Author's Note: The song in this chapter is an old children's Bible school chorus by Ernie & Debbie Rettino; I didn't write it and I don't own it, though I did add a little bit into it. Enjoy the chapter!

Legolas was still laughing as he and Enguina came up the walk towards the King's House, her arm through his. It had been another early morning for Enguina, which was growing incredibly annoying for her, though not for Legolas who continued to attempt to soothe the baby to sleep through song or touch. This tended to wake the baby more, however, and Enguina was beginning to think that the baby simply was trying to tell her he wanted more of his father. Well, that was fine with her; she wanted more of him, too. But could they not want Legolas in the same way, at the same moment? That was what had caused her husband to laugh at her as they were walking.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I am serious, Legolas. I never thought that the baby would sleep all day and not give me any peace at night." She stopped suddenly, wincing. "Ouch…" she murmured, rubbing the left side of her belly.

"What?" he said, reaching for her womb as well. It was the suddenness of her stopping that startled him, frightened him. "Guin—"

"He just…kicked really hard. He is so strong."

"Where?" he asked and she moved his hand to her belly, but not where the baby had kicked.

"He kicked over here," she said, rubbing the spot with her own hand, "but feel this over here." As she went to lay his hand down, she did not even need to guide it as he could visibly see the bump where the baby's butt, or head, was through her dress.

"That is…incredible…" he breathed. She rubbed the spot on her belly and smiled. "What…what is—"

"Head, I think," she said, overwhelmed herself.

He lifted his awed gaze to look at her. "God," he muttered, pressing his cheek to hers so that he could insure only she could hear him, "I want to lift your dress right now—"

"Legolas!"

"—and plant kisses all over your belly."

She blushed terribly, just at his words, even though there was not a soul around to hear them. "Legolas, please…careful what you say…" She swallowed hard and he laughed at her.

"Sometimes my words simply slip out."

"We are…we are in a very public place."

"Is it terrible that I want to go home, right now?" She could feel his fingers rubbing the bump in her dress. Her stomach flipped over.

"You are embarrassing me," she whispered.

"I am so used to having you alone and all to myself," he replied, "where I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. Erumar notwithstanding. I…cannot help myself. You are so desirable…"

"Down, you ill-mannered troll," she said in the same low voice. She tried to pull back from him.

He let her, but smiled. "I love it when you call me that."

She gave a sigh, but it was fake. "We told Arwen we would meet her for breakfast, and we are. Come along now."

"Wait," he said, holding her back. "I want to touch him when I can see him."

"Legolas," she said, her voice lowering with her discomfiture, "at least let me get off the street into the King's House!"

"But what if he moves?" he asked seriously.

"Please…" she begged him, and he released her immediately, looking at her with concern.

"Do I…have I embarrassed you that much? Forgive me." He appeared extremely contrite, and she shook her head.

"I…you do not think of the way others may perceive us. This is already public enough."

"It should be," he said, suddenly firm. "We have nothing to hide; you are with child, and I am delighted. What is wrong with that?"

"Should not some things be…between us and not the world?" she asked softly. "The child moving," she continued, taking his hand and leading him towards the steps, "is something for us to share. Out here on the streets of Minas Tirith is not really the place, Legolas."

"But I have never seen him like that. That was his head, Enguina."

"I know. It just…was not the right place." She felt badly at reminding him that a public place was not the time to touch her like that, so intimately, or speak such intimate words. When they were alone, even among Arwen or other close friends was tolerable, but on a public street?

He tugged her to a stop just before she reached for the door. "Guin," he said, reaching up to touch her face, "please…forgive me. Sometimes I…forget where I am, who I am with, and all I can think about is you. I forget the world. I am sorry."

She gave him a little smile, brushing aside her embarrassment. "I forgive you. Come inside now."

The two of them entered the kitchen to find Arwen seated at the table. It only took Enguina the time it took for Legolas to close the door to know something was terribly wrong. Arwen's hands covered the lower half of her face, trembling fingers pressed to her lips; her eyes were red but they were open and her hair looked as though she had been tangling it in her hands for twenty minutes. As Enguina came toward her, Arwen's hands lowered and it was clear her lips were trembling. Enguina was reaching for her hands even as Legolas was turning around back towards them.

"Arwen, what is the matter?"

"Aragorn…" she said, her voice as soft as ever, but this time her eyes filled with tears of worry, of dread. "Aragorn has been hurt…"

"Hurt?"

