Here it is guys. This is the end. In honour of all your generosity and support and the fact I have over 400! reviews, I decided to post the last chapter up today as well. It's a little short, anyway. I hope that you'll all venture over to my next story, which will be vaguely based off 'The Little Mermaid.' You might see some familiar characters.

Tiger Lily21: Ah, you'll find out soon enough. I don't think it's possible for me to end a story without at least someone getting together. That's pretty much against my writing religion. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. I'm glad you're thinking of redoing Jemima. I completely enjoyed that story. I hope you don't change it too much, but I'm sure whatever you do, it will be to the better.

HolmesismyHomie: Don't worry. I find myself doing that to.

cokefizz-and-chocolate: I hope you didn't faint or anything. That would be horrible. yay! ((hordes cookies)) ((jams cookies into mouth))

CalliopeMused: No problemo.

monkeys-and-bananas76: It was more Fiona's thinking it, and it was just a passing thought. Honestly, I just thought that that would be a nice line to end the chapter on.

letylyf: Yeah. He just had it worked up in his mind that him leaving his brother was equal to the mass murder of a town of children. You'll find out the assassin soon enough.

little miss tiny shoes: Hee hee. I love how you said 'pesky business.' I just found that really funny.

panemonium: Last two chapters! ((tear)) It is sad, but I already have the characters in my head for my next story. I wonder if it will turn out even longer than this.

livingdead2010: okay!

rainkisser: First of all, thank you for the great review. As much as I love the supportive ones (and I do love them!) it's the ego balloon poppers that are really useful. First off, the whole Jarrod's, er, enhancement was more a point towards Fiona's innocence than anything else. I imagine she was nervous, and I tried to come up with something suitably naive and such. I'm sorry the whole secret disappointed you. I never like to disappoint readers. I seriously thought that thing over like twenty times. At first I wanted Jarrod to light the fire somehow, through carelessness or something, but then I couldn't think of how the castle (which is made of stone) could burn down. Then I thought that Jarrod could actually kill Marcus for whatever reason, but then I couldn't figure a way out of the subsequent murder charge. As for having Marcus try and kill Jarrod and the whole self-defense thing,Jarrod would have understood that. But now that you've given me a couple ideas, I might go and change it, one day, when I'm having a severe writers block in another story. Honestly, I like keeping my stories up, mistakes and all, because then I can see what I can do better. That's why I don't go and redo Beau, even though I cringe every time I read it. Thank you very very much for all the great stuff you do. I hope you don't hate me now.

Akwyn: Ah. The faults of my characters. They're both a little muddled. Don't worry, they'll straighten out with time.

wishingIcouldthinkofsomething: I think that if you all took time out of your schedual to read my story, the least I could do is try and make it consistant, or at least warn you if it's not. Yeah Marcus and Belinda were fairly obvious. I think Jarrod said in one of the first chapters that it was pretty much apparent to everyone but him.

kyliegirlie: Thank you.

Areida Rivers: Jarrod's stubbornness is only matched by a river grinding through a mountain and Fiona. Perhaps we'll see some of the characters in another story. ((wink wink))

Phillipa of the Phoenix: But isn't that usually how it is? We think we've done something absolutely terrible, and the person next to us is like, meh. Yup, the Little Mermaid.

Aiden-Rae: Yeah. Thanks!

Charlie Hazel: Aw. Today you can look down and find an arrow to the next chapter! Yay!

Glitterpoison: Marcus was a cad in all sense of the word. So was Belinda. Thank you.

Drew: That's good. I wanted to come, but I had to work. I wanted that at first too, but I couldn't think how I would be able to make him light the fire, without it seeming completely accidental.

awaiting impatient person: HOORAY FOR FLUFF! It's like a shot of icing sugar into the veins for me. As a side note, on Fiona's little tirade, she had to run out of breath, right? So I was actually acting it outloud to see if it was long enough (or too long for that matter) for someone to say in one breath. My sister kept sending me strange glances. I am going to my cousin's wedding in Manitoba Canada (I live in BC Canada) and we're coming back through Edmonton and going to the West Edmonton Mall, which is like a HUGE shopping mall, complete with ice ring, theme park, a huge cinaplex, and water park. Like, fun compacted into a mall.

I hope you've all enjoy most of my story. I also hope that you might read my next one.

