A/N1: A reminder to my readers. I am legally blind, so although I read over my chapters many times before posting them, I still miss mistakes and I apologize for them. It's been even harder to catch them all as my H button has been a real bitch lately (missed it most of this paragraph alone.) My M button and C button have also been a trial. I apologize for any increase in missed corrections.

She'd been pacing for nearly two hours, unable to remain still for long. After detouring long enough to change out of her performance gown and into a brown skirt with dark olive green blouse, she'd obeyed her grandmother's order to remain in the old woman's tent. Noleta had barely spoken a word, although she tried at first to apologize for all her failings. She'd stopped talking all together when Arabella asked what she'd do if Yaakov was banished; it was all the answer she needed. Since then, neither had spoken a word, in spite of all the accusatory questions running around in Arabella's mind.

The sounds of murmured voices drew closer to the tent than any other passersby since the wait had started, and both women looked up expectantly at the familiar tones of Tsifia's voice.

"Come in, Erik." The old woman offered just as her hand opened the flap to her tent. As she entered, she looked aged nearly twenty extra years… and a terribly exhaustive twenty years they'd been. There were drying tracks on her cheeks, and her eyes were swollen, red, and bloodshot. Arabella had never seen her grandmother in such a state of duress; and the sight alarmed her.

Erik followed close behind, still garbed in his magician's cloak and bronze mask. Even through all that material, he looked nearly as exhausted as Tsifia. His eyes weren't swollen or red behind the mask, as Tsifia's were; but she could tell he was tired. He glanced around the room in a brief search, holding his hands out even before he realized exactly where Arabella was.

She stepped towards him instantly, slipping her hands into his. She felt him began tugging, and took an extra step further, but he did not continue. Her eyes narrowed slightly, wondering why he'd decided against pulling her into his arms. He'd already held her once that day. Did he think doing so again was pushing her limitations to their breaking point?

"Go and begin packing your things." Tsifia commanded her daughter before Erik or Arabella could exchange a word. Noleta turned to stare in mild amazement at her mother, surprised that a decision could have already been made.

"There won't be a Kris?" she asked in a low voice that threatened to crack.

"Oh, there will be." Tsifia sighed, shaking her head. "I don't understand why. We all agreed that he isn't Romani enough to deserve that kind of consideration… but your mother is going to go on trial for both of them. Anton is gathering the elders as we speak."
Arabella looked around at her mother, grandmother, and Erik in utter confusion. Putting together a trial would not take terribly long, if the council put its' mind to having one. The fact that Anton himself had been part of this decision probably meant things would happen even faster than usual. But… why had it taken two hours to decide a trial was even necessary?

"What if I don't want her to go on trial?" she asked curiously, although in her long wait she'd decided that she was numb to any fate her mother suffered or chose. She was nearly beyond caring at all.

But Noleta was still her mother… Yaakov was still her father…

"The decision has been made." Tsifia stated simply. She turned and managed a genuine smile, in spite of how tired she seemed. "Erik… would you like to tell her what happened?"
Slowly, Arabella turned to stare up at Erik again. He'd grown very still, his eyes warm but somber as he watched her. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze as he considered how to express whatever was on his mind.

"Anton knows about Adnah." He began softly.

Arabella's hands went limp and fell from his grasp. The world spun around her briefly, but Erik instantly reached out to catch her by the arms. The idea of all they'd done – well, all Erik had done – to conceal his sin being nothing but a waste crossed her mind. She shouldn't have had such a violent reaction, because his presence in Tsifia's tent clearly meant he wasn't going to be punished… severely. But she couldn't help thinking that as the outsider; he was going to suffer because of his part in her life.

"It's all right!" he assured her quickly. "Actually… it's better than all right."

She suddenly heard his voice so close to her ear, she knew he had to be throwing it.

"Not that part." He breathed. "Not that part, ma belle."

She blinked rapidly, forcing in a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't imagine what everyone must be thinking about her now… Did they all think she was just a mangy dog that could be kicked around? Did they see her as a victim, or a whore? Were there mixed feelings? Had Sarima been there, and had she heard it all? Did her only real friend before Erik now feel disgusted by her? She was ready for trouble, and could barely acknowledge that Erik's murder was still safely undiscovered.