"What?" asked Legolas from behind her, coming to rest a hand on Enguina's shoulder.

"How, Arwen? How do you know? Did you receive a messenger?" she asked and Arwen shook her head. She pulled one of her hands out of Enguina's as her eyes closed, her hand gripping her own right shoulder.

"I felt him…I saw him…"

"You saw him?" she said, startled.

"A warg had a hold on his shoulder," she said, swallowing hard. "I could see its eyes, its teeth digging to bone…his blood was…he was in such pain." She rested her forehead on her hand. "And there is nothing I can do for him."

Legolas stared at her, terribly worried for his friend, but he made himself release Enguina so she could hug Arwen, slipping her arm around her neck and laying her head on top of hers. "He is…he is alive. He is alive, yes, Arwen?"

She nodded. "His reach woke me out of a sound sleep, not even an hour ago." She shook her head. "I do not think he meant to…" Legolas thought of Enguina reaching out in her dream, uncontrolled.

"No…he probably did not," he agreed. He took a seat across from her at the table. "Did you see anything else?"

She shook her head again, her voice even softer. "No…" Her hand rubbed her shoulder again. "Oh…it hurt so much…I tried to send him what peace I could, and comfort, but I was so terrified that—"

"This was a vision," Legolas said gently, remembering her words from the other night. "You saw him in your dream. You said that you—"

"No!" Arwen cried out, unexpectedly, scaring Enguina and causing Legolas to jump. She just as suddenly broke down into tears, pressing her palms into her eyes. "No, no, no! It cannot be! It was just a dream! It had to be a dream! It just…happened! It was not the same! It was not!"

It could not be real. If her thoughts of Aragorn, even if they did not lead to the same events, were a vision, how much more could it be true that the other was a vision? The rumors of Aragorn and who he was with; the truth of what the letter from Hildanir contained; the words of Noldore that Aragorn had betrayed her…with Erumar…the dark-haired woman! Oh, Ilúvatar forbid it, could it be true? Could the dream be a vision of him and Erumar? It could not be! She wept even harder, terrified of the very thought of it.

Please! Please, Ilúvatar, help me!

"Arwen, calm down…shh," Enguina said full of alarm, holding her more tightly than before. Arwen gripped her arms, her eyes tightly closed as she cried.

"Please pray!" Arwen gasped out, clutching Enguina. She could never have told her what else was in her heart. "Please pray for him!"

Legolas stood, not wanting to say another word about the visions. He came around to stand beside her and placed his hands on them, one on Enguina's back and the other on Arwen's shoulder.

"Father," Legolas said softly, "you are in control of every situation and will never forsake us. You will not let us stumble and fall in the darkness; you shine your light on every path and lead us out where your light shines. We know that Aragorn is injured, wounded, we do not know how terribly. We are seeking your peace, your comfort in this situation while we are here, and he is so far from us. There is nothing that we can do, but you can do all things. Be near him; lay your hand of mercy and healing on him as he has healed so many others, in fact each one of us here before you. You are in control, Father; you are the one who can bring him home safely to us, to Arwen. Let him know that you are with him every moment; heal him, shield and comfort him from the pain. Put someone in his path that can give him healing, that can comfort him…or miraculously heal him yourself. Be with him and bring him home."

Enguina began to sing softly:

I cast all my cares upon you

I lay all of my burdens down at your feet

And any time I do not know what to do

I will cast all my cares upon you

Take all my anxiousness, take all my fear

Take all my worry and dread

Take all that shakes me, take all my pain

Be with me, remind me to trust

I cast all my cares upon you

I lay all of my burdens down at your feet

And any time I do not know what to do

I will cast all my cares upon you

"Thank you," Arwen whispered, "oh, thank you. That was just what I needed." Enguina did not say anything, just kissed her on the top of the head. Legolas released them both as Arwen straightened. Enguina left her hands on her shoulders and Legolas leaned against the edge of the table not wanting to move far from her side. Arwen lifted her hands to wipe her face. "I…have never been so…afraid of anything." Her hands were still trembling and Legolas reached out to hold them; they were so cold.

"He is going to be all right," he said. "He is not alone out there. Hildanir, Erumar, Mennev…they are all with him."