/shameless plug

-Lulai

Chapter Twenty Nine: Betrayal

The next week that went by was by far the best week Fiona had ever had. She didn't know how to explain it. She was simply… happy. Deliriously happy. Her court was doing superbly. She had even found a few friends of the female persuasion who lived in town who were much kinder than the Grenaldas. The attacks on her had seemed to stop after the failed attempt to assassinate her that night (although Jarrod still insisted that she have two guards with her at all times). Warren had come home after a successful trip to Tolaro, and the entire castle had thrown a splendid dinner party for him.

And her husband. Oh, her husband. It wouldn't be an exaggeration by any means of the imagination to say that they probably spent more time in bed than out. Though he had yet to say that he loved her, she could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. But Fiona was no longer worried. Jarrod was cautious, but he would say it one day, she was certain.

But the height of her life up to that point came the next night when she walked into their bedroom. Taking the place of the high-canopied gold and red eyesore that was their bed was a tasteful piece of furniture with tall intricately carved walnut posts. The bedspread was a tasteful quilt made from soothing butter yellows, bronzes, and maroons.

She almost thought she had walked into the wrong room. She took a look around, but nothing else had changed. The hideous tapestries still hung on the wall. The horrendous carpet still covered the floor.

"Do you like it?" Jarrod asked softly from behind her.

"Like it?" Fiona said, a smile creeping across her face. "I love it."

His arms slid around her waist as his lips found her neck. Fiona crossed her arms and grabbed his forearms, securing his hold on her. "I especially liked the colours used. You should decorate the entire room this way."

She could feel rather than see the smile that crossed his face. "I thought I would take small steps."

Turning in his arms, Fiona hooked her hands behind his neck. "Well, the bed is lovely. The perfect first step."

His smile stretched into a wicked grin.

"Want to help me christen it?"

Fiona's fingers were already at his cravat, undoing the neat folds. "I thought you'd never ask."

…

Jarrod sat at his desk, but the last thing on his mind was his paperwork. He hadn't stopped smiling since earlier that morning. He had left his wife in their new bed, looking rumpled and warm, still sleeping. She deserved it after how long he kept her up the night before.

Even so, he had been hard pressed to not just climb back in and join her, but he knew he had to get some amount of work done. Including the finishing of the Royal Chambers. He couldn't believe that it had taken him that long to change it.

It was all his wife's doing. Fiona had come into his life in her charming, naïve, outspoken, loyal, loving way and shaken him up. She accepted him and all his flaws just as he accepted hers. She had taken the burden of his guilt off his shoulders and loved him regardless. And right now, she was probably lying in bed, looking quite delectable.

With that thought firmly in mind, he stood from his desk, determined to show her just how much he appreciated her for the second time that morning.

He opened the door quickly, shocking Warren who had his fist raised as if to knock.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted you, Jarrod," Warren apologised, straightening his jacket.

"There's no need. I was just… leaving anyway," Jarrod said.

Warren nodded. "Could I talk to you a minute? This is extremely important."

Jarrod nodded, and motioned his cousin inside. Resisting the urge to sigh, he made his way back to his desk. Fiona was not one to lie abed in the morning, and he might have missed his chance. Oh well. There was no reason he couldn't drag her back.

He raised an eyebrow at his cousin, who stood, looking very uncomfortable. "Well?" Jarrod asked finally. "What did you want to tell me?"

He took a deep breath, an extremely nervous look on his face.

"I think I know who's trying to kill you," Warren said in a rush of air.

Jarrod stood up straight from where he had been leaning against the polished oak of his desk. "What?"

"I think I know who's trying to kill you," Warren repeated slower.

"Who?"

At this, his cousin's countenance seemed to collapse in on itself. "Your brother, Tyrell," he said softly, sadly.

"Tyrell?" Jarrod scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't believe it for an instant. Why would you think something like that?"

"I've been watching him," Warren said. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his jacket nervously. "I believe he and your wife have been… well, having relations."

Jarrod shook his head firmly. "No," he said. He didn't believe that for an instant. Fiona wouldn't be unfaithful to him. He had absolute trust in her.

"Jarrod," Warren sighed, "I saw them in the woods together just a few minutes ago. That's when I knew I had to come to you."

"I'm sure you just misunderstood their intentions," Jarrod said. "Shall I prove it to you?"

