief, but some of the old closeness returned anyway. He nodded to the both of them then turned his attention back to the stage.

After that the finale was almost anti-climactic. Evana was killed by the Baron of Montrey, allowing that distant cousin of Highcraig to ascend to the throne. Evana's plans to defeat the famine died with her, but her legacy was in the number of commoners who later would rise to positions of influence within the royal houses. As torches were relit all three singers returned to the stage, each taking a verse of Highcraig's second act solo, urging the audience to stand up for what it believed in. All three voices came together in tight harmony for the last verse, which urged them to honor the fallen in the actions they took today. It was a brilliant, emotional finish, and the rest of the audience was only a second behind him in leaping to its collective feet and applauding with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Well done. Very well done." His father was clapping along with the rest, but his eyes rested solidly on Justin. A warm glow began to build in Justin's chest, but he shrugged and said only,

"Yeah, didn't go too badly, did it? Thought for a minute I was gonna have to rescue me some minstrels, though." His father's approving expression didn't change, and Justin allowed what he was really feeling to show in the broad smile on his face. The clapping intensified, and he turned his attention back to the stage as Tessa was literally pushed forward by her companions to take a solo bow.

Still smiling like a damn fool idiot, Justin stood and stepped down from the dais. He cut effortlessly through the crowds to stand directly in front of the stage. Tessa was still up there, now smiling shyly as if surprised at all the fuss. There were steps leading from the main floor to the center of the stage, and he took them in a single bound, coming to land just a single step away from her. She seemed to sense him in spite of the crowd noise, putting out one tentative hand in his direction. He took it gently.

"Care to dance, my lady queen?"

# # #

The applause flowed over her like a warm wave, buoying her spirits and making Tessa smile shyly as she took yet another curtsey before her esteemed audience, careful to keep the fragile crown upon her head as she did so. Talmor and Martha had pushed her forward for a solo bow, and she knew she ought to feel terrified. The sound of the crowd was like a living thing, disorienting her and destroying her normally keen sense of direction. Instead she felt calm, almost euphoric. They had performed very well, indeed, and were certain to find a home among the nobility for the coming winter now. Justin had promised them one, of course, but he had made a lot of promises, hadn't he? Not wanting to overstay her welcome, Tessa took a step back, her ears straining for the sound of her family behind her. Instead she heard a shift in the tone of the crowd. Had she misread their reaction?

No. Someone was in front of her, much closer to the stage than they should have been. The talent she still didn't understand told her that much, but—she reached out, first with her mind and then with her hand. The presence was unthreatening, familiar. It was…

Justin. The warm, affectionate feel of his hand on hers preceded the warmth of his voice. "Care to dance, my lady queen?"

Tessa felt herself blush uncontrollably. It was one thing to portray royalty on a stage, complete with tapestry dress and tin crown, but another thing entirely to be addressed so now that the play was done. And by a royal, no less! She tried to pull her hand free, but of course he showed no sign of being willing to let her go.

"I'm not a queen, or a lady. And certainly not your anything." She tried to keep the anger she felt toward him in her voice, but that anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

"Aw, come on. Folks are starting to stare." He was teasing her, but underneath she could hear the honest entreaty in his voice. "Dance with me. Just one dance." Sure enough, behind her Tessa could hear King Tronin's own musicians preparing to perform a dance set.

"I, I—" She wanted very much to refuse, but the self confidence lent to her by their performance sent her stepping down to the tiled floor instead. It would certainly be something to tell her grandchildren, if nothing else, she told herself: the day a commoner girl wore a crown and danced among the royalty. And tomorrow all of this will be behind us, she promised herself. No more excitement for me. Not unless that wizard thinks to come calling. Her jaw clenched at the thought, and she was barely aware as Justin pulled her into the slow waltz that had just started. She'd felt nothing more from the wizard during the performance, thank all the gods. With any luck he had given up, or found the one he had come searching for in the first place. But if he did try to hurt her, or her adopted family, he just might find out just how hot a lightning bolt really was. Her lips pressed together in an unconscious frown.

"I was gonna ask if you were still mad at me, but guess I don't half to." Justin's voice, warm and low in her ear, brought Tessa out of her grim thoughts. He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Not that I blame you. I really screwed up this time, Tess. Not that that should be a big surprise." He sounded so despondent that she squeezed his hand sympathetically.

