Chapter Twenty

-Keira-

When we entered the castle, Anabelle was waiting anxiously in the foyer, as if she'd been standing on the staircase since Murphy and I had left for Bowerstone Industrial. She hurried to Murphy's side, her hand immediately lacing with his, and she drew him close. "Please..." Her eyes widened, and she took in a breath. "Consider other options, love. You do not have to do this."

"It is already done," Reaver said bitterly, his eyes darting toward her. "From the looks of you, it's a good thing, too. I'm not sure The Shadow Court would even accept you." He put a hand on his hip, his nose wrinkling and his eyebrows raising. "Perhaps it is a blessing that Keira has yet to conceive. If she were to look anywhere near as ragged as you do, I simply don't know how I would be able to endure the sight of her day in and day out. "

Anabelle's cheeks flared red, but Murphy shook his head, returning her attention toward him.

"It is settled, darling," he said. "But we need not leave tonight. Keira has offered another option in that regard."

Tears rolled down Anabelle's cheeks, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. "No matter what, it will still be too soon."

"The carriage ride will take at least a day and a half from Bloodstone to our destination, and that is not even counting the hours we will undoubtedly spend wading through the thick muck of the marshes," Reaver said with a sharp edge to his words. "We will still have to leave earlier than planned due to the weather."

Anabelle's eyes turned to me, and I nodded softly, not wanting to give her any false hope. When I glanced toward Reaver, his eyes darted deliberately away from me and toward Murphy.

"We will leave tomorrow evening for Bloodstone, then immediately on to Wraithmarsh," Reaver said firmly, his dark eyes piercing and frighteningly serious. "I expect that you will have gotten your business in order by then." He pushed past Murphy, his body still stiff with anger, and his eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead of him.

Anabelle's inhaled a trembling breath. "Oh, Gods. Just one day..." Her panicked eyes widened, and fixed firmly on his face.

"Ana..." Murphy sighed, his tone soothing. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and his fingers stroked through her loose, dark hair. He drew away to look on her face, his eyes softening, and his mouth turning upward into an absent, unconscious smile. "I...have a request."

"Yes, love," she whispered. "Anything."

"I-I haven't yet told you my request," he said, his tone one of tender chiding.

Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes searched his expression inquisitively.

"I want you to be my wife," he said, taking her hands into his. "I want to be yours for the rest of my life...however long that m-may be."

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and without a moment's hesitation, she said, "Yes. Yes of course..." She placed a hasty kiss on his lips, and she drew away. "Of course I will marry you, my love."

I felt my heart catch in my throat, and I drew in a breath. "I...I will send for the abbot right away."

Murphy's eyes turned toward me. His smile was bittersweet, but genuine. "Thank you."

The weather was far too atrocious to have a last minute ceremony in the garden, but the library was surprisingly easy to convert into a make-shift chapel. It was bare of any elaborate decoration, but clusters of candles had been gathered at the back of the room where the abbot stood waiting to officiate the union.

I adjusted the sash of Anabelle's dress. I had given her a gown from my wardrobe for the occasion—a simple ivory dress with a sash of dusty blue. The dress she'd originally chosen had been very plain, unfit for a wedding, and when I offered her a dress of my own, she looked almost relieved and thankful. She held no bouquet, so she wrung her hands nervously together. The look on her face was nearly indescribable. It was a look of joy and pain all at once.

When she drew in a deep breath, I straightened, and I put a hand on her shoulder delicately. She silently nodded in thanks, and she raised her eyes to Murphy, who was entering the room, straightening the cravat at his neck. When his eyes found Anabelle, he drew in a breath, and his eyes widened, as if he were still astounded by her beauty.

The abbot beckoned us all forward silently, raising a thin, pale hand, and he opened an old, heavy tome, laying it across a solid oak lectern. He pulled an aged white ribbon from between the pages of the holy scriptures, and he cleared his throat. He searched for the words for a moment, his watery eyes moving between the solemn-looking couple he was about to wed.