She nodded, repeating the words of Enguina's simple song in her heart, over and over. I lay all of my burdens down at your feet…I lay all of my burdens down at your feet… Tears came to her eyes again. All of my burdens…oh, Father! There are so many!

"Shall we have breakfast?" Enguina asked softly.

"Please," Arwen said, "make yourselves at home. I am not hungry at the moment. I would be willing to help though."

"Stay there," Legolas said. "I will make some tea for you."

"How about some bread?" Enguina said. "Maybe by the time it is finished, you will be hungry."

"Perhaps," she said. She doubted that.

Legolas and Enguina busied themselves; there was nothing more to be said about Aragorn. They had done the only thing that they could do, that would matter; it was all in Ilúvatar's hands. As Arwen sat there watching them, she finally got to her feet.

"I need to make myself a bit more presentable," she said, finally collecting herself enough to sound reasonable, to sound as though she might not burst into tears at any moment. "I will be just a few moments."

They intended to allow her whatever time she needed, even more than they thought she needed. This was no easy situation with no easy way of dealing with any of it. They would be here for her, and pray for Aragorn. That was all they could do for now.

The only thing Erumar could call what Aragorn was going through right now was surgery. That had to be what it was, because they were essentially pulling apart the chain mail piece by piece and taking the broken pieces out of the tatters of Aragorn's skin as he was lying on the ground behind the barricade. The only reason she was here was because she had the steadiest hands and a set of long nails that she was using at the moment to pry things out of the worst wound she had ever encountered. Her stomach was churning, but she forced herself to remain calm and focus on what mattered: saving Aragorn's life. She wished with all her heart that Tauriel had not gone after the orcs.

"Oh god…"

That was Hildanir again; the man was a wreck. He had been the first to reach the warg and stab it repeatedly from horseback after the arrows would not bring it down to prevent it from snatching Aragorn up by the leg as it had attempted. He had also been the first on the ground beside the King. The arrows in the orc came from the elves: her and fellow bowman, Eldarn, a friend she had made, who sat beside her, holding the pan she was dropping the steel into. Every man left on the battlefield was there, hovering; some stood a few feet away, some were kneeling in small groups in prayer. He was their King…even the Easterlings whom he had helped save and lead into battle were near, all mixed together, united in both battle and now in common cause.

"Stop, Hildanir," said Ethring, who was continuing to prepare compresses to bind the wound when she was finished. "If you cannot stomach this, stand back."

"This should not have…things like this should not happen," Hildanir muttered under his breath, covering his face with his hands. "The battle was over…we were safe…"

"You are doing very well," Eldarn said to Erumar, his voice quiet and calm. She thanked Ilúvatar silently for him as she dropped yet another few pieces of the mail in his hands.

"You are so encouraging," she said, giving him a half smile. "I think I am nearly done."

"Thank Eru!" cried Hildanir, coming nearer.

"She did not say she was done, Hildanir," griped Ethring. "Get back."

"Quiet," Eldarn said peaceably. "She needs concentration, and your bickering is not assisting in the matter. Lieutenant," he added to Hildanir, "perhaps you would be better served finding the King's horse. If I know anything about him at all, he will have some herbs that we may use for the compresses. Though none of us here are Healers, they will surely help." Hildanir immediately hurried off, scanning the plain for the horses that were standing about eating the long prairie grass.

"Brego! Brego!"

"That will help him immensely," Erumar said, referring to Hildanir as she studied the wound underneath her fingers, her hands deep in Aragorn's blood. "I think that is the last of them. I think the wounds are clean of the shards." Eldarn set down the pan and reached for the water the men had heated for them. He handed it to her as she moved back so she could cleanse the wound. His arm was damaged in several places, and she was worried that pouring water over it might damage it further. She could see bone, and so she took a clean cloth and began carefully cleaning what was left of his skin and muscle. As torn as it was, she did at least have something to work with. She knew enough to make him comfortable, but not enough to bring him any healing. Before, Ethring had placed a compress over and packing inside the puncture wound through Aragorn's hip, so that wound was no longer bleeding either.

Hildanir arrived with Brego several minutes later, calmer as predicted, and Eldarn rose to look through the bay's saddlebags for the herbs. The horse was clearly distressed, but the elf spoke to him gently and he began to calm down, snorting and scraping the ground with his hooves. Eldarn took the herbs and ground them, making a thick paste which he spread into the wounds on Aragorn's right shoulder and arm. They then wrapped them tightly, binding the King's arm to his chest so he would not move it at all, if he could, when he woke.