"I have no right to judge you, Justin. I'm sure that you did all that you—"

"Oh yeah. I handled it real well." The bitterness in his voice made her sad.

"Don't say that. I'm sure you did the best you could. And all you had was my word. The word of a minstrel. To most people's eyes we're either thieves or liars, or worse."

"That shouldn't matter."

"But it does," she said simply. They danced for a minute in silence. It was a pleasure to be in his arms, letting the music swirl them slowly across the floor. From the sound of it not many couples were dancing yet, but the scrape of wood on tile told her that the servants were busy moving chairs and tables out of the way so that more could join them. If anyone disapproved of the commoner dancing with the prince, she couldn't hear them. At last she felt his shoulder beneath her hand begin to relax.

"And I'm the one who ought to be apologizing. I had no business presuming to judge what you or the royal families do. I have to take care of my own problems. Stand up for myself. At least I seem to remember someone saying that." Under the gentle teasing in her voice he relaxed even further, drawing her closer and dipping his head to speak in her ear.

"So you were listening. Here I thought you were just after me for my body."

"Justin!" She bit her lip and resisted the impulse—just barely—to kick him soundly in the shin. "You are the most arrogant—" She paused as he released her hand and brushed one finger across her lips. The song had ended, she realized belatedly. "Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what? Tell you how beautiful you look tonight? How I couldn't keep my eyes off of you from the moment you stepped on that stage?" The next song had begun, and he drew her back into the dance. Now more people had joined them, and Tessa was uncomfortably aware of how out of place she must appear as they moved through the sounds of silk and velvet and the delicate scent of expensive perfume.

"You certainly have a glib tongue," she said lightly. "But don't you think you're wasting your talents on a minstrel girl, with so many beautiful ladies of your own station here tonight?" As much as part of her was enjoying this, it would be better to leave now, while her memories of tonight were all pleasant ones. No sense waiting for the inevitable letdown. And, her mind tried to rationalize, it would be better to eat and rest, the better to be prepared if the warlock did yet make an appearance tonight.

"Looks like minstrels aren't the only ones with a reputation they could do without," Justin said with a heavy mock sigh.

"Well, at least there's some doubt as to the truth of ours," she said lightly. "I don't think there are many who could deny your success with the ladies, Justin." She said it with affection, accepting what she claimed to have known about him all along: Justin Greystone was an incorrigible flirt and ladies' man. He might say the most wonderful things to a girl, and even mean them at the moment, but part of him would always be looking for the next skirt to chase, the next conquest to bed. Loving and lovable, but completely untrustworthy. Her heart had tried briefly to talk her mind into something else, but thankfully she was over that now.

"So how come I haven't been able to think of anyone else since I met you?" The plaintive sound to his voice made her hesitate. Had she been wrong--? "Probably bein' halfway killed does something to a guy's head, I guess." That sounded more like the confident ladies' man she knew. It was a relief, really.

No, really.

"I'm sure that's all it was," she replied lightly. "You'll be back on the mend before you know it, and then let tavern wenches everywhere beware."

"I don't know 'bout that." They spun through a slow, graceful turn, and Tessa heard the sound of tittering laughter. They were almost certainly laughing at her. Probably thinking about the arrogant commoner girl, dressing up in her pretend gown. The prince's latest plaything, she thought with a sigh. "Think I might have developed a taste for a certain minstrel girl I know." His head dipped down as if to kiss her and she gently pulled away.

"I think we've entertained your kinsmen enough, don't you? And I should really get back and help my family pack."

"Heck, you don't have to worry about that none. Our servants'll help you get your stuff together tomorrow morning. We ain't leaving until noon. Plenty of time. And it gives us," he drew her back against him, ignoring her murmured protests, "no reason not ta stay up late. There's still plenty of time for singing, dancing…lots of things." She wanted very much to respond to the teasing invitation in his voice, but she didn't dare.

"We're leaving at first light, Justin. Alone," she said gently.

"What?" He literally froze in his tracks, his grip on her hand suddenly painfully tight.

"Justin, you're hurting me."

"Well, if that isn't the pot callin' the kettle—I mean, what are talkin' about, Tess?" Without another word he dragged her from the dance floor, cutting through the crowds until they were alone. Fresh air bathed her face; they must be in one of the alcoves that faced out into the courtyard.