He strode out the door, Warren following him worryingly. They walked out together into the woods, until they couldn't even see the castle anymore. Jarrod decided that that was far enough.

"See?" Jarrod said, turning to his cousin. "There's no one-"

He didn't finish his sentence as the hilt of a sword came down over his head, rendering him unconscious.

…

Jarrod awoke with a groan. His head hurt like hell. That was it. He was never going to drink ever again. This was one of the worst hangovers ever.

But it didn't feel the same as a hangover. The pain seemed to radiate from a point on the back of his skull, instead of inside his head. Almost as if he had been hit…

His memory rushed back to him. He opened his eyes to find that he was tied, spread eagle, to the bed on the inside of a little cottage.

There was no one else in the room. Beams of light sifted in through the cracks of the one-roomed cottage, illuminating speckles of dust that shifted in the still air. A fine layer of grit lay over the sparse furnishings, a table, a chair, and the bed to which he was currently tied, indicating that no one had been in there in quite some time. Meaning that no one would probably just wander in at any moment, making it a perfect place to hold a victim.

Perfect, Jarrod thought ironically. He lay his head back down, the strain on his neck growing painful.

Apparently, his assailant had finally decided to go with a direct approach. By why wouldn't he have just killed Jarrod? Probably wanted to gloat.

That was their first mistake. At least now Jarrod had some time to think and plan. He was not going to depart dearly now, not now that he had found his love. He just hoped that Warren was in a similar state, and not lying face down in a ditch somewhere.

He began to work the ropes tied to his wrists. His daggers lay on a table on the other side of the room, and if he could just get his hands free…

The door swung open.

"Ah, I see you're awake," Warren said calmly, holding an inkwell and paper. "I was afraid that I had hit you too hard."

"Warren?" Jarrod asked, incredulously, as he ceased to struggle. "What? Why?"

"Ah, so many questions, dear cuz," Warren said mockingly, laying down the writing implements and picking up one of Jarrod's daggers. He looked nothing like the shy cousin that he knew. There was a gleam of madness in his eyes that made Jarrod pause.

"Perfectly legitimate questions," Jarrod replied, lifting his head slightly. "That is, if I am correct in assuming you are behind all the attacks on my wife and I."

"But of course," Warren said with a saucy grin, leaning back on the chair and twirling the dagger tip down on the table. "Both of you are either immortal, or extremely lucky to still be alive. Perhaps it was my mistake for hiring such incompetent fools." He sat up straight. "Speaking of such, I think it's time we invited your wife to join our little get-together."

"No," Jarrod said firmly. He was not going to drag Fiona into this.

"Oh, come now," Warren said, his eyes hardening. It made Jarrod wonder how he didn't see the evil in him for so long. Warren was a very good actor. "I'm being a gentleman here and allowing you to say goodbye to your wife in a proper fashion."

"Why do you have to bring Fiona into this at all?" Jarrod asked.

"Because when you die, the title and the fortune automatically are passed on to her and the child she could possible be carrying. Killing two birds with one stone and all that, cuz." Warren looked deadly serious, testing the edge of the dagger along his forefinger.

"Fine," Jarrod said, thinking quickly. "Untie me."

"What?"

Jarrod gave his cousin a scathing look. "Judging by the paper and ink you've brought, I assume you want me to write her a little note, possibly arranging a little tryst, at which you can bring her here and kill her along with me."

Warren looked absolutely furious at his plan being found out so quickly. But, he calmed the fire that spat out his eyes back into a calm façade. "You still haven't explained why I should cut your bonds," he said nonchalantly.

"My wife isn't stupid," Jarrod replied. "She knows my writing and would become extremely suspicious if it suddenly looked like chicken scratch." Of course, Jarrod would hope that she would become suspicious anyway.

"Very well," Warren acquiesced. He cut the bonds that held Jarrod's hands, but left the ones with his feet alone. "I must warn you, cuz, if I see anything I deem suspicious, this dagger will be in your chest faster than you can blink."

Jarrod shrugged. "Do you have something I can write on?" he replied smoothly.

Warren sneered, but tossed a heavy, dusty book onto Jarrod's lap. Jarrod grunted, but said nothing else. Handing him the quill and the parchment, he commanded shortly, "Write."

Jarrod wrote.

