Proof read by Danaye.

For the twenty-eight people who are following this story - this chapter is for you.

Chapter 8

The chapel was filled with people wanting to see the legendary Black Robed mage married off to an unknown girl whom they had not, until now, acknowledged the existence of.

Daine was standing at the threshold of the doors leading into the crowded room. She was waiting for the doors to be opened so she could walk the destined path up to where she knew he was waiting for her.

Beside her, the king stood with his arm offered to her, waiting for her to lay her left hand upon his. As if commanded, when the palm of her hand touched the backside of the king's, the two doors swung open and revealed a narrow path leading the way to the alter.

The talk that she had been hearing behind the closed doors quieted and everyone turned to look at her. Taking a cautious step, she matched the king's smaller stride and almost stumbled over her own feet as the ground underneath her was replaced by a rough carpet.

"Compose yourself," King Angus snapped as Daine recovered and placed her hand on his waiting hand once again.

She blushed a deep red. "My apologies, Your Majesty," Daine muttered as sounds of moving fabric ruffled through the air. The crowd was bowing for the king, but not for her.

The walk down the carpet wasn't very long, but for Daine it felt like forever. Beside her, standing in rows and sending her uninterested glances, stood the nobles of the court. She had seen them in the castle as they went about their everyday lives, no one wanting her to be part of them.

Daine knew what they'd said about her and about Rosalie. Before she didn't care, but now, striding up the carpet by the king's side, she could clearly hear the whispers of pure hatred coming her way. Words were quietly traded about the room, such as, "They wouldn't spend more money on the dress, so they just gave her that one" or "It's wrong for a nice man such as him to be marrying someone like her. What is he going to do when he sleeps? Make room for her animals in his bed?"

Daine ducked her head, looking down at the grown she wore. It wasn't exactly as splendid as the ones the other women at court wore, and she had noticed a few stains here and there. Regarding the animals in her bed at night, it was just something that had happened when she was growing up. Being a teenager and different at the same time had left her without any friends. Now, after turning eighteen, she had gotten used to sleeping without the nocturnal visits, but that was something they didn't know, of course. Being unwanted gave her the chance to be equally forgotten up until now.

A movement caught her attention and she lifted her head. Someone was standing in the middle of the path up to the alter. Normally the path would be clear, but instead a small, slender girl was standing in the middle of it holding a delicate crown of wild autumn-flowers.

King Angus stopped as did Daine.

Rajana curtsied deeply for the king and looked up at Daine with a shy smile. She glanced back to where a tanned man stood at the alter. He was blushing. "A bird told me that they had forgotten something important," she paused as if gathering up the courage to continue while looking down to where small delicate flowers twisted among off-white pearls, "so I found you this." Rajana held out the crown towards Daine.

Daine turned and looked at the king, waiting for his approval. He nodded to her and she took her hand away from his. Taking a step forth, she ducked her head and allowed the young girl to place the flower-crown upon her hair. Then she suddenly leaned in and kissed the young girl on the cheek, overwhelmed by feelings. "Thank you," she whispered very low.

Rajana shook her head. "Don't thank me. It was his," she jerked her head in the direction of the alter, "idea. I only found the flowers. He added the pearls and spelled it so it would hold itself together."

Daine looked up over Rajana's head meeting his calm eyes. "It may be, but it's the flowers I love. Thank you," she whispered. She hugged the girl while ignoring the disapproving snorts that came from the bystanders.

"If this is done," King Angus said sternly, "can we please proceed? I would like to get this over with."

'You would,' Daine thought with resignation as she released the girl. "Thank you," she whispered again as Rajana took a step to the side, clearing the path to the alter. Daine smiled at the younger girl as she once again allowed her right hand to rest on the king's.

The rest of the way up to the alter wasn't as difficult as Daine had imagined it would be. The light weight of the flower-crown above her brow was a reassuring feeling.