"You mind tellin' me what this is all about? I thought we had all that settled. You and yours are comin' to Castle Greystone for the winter. Hell, we practically got the beds turned down for you."

One in particular, no doubt. Trying to ignore the hurt in his voice—he wasn't used to not getting his way, she knew—Tessa tried to explain. "It wouldn't work, Justin." For more reasons than you'll ever know. "Whoever this wizard, or warlock, or whatever he is, he's not going to stop hunting me."

"Which is why—"

"And I'll make a very easy target, hiding in plain sight with you. I was safe for years and years, you know. It wasn't until we came here that I was discovered. If we go somewhere less visible, to the home of some minor noble, say, we'll be that much harder to find."

"He knows about you, Tess. You think your nobles are gonna be able to protect you, when he does find you? You know—"

"I know what I'm doing, Justin. And I can defend myself, if I have to. You've persuaded me of that much, at least." She lowered her voice and leaned in toward him, not wanting to be overheard. The warmth and soft, musky scent of him was distracting, and she bit her lip to clear her head before continuing. "My gift is growing in strength almost by the hour, now. I'll know when he's coming. And what I did to his Hell Hound I can just as easily do to him." With effort she made herself sound certain and brave, quite an acting trick at the moment. Her awareness was expanding, that much was true. But it was also true that she had next to no idea of how to use the energy swirling inside her, nor what might happen if she lost control of it.

"Sounds like you've got everything all figured out." He stepped back from her a pace, his voice growing tight. "Guess you don't need old Justin Greystone no more, do you?"

"That's not what I meant," she replied softly. Why was he being so blind headed? "I have to do what will keep my family safe. How could I possibly trade that for a the possibility of, of…" she trailed off, uncertain of how to explain to a man who couldn't possibly understand.

"What? You tryin' to tell me I'm not good enough for you?" He was trying to make a joke, she knew, but his words came out confused and almost angry.

"Of course not. We both know that the opposite is true, despite what I might like to claim. People are already beginning to talk, Justin. And to laugh. You may be known for your way with the ladies, but it's another thing entirely to bring one of the tavern girls home."

"And since when does what other people think of you matter? I'm beginnin' ta think I don't know you at all, Tessa."

Merciful gods. Were they about to have an argument here?

"I don't care two sekals what other people say. If want to do a thing, if I decide that it's right, then I'll do it and damned what the entire world thinks." She jerked her chin up defiantly. If he thought she was as quick to admit defeat as he apparently was…

"Then why are you runnin' off again? What are you afraid of, Tess?" His flash of anger was gone, if it ever was there in the first place. Now his voice was so low she could barely hear it, even though he now was so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. The tenderness in his voice made her suddenly ache to lean against him, to feel his arms go around her. She started to speak, not sure what would come out.

Honesty did.

"I'm afraid of you. Of spending a brief, wonderful time as your lover," she smiled gently, "only to be set aside when the next pretty commoner catches your fancy. I'm not built like that, Justin. I thought I could, could, accept it. Bow out gracefully, with a smile and tender goodbye kiss. But I…can't. Already the idea of you in another woman's arms makes my chest ache. How much worse will it be after we made love?" Embarrassment so great it struck her pale made her turn away, back toward the dancing, gossiping crowds behind them. Talmor said she had a gift for plain speaking. He didn't know the half of it, it would appear.

Justin was struck silent. Not that she could blame him. They had never spoken so plainly of what had been on both of their minds since they had first met. Part of her was already mourning the fact that she was going to deny herself his bed, his sweet, tender kisses. At least now it was out in the open, she consoled herself. He wouldn't try to keep her here any longer, now that he knew. She waited for him to say something, anything, to break the painful silence. When he refused she sighed quietly and turned to face him. It was over.

"Would you take me back to the stage, please? I should get my things, head back to our wagon. Talmor wants to get an early start."

"Yeah." She couldn't read anything in his one word reply. Defiantly, she held her head up as he escorted her back across the room to the exit behind the stage. Exit, stage left. Back to where she belonged. Her head was beginning to ache and her hands tremble with reaction. She barely heard his goodnight, knowing that it was really good bye.

To be continued.