"When will the King wake?" asked Ethring and Eldarn shook his head.

"I would expect not soon," he stated. "Elessar is pale; he has lost much blood. Even if he wakes, he may not wake fully. He is lucky to even be alive, to still have his arm. He will be even more fortunate if he retains the use of it."

There was complete silence in the men standing around, and several of them hung their heads with such a diagnosis. They were thankful, though, that their King was even alive.

"What do we do now?" asked Tiftka, one of the Easterlings, his voice carrying a heavy accent.

"We follow the King's plan," Hildanir said softly, and everyone looked to him. "We were to follow the Celduin to your people, so we will continue north. It should not take more than a day or so to reach them, depending on how quickly we may travel. Hopefully, by the time we arrive, there will be better care for the King."

"If we are very fortunate, perhaps King Thranduil will have arrived," Eldarn said. "Though…I very much doubt it. Perhaps Tauriel will come soon as well; she has more healing in her than most."

Erumar wiped her hands on a cloth and reached down to smooth Aragorn's hair back. "How can we move him carefully?" she asked, looking up at Ethring. "If he wakes, he will be in great pain."

"We had a cart to haul the bodies," said one of the Easterling women, pointing. "We can let it carry him up river once the burning is as complete as possible."

Ethring frowned. "How long do you think that will take?"

"Before night fall," replied another Gondorian. "Then we need to make our way back toward the third barricade. We should be able to rest there, and then head out sometime in the night. The faster we leave, the faster the journey."

"I agree," Eldarn said. He looked down at Erumar. "Will you remain with the King?"

"Of course," she said, laying her hand on his brow.

Eldarn looked to Tiftka. "Will you take watch? We shall rotate the position."

"Of course," he said gruffly, his voice muffled by his scarf and helm as he set his spear into the dirt. "The King Elessar is my King as well." He thumped his chest once and the other Easterlings did the same.

"In one hour, I will be the first relief," said Ethring, getting to his feet. Hildanir nodded to Eldarn.

"Let us make quick work of this so we can be on our way and get the King to safety and aid."

It was early evening in Minas Tirith. Arwen was walking the stairs into Ecthelion alone, her mind set on confrontation, to know the truth of all that had been happening. Enguina and Legolas had gone home early tonight; they had remained with her yesterday and most of the day and she was glad of that, happy they had been kind enough to do so. When they left, it was because Enguina could clearly not keep her eyes open anymore, and Arwen had urged them to go. Not long afterwards, she left the House herself for Ecthelion, assuming that was where Nardur might be. She tried, at least for the moment, to keep thoughts of a wounded Aragorn from her mind; it had been two days since she had felt his pain. Instead, she had a snake to crush beneath her foot.

She was surprised that the object of her search stood alone in the center of the throne room, standing near the throne and looking at it as if Aragorn were sitting on it. For some reason, that infuriated her, and she had to swallow an outburst. He had not turned around when the door opened and closed; she wondered how many more were in Ecthelion tonight, but she refused to hide from the conversation simply because she did not want others to overhear. No, this was getting done tonight.

"Nardur," she said, and he turned in surprise to hear her voice echo so powerfully across the chamber when she was usually so soft-spoken. He bowed to her as she inclined her head to him.

"My Queen," he said, his tone one of surprise, "good evening. May I help you?"

"I must speak with you," she replied, coming nearer to him and taking up a position across from him. "I am disturbed in my heart tonight." Her gaze was steady, but her eyes were dark. This was a rare move for her, to confront him so openly, and he both welcomed and feared the confrontation. He needed to say all of the right things, otherwise, she would never believe her husband would ever seek the arms of another woman. He needed to be careful. "I have been hearing the most dreadful of rumors, and I refuse to let them stand any longer. I have heard and followed the trail myself and many of them began right here."

"With the Council?" he asked, appearing startled. "My Lady, I assure you the Council—"

"Not the Council," she interrupted him, knowing it was rude of her and doing it anyway. Her temper was flaming; for almost three days this confrontation had been stewing in her mind, what she would say and how she would do it. Her husband had been wounded; she was barely handling that grief, and to remember what had been spread about him? No, as she had told Noldore last night, it would not stand. "You. You have begun these rumors, and they will stop here and now."