When they reached the raised podium they stopped. The man that stood waiting for her bowed deeply and elegantly for the Gallan King and Daine found that her hand was being offered to the Black Robed mage's waiting hand.

Daine bobbed a deep curtsy and slowly, carefully laid her small hand inside his. Standing in front of him, she curtsied again, this time not as low as she had for the king, but near enough. "Master Salmalin," Daine greeted, afraid to look up and see what his dark eyes contained.

Warm fingers were gently placed underneath her chin and softly lifted her face. He smiled at her with the same calm expression he had worn during the introduction the day before.

"Please," Numair said softly and quietly, "if we are do this right I can't have my wife call me something so formal." He took her hands as the priest coughed low, eager to do the hand fasting, "my name is Numair, not 'Master', 'My Lord' or anything comparable to that. For you," Numair paused forcing his heart to slow down a bit, "I'm simply your humble husband. And," he continued while glancing at the many spectators, "don't mind them. They are just anxious to see which one of us will mess this up."

Daine smiled genuinely for the first time since the day she had been told that she was to be married.

"See," Numair said softly, "it's not as bad as you would think."

They both looked as the priest wrapped the ribbon around their united hands and the rite began. Around them stood most of the people of the castle, overlooking the events as the ceremony continued as planned.

To Daine's right stood the king and just behind him stood Astrid, her lady-in-waiting. In front of her stood the one man that was going to be hers forever – and tilting her head up she looked into calm dark eyes once again. She had wondered what had laid beneath the blank expression he had been wearing the day before. Now, standing right in front of him, she saw a range of emotion from curiosity to slight embarrassment.

The priest's voice rang out and broke the silence that had blanketed the chapel. He began to tie a knot on the band that would bind Daine and Numair together.

The priest looked at each of them in turn, only to look down on the first knot that represented their union. "Heart to thee," he said in a crisp voice, and tied a second knot.

Daine's heart was beating faster as the priest continued and she swayed a little, but she found that Numair was stabilizing her balance by gripping her hands more firmly.

"Body to thee," the priest said, and a third knot was tied.

Daine suddenly felt a strange notion filling the air, and she looked up to see if Numair was noticing it too, but he only stood calmly. Suddenly, she knew that the thing that crept through the air was magic, ancient magic.

"Always and forever," the priest said, speaking the second to last sentence of the rite. Silvery mist revealed itself and leaped from the fourth knot as it was tied.

Daine watched as it rose up into the air and hung between her and Numair, waiting. The hair on her neck stood up as the mist suddenly split in two and began to twist around her and Numair several times.

The priest was beginning to bind the fifth and last knot. He spoke the final words, "So mote it be." Behind them, along with the king, the crowd echoed the priest's words, "So mote it be!" With that, the mist became strangling. It swept around her body, finding ways to sneak inside her. It was choking her.

She could feel the substance of ancient power that had existed for thousand of years. The pressure became hard and she found herself gasping for breath. Looking up she found that she was the only one. Numair only looked at her oddly as he sustained her balance. As slowly as the mist had broken out – it suddenly disappeared from her vision.

Numair leaned forward as the echoes of the last sentence died. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

Daine nodded after taking a few testing breaths, but stopped as silence reached her ears. Turning her head to the spectators, she realized that they were waiting for something.

The priest coughed down into his hand, glaring daggers at the tall mage while raising his bushy eyebrows.

Her gaze snapped back to the man in front of her. Only too slowly did Daine realize what it was they were all waiting for and what the priest had been implying. As Numair leaned forward, Daine closed her eyes, not sure how to do it. She had been kissed before, by force, but this — this was different, so much different. Daine squeezed her eyes shut further, fearing that if she was to kiss back, she would fail miserably.

She had expected soft lips on her own, but she felt a soft touch on her cheek instead.

Opening her eyes, she found that everyone around them was staring at them in confusion and behind her she could hear disapproving muttering from the king.

When Numair pulled back she couldn't deny the tangling feeling that crept up her spine to settle itself in her chest. The priest took his time to wriggle the ribbon free from their hands and once freed he handed it to her husband – who took it and vanished it into the thin air.

