I lifted my face to the sun, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I held Rose close, one hand on her head where it was resting against my chest, the other wrapped around her waist. The warmth of her body eased the last remaining spikes of fear from my heart, leaving only a soaring sensation of freedom in their wake. For a while, I simply listened. I could hear birdsong, the distant chatter of people, the groaning of the windmill, the hushed sweep of a light breeze through lush, green leaves…it was summertime in Oakvale. Everything was alive. All of the horrible things I had done…they had never happened.

I gazed down at Rose and kissed the top of her head gently. "Let us stay here," I whispered seductively into her hair. "I shall have a house built for us, and we will simply live."

She looked at me with grave tenderness. "This town is not long for this world. You know that."

"Can't we stop it? Make it so that…it never happens?"

"That would kill you," she whispered. "It would kill my mother, and I would never exist. Yet we are alive. You know what that means."

I knew. It meant that I would make the selfish choice. I would send Oakvale to its grave again for my own sake and the sake of the woman I loved. I hugged her tightly, as if the mere thought of stopping the Shadows would rip her from me.

"Show me?" she murmured, almost hesitantly, as though she feared that the question would break me.

"You'd like to see Oakvale?" I asked, surprised.

"I would like to see what purchased our lives. But only if you feel that you can. I do not want to push you. I know this is not easy. These people died for me, too."

"You never asked them to."

"Neither did you, from what I understand, and I am letting them die just as surely as you are."

I let out a long sigh. What could it hurt? We had come this far. I released Rose and offered her my arm. "Your Majesty. If you will permit me, I would be honored to show you my humble home."

One corner of her mouth pulled up in a half-smile as she took my arm, looking regal even spattered with the mud from Wraithmarsh and wearing a silk dress made for a man. I imagined I looked a good deal worse. But I led her into the town, anyway. A wide dirt path led from the bridge and the mill into the green fields, which were dotted with houses and shops. The heady, sweet smell of blueberry pie made me salivate as we passed an open-air stall. When was the last time I had eaten? It had to have been at least 300 years ago.

"Would you like one?" I asked Rose, who was eyeing the steaming pies longingly.

"We don't have any money," she reminded me.

"And yet, not at all what I was asking you."

"We have no money," she maintained stubbornly.

"We will. Observe."

I nodded to a lanky, handsome youth about fifty feet from us who was casually dipping his hand into a woman's purse.

Rose gasped softly. "That's…"

"Oh yes, that's me," I said, watching him secret his ill-gotten coins into his pocket. He walked toward us, taking a casual bite from a small peach. "I would introduce you, but that would interfere with my purposes. Why don't you go and say hello, yourself?"

She stared incredulously at me.

"Go on," I insisted. "Go and stand in the middle of the road for a moment. And don't look at me. Look at him. Give him your most compelling, sensual gaze. Believe me, I'm sixteen years old and it will stop me."

Rose suppressed a laugh and did as I asked, walking a few paces away from me and watching the boy approach. His eyes found her immediately, and his pupils dilated visibly with attraction despite the dirty, disheveled gown she wore. I felt a blaze of pride in my chest. My Rose was the essence of captivating beauty. No man was safe from her—especially not me. I knew what I liked.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before," young Adrian said brashly, brushing his dark hair out of his face. "And I'm quite sure I'd remember if I had."

"I have come from very far away, indeed. Do you know where I might find some new clothes? As you can see, mine have seen better days," she replied, smiling that perfect, slow smile of hers. I felt my heart jump, and noticed Adrian's adam's apple bob slightly. I moved toward them, positioning myself behind him. In an instant, the boy's stolen coins were in my hand. I deposited them safely in my pocket and stepped back. Amateur. Sometimes the best mark was another thief. One must always be aware of one's surroundings.

"One pie, please," I muttered pleasantly to the vendor, handing him a coin.

"There is a tailor just around the corner, there. I can escort you if you'd like," Adrian offered hopefully.