After he was done, he folded the letter and handed it to his cousin, who was standing in a bored position near the post of the bed. Warren took the letter and retied Jarrod's hands to the posts. Jarrod didn't resist, much. Warren read through the letter several times, probably looking for hidden messages, and finding it acceptable, handed to another man outside, one who was dressed in a manner of the kitchen staff.

Jarrod frowned. He hadn't noticed the other man. He might have to readjust his thinking.

"Why are you doing this Warren?" Jarrod asked him when Warren came back in.

Warren sat back down in the chair, and resumed his twirling of the dagger. He cast an almost friendly glance at his cousin. "Believe it or not, Jarrod, this actually isn't personal."

"I don't know how you can say that killing me and my wife isn't personal," Jarrod said with an edge to his voice.

"Well, maybe a little bit," Warren ceded, "but it's mostly about the title, and the money."

"She won't take you back," Jarrod told him softly.

The reaction was instantaneous. Warren's hand tightened on the dagger, forcing the point into the table, and his entire form went rigid, his eyes narrowing. "Don't say that," he hissed venomously.

"But it's true," Jarrod persisted. "Your mother's a selfish harridan, and you being king won't change that."

"No," Warren snapped, "but it'll sure as hell show her that I'm better than she thinks." He calmed again. "Besides. It's not just that I'll savour the look on her face when I take away everything from her the same way she took everything from me, but I think I'll enjoy being king."

Jarrod sighed and hoped his wife hurried.

…

Fiona couldn't find Jarrod anywhere. While it wasn't unusual for him to not be there when she awoke, usually she would find him in the breakfast room, or in his study, but that was not the case today. It was like he had disappeared.

She just hoped he didn't get into another one of his moods. He hadn't had one in a while, but one never knew.

What was unusual was that Fiona had scoured the entire castle without a trace of him. Fortunately, she had started to get used the two shadows that followed her constantly. She did have to wonder if they wondered if her husband was avoiding her. She sighed and decided to ask Tyrell if Jarrod had got into the city or something.

"Tyrell," she said, bursting into the library, where Tyrell stood, looking over a vague law. "Have you seen Jarrod?"

Tyrell looked up, amused. "No, but then again, I haven't seen you in a while either."

Fiona blushed at his implication, then frowned to cover it. "I haven't seen him all morning, and I can't find him anywhere."

"Yer majesty," Parkin said, detaching himself from the shadows and coming forward to her, "a message fer ye."

Fiona took the piece of parchment and unfolded it.

My dearest Fifi, it started,

It would honour me greatly if you would join me for a walk in the forest. Please meet me privately by the bridge.

Your adoring husband,

Jarrod

Fiona stared at the letter, extremely suspicious. It was Jarrod's writing -she'd recognise the bold hand anywhere- but it definitely wasn't Jarrod's words.

"Perhaps that's where he's been all morning," Tyrell stated, reading the letter over her shoulder.

"I don't know," Fiona started slowly. "I don't like this." She tapped the parchment with a finger.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, he has never called me Fifi before. In fact, I don't think I've ever been called Fifi. Second, he never signs any note to me 'Jarrod'. It's always just 'J'. And third, he's got me guarded at all times-" she waved a hand at her shadows- "and now he's asking me to meet him alone? That's not like him."

Tyrell's frown matched hers. "So why did he write this letter?"

Her brow furrowed in thought, then she gasped, her eyes widening. "What if he's been taken?" Of course! Why didn't she think of that this morning? Well, that was because she was trying very hard not to think of something that would scare her that much. "That would explain where he was this morning, and it would make sense why he wrote this letter."

"His captors probably also want you," Tyrell said, catching on. "They made Jarrod write this, and he put in all those mistakes so that you would know that it's a trap."

Fiona's hands grew clammy. "I have to go, Tyrell, they'll kill him if I don't."

Tyrell shook his head. "You can't fall for this. Jarrod sent this note so you'll be on your guard."

"But Jarrod will die if I don't!" Fiona protested. "Besides, I will be on my guard. I'll have my two guards with me, and I'll arm myself. I won't walk in there blindly. Don't you see? I have to rescue Jarrod!"

Tyrell agreed reluctantly. "You do know that Jarrod will kill me if you're so much as injured," he warned.

Fiona shook her head, giving him a small smile. "I'll be okay. And if I'm injured, I'll still protect you."