Daine blinked, surprised over the trick. Her husband-to-be shrugged, "One can't be too careful about such an important thing."

She was about to open her mouth to ask what someone could do with the harmless band, but Numair turned from her. He held his hand out to her, waiting for her to lay her hand on his as she had done with the king.

When Numair moved, Daine followed suit. Turing to face the king, as if on command, Numair bowed deeply and she curtsied as protocol demanded of both of them. Straightening up, they waited for the spectators to part and make a path for them out of the chapel. Daine's heart was racing as they walked down the steps together.

Once Daine and Numair entered the hall where the celebration dinner would be held, Daine wished that she could turn herself into something tiny and be gone within the next second.

Everyone was looking at her, and by everyone, it meant it wasn't just the men who were letting their eyes drift down over her body with a hungry look. Women, wives, mistresses and so on were sending her growls and snarls that could only mean one thing – they hated her for her new status at court. She was not the girly-girl who had taken care of the horses in the stable anymore. No, now she was not just equal, but also above them in rank and they seemed to despise the very thought of that.

As Daine tried to block out the small whispers about her, her gaze fell upon a man standing in the shadows. She didn't need a spark of light to know who the man was or to know that his lustful eyes were scanning her body. Why was the royal healer so interested in her all of a sudden?

A large frame suddenly blocked the view. "Don't think about him," Numair told her softly and cupped her face with his hands.

Daine looked up. "I'm trying," she admitted slowly, "but —" she halted her words as the royal healer moved from the shadows only to walk into her view again. "He's staring at me, as if I'm a — I'm a…" she couldn't come up a way to describe the way the royal healer had been looking at her and was looking at her now. "Something," she finally said.

Numair turned slightly, not taking his hands away from her face. Carefully, as if he was faking a consideration of where he could stow her away, he found the position of the royal healer. Looking back at her, he suddenly smiled. "Then," he paused and the hair on Daine's neck stood up, "let's give him something else to do."

Whatever he did was beyond Daine's comprehension, but the effect was immediate and he did it while leaning forth and placing a delicate soft kiss on her cheek for the second time.

The royal healer leapt from the position he had stood in and hurried out of the room, pushing some of the nobles aside.

Numair smiled at her and took his hands away from her face, searching for something in her face. "Don't," he said low as he recognized a strike of fear in her eyes. "I haven't done anything serious to him," he explained.

Daine wasn't exactly sure if that was the truth, but she had no choice other than to trust his words.

Numair sighed low, as if accepting that what he had done wasn't exactly the right thing to do, but if she was to relax and enjoy the evening, something had to have been done. He turned his face, wanting to attract her attention. "It seems that someone had more luck with sneaking around in here," he said and pointed to the far end of the hall.

A girl with an underdeveloped body stood pressed against the tapestry, scanning the room. Rajana smiled at her and Daine smiled back. Somehow, Rajana had managed to come inside the hall and was standing in a corner, trying to avoid discovery,.

Not wanting to give away the girl's hiding-place, Daine turned away. It would only make more trouble if the nobles found a servant-girl standing among them, but not serving them as the others servants were doing.

The time passed and Daine wondered why they were standing in the middle of the hall, not doing anything. She felt exposed as some courageous nobles closed in on the Black Robed mage, congratulating him on his new wife. From what she could hear, Numair only answered politely back, but the tension in his body became more visible as noble after noble continued to ignore her presence at his side.

Time passed and the afternoon was nearing it's end before it had even begun for Daine, but she was certainly glad that it had. After the masculine part of the nobles had passed them, the women moved in.

They sniggered, giggled low, and flirted outrageously while their husbands had turned their back only to enjoy the old king's forgotten stash of ale. At some point, Numair's grip around her hand disappeared and Daine found herself being pushed, rather rudely to the side. The women were blocking her out.