"I don't understand…" she whispered. "Erik… are they going to revoke your freedom?"

"They're going to do the exact opposite." Tsifia began chuckling as she lowered herself into the only available chair in the tent. "Erik – make me a tea, will you, please?"

"Yes, of course." Erik quickly released Arabella and moved to the small stove to begin preparations. Arabella turned to follow his progress across the room, realizing for the first time that her mother had yet to leave the cot. For a moment, she felt unable to press Erik or her grandmother for information… with Noleta sitting there gaping at Erik as though she'd never seen him before.

Tsifia followed her gaze and frowned.

"Get out." She said coolly. "Now."

"Daj-"Noleta objected weakly, but Tsifia slammed her palm down onto the table.

"I am not your mother!" she bellowed. "I have no daughter! Get out of my home!"

Arabella jumped at the fury in her grandmother's voice and shrank away from her, dodging her mother as the woman jumped from the cot and bolted. Erik looked up from his chore as though none of this outburst surprised him. He'd been avoiding looking at Noleta the entire short time he'd been in the tent, and seemed even less interested in her as she ran like a frightened rabbit.

When she was gone, Tsifia took several long moments gasping for breath, clearly trying to suppress any further sobs. Arabella didn't think she was going to manage, considering the dangerously red hue coloring her face. Still, Tsifia was a far stronger woman than anyone Arabella knew. It took less than a minute for her to regain her composure, clearing her throat violently several times to make certain it wouldn't quaver or crack.

"Bunica?" Arabella dared uncertainly, taking a step in her direction and reaching out a steadying hand. Tsifia waved her off with a bitter chuckle, her eyes still fever-bright from her unshed tears.

"I'll be fine, child." She promised. "Don't worry. I don't want this to be a time of rage or upset. Something that might actually be good has come from all this."

Arabella gaped at her in disbelief.

"What kind of good could possibly-"

"Erik?" Tsifia prompted, interrupting her.

He turned from the stove, looking uncertain for the first time.

"I… didn't believe you'd actually think it a good thing, Madame." He told the older woman softly.

Again, Tsifia waved his hesitancy away as though it were nothing but an annoying fly.

"We honor the people who earn it. Considering how you started off among us, you've earned it."

"Earned what?" Arabella demanded, growing impatient with their vague discussion. She didn't like being on the outside of this conversation. Anxiety rippled through her, because it was very rare something that should have been good in her life ever turned out that way. She could only imagine the promise they thought might be on its way would be ripped from her the minute she began to feel hope.

Erik stood up from the stove and turned to face her. She'd never seen him smile and glow from the words of anyone else before… Tsifia had said something that elevated him to a nearly blissful state.

"Anton said that after all I have done… although I tried to tell him it wasn't much-"

"Risking life and limb isn't much?" Tsifia chuckled, although her words didn't quite interrupt him.

"-he can think of no gaje more deserving to be a full-blooded Romani."

Arabella blinked, stunned by this news. Everything inside her grew cautiously still. It was almost unheard of for that kind of ritual to be performed! How Erik could have the good fortune to be elevated from nothing but a non-entity sideshow freak to merely a gaje was near miraculous. Being accepted as a didikai – or gypsy friend - was even more surreal. But… to think he might go through the ritual to be considered a true gypsy… to be accepted into the fold as family…

She couldn't find it in herself to believe it. Slowly, she began shaking her head.

"The diwano won't hear of it." She protested.

"I am a member of the diwano." Tsifia reminded her gently. "Bella… we aren't going to pretend that it changes his status with all of the members in our camp. Many will always see him as an outsider and an aberration. But that is true of his people as well as ours. But none of them will cause him trouble again. When he needs help, they will give it – even begrudgingly. Isn't that better than nothing?"