"Let me go find Warren while you get suited up," Tyrell said. "We'll all be behind you."

Fiona suddenly grabbed him in a hug, tears in her eyes. "He's lucky to have you as a brother."

Tyrell returned the hug fiercely. "No, he's lucky to have you as a wife."

A few minutes later, with two daggers strapped into her bodice, Fiona was ready to meet the person who was quite likely behind the attempts on both her and her husband's lives.

Fiona motioned Parkin and the other guard, Kinsley, forward.

"If it looks like they are going to kill me," she started, very pleased to hear that her voice wasn't shaking, "please, by all means, stop them. But, if it looks like they're going to take me to where ever they're holding Jarrod, let them. Do you both understand?"

They nodded, and she gave a sharp nod in return. She was glad that her dress hid her badly shaking knees.

She walked out into the forest region, acting as if she were merely going for an afternoon stroll. She eventually made it to the bridge, appearing nonchalant, although her heart felt like it was in her throat. She just hoped she wasn't too late.

"Jarrod?" she called out, feeling rather stupid, but wanting to play the part. Someone grabbed her from behind, and she struggled slightly.

Apparently, she was struggling harder than the assailant expected, for with a muttered curse, he hit her over the head with something that felt like a cross between a tree trunk and a mountain. It didn't knock her out, but it did leave her feeling quite nauseous, an affliction that wasn't helped when he stuffed her in a burlap bag and tossed her over his shoulder.

Fiona gritted her teeth and concentrated on keeping down the delicious breakfast that was vainly trying to crawl out of her throat. It didn't help that the daggers kept poking into her breasts either, but she ignored that as well, and tried to appear unconscious.

She was thrown onto a wooden surface, probably some sort of wagon. After a loud 'Yeah!' the wagon started forward with a lurch. Every bump in the road threw Fiona around, until she was sure that she was black and blue from head to toe.

She hoped that Parkin and Kinsley were having no problems following the fellow, but the wagon didn't seem to be moving too fast. She couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't on a horse.

The wagon lurched to a stop, throwing her against the front of it, and she had to bite her lip to keep back a cry of pain.

The man's boots crunched in the dirt as he walked around the wagon. She felt hands grab her around one thigh and an arm, then move so that they were both grabbing her waist. Muttering curses about her size, the thug hoisted her over his shoulder. She made herself become even more dead weight just to spite him.

"I got 'er," the man called out.

"Oh, good," a familiar voice answered. Fiona frowned, trying to place it. She heard a door open and close, and then the man was still. She forced herself to remain limp, and closed her eyes.

"Where do ye want 'er?" the man holding Fiona asked.

"Just throw her on the bed, I guess," the voice said. Fiona felt the burlap sack open and upturned, dumping her unceremoniously over a hard body.

She cracked her eyes open just enough to see that she was sprawled over her husband, who was apparently tied to the bed, and furious. His eyes were a menacing black, and directed all at the person behind her, who she unfortunately couldn't see. She let her head rest on his chest, one of her hands tucked under her on his stomach, and the other resting on his thigh. She was loosing the feeling in the fingers trapped between her and her husband, but she didn't want to move for fear of revealing herself.

"What did you do to my wife?" he snarled.

"I'm sure… er… what did you do to his wife, Bludger?" It was nagging at Fiona so bad that she almost turned around and looked.

"I just gave 'er a wee tap on tha noggin," whined the man. "I didna know that she'd go down so fast."

"He just hit her, that's all."

"I swear, if she doesn't wake up," Jarrod left the threat unfulfilled.

"What?" the voice sneered back. "You'll suddenly become untied from the bed?"

Fiona could feel his body tighten in rage, and she almost couldn't stand it. She gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. His gaze flew to her, and she opened her eyes very slightly to wink at him.

"I can't say goodbye to my wife with her unconscious," Jarrod complained in such a plaintive tone that Fiona's eyes widened to give him an incredulous look.

The familiar voice sighed. "You're right. That would be cruel. We'll wait until she awakens. Bludger, go outside and make sure her guards didn't find us."

There was a sound of muttered cursing and the door opened and closed. There was a muffled thump, and more swearing. The clang of swords sounded from outside the small hut.

"What the-" Jarrod's captor exclaimed, but Fiona had realised that Parkin and Kinsley were taking care of Bludger and whoever else was out there, so she burst off of the bed, pulling the two daggers from her bodice.