Finally she stood alone, radiating with fury, watching as Numair was swamped with women. She could hear how he tried to discard them and discourage them from what they were doing, but without any success.

As Daine watched, trying to decide which course of action was the best way to tackle this, the solution came on its own. A small figure pushed herself into the crowd of women, holding up a filled pitcher. Daine frowned, puzzled, as Rajana suddenly tripped over herself and water flew to all sides, soaking the fine fabric of the dresses the ladies wore. Surprised screams, angry exclamations and curses filled the air.

Daine tried to hide the mischievous smile that threatened to break on her lips. In front of her it was chaos. Where the women had before thrown themselves at her new husband's feet, they were now in utter despair over their wet clothes. Some ran from the hall, while others turned to their husbands for help, only to find none.

Numair suddenly stood behind her. He took hold of her elbow, rather hard Daine thought, and pulled her away.

They walked the long way to the table in the back, passing women in the middle of tantrums. "Don't mind them," Numair whispered close to her ear. She turned to see that he was walking as near as possible to her – trying to give her some kind of comfort. He was mistaking her efforts to hide her laughter for fear.

Glancing back, Daine scanned the room for Rajana and found her, sneaking out of the side-doors.

Numair looked back also. "That's quite a friend you have there," he said softly and they arrived at the large table where they were to sit in the middle, positioned so everyone could look at them. The king would be seated to her right, but he was nowhere in sight.

"By the way – you look beautiful," he whispered yet again as he pulled the chair out so she could sit.

She looked up, startled, and a glimpse of appreciation in his eye. Only too late she realized that he was trying to flirt with her. "Actually I think that my dress is hideous," she confided to him in a low voice and sat down. She suddenly found that she had been rude and added a "thank you" while blushing.

He sat down beside her and lifted a dismissive hand as a servant was about to pour wine into his goblet. "No," he said with an authoritarian voice and the servant moved on to fill hers, but yet again Numair was quick to shake his head while holding his hand over hers, "not her either." The servant raised his eyebrows in a silent question, but moved on.

"On that note I would agree, but that wasn't what I meant," Numair said slowly, turning to look directly at her, his eyes the darker shade that she had noticed before.

Daine shifted uneasily, looking down at the four utensils laying on either side of the plate. She touched the fork lying furthest, caressing the cold metal, before she moved to the second one. "What did you mean?" she asked as a servant took the empty plate in front of her, only to replace it with a small bowl of soup.

"I meant that you are beautiful as a person, " Numair said softly, turing to her, but found that she wasn't listening. She was instead occupied with fiddling with a fork while searching for a spoon somewhere on the table in front of her, but there were none. Numair smiled as Daine gave in and sighed.

He looked around and, one small innocent gesture later, a spoon landed in his palm.

Daine stopped looking around the table when a large, tanned hand entered her vision, taking the fork away from her before replacing it with a spoon. "Perhaps this would be better?" Numair concluded softly, looking at her.

Daine blushed scarlet. She knew that if she lifted her head now, fifty other unknown people would be looking at her oddly along with him. Daine accepted the spoon and dared a glance up to where Numair's eyes lingered on her. "Thank you," she muttered before casting her eyes down to the bowl of soup, feeling humiliated.

The food that was brought forward after the soup was simple – the way she liked it. As she picked the flesh of a salmon apart, she suddenly heard his voice near her ear. Around them the conversation had picked up. Suddenly her hand, on the way to lift a goblet of water, was caught. Daine halted her movement.

Numair looked at her, "I suddenly remembered that I haven't gotten around to telling you how grateful I am for the night before last." He looked down at the small hand he held, "You saved my life, and because of that I owe you my life." Numair looked up and smiled. "I promise that I will try to make myself worthy of you," he paused, thinking of the dreadful possibility that she could have been someone else entirely, then he continued softly, "I do apologize if I'm making a fool out of myself now, but you are a so much more of a natural beauty than any of them." Numair blushed over the boldness of his own words, but continued to hold her hand.

