The days in Forcena passed in utter boredom, at least as far as Lise was concerned. She was trapped in the passive, frivolous pursuits that occupied the ladies of Forcena, pointless activities like poetry and embroidery that made her want to tear her hair out in irritation. But she had no choice but to while away the days, waiting for something to change.

Most of that time was spent alone. Her contact with Hawk was limited during the daytime; she knew, underneath the polite exterior that Forcena had shown them, that she and he were still captives, and under suspicion.

Oddly, they were barely watched at night; and that was their chance to be together. Sometimes he came to her, using his Navarrese skills of stealth to skip past his guards; but most of the time she came to him. For reasons unknown, her guard was far lighter than his.

She tried to talk to him, night after night, trying to figure out how they would escape the situation and what they should do next. The Priest of Light had told her to go to Forcena, but she had little idea why.

Hawk barely listened to her concerns, wanting only to make love. Every time, nearly as soon as he saw her, his hands were on her touching, caressing, kissing, tearing off her clothes.

And she found herself unable to resist. Though at times, she hated herself for it.

Daytime always returned, however, and she was surprised to find the young commander Duran a frequent guest. She didn't quite understand why; he seemed both friend and guard. But it did break up the monotony, whatever it meant and she found herself looking forward to his visits.

He always addressed her politely, asking her the perfunctory questions that were expected. Where she was from, what she was doing, where she was going. There was no malice when he addressed her, and it made her feel ashamed when she responded to his inquiries with bald-faced lies when she could not avoid the question altogether.

It had been Hawk who had given her an alibi. A Wendelic woman, of the temple. "No one will believe Amazon any longer, in any case," he whispered to her on one of their first nights there, she laying in his arms. It was her time to forget her fear, in those stolen moments they spent with their bodies intertwined, drenched in sweat and writhing against each other.

She did not like lying to Duran. He had, oddly, become a genuine friend.

But Hawk's idea was, indeed, the most logical, and she found herself thankful for it when the question came up, in the most striking of ways.

After some days in the castle, the king finally found the time to investigate the two of them, sending a summons that barely concealed the command in it. She had readied herself with all the Forcenan mannerisms, arranging hair and clothes with the appropriate modesty, the constricting dress almost a form of armor in and of itself. It gave her the vaguest sense of protection, of insulation, as she approached the throne room with a heavy feeling of trepidation.

She was escorted by Duran, and his own mannerism was stiff and forced. "The King wishes to see you," had been all the words he had uttered when he had arrived at her door that day, not there to fill her day with casual pleasantries, but instead appearing stern and intimidating in the same full uniform in which she had met him, and with ever inch of authority that conferred. Hawk had already seen the King, he told her stiffly, as he walked by her side as if she was beneath his notice.

She was escorted into the throne room, dropping her copious skirts into a graceful curtsy before the king. The monarch was a middle-aged, but not unattractive, man with hard edges to his face that spoke of trouble getting to him.

His voice had much of the same inflection as Duran's, but without the softness that the latter often showed for Lise. "This is a strange time for young people to be traveling alone," he told her, his voice almost scolding. "In the interests of the security of Forcena, we must know more." His eyes drilled into her, and Lise shrank back as he battered her with questions. "Who are you? Where are you from? What are you doing in Forcena?"

I'm here because the Priest of Light told me to go, thought Lise, and because I have nowhere else to go. But of course, that would not do. "I am Lise, an ordinary woman of Wendel, a servant of the Temple of Light," she said, her voice quaking.

Duran's head swiveled slightly as she told the lie, he breaking his rigid posture. In her peripheral vision, her trained warrior senses could tell he was regarding her with a contemplating question in his eyes, but she kept her own gaze resolutely focused on the king of Forcena.

"The rest of my family was in Astoria… they were all killed in the attack by the beastmen. Forgive me, your Majesty," she said, hoping her voice was appropriately feminine and tremulous. "I feared the beastmen, I heard they were coming to Wendel next… The Navarrese man offered me a chance to flee. I have merely been following along with him ever since. If you can find it in your heart to offer me sanctuary in Forcena… I would be eternally grateful."

