Neither one of them mentioned the voice, fearing that they would upset the other.

Derek sent a messenger to bring more men back to the village while he, Odette, and the others convened on what to do next.

Those who were well enough were glad to help and volunteered to do anything asked of them.

First, they gathered what supplies they could and began erecting tents and lean-tos so they could sleep relatively sheltered that night. The older girls took on the responsibility of watching the children while others began cleaning up the roads so that supplies could be moved in.

The relief effort went on throughout the entire day, with Derek and Odette stopping only a few times to rest. They, the soldiers, and the survivors searched for others who might be trapped in the debris of a burnt house – though it didn't seem likely that they would find anyone.

Later in the day, the bodies of the dead were lined up so that a priest could pray over them. Odette had to hold back her raging tears when she saw that the boy with the wounded leg was among them.

She was angry. Angry that someone attacked these innocent, angry that someone was blaming it on Derek and her.

But who? And why?

It was killing Derek that those questions would not be answered soon, and he knew that he could not devote time to find the answers himself. He had to focus on the people.

And he had to focus on Odette.

When they finally made themselves leave the village and return home, they found themselves feeling hopeless. Doing something, helping was therapeutic. It kept their minds off of their feelings. But at home, when it was just the two of them, it was hard to be so distracted.

Derek could see plainly that Odette was deeply hurt. She was so deep in thought that she couldn't bring herself to speak. For most of the night, she sat perched at a window, a book in her lap, but her eyes looking outside, where she could see little plumes of smoke from the campfires that were taking the place of what would normally be fireplaces in homes.

As for himself, Derek didn't know how to feel. His heart went out to the people and he was sympathetic, but at the same time, he was angry and vengeful. And he was anxious. The voice had blamed it on him and Odette. He feared for her safety, and with, he was sure, good reason.

The night passed in silence. Derek and Odette spoke very little and only when necessary.

Even when they went to bed, they said hardly a word to each other.

It didn't take Odette long to fall asleep, though Derek knew it was an uneasy slumber, judging by how much she twisted and twitched.

He too fell into an exhausted slumber. Being a more sound sleeper than Odette, he soon found himself dreaming.

Or perhaps not.

He was fighting, dueling with someone he didn't know. It was a shadow – not his own, and not one created by any other man. It was more like a ghost. The more he tried to fight, the more his opponent learned.

Everything Derek did, the shadow countered. It was impossible to get past it and defeat it. Derek had no idea why he was fighting it in the first place. But if it was after him, Derek wasn't going to let it beat him. Win now, ask questions later.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Odette, watching the fight with an intense look of worry and fear. Seeing her gave him new fire. He had more reason than just saving himself for fighting. He had to protect Odette. That was more important.

"What makes you think you can protect her from me?" a voice hissed. It was the same as the one from the alley. "What makes you think you can keep her from dying?"

Derek doubled his efforts, pushing himself harder. He had to win.

For the entire fight, he carefully moved himself between his opponent and Odette. But he'd forgotten that this shadow could learn, and it didn't take long to figure out that Derek's main goal was to protect Odette.

So, when Derek struck next, the shadow moved out of the way and targeted Odette. It dashed toward her.

Derek had no time to stop it.

"Derek!" she screamed as it was just inches away.

Derek watched as the shadow stabbed Odette. He immediately felt a great pain in his heart, worse than anything he'd ever felt. He ran toward her and gently picked her up.

"Odette… I'm so sorry…"

"You didn't protect her," the voice mocked. "You didn't save her. It's your fault."

"Derek…" Odette whispered. "Don't listen…"

"Look what I've done…" he said, disgusted and heartbroken.

"Derek…"

"I'm so sorry." He started to cry.

"Derek?"

"I meant to protect you."

"Derek? Derek! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open to see Odette, her face etched with a look of concern and confusion. She moved out of the way to make room for him as he sat up. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare at her in disbelief.

"You were only dreaming," she said quietly.

Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, dotting his visage like stars on a night sky. They shimmered just the same. His eyes were watery, as if he'd been crying. His palms were cold and clammy. He was breathing heavily.

"No," he said, quickly pulling her into a tight embrace. "Not a dream. A nightmare."

"It's alright," she whispered reassuringly. "I'm here."

"I thought I'd lost you."

"No. Never that."

He let go. "Forgive me. I let a nightmare get the best of me."

"It must have been some nightmare," she qualified.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"I understand."

He gently took her hand into both of his. "How are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"With everything that's happened… how are you fairing?"

"Well enough, I suppose. It's not easy."

"I know. I don't want you to go back there tomorrow. I don't like seeing you there."

"No, Derek. I want to go with you. I want to help you as best I can."