Murphy faced Anabelle, taking her hands into his, and a reassuring smile drifted across his face. It was as if he were trying to lift his bride's spirit, but it didn't seem to be working. Anabelle's lips, trembling with emotion, turned up to mirror his, and she took in a deep, steadying breath.

"In marriage, we are bound not only by law, but in spirit and love," The Abbot said, his warm voice resonating through the empty library. "It is something beyond the warmth and glow, the excitement and romance of being deeply in love. It is caring as much about the welfare and happiness of your partner as your own. Love makes burdens lighter, because you divide them. It make joys more intense because you share them. It makes you stronger so you can reach out and become involved with life in ways you dared not risk alone."

Anabelle's eyes closed, and the tears that had been held back streaked down her face. Her body trembled gently with silent weeping, but she nodded, squeezing Murphy's hands with hers.

The Abbot turned toward Murphy, his eyebrows raising, and his eyes expectant. "Murphy McKeegan, speak from your heart, and the world shall know your devotion to Anabelle Marlowe."

Murphy released one of Anabelle's hands to tip her chin so that he could stare deeply into her eyes. His smile filled with warmth, and he stroked a tear away from her cheek. He continued to gaze into her eyes, seemingly lost for a moment while he gathered his words.

"Ana..." he said. He chewed on his lower lip absently, but a smile then overtook his mouth. "I can hardly believe I am standing here right now...in front of the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on." He traced the line of her jaw, still cradling her face. "And she's about to become my wife."

I felt my heart twist sharply.

"I never knew I was capable of such love, but when I met you...my heart stopped beating for just one person. My heart is yours now, Anabelle. It has been from the moment we first met, and until the day it stops, I promise to protect and love you..." He moved one hand from her face to graze across her stomach, cupping the life that grew there. "Both of you."

Anabelle put her hand over his, and she restrained her sobbing while the Abbot spoke.

"Anabelle Marlowe, speak from your heart, and the world shall know your devotion to Murphy McKeegan," The Abbot said, turning his wizened gray eyes toward her.

She nodded quickly, and she sucked in a breath. "Murphy..." She found his eyes easily, as they had been waiting for her gaze to meet with his. "From the moment you stumbled into my life, you've taught me what true, undying and unconditional love is. With you, it was always effortless...natural, as if our paths crossed because we were put here to love one another." She brought a hand up to wipe her eyes. It was clear that she was fighting back the torrential tears, but she managed to continue. "You vanquished my fears, sadness and homesickness. No matter where I am, it is in your arms where I will always be home. You fill me with overwhelming peace and gratitude...and it is with the whole of my heart that I give myself to you, today, and forever...until my last breath."

"Join hands, please," the Abbot requested softly, taking the aged ribbon from the lectern.

When Murphy took Anabelle's hands in his, he raised them to his mouth, placing the gentlest of kisses upon her knuckles. He lowered their hands, and the Abbot lay the ribbon over the joining of them.

"The joining of your hands represents the joining of your hearts," the Abbot said. He wrapped the ribbon around their joined hands. "The ribbon represents your vows, binding you together today and always." He tied a loose knot, and a smile moved across his mouth. "The knot symbolizes what a marriage should be." He pulled at their hands, testing the integrity of the knot. "Strong..." He smoothed the ribbon. "Enduring, and binding. Henceforth, you travel life's winding paths not alone, but together. Let love be forever enthroned in your hearts. May the Light forever shine upon your union and upon your love," The Abbot concluded. "By the will of the sacred Light, I pronounce you husband and wife." He slowly unlaced the ribbon binding their hands together. He looked to Murphy, a knowing look in his eyes. "You may kiss your bride."

Murphy didn't hesitate to lean down to take Ana's mouth in a heated, desperate kiss. He cupped her face, holding her gently as a soft smile crept across his mouth in the kiss.

I clasped my hands together in front of me, and I felt a small pang of sadness in my heart. The love between Murphy and Anabelle was unmistakable. It was pure, unconditional love, but their marriage would be cut short. For a moment, I wanted to tell them to flee, to leave the castle before Reaver could catch wind of them, but then I knew that I would be sacrificing my own love for theirs. My chest tightened, and my heart ached at the thought of losing my husband. I cursed Reaver for his stubbornness, and I cursed myself for my selfishness.