She beamed. "You are too kind. Thank you, but I think I have taken up quite enough of your time. I'm sure we'll meet again."

"If you'd like to, just ask for Reaver," he said smoothly, clearly impressed with himself. "I'll find you."

I put my head in my hand, choking back the laughter that had been building up inside me. Hearing it on the lips of that idiot boy, I realized it really was a silly nickname. He sounded absolutely ridiculous. Only my prowess and reputation had made it a name to be respected and feared. Without that, it was…well, it was rather adorable.

Rose bowed her head graciously and waited for him to go on his way. He did so, looking back once and smirking around the peach. She returned to me, and I slid an arm around her waist. He stopped looking at once.

"Pie?" I offered, holding up my fresh prize.

"You are both too kind," she said, taking half of it with eager fingers. "You called yourself 'Reaver' even in Oakvale?"

I took a bite and winced as the hot blueberries burned my tongue. "I was breaking it in, as I recall. I was trying to make a name for myself as a thief, albeit, as you saw, not a very good one."

"You cannot judge others based on yourself," she chided. "It isn't fair."

"How so?" I leaned toward her and kissed a bit of blueberry filling from one of her fingers, sucking it gently. My eyes burned into hers. She swayed slightly on weakened knees, and I released her, satisfied.

"You're not…people cannot be…as good as you are," she stammered, and a flush spread delicately over her cheeks. "You've had so long to live. So much time to learn."

"Then what exactly is your excuse? How did you turn out so stunningly impressive?"

"Good breeding," she answered solemnly.

We both lost ourselves in fits of laughter, allowing the tension of our horrifying journey to fall away. It felt so very good. After several minutes, we ate the rest of the pie and made our way to the tailor. I passed the rest of the coins over and bought a new dress for Rose. I despaired of finding anything in my size there. We both positively towered over everyone else.

While Rose was being fitted, I strolled around the back of the tailor's shop to the pub, where a lovely young girl was playing a game of cards at one of the outdoor tables. Adrian sat across from her, gazing at her in much the same way Rose had gazed at the blueberry pie. A soft sigh of pain escaped my lips before I could stop it. He was playing at cards with Angela Mercer, the miller's daughter…the love of his young, foolish life. Loving her had been the only sensible thing I had managed to do in those early days. I studied her face, leaning against a post and crossing my arms. Her skin was tanned with long hours spent in the sun, where she loved to paint portraits and landscapes. She had done one of me, and I had never found another artist's work satisfactory, again. I had shot them all for not being Angela.

"I can see you reaching for that deuce, Adrian," she said mildly, regarding him with sharp, dark eyes. "Are you really that unsure of your ability to beat me fairly?"

"Everything is fair as long as you get away with it," Adrian replied unflappably, leaving the card in his boot and leaning forward on his elbows. "Besides, no one has ever beaten you. How do I know that you are not cheating?"

Angela laughed. "Because you know I'm actually this good."

"Is that so?"

"It is so." She laid her cards flat on the table. "Your epitaph, Master White, for your viewing pleasure."

His face fell for a moment. I knew it to be a farce to get her to drop her guard. I remembered every moment of this day. It was, in many ways, the most important day of my life.

"You are good," he admitted.

"It's simple mathematics, as I've told you many times. You could be good, Adrian, if you would stop trying to cheat all the time and apply your mind to the actual rules of the game."

"Hmmm…" He pretended to consider her words. I knew for a fact that he had studied the game with intense concentration for weeks, all for this moment. "There is merit in your words. How about a little wager, then? To motivate me."

"You do seem to need a solid dose of motivation," Angela agreed. "Honestly, you have so much talent and you are wasting yourself on this ridiculous thieving lark. With a mind like yours, you could be a very successful business man someday, you know."

"That's very tempting. I'll consider it."

"What is your wager?"

He leaned back and folded his arms, smirking. "500 gold coins."

Angela stared blankly at him for a moment, but she took the bait. "Well, that is absurd, as you don't have 500 coins. But you do have my attention. Against?"

