To Adara, the days passed interminably slowly. She would spend her time with Vanora and the other women of the camp, sewing and laughing and gossiping, but Adara felt caged up.
She wanted to be able to feel the rain on her face once more, to ride across an open plain, to sleep curled up under the trees while the wind whistled around her, to hear the silence in the grey pre-dawn light, when a thin mists hangs low over the countryside.
In the garrison there was nothing but stone: walls and floors and ceilings. No freedom, no creativity. She was constantly sheltered from the wind and the rain, and even the sunlight did not seem to have the same warming, calming effect inside a courtyard that it did in the open plains.
But then there was Dagonet. He came to see her each evening, to bandage her fingers, inspect her bruised knuckles, and talk to Adara. They did not say much, for neither were of many words, but what they did say meant something to both of them, and despite herself, Adara found herself looking forwards to the evening meetings.
Dagonet had left Adara an hour or so earlier, and she lay on her back in her room, trying to sort her muddled thoughts. There was something about him, something she couldn't explain, and it annoyed her. She didn't like to be out of control, and that was how she felt when he was near her.
Dimly, through the thick walls of the room, Adara heard the soft pattering of rain start up. As she lay there in the darkness the rain got heavier and heavier. Suddenly there was a rumble of thunder and Adara jumped slightly.
She lay, listening for a moment, and then suddenly stood up. She reached out for one of the cloaks she had been given, and throwing it roughly over her shoulders, left the room.
Adara walked almost silently along the deserted passages. She paused slightly before she had to cross the entrance to the sheltered courtyard where she could hear the knights drinking and womanising, but the gateway was in shadow, and she passed across unseen.
Or so she thought.
Dagonet, sitting beside Bors and nursing a cup of wine, watched the slender figure hurry silently through the shadows. He stood up, ignoring the others, and followed the dark cloak down a passage and out into the rain.
He stopped, unseen by Adara, who paused as she felt the rain hit her face. But that wasn't enough for her. With a cursory glance around her, she hurried up the stone steps and onto the garrison wall.
This was a real storm. The wind whipped the water into her face, stinging her cheeks, and blowing her hair loose from the rough plait, and throwing it back. She let the hood of her cloak slide down onto her shoulders, and stood, basking in the power of the storm.
Dagonet watched, slightly amused, from the shadows. This was no escape attempt. He considered his options. He could return to getting drunk and leave her, he could stay and watch her safely back to her room from the shadows, or he could go up to her.
He immediately dismissed leaving her here. It was too dangerous for her to be alone at night with drunken men around. So did he let her know he had seen her or not? Part of him was willing to stay and watch from where he is, but something inside him longed to see her face, hear her voice.
Adara stood, oblivious to all but the storm; unaware of the effect she was having on the knight who stood below. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her, and turned with a cry to see Dagonet standing there, the rain dripping off him face.
Her eyes widened, first with fear, and then with embarrassment at being caught, but Dagonet simply turned to look out from the wall. After a moment he felt Adara relax beside him.
She looked so beautiful, he thought. With rain running down her face and the wind whipping her long dark hair backwards. But he did not speak, or even look at the woman beside him.
"You saw me?" Adara asked after a long time.
"I saw you," he replied in a voice that did not betray any hint of the emotion he had felt watching her.
"I love storms," Adara said, feeling a need to explain to the tall, grim knight.
"I see that," Dagonet said, turning to Adara, and she saw a smile in his eyes if not his lips.
They resumed their silence again, both staring out across the plain over the wall, both stealing glances at the other when they thought they were not looking
A bolt of lightning split the sky in two, tearing a jagged pattern down to earth and striking an oak tree a few hundred metres from the wall.
Adara gave a small cry of fear as it tore down, jumping slightly, and instinctively pressing close to Dagonet for safety. He wrapped his arms around her impulsively, and as she tilted her slender face upwards to look at him, he bent down and kissed her.
Adara was taken completely by surprise, and for a moment could do nothing but stand there and let it happen. But she had never felt anything like the sparkling sensation that exploded in her mouth and ran down her spine. Suddenly she was drowning, drowning in a world with her and Dagonet and nothing else, and she kissed back, wanting the sensation to never end.
And so the two stood there on the storm-washed walls, water running down their bodies and the wind whipping their clothes backwards, locked in an embrace that overpowered both of them.
Finally Dagonet drew his head back and met Adara's eyes. In his eyes she saw what was in her heart, and it both scared and amazed her.
Dagonet smiled, the ghost of a smile but a smile nonetheless, and releasing her, he was gone. Adara stood on the wall for a long time, unconscious of the storm, oblivious to everything but her thoughts and the memories of his touch.
When she was finally brought to her senses by the rain lightening off, she shook herself slightly, trying to recover her senses from the daze she was in, and walked mechanically down the steps and back to her room, unaware of the man following her, ensuring that she would come to no harm.