Anabelle ended the kiss. Her eyes were still misty with tears, and she looked positively at odds with herself, as if she didn't know what to feel. She took Murphy's hands, and she glanced back to me, murmuring, "Thank you, Keira...for the dress...for everything."

I drew in a breath, shaking off my thoughts and replying sheepishly, "There's no need. It's...it's the least I could do."

Murphy repeated her sentiment with a nod and a glance in my direction, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of his new bride for very long. He squeezed her reassuringly, his eyes full of grief, but his mouth set into a false smile, likely an attempt to comfort her.

The guilt flooded me, and I bade them a short, soft farewell, congratulating them once more, and I made my way toward the library's exit. I inhaled a deep breath, and I closed the door quietly behind me.

A bittersweet feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I made my way toward the staircase. Murphy and Anabelle had love, a child on the way, and now they were married. For a moment, I felt envious, but very shortly after I felt silly. I would not ever wish to be in Anabelle's shoes, but the idea of loving someone who loved me back almost seemed worth the pain.

I took each step slowly, and I let my hand trail up the polished wood of the bannister. I wasn't eager to know what lay in wait for me in the bedroom. If Reaver was within, I was sure he was still in a sour, inconsolable mood, and if he wasn't inside...

Entering the room, I discovered that it was empty, and my heart sank a little. Of course he wouldn't be here. The very same pride that kept him from the wedding most likely kept him from joining me in our bedroom. I moved toward the vanity, catching a glimpse of my eyes and the deep uncertainty they held. I pulled my hair from its braid, and I let my plain blue gown slide off of my body. I didn't bother stowing it anywhere, and the rest of my clothes joined it on the floor.

I eyed the bed. Though it was just barely after sundown, and I'd not yet had supper, the idea of going to sleep and foregoing spending the rest of the night worrying about the situation was awfully tempting. I slipped on my nightgown, solidifying my decision to remain in seclusion the rest of the evening.

I walked over to the bottles and decanters that Reaver kept by the locked cabinet where he kept his numerous diaries. I eyed the cabinet for a moment, but I suppressed my growing curiosity. I would do no good by giving him even more reason to sulk and isolate himself. Turning back toward the bottles, I reached for a goblet, and I poured myself a generous glass of wine. I knew myself well enough to realize that there would be no way I would possibly be able to fall asleep on the eve of our departure for Wraithmarsh. The thought of returning to that place sent a cold chill down my spine, and it tied a knot in my stomach. Sleep would be preferable to dwelling on what was to come.

-Reaver-

The anger bubbled within me as I paced the length of the bedchamber I had once called my own. My footfalls echoed against the paneling, emphasizing the desolation of the place. It was dismally empty of all furniture or any semblance of comfort, but I did not dare chance going to the chambers I now shared with Keira. She would undoubtedly be there after having attended the useless affair in the library.

I scoffed as I pushed my way onto the terrace. The night air was unnaturally cool for this time of year, and I could feel an involuntary quiver work its way through to my bones. I could see far into Bowerstone Industrial from this vantage point, even through the inky clouds that billowed from my factories' smokestacks, writing the success of my industry across the sky. It was because of this spectacular view that I had chosen this room for myself when I'd taken residence in the castle. From the room I shared with my wife, the view was mostly obscured by the large, horrendous crypt that housed her family. It was a depressing sight, to be sure. Why anyone would dwell on death, in the name of honoring the dead or otherwise, was beyond me.

The air's icy touch permeated even deeper into me, and I decided to reenter the hollow-feeling room. As much as I loathed the bare, dusty walls, it was a much better alternative than Keira's judging glare. I'd had to endure it nearly the whole carriage ride from the factory, and I could only hope that I would be able to avoid it as long as possible before the journey. She seemed to believe that I actually wished to see Murphy stripped of his youth and vitality. However, I would have preferred, above all things, to have been able to see my original deal come to fruition, but Anabelle and her slippery family had been able to avoid the proverbial hangman's noose thus far. Murphy was merely caught in the crossfire of Anabelle's debt and my need to fulfill my own contract.