"I…" Arabella's brow furrowed. She was unable to wrap her mind around the concept of Erik sitting at a gypsy feast. She couldn't see him in the center of all the activity, having raucous conversations with so many others. She couldn't imagine him cordially conducting business with the other gypsies, helping them the way he helped her. That was never going to be Erik. He might be willing to give aid… but it would not be with open friendliness. It was beyond him to be so open to that many people. Maybe, if his life had taken a different course, he could have lived that way. Nothing would have made her happier for him… but it wasn't likely that course was open to him now.

"Bella…" Erik had finished making Tsifia's tea while she fought with these thoughts and images. Handing the steaming cup to Tsifia, he slowly rose to his full height and came around the table to stand before her. "I do not expect to be more to these people than I am now. But… there are things that will change. There are more opportunities open to me once the ritual is complete… not just for me; but for both of us."

She blinked, staring up at him blankly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Erik glanced anxiously in Tsifia's direction.

"Well…" he began; licking his lips – what existed of them – a little nervously. His nervousness fascinated Arabella. "If I am technically one of you, then I no longer am required to share my good fortune with Vlad and Sven…"

She managed a pleased smile, although she failed to see how such a thing affected her.

"Your parents will not be able to take your income, either." He finished, finally bringing her fortunes into the equation. "I have no doubt your grandmother may require a little from you, so that she can provide better for you…"

Arabella found herself narrowing her eyes. He had learned so much since his liberation from that dreaded cage; but still failed to grasp some of the more selfless aspects a majority of her tribe possessed. She couldn't say she blamed him for being blind to it. She hadn't believed in their caring natures very much, either, for most of her own life. It was only now that things were breaking down all around her that she was beginning to see through the wall of lies her father had created.

But it was much more than that. There was something that Erik wasn't saying to her. His eyes were dancing with his anxiety, and she wondered exactly what had caused it.

She followed his almost constant glances towards her grandmother, who had lost herself in her cup of tea and deep thought. She still looked somber from the way she'd thrown her own daughter out of the tent and disowned her entirely. Immediately she understood his discomfort. In spite of having had many of their most recent conversations through a wall, they had mostly discussed nothing but very light topics such as what had happened during each given day, or things they enjoyed that didn't delve too deeply into their emotions.

"Bunica, what time does the Kris begin?" she asked as lightly as possible.

Tsifia slowly focused her eyes on the two youngsters, barely managing to return from her thoughts.

"Soon." She said simply.
"How soon?" Arabella insisted.

"I don't think it will begin until closer to sunset." Erik provided uncertainly. Tsifia clearly wasn't going to be of any help at the moment; in her current state of mind. "Why do you need to know?"

Shaking her head, Arabella held up a hand to quiet him.

"We're going outside." She told her grandmother.

She took Erik by the hand and guided him quickly out into the sunlight before her grandmother could gather her senses and protest. Erik winced slightly at the harshness of the now early afternoon light, distracted briefly from the fact that she didn't stop once they were reasonably alone. Instead, Arabella continued pulling him along the wall of the tent until she reached the doorway into his domicile. The moment she began to step through, Erik leaned back against her grip.

"I don't think we're supposed to be-"

"I don't care." She interrupted simply, dragging him right inside until they were in shadows and on the side of his tent furthest from her grandmother's range of hearing. Once positioned, she dropped his hand and turned to stare back up at him again.

"What are you really thinking?" she demanded. "What couldn't you say in front of her?"

Being alone didn't seem to help his anxiousness from returning instantly. He looked startled that she'd read him so well; which probably didn't help his anxiety levels. He shifted from foot to foot, again licking at what existed of his lips.

"Well…" he began slowly. "I was thinking that… I'll have more rights as a member of the tribe."

"That goes without saying." She pressed, hardly in the mood for guessing games or tests at her patience. Her life was changing more rapidly than she'd ever imagined, and it had put her a little on edge.

Slowly, uncertainly, Erik met her gaze and forced himself to keep eye contact.

"I … I might have the right… to a bride…" he managed to mumble.

Arabella's heart skipped several long beats as she processed this stunning line of thinking. Taking a deep breath, she slowly shook her head in denial.