"A kiss."

She laughed in disbelief. "A kiss from me is worth 500 gold coins to you? Not to mention the humiliation of yet another defeat?"

"A kiss from you is worth the world," he said steadily, suddenly deeply serious.

I looked away. Rose was standing a few feet behind me, watching me with great interest. She looked incredible, clothed in simple cotton like a farmer's daughter. I held out my hand, and she took it, coming to stand beside me.

"That's her, isn't it? The one you loved?"

"Yes."

"She's beautiful. And she has spunk. I like her. She's very forward-thinking."

I smiled. "Yes, it's really a good thing that you two never met. Together, you would have turned me honest, and who wants that? I would cease to be interesting, and you would be obliged to find another rogue to tame."

"I would do no such thing," she said gently. "I could no more leave you than I could stop the passing of the seasons."

"Well, you've just won my argument for me, because you most certainly can stop the seasons. But that was rather sweet, all the same, my dear. Tell me, is our Albion still frozen in time, with poor Logan trapped in mid-lunge, right now?"

She shook her head, lowering her eyes. "No. That spell does not last for long. He must be beside himself."

"He did seem rather put out. He was trying to stab me to death when you so rudely interrupted," I reminded her.

"How lucky for you that I am so ill-mannered," she said dryly. "Oh, look, you've gone."

I followed her gaze. The table was empty.

"That, my dear, is because I won. Because I always win, in the end. I've gone to arrange for the reception of the spoils of my victory. Angela, I imagine, has gone to wrestle with her poorly-repressed feelings for me."

"I thought it was just a kiss."

I made a face. "When is it ever just a kiss with me? You know my flair for the dramatique."

Rose grinned. "I didn't realize it had developed so early."

"See for yourself, if you like," I suggested. "We'll be by the water, once the sun has set and the stars have come out."

She sighed wistfully. "We really must try that, ourselves, sometime. Our last date was atrocious. We almost died."

I squeezed her hand. "Apparently that is a pattern with me, darling. Angela and I will draw very close to death's door tonight, as well."

Her eyes widened. "You what?"

"We will need to be there," I said grimly. "I have a sneaking suspicion that their salvation depends on us. I seem to remember my rescuer being indescribably beautiful. I thought she was an angel—I was very nearly dead and quite hysterical, so I pardon myself for entertaining such a ridiculous idea. But…now I think she may very well have been you."

Thanks, everyone, for reading and reviewing! We're drawing close to the heart of the matter, wherein we discover how Reaver came to be so afraid of his mortality. Raven left a very good question in her latest review, which I'd like to answer publicly in case anyone else was wondering about the name I chose to give him: Adrian White. I chose it very carefully. First, there is the obvious parallel with The Picture of Dorian Gray, which deals with a man whose immortality is owed to a picture that ages for him. The creators of Fable had him in mind, apparently, when they designed Reaver, so I wanted to do a nod to that. Second, "Adrian" is indeed an old and strong name, as Raven said, and it means "dark" and, in some cases, "rich/wealthy." Last, the surname of White was chosen for multiple reasons:

1. To form a stark contrast to Rose's ancestral line, which begins with the first Archon of the Old Kingdom, William Black (who may be Scythe, by the way...nudge nudge!).

2. To demonstrate Reaver's duality. A dark first name and a light surname. He could have gone either way, in my opinion, as is true of us all. The event I'm about to write in the next chapter sealed his fate.

3. Because it is a common, ordinary name. It is one of the more common surnames in Britain. I wanted to stress his humble beginnings.

4. White is a common theme throughout this story, showing up all over the place with white roses, white snow, white dresses, and even Reaver's white coat and pants. White is the color most associated with death in many cultures, though it can also suggest purity.

You may have noticed another common theme-water (in the form of the sea, the snow, and the marsh, etc.) has made an appearance in almost every memory we've visited, here. There is a reason for that, and you will see it very soon!