Anabelle.

The little tramp had done a sufficient job in avoiding her end of the contract. If she had simply been able to resist opening her thighs to the first man to give her a wink and a smile, I might not have to lose the first acceptable servant and confidant I'd had since Barry Hatch. At least Hatch, as lecherous as he was, had the good sense to use protection, which was always readily available.

When Murphy had come requesting my presence at the ceremony, I felt no shame in declining. I'd even tried to talk the boy out of the silly formality. If he truly wished to go in Anabelle's place, he would not be long for this world once The Shadow Court had taken their due. Why bother tying himself to her now?

I raised a hand to the pounding at my temple. In a few short days, all of this tension would be relieved. I would feel revitalized, and the encroaching darkness within me would dissipate. I would be free for another twelve months, at least. I could only hope that my wife's promise of being able to transport us to Bloodstone expeditiously was one she would be able to keep. If she failed, Murphy's relationship would be the very least of my worries.

With each pass across the room, I grew more weary of my surroundings. My hand clenched at my side, and I exhaled. It had been hours since Murphy's visit. With luck, Keira was already fast asleep, and I might have the opportunity to slip in unnoticed. Perhaps pouring myself onto the pages of my diary would ease the contention of my mind. It would be unwise to go before The Shadow Court demanding answers if I were not at my absolute best.

Uniformed guards stood at their usual posts down the hallway, and they stooped into a hasty bow as I passed. Usually such gestures would please me to no end, but I was in no mood for it. I continued on, straight-backed, and eyes focused on my destination.

I took great care in making sure that the wretched lock didn't click too loudly as I entered the bedchamber, and I saw that all of the lamps had been extinguished, but the curtains had been drawn wide. Moonlight spilled into the room, touching everything with its soft illumination.

A half-empty chalice of wine sat precariously near the edge of the bedside table, and the bottle that accompanied it was uncorked and mostly drained. I rounded the bed, lifting the chalice from its place, and swirling it. I took a sip, and my eyes turned down toward my peaceful, sleeping wife. I envied the ease with which she slept. Even in the darkness, I could see that her pale cheeks were lightly flushed from the drink. It brought me the smallest of joys to know that she'd been forced to seek aid in falling asleep.

I lowered myself slowly to sit on the edge of the bed, observing her a little closer. Despite the fact that she lay on her back, her breasts were round, taunting globes of perfection that demanded to be touched, kissed, adored. They rose and fell evenly with each gentle breath. I cursed her silently for looking so alluring when I was still so very upset with her and her actions this evening.

I did not believe there had ever been an occasion where Keira could have conceivably be considered unattractive, and that was all the more reason to be agitated. It was difficult to remain so pointedly against her when I knew precisely how sweet she tasted, how soft her porcelain flesh felt beneath my hands, how utterly hot the very core of her could become under my ministrations...

My blood heated in my veins, and I pushed myself to my feet. The growing desire within me battled the obstinacy of my anger, and I squashed the yearning to reach out and touch her alabaster curves. I drained my glass, and I refilled it with the last precious drops from the bottle. The finite amount of wine was easily finished, and I replaced the glass and bottle where my wife had left them.

The lamp at my desk was dark, and I found that my will to light it was waning. Did I truly want to go through the trouble of it? My eyes once again wandered to my wife. The bed was undoubtedly warm, and I was positive that it would prove to be all the more effortless to drift away at her side...once I'd sated my desire of course.

I discarded my clothes on the ground, unconcerned with cleanliness at the present moment. I crossed the room with silent footfalls. Slipping into the bed without stirring my wife was simple enough, considering the depth of her rest, and I pressed myself against her curves. She was warmer than I had predicted, and that merely compounded my desire. My hand skimmed across the soft linen of her dressing gown, traveling downward until I found the hem of the fabric that had gathered up around her thighs.

My touch elicited a soft, breathy noise from Keira's luscious, parted lips.