"Erik… no matter what ritual you go through, you will always be too gaje to be accepted as a husband by the gypsy women." She explained, trying to keep her voice gentle. "You know I don't care about what you look like… but your face doesn't help your cause. Half the camp still thinks you're some kind of bad omen, or demon. At the very best, you'll always be considered some form of marime."

Erik's shoulders dropped, and he turned his face from her in dejection. To keep him from turning away fully, Arabella reached out and took both of his arms just beneath the elbow, trying to make him face her again. She felt absolutely dreadful for taking away his tenuous hope… but she didn't want him to live with expectations that would only break his heart more the longer he lived with them.

"Erik…" she sighed. "Erik – I'm sorry. I don't blame you for wanting a normal life… I'd give anything to have something even close to a normal life myself."

"Why can't you have a normal life now?" he demanded. "I know how you feel about marriage and… and intimacy… but if you didn't feel that way, what would keep you from being courted?"

"I'm still marime." She reminded him. "I'm no longer a virgin, and tonight the entire tribe will know it. It doesn't matter that my father forced me. There is far too much emphasis placed on purity in my culture. No man would ever want me now. I don't blame them for it. How can I, when I don't even want to be courted?"

Erik's face filled with so much pain that his eyes nearly welled with tears. Again, her heart stuttered in her chest, and she squeezed his arms almost painfully in response. She realized just what he'd interpreted her words to mean, and his pain became her own. She shook her head desperately, wanting to reverse what damage she'd just done.

"Erik…" she struggled for something to say.

"I still want you." He admitted in a breath that she barely heard. His chin was ducking towards his chest, and she hadn't seen him so defeated since the day he left his cage forever.

"I… I know you do." She sighed. "There's no doubt in my mind how you feel, Erik. I think our dance this morning spoke louder than any words we've ever exchanged."

He managed a weak smile.

"I don't know how that happened." He told her. "I wanted to give you music that would make you feel beautiful… elegant. I had no intentions of … of… making you feel like the crowd does. I didn't want you to feel the way I know you hate feeling."

She jolted, startled by is words.

"I… I didn't feel lusted for." She said slowly. "I felt desired… but… I also felt my own desire. It wasn't frightening, or disgusting. It made me feel precious; instead of feeling like something that could be used and discarded."

His eyes met her again, losing some of their terrible dejection.

"That… is what I wanted." He promised. "Its how I always want you to feel. I realize my own feelings took over the music and it changed the tone of it… so I thought maybe I'd frightened you."

"Erik…" she admitted slowly. "Your love could never frighten me."

He took a moment to think about those words, his shoulders slowly regaining their confident posture. His eyes were slightly bolder as they locked with hers.

"Bella… I'd never hurt you." He began in a stronger voice than any he'd used so far. "I would never give you a reason to be afraid of me. If you could trust me enough… love me enough… I'd court you… I'd marry you… and I'd accept absolutely any terms you required of me. I know you don't want to be intimate with any man, but that doesn't mean the rest of your life can't be somewhat normal."

She continued staring up at him a long minute, numb with shock. Her complete lack of a reaction seemed to make him more nervous again, causing him to release her and take a step back. She couldn't think of what to say. Just thinking that Erik had suggested marriage to her… it was so much, so fast… and it didn't seem real. It was easy for him to slip from her suddenly unfeeling fingers.

She forced herself to imagine walking into Erik's tent wearing a symbolic headscarf, indicating a married status. She pictured moving around it as though she had every right to touch his belongings. She imagined making a meal at his pitiful stove while listening to him play on his flute. Her mind then gave a far more interesting but somehow frightening image of Erik coming up behind her unmasked and wrapping his arms around her. He murmured something to her, and then pressed his lips to the column of her throat as her eyes drifted closed.

A shudder went through her body, and a sickly feeling turned her stomach. How could she let herself imagine the impossible? Just attempting to think of that tiny amount of marital intimacy had her shaking a little, a cold sweat forming over her skin.

She replaced the image with a totally different one of the two of them sleeping on pallets on opposite ends of the tent like a brother and a sister. She imagined him leaving the tent any time she needed to wash or change clothing, and doing the same for him.