The essence of the sentence hit her. He thought she was beautiful, and more than that, he thought her to be more beautiful than the other woman present. That got Daine to turn her head and see his smile.

Down in her stomach a feeling was developing, but she forced it away as quickly as possible. She pressed her lips together before sending a hesitant smile back. "Thank you," she whispered low. Suddenly a thought hit her, "What had you expected?"

He laughed, a low sound that almost echoed through her bones, and sent another wave of unexpected feelings through her body. He gestured to a servant, not answering her questions, "Can we have some more water?" The servant nodded and fled as quickly as he could. Seeing the servant take flight he smiled and turned towards her. "Do they always do that?" he asked, referring to the fact that every servant that had gotten near them seemed to have other pressing things to attend to.

"Yes," Daine answered growling, "they always do that – because of my lack of parenting".

That sentence got Numair to raise his eyebrows, but before he could say something, Daine continued spitting the painful words out, "You married a bastard, or did the king forget to tell you?"

She wasn't looking at him. She couldn't and she wouldn't. If Daine expected some kind of disgust from him it didn't come. Frowning, she found that he was leaning towards her with his arm brushing hers, his warmth radiating through the fabric. Daine held her tongue, for she had been about to spill other things. She was suddenly angry. Angry that she was being married off to this...this...this...man.

Numair realized slowly that he had not been told everything about his new wife, but did it mean anything to him at all? He pondered over it for a few seconds, only to come to some sort of decision. "For what it's worth," he suddenly found himself saying, "I'm a refugee from Carthak. I know what it's like to stand out." Numair slowly removed his arm from hers, waiting for her to comprehend that there was so much about each other they didn't know. He would have to make up for that somehow.

Daine silently looked down at where his arm had touched hers. She was about to open her mouth, to question what he had only seconds ago told her, but then closed her mouth as the muffled voices of the room hushed and a bard entered.

The bard positioned himself in the middle of the floor, looking only at the two important people of the feast. Bowing deeply for them, Daine realized that the place beside her was still empty. The king hadn't shown himself, but Daine didn't care. If anything, it was her night, even though she shared it with the man beside her.

Daine was so occupied with the bard's movement that she didn't see how Numair inclined his head in acceptance, giving the bard permission to sit. Soon, the only sound that could be heard was sound of a beautiful male voice that shifted between singing to telling stories from far away.

As it was the first time that she was allowed to be present for something like this, Daine found herself, after the plates had been taken away, leaning forward and placing her chin upon her folded hands. The stories were balanced. The bard told strange stories about a girl that had changed places with her twin-brother and had become the only female knight in living memory.

Too consumed by the stories, Daine didn't see the knowing smile that spread on Numair's lips. As the telling continued and transformed into a story that contained an evil sorcerer who turned an innocent man into a tree, she sighed loudly and longingly. So much adventures, and she'd only lived here in this boring life. The only action she had ever encountered was during the night the flames had consumed the queen and everyone had helped to carry buckets of water from one end of the castle to the other. The other time she'd action was when she had run wild through the forest.

Daine relaxed and leaned back in her seat, not noticing that an arm sneaked around her shoulders only to pull her to him. The bard's performance continued into a song about a queen that looked like like something out of the divine realms.

The story transformed to be a tale of the female knight bringing two gifts to her king: a token of power and a token of love. It was enchanting and wonderful.

The bard's voiced trailed off. When he stood and bowed, she felt like he was bowing for her, and only her. If she had been more present, she would have noticed the glances that had been exchanged between her husband and the bard, but her thoughts were overwhelmed with words. The only thing she could think of was that if she ever got the chance, she would find this wonderful country the bard had spoken of and settle herself down there. If she was granted that gift, she would be happy.

Daine was startled when a hand touched her cheek, wiping a single tear away. The room around them had somehow been emptied during the tales of the bard, and they were the only ones left. She blinked as exhaustion overcame her. Letting her head rest on his shoulder, she yawned.