She placed one in Jarrod's right hand, then whirled around to face her captor, and nearly dropped her weapon in shock.

"Warren?" she exclaimed, looking at the rather surprised cousin. "What? Why?"

"Now doesn't this sound familiar?" he said with an ironic twist to his mouth, although his light brown eyes remained hard and angry. "Where to begin? Oh yes. I want to be king."

He was crazy. That was the only explanation. But then Fiona's mind became quite worried when he drew a very long, very sharp looking sword. It made her dagger look like a butter knife.

"But this makes it so much easier," he said, stalking her like a tiger with its prey. He lunged at her, and brought his sword down. Fiona gave a bit of a shriek and jumped out of the way, as his sword shattered the chair.

"Can't fight back?" Warren mocked. "Typical. Women are so weak."

"So you're the one who planned all the attempts at Havara castle?" she asked. Perhaps if he kept talking, he would concentrate less on his fighting, and she would have a slim, slim chance of disarming him.

"Of course." He sneered, swinging at her again. She was rapidly running out of room to run, having made her way full circle around the table. "If you hadn't interfered, things would have gone a lot smoother."

He sighed. "You women were always ruining my plans. First Belinda had to go and screw Marcus, making Jarrod leave the house so he wasn't caught in the fire that I set. He even managed to save Tyrell." He spat this last out as if it was a personal insult.

"Then you went and foiled every single attempt I had to end his life. That's when I realised I had to kill you first."

"What about Tyrell?" she asked, defending a blow to her head. His sword clanged against her dagger with such force that it jarred her arm all the way to her shoulder. "He's in line after us," she got out through gritted teeth, scuttling backwards, cradling her arm.

Warren shrugged. "After the death of his entire family, it wouldn't have been too unbelievable if he suddenly found life unliveable."

"So you would just take the kingdom then?" Fiona asked, her eyes searching frantically for anything to help her. Why the heck hadn't Jarrod cut the bonds yet? She wanted to turn and yell at him, but she couldn't take her eyes off his cousin. "Do you not think that anyone would find it suspicious that the entire royal family has died under one circumstance or the other?"

"Of course, but most will be anxious to comfort the grieving cousin," Warren said, a superior look in his eyes. He swung at her again.

Someone up there must have liked her. She didn't know quite what happened, but as she was backing up, she caught her heel on a piece of the broken chair and fell backwards, his sword slicing the empty air above her head. Her feet shot up as she rolled onto her back, knocking his arm, sending his sword flying.

Sensing her advantage, Fiona scrambled to her feet, holding her dagger in front of her. Warren had drawn his dagger as well.

"You won't win. I have half of the Wild Men working for me. Besides, you're just an insignificant woman."

He lunged and Fiona felt his dagger go into her arm before she could even move to block it. She cried out, her hand opening reflexively, her dagger dropping. Warren pulled the blade out, and her other hand clapped over the wound instinctively, falling to her knees in shock.

"Women are so weak," he sneered, and aimed to plunge the dagger into her chest. A surprised look came over his face and the knife dropped from his hand.

The door opened and Tyrell burst in with half the castle guard on his heels.

"Warren?" he asked, sliding to a stop and lowering his sword slightly.

Warren opened his mouth, but no sound came out, merely a trickle of blood. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell down.

Jarrod took the sword out of his cousin's back without a word, his eyes dark with pain.

He threw the sword away from him in disgust, and walked over to where Fiona was kneeling, and helped her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked her softly, his hands stroking her hair, her ear, her eyebrow.

"No," she sniffed, trying to keep back tears. "He stabbed me in the shoulder!"

Amazingly, Jarrod's eyes contained a flash of humour. "Actually, he stabbed you in the arm." His fingers lightly brushed over the hand clasped over her injured bicep. "Can I see it?"

"No," she said, feeling light headed.

"Please?" He began tugging at her fingers. "I need to see how serious it is."

"I can't," she pleaded, shaking. "I can't stand the sight of my own blood. It makes me nauseous. Always has." Fiona could just imagine the torrent of blood that would come gushing out of her arm as soon as her fingers were gone.

"Darling, it isn't that bad." He gently pried her fingers away. "See? It's not-"

It was too late. Fiona had already fainted.