A greedy joy unfurled within me, and I slipped my hand beneath the fabric, stroking the silky nakedness of her thigh. I longed to bury myself inside of her, to luxuriate in the petal-soft folds of her womanhood, but I restrained myself. Why rush what I knew would be inevitable? Since our reunion, she had never been able to say no to me, and why would she? I knew her body better than even she did.

As my hand traveled up toward her coveted source of heat, I heard her breath hitch once more. My gaze flicked up to her face, and I could see that her expression was one of dismay, even in sleep. Her dark brows furrowed with worry, and her tempting lips now pursed in a tight, sorrowful line. My hand retreated as her pained visage dashed the flames of my desire, and my stomach twisted with frustration.

I threw myself onto my back, my once-curious hand tightening to a fist at my side. I felt suddenly conflicted, and I hadn't the slightest idea why. The roaring tide of my anger swept over everything else, and I found myself glaring at my wife. She looked distressed, and the capricious part of me was almost glad to see her so troubled. She deserved to suffer in her sleep as I did. She couldn't possibly fathom what I'd endured in the centuries I'd lived. She was so opposed to my lifestyle, yet she threw herself in the middle of it, unknowing or not. She had agreed to tie herself to me and all that entailed, so I could not feel sorry for her.

Marriage.

Keira did not know how lucky Murphy and Anabelle were in their situation. They would not get to see the ugly parts of their partners. Their love, their marriage, their life together would be short. Perhaps that was the true allure of marriage to mortals. Their lives were short, so such a commitment was not forever as the "scriptures" boasted. As a man that would withstand eternity, I knew its true face, and marriage was not something that would ever be able to stand steadfast against it.

Even with our tumultuous past, Keira and I had yet to see the true ugliness that lay beneath the surface, and now she was immortal as I was. How long would it be before she saw the true extent of my darkness and decided that I was no longer fit to be her husband? It was inevitable, of course. She was the Queen of Albion, and it was her duty to produce an heir. We had failed so far, but why bother now? An immortal on the throne could just as easily declare that they would rule forever, but my wife was far more benevolent than that…and such benevolence had already been her undoing once before.

I pushed myself from the bed, knowing well that I would be unable to sleep, just as I had been the night before. Out of the corner of my eye, the silver of my cigarette case glinted in the moonlight, and I moved to my desk to retrieve it. Lighting one of the slim white cigarettes, I tucked it between my lips and moved to grab another bottle of wine

Using the same glass, I poured the liquid, which looked black in the sparse light, and I took a seat in the chair facing her side of the bed. My face formed a scowl as my eyes followed her curves once more. She was becoming increasingly more efficient at stirring my mood, for better or for worse, and that grated me even further. I took the cigarette from my lips, flicking ash carelessly onto the floor, and I settled back into the chair, knowing that sleep would not come easily to me.

-Keira-

The day had passed far too quickly, and I spent the majority of it in isolation. The only person I saw was Jasper, and he seemed displeased to discover that Murphy would not be remaining in Bowerstone to assist him with tackling my duties while Reaver and I were away. I had told him that Reaver required him for some business that would be handled during our absence. That part wasn't wholly untrue, but the fact that I had ensured Jasper that he would return was. As it turned out, Jasper had become rather fond of Murphy's company and the respect with which he seemed to treat everyone. 'Admirable' had been the word Jasper used. I felt uncomfortable lying to Jasper so blatantly, but I how could I possibly tell him the truth?

I checked, double-checked, and even triple-checked my luggage for the trip to Wraithmarsh. Reaver had seen to it that some of my finer clothes had been packed, but I'd taken it upon myself to disregard them and replace the excessive baggage with a rucksack full of clothes more befitting of a journey through marshlands. I observed myself in the mirror, and I tightened the lacing of my trousers. My boots were thick, sturdy black leather that went up to my knee, to protect my feet from getting sodden in the cold, wet ground.

I glanced to the clock on the mantle, and I exhaled. It was nearly time. Dread bundled up in the pit of my stomach, and I sucked in a lungful of air. I hoisted my sack onto my back, and I grabbed my heavy, burgundy cloak. I was sure to need the protection of the hood in the treacherous weather that was waiting for us in the marsh.