She could also imagine such an arrangement eating away at him.

"Erik, are you out of your mind? What kind of woman do you think I am? Why would any man enter a marriage that can't be consummated?"

She glared up into his eyes, demanding an answer. Clearly, based on how long and carefully he stared at her, he had no ready answer to give. She wondered if her vehement reaction had startled him.

"Erik…" she breathed. "Do you really think you can be happy like that? You're a man of flesh and blood! Earlier today was no greater proof of that! The way I danced for you… the music you created earlier… you are probably more passionate than any normal man out there. How can I marry you, but deny you? I love you too much to do that to you!"

His eyes softened, and he managed a tentative smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"How hard you are on yourself. I don't think you'd deny your husband, no matter who he was. I think he would need to have a great deal of patience, and earn your… love. " He stated gently. "I know it won't be easy… and it will take a very, very long time. Maybe you're right… and you never will be able to move on from your traumas to trust any man with your body… but I want to be the man who guides you through the attempt. I think you would be with me; if you could be with anyone… w-wouldn't you?"

"Of course!" she sighed. "Of course I would, Erik! I want to be a normal wife, and give you all the things you deserve-"

Her confession came out so easily that her eyes widened in surprise. Erik's own eyes widened, but now they weren't just warm. They were on fire with intensity and the joy her words brought him. He rushed to interrupt her before she could keep berating herself and going over all the things they knew already. He didn't want her lingering on her own confession, knowing how hard it would have come to her if she'd been thinking about it. They hadn't used the word love much since leaving the riverside, and it was difficult to understand how it came so easily now. Speaking such a traitorous word was always harder than speaking it.

"Then let's work together to achievethat." he pleaded. "Mira kom… please… understand I only want to love you. I want to seize the only happiness this life has ever given me, and make it utterly mine. I don't want anything to have the chance to take it away. Everything else beyond what we have already… it's all more than I dare ask for. All I want is to be with you, and keep you by me so that I will always be there to keep you safe… so that I can cherish you the way you deserve."

He was overreaching his romantic sentiments, but Arabella found herself warming and softening to the sincerity in them. Her tense posture softened.

His hand moved from her shoulder to gently cup her neck, reminding her of the forced daydream that had excited her at the same time it repulsed her. Even with Erik's hand right on her neck, it was hard to imagine anyone's touch being gentle. Every time he touched her, she was always surprised when it didn't hurt. Even knowing it wouldn't hurt; she always had a hard time not cringing away.

"Erik…" she sighed. "Right now… what we have… it has no expectations. Its better-"

"There is no reason to think marrying me will require anything of you beyond what you've already accomplished." He interrupted. "All I want is exactly what we already have. The only thing that would change is that you would share a tent with me - a tent, ma belle… nothing more. Not if you didn't want to… if you weren't ready…"

Arabella shook her head, feeling a small needle pierce her heart. She wasn't a fool. She knew perfectly well that he'd felt the same things she had during that mornings' performance. She knew he desired her. She also knew he could induce her desire… but that he wouldn't touch her against her will. He wouldn't provoke her; and try to press her into a situation she was unaccepting of. Teasing her with music was the worst assault he was capable of.

How she could know such a thing with such certainty was beyond her. But without her knee-jerk reactions to any particular look or touch from any man, she trusted Erik implicitly.

"Listen…" he soothed, gently running his palm from her neck to her cheek. He tilted her head back so that her eyes met his. "I can love you without being engaged or married to you. I can live without expectations of any kind… for a while… until you understand that I don't want you to be my wife for those reasons. When you are ready… I will ask you… and then you can decide."

He took a slow, deep breath that almost broke her heart again. She knew he was repressing every single instinct he had by telling her all this. They weren't lies. He felt too genuinely about never allowing her to suffer by his hand. Still… how could a man not wish to stake is claim over the woman he loved? Even now, without thinking a single intimate thing about her, he seemed to desire only to pull her hard against him and shelter her against his body. How much worse would it be for him to deny his other urges towards her? How much would she ultimately make him suffer?