Somehow that decided it for him, and before she could do anything, he had pulled the chair out and had lifted her up in his arms as if she was made of nothing but air. Daine allowed him to do it, not having the power to do anything else. She felt his secure grip under her knees and let her head rest on his shoulder in contentment.

Daine felt oddly strange with the situation as Numair walked down the long corridors. She felt so calm in his presence, and yet again she wondered how easy her acceptance of the situation had been.

Numair took a different path and Daine noticed that he didn't take her to her room that accommodated her. As they reached an oak-door she glanced up, as nothing had opened it.

Stepping inside, he lowered her down on the oversized bed. "Still sleepy?" Numair asked while pushing a stray brown curl away from Daine's face. He was sitting down beside her on the overly large bed.

"I am," Daine replied and tried very lady-like to hide another yawn. She tried to sit up and even took hold of the offered hand Numair held out to her, but the tight fabric of her dress didn't allow her to move. She took hold of it and pulled, hearing a dreadful ripping sound erupting from where it was stitched together on her back.

Daine pushed herself up into a sitting position as Numair stood. Turning her spine she examined the large hole underneath her arm. "Curse it," she muttered low and reached behind her back. She was starting to realize that a dress such as the one she wore wasn't easy to take off. The strangling feeling she had felt before while sitting in her own room looking up at her wedding-dress was back and it was making her scared.

Daine suddenly stood and the ripping sound came again, making the hole larger. Her small, muscular body was too much for this fragile fabric. She forgot his presence as she tried to find a way to reach the buttons at her back.

"Stand still," a deep voice said suddenly, and Daine looked up. She growled low as she realized that Numair held laughter in his eyes. "Not funny," she muttered, but allowed herself to be still with her back turned to him.

Daine breathed in deeply as gentle fingers slowly worked on the small delicate buttons on the dress. Given the situation, she relaxed. This situation reminded her of another one. A few days back it had been her undressing him, not the other way around.

Numair was careful not to touch her skin, but accidentally his warm finger managed somehow to do it anyway.

The reaction was immediate, and before he knew it, Daine had spun around and slapped him hard on his cheek. It was a reaction well rehearsed by a woman who had fought for her virtue so many times. Being near Alanna the Lioness had taught him a thing or two, but this he hadn't expected. He rubbed his cheek, but locked his calm gaze with hers.

Daine clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. "I'm sorry, my Lord," she said in a panic. Her eyes flickered nervously, trying to find a possible escape-route if it became necessary, but stopped as a chuckle broke out from Numair. She squeezed her eyes a bit, "You're not mad?"

Numair rubbed his cheek, his dark eyes dancing. "No," he replied and looked down into a puzzled face, "one of my best friends would scold me for not realizing that I was about to be hit." He continued to explain when he saw the confused expression on her face, "She's quite skilled in the art of fighting and has been teaching me to defend myself for years now." Numair's eyes continued to dance with amusement, "She will only laugh that someone did manage to hit me."

She shook her head. "So you're not going to do anything?" Daine asked a bit cautiously.

He shook his head. "No," Numair offered her his hand, his palm facing up, waiting for her to lay hers in his gently. "I don't think that a night such as this should be used to do anything other then what we want to do."

Daine paled at his choice of words. Her breath caught in her chest and she found herself hyper-ventilating. A mixture of exhaustion and tiredness, combined with the remembrance of what Astrid had told her about a woman's duty, made her knees give away.

Numair caught her, looking down into stormy blue-gray eyes. "Breathe," he told her as Daine continued to panic. "Easy," a deep voice sounded in her ear as he pulled her into a hug, "breathe slowly – in and out." She did as he told her and a became a bit embarrassed over the situation. She fought with the choice whether to let him continue holding her or to pull away. He was relaxed his grip around her and gently he helped her to stand on the floor.

"You are right," he said to her in a low voice, wanting to take her thoughts off from whatever had caused her to panic.