As I made my way down the hallway, I stopped in front of Anabelle's door. I knocked tentatively, and I heard a few murmurs before it opened. Murphy stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark brown tunic, his cornsilk hair pulled from his face. His somber blue eyes greeted me silently, and it was then that I heard the soft weeping of Anabelle in the room behind him.

"Oh Gods," she gasped, her eyes finding me around Murphy. She was dressed only in her sleeping gown. "No...It isn't time, is it?"

My mouth tightened into an unpleasant grimace, and I nodded quietly.

She stood from her place before the fire, and she moved swiftly to Murphy, grasping his hand.

"Please...please...don't do this. Let the bastard scramble to find someone else!" she hissed remorselessly, turning Murphy around to face her. She grasped the sides of his hands in a fierce grip, her trembling mouth failing to form more words. "I need you..."

He lifted a hand to stroke a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "You know I c-cannot do that."

"Why?" She begged to know as more tears streamed down her reddened cheeks.

"Because you will be the one to pay the debt if I do not," Murphy insisted, his voice growing tense with desperation. "I can't let you pay this price."
"But it's mine to pay," she insisted, burying her face in his chest.

"When you married me, your debts became mine, and this is one that I insist on paying in your stead," he whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She clutched him tightly, her sobbing silencing any words that might have protested his. She shook her head, and Murphy wrapped his arms tenderly around her.

"I love you, Ana," he said quietly. "And though it has not yet been born, I love our child. If am able...if you would allow me, I would like to return to meet him…or her...just once."

She drew away, her eyes bewildered. "But you said you didn't wish for me to see you after..."

"I know," he sighed. "I..I don't want you to see me that way, but if I am alive...I want to see what good I've left behind in the w-world."

She closed her eyes, nodding quickly and squeezing her husband all the more tightly. "I wish you would return regardless. I don't care how you look...I love you...no matter-" It seemed as if she was having a hard time forming words between her gasps for breath and sobbing.

"No." He cut her off. "I couldn't bear it. I...I have heard tales of what is to come for me. It is not something I would want you to look at day in and d-day out."

I shuffled awkwardly, knowing that Reaver was likely in the study waiting for us. I crossed my arms over my chest, and I waited patiently for the farewell to come to a close.

"Ana, love," he said softly, his eyes turning back to me. "It is time. You must let me go."

"No...please," she begged once more, her grip growing more intense.

His face looked immensely pained as he took hold of her hands. He kissed her softly, and he forcibly wrenched her from him.

She caught herself on the door frame, and she covered her mouth. "I love you..." she managed to weep.

"And I love you," he said, stepping back. He drew in a deep breath, and he turned sharply, passing me and heading toward the study.

I stepped forward to try to offer Anabelle some sort of comfort, but her face distorted into one of anguished fury. She stepped out of my reach and slammed the door to her chambers in my face. The sting of rejection coursed through me, but how could I possibly blame her? My husband would get to live...forever, while hers would likely die soon after revitalizing him.

I turned to follow Murphy, and I saw that he had brought a hand to his face. He walked stiffly and quickly, as if he were ready to get this all over with. When we reached the study, he paused to stealthily wipe at his face. He turned to make sure I had followed, his eyes bloodshot and brimmed with sadness.

I chewed on my lip, and when Murphy opened the door, I saw that Reaver was leaning against my desk, his foot tapping impatiently.

"It is about time," Reaver snapped, his eyes narrowing as he took in Murphy's state. "Could you have dawdled any more?"

Murphy said nothing, he merely turned his gaze away, searching for something to focus on other than his former master. He wrung his hands together, the leather of his gloves squeaking with the tight friction.

Reaver observed me, obviously not pleased with my attire. "My, don't you look drab. I thought I might find a little distraction in the monotony by being able to take in the beauty of my wife, but it seems that I am out of luck."

Murphy saw that I wore my rucksack, and he quietly murmured an offer to carry it for me.

"No...I'm fine," I said.