He almost wanted to smile, but he refrained. Ah…thank you, Noldore…and Legolas. Now, you little bitch…try me. "Evenstar," he said, "I have no idea what rumors you are referring to. I have begun nothing. Can you describe them? If it is within my power, I will put a stop to them for you."

"It is well-within your power," she said sharply. "There are councilmen and citizens walking in Minas Tirith with slander against my husband on their lips. No one has the right to say such criticisms about him, not even you, but to spread them about the City…" Her face held a look of disgust. "It is unthinkable to question a man with such faultless character."

He paused, holding up a hand that he laid over his heart. "My Lady, I can only guess at the rumors that you are speaking of, but where there is power, rumors abound. The King has many secrets, I am sure."

"Rumors abound," she said, her voice still soft, but angry, "because you begin them. Aragorn is an excellent King, and the very best and most honest of men. He keeps no secrets, from his people, nor from his wife. I will remind you that there were men who slandered the King and they are now very dead indeed!" Her eyes flashed. "You are the man spreading these lies. You will stop now. You have no right."

"My Lady," he said, "I am afraid I know of no rumors concerning the King, unless you are referring to truth, not rumor. You have that part mistaken, and I am spreading nothing, merely passing on a letter that was received from a messenger or two. Both were read aloud to all of the Council and there was nothing to conceal in either letter. Perhaps you heard something—"

If she had not been so angry, she might have laughed in his face. "You are spreading lies and deceit," she told him angrily, "just as Vändir had weeks ago and was sentenced to death by Legolas. These are the same petty lies and foolishness that began nearly five years ago before I was with child. Aragorn was to have a mistress according to the Council and—"

"My Lady," he said sadly, reaching forward to touch her hands and she tugged them away, holding them out of his reach. She was not about to let him touch her if she could help it.

"Do not patronize me," she stated, "and do not deny your hand in these rumors! Aragorn refused you all then, stated that he would not find another. How dare you try to make him look as dishonest as the rest of you? He would never betray the oaths he took with me; he has said so many times. You, who swore oaths of fealty and allegiance to Gondor and her King—"

"Did not the King swear oaths of allegiance to Gondor?" he asked and she paused for a moment. "Of course, he did," he answered nodding. "Which ones matter most to the King? That is the question that must be asked. The rumors you are hearing are not rumors; letters were received that are truth! I can explain if you wish."

"Do not bother. You cannot expect me to believe a word—"

"I expect nothing of you but to hear me, if you would," he stated, his voice full of sympathy. "I had thought the King himself would have told you of his intentions before he left the City, knowing how close the two of you are. The King clearly had been planning this at some point, my Lady, because he was intending this all along. It is the reason the Lady traveled with him."

"The Lady traveled with my husband to find peace in Eryn Lasgalen," she told him. "Erumar was traveling with them so she would be safe; she did not go for him!"

"I do not know why he would have told you that lie, or that she would for that matter," he replied. "The King had been intending intimate relations with her since before he left. He even left something here that he did not want to have as a reminder of his fidelity to you. But you must understand," he said quickly, before she could interrupt, "he did not mean it to hurt you. He was doing all of this in service to Gondor! I thought he would have told you, or that you had spoken of it and were included in the decision." His eyes were sad when he looked on her. "I must have been mistaken."

"You continue to lie, even when confronted, face to face?" she asked, all astonishment at his vile nature. "Why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth? You, who have sought to wound me at every turn with your hateful words."

Nail it in, Nardur. Get it done. "My Lady, I only speak the truth," he said. "I have never meant you disrespect. You are a wonderful Queen, but the King does not only need a wonderful Queen; the King needs a Queen who can give him an heir." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I have had nothing to do with convincing him that this is true. I am sure that you, as well as anyone else who wanted to know, could have spoken with the Healers at the Houses about your condition—"

"My…my condition?"

"My Lady, you have been clearly faced with the fact that you were once with child, was poisoned, and now can bear no sons or daughters. You are barren; the Healers know this, have even mentioned it to your husband on several occasions. Again, fact, truth, not rumor. The King, after much time of knowing that this was true must have finally admitted it to himself as well and chosen her to carry the future heir."