Daine looked up, startled, into hazel eyes that held a guarded smile. "That dress is hideous," Numair said slowly, in a matter of fact way.

She found herself giggling and allowed him to take her hands. Her ruined dress hung loosely around her shoulders.

Numair touched the fabric lightly, frowning. It wasn't the best made fabric and as such, it was easily ruined. "When we get to Corus, we are going to buy you new dresses. This —" he held out the skirt about to continue, but his voice froze when he saw her closed off expression. "What's wrong?"

Daine shook her head. Absolutely nothing was wrong — nothing other than the fact that he was talking about buying new dresses as if it was that easy. "Nothing," Daine replied and took a step away from him.

Walking away, she tried to reach the back of her dress again with her hands and abruptly came to a halt in the middle of the floor. She cursed low under her breath – she wanted so much to be out of this damned piece of cloth. She was so frustrated that she failed to notice Numair standing behind her.

"Stand still," he breathed quietly, not wanting to startle her again.

She obeyed. Daine stood perfectly still as experienced fingers held her.

"I can see that you are wearing -" Numair halted his words as the dress was becoming loose. As his hand accidentally touched her skin again, she flinched away from him.

With hands pressed against herself, she held the dress up to cover her nakedness. This was what Astrid had talked about and it was this she couldn't do, or could she?

Daine allowed the dress to slide down over her upper body slowly. He was standing so close to her that she could feel warmth streaming from him. If she was to do this, he had to see what it was he had gotten himself involved in.

Daine was very aware that her naked back showed her milky white skin that was broken by scars — scars she had been cursed with for seven years. Even Astrid, who had helped her into the dress, had pressed her painted lips together at the sight. Daine, with closed eyes, forced her mind away from taking a path down memory-lane.

Numair was standing utterly still behind her, not moving an inch, and she could faintly hear that he was breathing. She could feel in the air, shifting invisibly around them, that he was angry. The immense power she had felt once before when he had talked to the king, floated through the air.

Daine knew that she should be afraid of him right here and now, but she wasn't – it was the scars and the memories that haunted her and scared her the most. Then she heard movement and he was speaking softly to her.

"You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not like them and will never lay a hand on you unless you give me permission."

Daine flinched as he allowed a finger to touch the broken skin on her back. She was standing, out of breath, as the meaning of his words entered her mind. He knew that something awful had happened to her.

She turned around slowly, her right arm covering her front. There was silence between them and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. They were uncertain and she could understand why. It wasn't like she only had one or two lines splitting her creamy skin – she knew that there was ten of them – a punishment for her actions in the forest after she had been caught.

First, she had thought that the fire that had killed her family had been accidental, but in the weeks after the smoke had vanished, a man had come around to the small cottage they had been living in and had claimed that the whore's daughter was his to use. She had fought, the animals had fought, but he had won in the end.

It had taken her hours to hunt the man down and she finally found him in his village, not far away from the castle. While he was sleeping, she had towered over him with a knife and with all the strength she had, she had pressed the tip of the knife into his beating heart, taking away his life as he had taken her family away from her.

Her mother had refused him any access to her bed after he had hit her, and the only thing Daine could think of back then was revenge – pure and simple revenge. That she had killed the man while he lay beside his own wife had been a bit barbaric. She had been caught, taken deep into the forest, and had been strung up in a tree by her wrists. She had then received her punishment. After that, the people in the village would have killed her by throwing stones, but the sudden presence of a wolf pack had scared them witless and they had left her to bleed.

Daine focused herself back on the present. "Promise me," she finally whispered, voiceless as dark hazel eyes meet hers.

Numair softly touched her chin. He knew that she was fragile, this he had understood from the very first day he had laid eyes on her. He had been betrothed to her without any explanation of her background and it had shocked him deeply to see the reddish scars on her back. He couldn't get himself to say it, to promise her not to cause her any pain, because he knew that somewhere in the future it was going to happen. "Goddess, you're beautiful," he concluded quietly.