King Richard stroked his beard thoughtfully, seeming to buy her act of simpering and begging, even as Lise cringed inside, knowing she was forced to humiliate herself once again. "Very well, Lise," he addressed her, his tone blatantly that one of master to subordinate, one barely worth his notice. "No harm will come to you during your stay here, I give you my word. But I must warn you, that until certain… events… come to pass, here you will remain." Strangely, he exchanged a knowing look with Duran, one Lise's sharp eyes did not fail to notice.

"For the time being," Richard told her, "you may consider this your home." Lise wished that didn't sound so ominous.

-----------------

Duran had looked at her in perhaps a different way after that meeting with King Richard. Neither negative, or positive, merely… considering.

It bothered Lise, in a way she could not explain. She had become used to the presence of the man, but now his visits were less frequent, and forced even when they happened. To make matters worse, she found her guard tightened, and she saw Hawk less and less, he going to ever greater extremes to come to her.

She asked him on one of those nights what he had said to the King, but he neatly avoided the question, and as their conversation danced around the topic for minutes on end, finally she gave up and sank into the simple physical comfort of the encounter.

It left her more and more alone, so one day, despite herself, she felt her spirits lift when Duran came to see her. His announcement followed the barest lines of protocol as always; but she hardly cared, shooing her maids away nearly as soon as he was through the door, even as they tried to arrange her clothes in Goddess-knows-what manner.

Duran did not speak at first, seeming now both awkward and weary, tired lines visible at the corners of his eyes. She wondered how many things were happening in the castle of Forcena that she knew nothing about. Lise bided her time, waiting for him to speak first.

"The King wonders still, you know," he finally began. "About you. About him. He's obviously Navarrian," Duran noted. "And you say you're Wendelic?"

"Yes," Lise replied, to the lie that now seemed so natural she almost forgot she was not. "I was born in Astoria, but when I was ten my parents sent me to take up service in the temple. They passed away not long after."

"And that's the truth." Duran's voice was flat.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she countered, realizing too late that a flash of anger had crept into her voice, breaking the fragile image she had struggled to maintain for safety. Duran's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he only stood there, and with a sliver of her disguise broken, she met him, eye to eye, they frozen like statues.

In a split second, he dove for her, grabbing her in a forceful grip that should have prevented any escape. Lise responded without thinking, twisting his arm to release herself from his hold even in her constricting garb, and slithered out only to tumble to the floor as he shoved her down, pressing her to the floor with his own body. Gasping for breath underneath his weight, she used her powerful legs to toss him off as she wriggled away, cursing the outfit that confined her, but he snatched her waist to pull her back towards him again.

Her fury exploded. "What do you want?" she cried, breaking free and struggling to her feet only to be pinned to the wall with her hands trapped in the small of her back. The elaborate updo of her hair was now a disheveled mess. "Do you want to rape me? Is that how you knights take a woman?" she shouted at him, in between heavy breaths. "Do it! See if I care!" She hopped slightly, wrapping her legs around his ankles, sending them both crashing to the floor and she breaking free, rolling away from him.

The fight had taken it out of her, and she groaned slightly as she rolled back to face her captor, her only consolation that he looked as winded as she. Despite what she thought, there was no viciousness, no desire to force or violate her in his expression. Rather, he seemed to be… weighing… her.

Finally, he spoke, looking at her intently. Duran looked at her intently. "Interesting," he noted. "If I didn't know better, I thought you would be an Amazon," he began conversationally, his eyes searching hers. Lise's eyes flinched away from that look, realizing only too late she had already given the truth away.

"But of course, that's impossible," he continued. "Besides the fact that they were all murdered, there is no way one would travel with a Navarrian."

Lise's temper was still flaring. "One sees a great many unexpected things lately," she commented acridly.

He pulled himself up onto hands and knees, and crawled over to her, settling his body next to her, one leg thrown over her presumptuously and not breaking the eye contact for a second. Neither did she; those blue eyes held her in a way that her simple stubbornness could not account for.