She tried to remind herself that Erik and she would never be permitted to be together. But she had never thought in terms of them being more than they already were; and now the idea was stuck in her mind. Being teased with the prospect of any man wanting her in spite of her faults… was more than she could handle. She didn't want to be reminded of the pointlessness of the conversation. She wanted to dream… even if she'd tried to pull his dreams out from under him minutes before.

She wanted them to dream together.

His attempted withdrawal made her feel so lonely and cold the moment he leaned even an inch away that she panicked. She seized his wrist and held on tight; knowing she was about to lose all sense of sanity and almost not caring.

"You don't have to ask." She protested. "The idea that you think I'd actually say no is… ridiculous. I just… I wouldn't want you to make a decision you'll regret."

It wasn't possible for them to be together… it just wasn't… But telling herself this repeatedly did nothing to squash her sudden new desire. A desperate part of her brain reminded her that she was unwanted by all others beyond Erik. She was marime. What kinds of obstacles could her tribe really put up to keep them apart when her argument was that there was no point in remaining single for no one?

In the second it took her to think all these things, Erik turned back, pressing as close to her as he dared and leaning in until the side of his jaw pressed to her temple. She could feel him trying not to smile. Again, at the slightest twitch of his body, she felt the way he forcibly restrained himself from moving any closer. If he ever gave in to his need to hold her or kiss her… how far would that push his other limits of reservation? His self-denial was so intense that it verged of martyrdom.

"I could never regret loving you." He whispered. "And it isn't a choice to love you. Loving you was decided for me. You either love someone, or you do not. Choices have nothing to do with it. Our only choice is to fight it or give in… and I choose to give in. To me, giving in includes marrying the woman I love."

Arabella sighed once more, closing her eyes against the gentle tears that appeared at his words. Something like a soundless sob escaped her, and she found herself pressing against Erik, wrapping her arms around him and simply holding on tight. Her palms could feel the decorative phoenix adorning his back. She buried her face against his chest, shaking her head slightly as she tried to accept what he was saying. The smell of fresh air mixed with the faint muskiness of his natural odor was something even more comforting than his mere presence.

Somehow, every time he told her how he felt – whether in words or actions – he always startled her into feeling humble gratitude. She didn't deserve Erik… so how had she gotten so lucky? He loved her in such a way that pride didn't exist. He loved her, told her as honestly and plainly as he could, and clearly refused to be ashamed of the lengths he'd go to prove it.

Her world had collapsed in the past two weeks.

Erik had just built her an entirely new one… even if it was only a world of dreams and impossibilities. How had he done that? How had he made her parents' Kris matter so little? He'd managed to make her almost entirely forget that she didn'tbelong, because now she belonged with him.

After an endless interim when he stood motionless and as stiff as a wooden plank, Erik slowly wrapped his arms around her in return. His hands had curled into slight fists, as though trying to keep them from touching her in any way that might prove frightening, but his arms were tight.

His thoughtfulness only made her want to cry more, so she allowed crystalline tears to slip down her cheeks soundlessly.

These weren't tears of pain… she didn't need to hide them. She wouldn't be ashamed for being so happy – even if she was absolutely bewildered by the man she loved. Being in his arms felt just like the night he'd tended her injuries and sung her to sleep… only it was so much better.

He wasn't trying to comfort a friend now. She wasn't in pain. He was delivering to her the precious gift of his company and love.

She was terrified that it would be ripped away from her, but as a human she couldn't help the instant roots of hope that had started taking hold. She just stood in his arms, holding tightly to him so that he could feel her tumultuous emotions through her embrace.

Very slowly, Erik shifted until it seemed his chin … and the bottom of his mask… brushed the top of her head. Then, after it moved back and forth several times, she recognized the press of his cheek on her crown as he rested it there. It was impossible to mistake the ridge between where his mask ended and the lower part of his face began. The tremulous sigh he gave tickled her hair. He began shifting slightly, his arms and body twisting her in the mildest of rocking motions. Several of his breaths seemed like nearly soundless hums of music.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages… and then they heard Tsifia begin moving about in her tent next door.

"The trial will begin soon." She called. "Anton will want us all there."