"No, no," Reaver interjected. "Murphy is about to be drained of all his youth and strength...he might as well take advantage of it while he still has it." Each syllable was laced with pure acidic distaste. "You could have avoided all of this, boy. And you, Keira..." He turned his attention to me once more. "You could have told that girl of yours to-"

"Reaver!" I hissed, moving to his side and slapping him squarely across the face. "This is not the time, and I will not tolerate this bitterness the whole trip."

His eyes widened and filled with a blaze of outrage as he rubbed at his cheek with a gloved hand. His mouth fell open to speak, but before he could, I seized both men by the hand focused all of my Will in transporting us to my sanctuary.

When the light that carried us away faded, I opened my eyes to see that Reaver and Murphy both looked rather disoriented. Murphy stumbled backward, and Reaver managed to catch himself on the map table.

"You could have given us some sort of warning," my husband seethed, the dizziness clear in his expression. The fury in his eyes had easily doubled, and the cords of his neck stood taut with tension.

"And you could hold your tongue while I try to concentrate," I retorted, my eyes finding Bloodstone on my mother's map of Albion. "There is an ancient portcullis in Bloodstone, correct?"
Reaver nodded, though it was with a look of the utmost disdain on his face.

"Then that should be good enough," I said.

"Good enough?" Reaver spat. "You assured me that-"

"Yes. I did," I replied. "Calm down and take hold of me again."

Murphy placed a hand on my shoulder, while Reaver opted to wrapping an arm tightly—almost painfully-around my ribcage. My stomach jumped as it usually did when I quick-traveled, and the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. Light danced around us, and suddenly, the feel of the hard stone of the cullis gate under us.

Reaver's hold on me tightened, and Murphy let go.

I opened my eyes, and I saw that we had arrived just outside of the old pirate town. It was not nearly as inhabited as it had been in the days of my mother's quests and adventures, but the more lawless people of Albion still seemed to congregate here. On the highest hill, a grand mansion surrounded by high, scale-proof fences was lit by torches all around it, and I knew immediately to whom the grand dwelling belonged.

"A carriage awaits at Bloodstone Manor," Reaver said, releasing me harshly as he tried to gain his bearings. "We should not keep it waiting." He swept off, his long black duster billowing behind him, cutting a menacing silhouette as he stomped into the foggy distance.

I started after him, but I felt a hand gently tug at mine.

"K-Keira," Murphy said, my name still sounding foreign in his voice. "I want you to know that I don't blame you for this...neither does Anabelle. She's just...upset right now."

I raised my eyebrows. "Don't explain yourself or Anabelle's actions," I said. "I can't imagine what the two of you are going through right now."

He chewed on his lip for a moment. "Have you ever loved someone so much that the thought of losing them makes it hard to breathe?"

I inhaled, and my eyes instinctively sought Reaver, who was a good distance away now. "I've lost a lot of people I love, Murphy, but...yes. Yes I have." When my vision snapped back to him, there was a sort of understanding in his eyes, and he grasped both of my hands in his.

"Then you understand why I am doing this, and you understand why Anabelle acted as she did," he said.

I nodded quietly. How foolish I felt that Murphy now knew my pitiful, unrequited love for my husband. I could only hope that he didn't think me weak or naïve for it.

"I know that he is not a c-complete monster," Murphy said. "I have had the fortune to fall under his good graces as well as s-suffer his wrath. He is a selfish creature, yes, b-but there is something about him that is so magnetic...so easy to admire, but it is so deeply hidden... I can only hope that the love of an extraordinary woman like you can bring that out in him." He released me, and he, too, started toward Bloodstone Manor.

A/N: With the holidays coming up, I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish this one as quickly as I did. I've already got the next chapter in the works, so hold onto your seats! Thanks to everyone for the views and reviews. If you haven't already, Favorite/Follow the story so that you get notifications when I update! And don't forget to review! It really helps motivate me when I'm feeling down or stuck!

I'd also like to thank my betareader angelacm for helping me so much with the wedding ceremony. It was a tough one to right, but she helped me get the mood and the words just right! THANKS!