Gwenwyfar. Gwen – wee – far.

-----

Joren suddenly realized why the woman reminded him so much of Jehani. Like the redheaded temptress, Gwen had this frightening allure to her. And like Jehani, she was unnaturally lovely.

He already decided that no matter how much she reminded him of that wicked woman or in what way, he would not trust her. Or lust for her. No. Must not lust for her. But damn she looked so inviting in the dim light, which cast a glow on her skin and made it dappled gold.

"Gwen," he murmured huskily, cursing his betraying manhood.

Her mulberry mouth stretched into a smile. "Joren," she acknowledged. "What is the notorious Black Bandit Captain doing in a cellar? Come to use me, as so many others have?"

Although the thought of sex crossed his mind, Joren was not tempted to bed an unwilling stranger. No matter how seductive she looked. He swiftly avoided her gaze, leaving her to draw her own conclusions, to take in his dark surroundings.

Under his feet was hard, uneven stone. The walls were also made out of cold stone, and the only furnishings were several cots and some chairs. At some point he realized Gwen was watching him intently, and he reluctantly met her sultry gaze despite his better instincts. Why couldn't she put some clothes on? he thought bitterly. Wait…does she even have clothes? 

"Um…do you have any clothes?" he asked, no, begged.

Gwen stepped forward. Damn. She didn't even know him and she already wanted to bed him, if that sparkle in her eye told him anything. He knew it was useless to elude her advances; there was no place to run in this miniscule confinement. But when one long, slender hand brushed his brawny shoulder, he jerked back.

The bond had thinned too much – and too less – for his liking. There was some kind of…something…in Gwen and Jehani. Like a power of some sort, an ancient forgotten magic perhaps.

She frowned, her sleek brows pulling together in confusion and irritation.

"No man ever refused me," she murmured, a finger reaching out to run down his whiskered cheek. He avoided her doggedly.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded. "Are you impotent? I can fix that. Are you embarrassed? If so, I can fix that too!"

"Just get away!" Joren snapped, backing away hurriedly.

Those eyes…gods, those eyes were almost his undoing. It was all he could to keep hot waves of passion from his groin, knowing that if she saw it she would know she had the upper hand. Instead, he engaged her in casual conversation.

"What fief do you belong to?" he asked.

"None," Gwen said dryly, her attention wavering. "I belong to the Lilykara family."

Joren blinked. "Did they lock you in the cellar too?"

"Yes."

"Their own flesh and blood?"

"I committed an unforgivable sin," she shrugged.

"And what was that?"

"I slept with my great-great-niece's husband."

"Who is your great-great-niece?"

"Rosa."

He stared at her. Why, she was younger than he was, and Rosa was at least twice his age! How could that woman be her great-great-niece? Gwen saw the questions on his face and grinned.

"Mystery surrounds us, my friend," she said wisely. "What mystery surrounds you?"

Joren sighed. "Woman, your no-answers drive me crazy. Be specific."

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "I can See the mysteries surrounding you are different than any other."

His eyes narrowed. "And what mysteries do you see?" he sneered.

"The Black God's son has marked you," she said coolly. "And the only one who can save you from the Fate me and my sister met is far, far away from here."

"And just what is the fate you and your sister met?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"Eternal life," she replied nonchalantly.

Oh. Okay.

Mithros. How long has she been down here to think she has eternal life?

If she slept with Rosa's husband then not too long. Unless Rosa has eternal life too…

Don't tell me you actually believe her! Connie! Come on!

Jory! Think about it!

There's nothing to think about!

Yes there is. The Black God's son? Who do we know that has the power – or at least a touch of power – to give someone eternal life?

I don't know.

You do too know. You met him not too long ago, when you saved Her from a certain death –

I don't want to talk about it.

Oh, but you do. His name was Lesenac, Joren.

Connie…please…

But his conscience plunged relentlessly on. He had the desire to rule the world. His henchmen were called Priests of the Dark. Their leader was named Sha'sa'in. Remember him? Sha'sa'in? He blew up a ship just so he could get to Her, did you know that? He killed Frenn's nephew because he died protecting Her, like a valiant man should. His master was named Lesenac, remember? A god with one flaw – he could die. Do you remember, Joren? Remember Lucas, too? How he and his twin brother died to protect the world? How –

"Enough!" he screamed.

Gwen made a noise and stepped back, dropping the match in her surprise. The flame flickered when it hit the stone floor and went out. Dark flooded the room.

-----

They attacked at dawn.

Men missing eyes or limbs or chunks of flesh roared by in their boat, grinning yellow grins. They leaped onto the ship and cut down any who opposed them.

They said they wanted the girl.

Nobody doubted what girl they meant. Many men died in that battle. And Keladry was forced to watch, unarmed, as men felled other men. She watched as the head of the man named Kris was severed off his very shoulders. She saw Morgan stabbed in the chest and shoved off the ship with a mighty splash. Other men who she had become close to died that day. All for protecting her.

And in her shock she did not bother to defend herself when the opposing men rounded on her and tied her up. They did it cautiously, for they heard that the infamous assassin-spy was dangerous. Their fears were laid to rest when she willingly followed them to the other ship.

That was how she came to be a prisoner. Not a prisoner of the men – no, Lady Knight Keladry could have easily escaped that predicament. But she was a prisoner of the mind, lost in waves of guilt that told her it was her fault all those good men died. And so she stared at the wall and saw nothing, only the gory bodies and the sightless eyes of those that died for her.

Keladry never realized that the ship was bound for Carthak.

Nor did she realize the precious, loathsome bond she shared with Him – so close to snapping – was tingling, telling her she was getting closer to Him, the one she hated…the one she loved.

If she were sane, would she have cared?

Probably.

But Keladry of Mindelan was not sane. So the question was incongruous.