Very slowly and very carefully, he lifted her chin further up. Numair decreased the distance between them by taking a small step forward. He wanted to kiss those soft pale lips that were slightly parted.

"Is everything going alright in there, Master Salmalin?" someone called from the other side of the door.

Daine pushed herself back so suddenly that she stumbled over the rest of the dress that still hung around her hips. Her back landed hard against the wall where a huge tapestry hung. Her head collided with the wall and she landed on the ground.

"Master Salmalin?" the voice of the royal healer shouted this time, not sure if his voice could be heard on the other side of the door. "Shall I enter?"

Numair cursed low and kneeled down to where Daine laid, her head throbbing with pain.

"No!" the dismissive note in Numair's tone was clear, "it will only take a few more minutes."

"His Majesty requests that you deliver proof right this moment, otherwise the agreement isn't signed," the royal healer yelled again.

Numair pulled Daine up by a firm grip on her naked arms while he shouted back, "I'm not done with her."

Daine rubbed her hand against the back of her head as she leaned back against the wall, not caring that she was half naked. "Done?" she whispered, confused. "What do you mean that you're not done?" she demanded to know and followed his movements as Numair moved away from her.

Upon returning, he held a knife in his hand, a sharp knife. When she met his dark eyes yet again they were drilling into hers and she halted the breath she had been taking. "What are you doing?" she stuttered, letting the air escape her lungs. She could feel the solid form of his body as he came towards her. She took a step back when yet another sentence came from the door.

"It's almost past midnight," the royal healer yelled again, and this time the handle of the door was turned.

"I'm not done with her yet!" Numair shouted back and turned his face towards the door, pointing a finger to the handle. A black spark leapt from him, giving the handle a boost of energy.

Daine could hear a cry of pain as the handle gave the royal healer an electric shock. Suddenly, a rough hand took hold of hers and held her palm upwards. She screamed in anger and pain as Numair allowed the knife to slide across the skin of her palm – bringing forth blood.

She felt her face pale as she looked down and saw the first drop of blood fall to the floor.

Numair walked away from her yet again, only to tear the sheet off of the bed. Bringing it with him over to where she stood he grabbed her hand and pressed her now wounded palm closed. Red liquid landed on the white silk sheets, ruining it forever.

"Please forgive me," Numair said and took hold of Daine's dress, forcing it from her body. He looked down over the half-nakedness in front of him, his eyes coming to rest on the last item that remained.

She screamed once again, in fright, when a knife slid through the fibers of her loincloth. "No!" Daine managed to push Numair's hand away as it tried to slice through the other side, but he pushed her back against the wall with his large body.

Daine turned her head away as his dark eyes became black. She could feel the heavy pounding of his heart beating inside his chest, as he stood so close.

"Master Salmalin!" the royal healer yelled again. "By orders of King Angus, you are commanded to open your door!"

Numair took hold of what had been Daine's loincloth and threw it on the floor. It landed near the door. She was crying by now. "Be silent," he ordered her roughly and took hold of her wrist.

Daine winced as the tips of his fingers buried themselves in her flesh. He grabbed her by force and dragged her over to the bed.

There was no time to be nice about this and he would regret treating her this way, but Numair pushed her down on the bed. "This must be done," he said and gave her a rough push.

Daine tumbled down onto the bed, her hair tousled by the quick movement. Dragging herself up on shaking arms she tried to reach the blankets, but halted as Numair rapidly undressed himself, leaving piles of clothes on the floor behind him.

Before her fingers had reached the blanket, the door was opened so suddenly and guards entered the room, their weapons drawn.

The men moved inside the room first, before giving way to the royal healer. Daine glanced at where her husband stood, a furious blush on her cheeks along with salty tears. Numair only held a blank expression as he froze on the spot, standing on the floor.

"So," the royal healer smirked with obvious pleasure in his voice, "was she any good?"

Daine hauled the blanket to her as the royal healer's eyes snapped towards her. She could see what he was thinking — that the Black Robed mage had taken his wife by force.