She gasped when she realized the arm he had wrapped around her was now traveling down her body, stopping at all the interesting curves on the way, not groping, merely teasing them at the edges.

His gentle touch caught her by surprise after the rough play only a moment before, but, even as her blood still raced from it, she found herself responding, catching her breath in a way that had nothing to do with the tight corset molding her figure. She grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair to pull his face to hers, but before she could kiss him, he tugged away, his head moving to her neck but only grazing it with his lips.

Lise had… forgotten… what else had been on her mind. She threw her arms around him, trying to pull him closer, but he hoisted himself onto one elbow, looking down on her.

He leaned over her, the warmth of his breath traveling fully into her face. Her hands were still around his neck, she now looking directly upwards at him. But she flinched, because his look was no longer gentle.

"You've been with him," Duran said accusingly. "He's had you, I see."

"What business is it of yours?" she demanded, dropping her arms back to the ground.

His eyes flared. "Because he already had you when I wanted you. Because I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you since I met you. When I think about him placing his hands on you…"

She met his eyes with a challenge, and he continued. "I've wanted… this…" he said, running one hand up her side. She gasped as that same hand slid down her middle again, stopping at her breasts before sliding down her skirt, then neatly sliding under and working its way up her bare legs underneath. His touch traveled up to her thighs and between, suddenly making her gasp in pleasure. Despite the ridiculous clothing, his body was very near hers, and she rubbed against him instinctively.

"What do you do for him?" he whispered. "Are you nothing but his whore, doing what he wants because you think you have no other way out?" he asked, lapsing into surprising crudeness. "What do the two of you do together?" he asked, his eyes filling with an odd rage that somehow repelled and attracted her all in one. "When you're with him at night, do you let him have his way with you, to touch you anything he wants?"

"You don't know anything about it," Lise protested angrily, right before she pulled his lips to hers. He had no hesitation in responding, as she reveled once again in the same feeling of sexual power she had first found with Hawk.

He pulled away for a second, frustrating her, and stood once again, almost absent-mindedly reaching out a hand to help her to her feet, leaving them suddenly only staring dully at one another as if nothing interesting had been happening for the past several minutes.

Lise said nothing. Duran stepped a bit closer, and pulled out one of the pins that held up her elaborate Forcenan hairdo. She flinched involuntarily as one chunk of hair flopped to her shoulders, but he continued, hair ornaments falling to the floor with a quiet clink.

"Is he really the one for you?" Duran wondered softly.

"He'll do," Lise responded curtly, turning back to look out the window to the grasslands beyond.

Duran stepped behind her to wrap his powerful arms around her. The arms that could crush her to death if that was what the man desired; but there was no

threat in this embrace. He leaned very close to her ear. "I want to give you something to think about while he's having you tonight," he breathed.

Lise was surprised to hear the answer coming out of her mouth. "Go right ahead."

That was all the answer Duran needed, and Lise found herself quite firmly led into the bedroom of her chambers. Duran kicked the door closed with barely a second glance.

As soon as the door crashed shut, however, gentle hands took over. Lise had expected him to be aggressive, leaving her with little to do but submit to his lust; but instead found herself impatient as Duran's soft kisses swept across her bodice, surprisingly dexterous fingers working the laces of the corseted bodice and layers of skirts. She turned to look at him with intrigue in her eyes.

He was… different. Different from what she had thought of him, different from what she had expected. In contrast to his rough exterior, he laid her down on the bed slowly, softly, kissing her for long moments, waiting until she was comfortable enough to respond in kind before moving down to her neckline, his lips traveling across with feathery touches. With every step, he paced himself, waiting until he was sure she was ready, and Lise barely noticed as the constricting corset was removed, only realizing it as she inhaled deeply, as if it was the first breath she had ever taken.

When it finally happened, it seemed so natural that she barely noticed, lost in the sensations that washed over her. For a brief moment, she noticed how different he was from Hawk – how different in manner, how different in appearance, even down to the part of him that was now inside of her. And how different it all made her feel, both inside and out.

She shoved the thought away roughly, and lost herself in those feelings.