"You…" she swallowed, her anger clawing at her insides, "you must think me mad if you think I would ever believe—"

"Think of how similar you are! The Lady is an excellent choice; I even mentioned it to you weeks ago simply as conversation! The same dark hair, similar eyes, both beautiful elves. A union with the Lady Erumar would be so easy and make sense! Think of how clever it is! A child with her ensures the throne will survive as she has borne children already, and since a child with you is impossible, he could lie with her and every citizen would think the child was yours."

She stared at him, suddenly stunned into a silence so profound that he jumped into it, continuing with his point. "Look at how easy he made it for you; you would go into seclusion along with her after she became pregnant, she would bear the child, and then it would be yours. Elessar's son, even if by another union. I can understand how something like this might surprise you, but you must understand that this is the only choice he could make that is sensible; Gondor must come first! Your marriage, your wedlock, is important, but without an heir on the throne everything he has done is useless. He needed to produce an heir, and when wed to a woman who will forever be childless—"

"Stop that," she forced out, his words worming their way into her brain like she were some dead thing they could eat away. She tried to push back his words, but the logic in them, the logic that she had been telling herself for months now, was undeniable.

"But you must understand that to understand his choice!" he said. "The letter from Hildanir says nothing about loving you any less; you are still his wife, and he your husband. He intends to escort Erumar to Thranduil's kingdom as he said, but only after their union is—"

"Stop!" she cried out, stepping back from him and glaring into his face, even with tears in her eyes. "I will never believe what you speak!"

"But you do," he said gently. "You are too intelligent of a woman to know that this decision does not make sense and that he is well-within his right to make it. In fact, you even encouraged him to make it, did you not? It must have come up somewhere…"

She wanted to scream in pain, but she could not believe him; she would never believe that Aragorn, her beloved who had pledged his life to her, had wept with her over choosing her over a child, had said that he would hang Gondor and give it all up to be with her, would ever betray her in this way…and never with one of her dearest friends. Never.

"You are a poisonous snake," she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits. "I will never believe a word of your lies. I will never betray my husband's character by believing any letter, or any words, that come from another person's mouth, especially yours. Only Ilúvatar knows if those letters you received came from Hildanir in the first place," she accused. "May Ilúvatar tear out your tongue for the lies you have invented, in written or in spoken word!"

"I have not lied to you," he stated again. "You came to me tonight to seek the truth, and I am giving it to you."

"No," she said, suddenly realizing what she had really come here for. "No, I came not to seek the truth, but to accuse you, to threaten you."

"Threaten me?" His voice was incredulous.

"These rumors about my husband end here and now. There will not be one more word about infidelity; the King would never perform such a deed—"

"You know him that well?"

"His character is irrefutable! It always was, and it always will be! From this moment on, if one word comes from a member of the Council that slanders his name, I will make sure they are thrown into the stocks; I will make it punishable to slander the King. I do not know what you hoped for when you conjured this plan, but I will never think ill of my husband—never. I would never believe the words of a man who has done nothing but demean me over the words of a man who has loved me for nearly a hundred years. Nothing you say will ever change that. I demand that you apologize for your words."

He stared at her, his eyes sad. "I will apologize, Evenstar, because you ask it of me. But—"

"That is enough," she said, looking hard at him. "If there is one more rumor, one more word spread around about my husband in relation to the Lady or a hint at unfaithfulness, I will personally and publically denounce you, and then remove your seat from the Council myself."

His eyebrows rose in stunned disbelief, and then narrowed at her. "You have not the—"

"Authority?" she said, stepping forward to confront him. "Do I not? I am the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, second only to my husband in the law. When you pledged an oath to Gondor, and I married your King, that oath came to me as well. You will lose all your power, Nardur. Do not threaten me. No longer will you be a shadowy presence sowing dissent and discord in the darkness. You are finished as of tonight. Good night, my Lord."

She turned away and strode across the throne room, throwing open the doors to Ecthelion and vanishing out of them. He stood completely still, waiting until the door closed. The most evil of smiles came upon his face as he thought of all he had done to reach this point, and what he had yet to do.

"No, no," he muttered to himself. "You have some fire, Evenstar, but I have you now…oh yes. I wish I could tell you that it is best to say your goodbyes; you do not have much time left." His eyes narrowed. "You little bitch," he spat. "I'll show you what it means to threaten to take power from me."

It was done now. If she was going to threaten him with expulsion from the Council, she was going to face death by his hand. No one threatened him, not like this, so openly, so boldly. Erumar could be the new Queen for all it was worth now.

He began to openly plot to take her life from that moment on.