He sighed. "It's unsettling to know you're there among that… tragedy."

Truly, he worried for her heart. He knew it was breaking more and more every moment she spent in the ashes of the village. He reprimanded himself for having a sneaking thought that she couldn't handle it – that she was too weak and faint of heart.

But she wasn't. He knew that. Odette had been through more suffering and misery in the last few years than most people had throughout their entire lives. And she was better for it. Of course she wasn't weak.

He was ashamed that he had to remind himself.

In truth, however, Odette wasn't entirely sure she could handle going back. It had taken everything in her to keep herself from falling to tears that day. Could she really handle another one like it?

She had to. For all the times Derek had suffered with her, she wanted to suffer with him. And not even just him. She wanted to suffer with the people who had lost their homes and their loved ones. She wanted them to know that she cared a great deal about what had happened and she was not going to desert them.

So she had to steel her mind and heart against what she was sure she would see the moment she set foot in the village the next day. The very thought of it made her shiver. Or was it the still cold air?

The temperature hadn't risen back to its normal level since the night before. It was still cold outside, colder than it should have been.

She thought about this, the attack, and the voice. The more she dwelled on it, the more she was sure that it was no coincidence that they all happened at the same time. And what was that light the night before?

Something strange was happening, something terrible and strange indeed.

XxX

The next day was much like the one that preceded it. Derek and Odette volunteered their efforts and did their best to help the village to its feet. The process was slow, difficult, and painful.

Casualties were still being found, and graves could not be dug fast enough and the priest could not pray fast enough.

Once again, Odette and Derek returned home exhausted. This time however, Rogers was waiting, looking ready to prattle off a long list of reasons why they shouldn't be helping as they were.

"Surely there are other ways to help those people," he said. "I don't like the idea of the future king and queen of this kingdom toiling about unprotected. Suppose another attack comes."

Rather than rolling his eyes and slouching in irritation, Derek stood up straight and listened, his eyes furrowed in both interest and moderate indignation and his arms crossed in impatience.

"There is no better way to help them, Rogers. If we are not there, then the rebuilding will fail."

"It is not your place" Rogers started.

Derek raised his hand, a signal for silence. "Rogers, there are people out there sleeping in tents because their homes were razed to the ground. There are children without parents because their parents were murdered. How can you ask Odette and me to wait here and do next to nothing?"

"If another attack comes…"

"Then we'll face it," Derek said. "But if it will make you feel better, we'll bring a few more guards out with us tomorrow."

Rogers nodded, knowing Derek would not be swayed. The prince had become quite wise – and quite stubborn. Rogers was reminded of Derek's father, the late King Joseph, who was quite the same way before he passed on.

A few minutes more of uneasy chatter later, Derek and Odette thought it best to have a private dinner and then go to bed.

As Derek lay awake that night, too afraid to fall asleep and have the nightmare again, he couldn't stop thinking about the voice. Twice it had visited him, and it would only be a matter of time before it spoke to Odette – if it hadn't already.

He didn't dare ask. He didn't want to scare her. But he wanted to know if she was holding back for his sake.

She was being so brave. He knew she was afraid and upset, and he admired the way she pressed on through it.

He only hoped he could do the same.

But to be completely honest, Odette didn't feel as brave as she acted. She was afraid of another attack, afraid of failing to help the people, afraid of breaking down.

The events of the past few days wore heavily on her heart and she was not entirely sure she would be able to go back to the village.

"Run away from it, Odette," a voice hissed. She shot up in bed, looking around for it.

It was the same one from the burning house.

"Leave those people. Abandon them," it taunted.

Odette froze, too afraid to move. Whoever was speaking was in the room with her and Derek. Her breathing quickened and her heart rate picked up. Her eyes widened as she tried to find where the intruder was hiding.

Derek touched her arm, snapping her out of her fear.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That voice! It was so loud and… Derek, didn't you hear it?"

He nodded. "Twice since the night of the attack. Well, this makes three times. The second was in my dream."

"This makes my second. I heard it the night of the attack too."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry. Why didn't you tell me?"

He smiled ironically. "The very same reason."

She relaxed a little. "Then your nightmare last night… it was because of the voice?"

His smile faded. "Yes. Odette, if you're hearing this voice too, then that means it's not just our imaginations. It's after us. Otherwise it wouldn't attack us so personally."

She nodded. "I know. We're in danger again."

"I swear, I'll protect you from this."

Though his voice was confident and his heart was sure, somewhere in the back of his mind, Derek had to ignore the gnawing impression that the voice had left on him.

"You can't do it," it hissed. "You can't protect her.

"She'll die. And you'll die. Everything will die."