Veriel's Tales I- Crossbearer Turned

Crossbearer Turned Veriel’s Tales, Book One

BRENNA LYONS

Published by Phaze Books Also by Brenna Lyons

Black Sail Conquest Mama’s Tales The Last of Fion’s Daughters The Color of Love We Shall Live Again Phaze in Verse ―The Fire God‘s Woman‖ from Coming Together: Under Fire Last Chance for Love Fates Magic Rites of Mating In Her Ladyship’s Service Matchmaker’s Misery Animal Instincts Night Warriors Will of the Stone Bearing Armen

This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children.

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Crossbearer Turned Veriel’s Tales, Book One

BRENNA LYONS

Veriel’s Tales: Crossbearer Turned copyright 2004-5, 2009 by Brenna Lyons All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Phaze Production Phaze Books 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC. To order additional copies of this book, contact: [email protected] www.Phaze.com Cover art © 2009 Kendra Egert Edited by Kathryn Lively eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-155-0 First Phaze Edition – August, 2009 Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Dedicated to… My brother and sisters, for teaching me that there is more than one side to any story. John Malkovich‘s performance of Jekyll and Hyde in Mary Rielly, for confirming my belief that a man can be both villain and hero, driven to madness and torn to be what he can never be in either state. Hollie…I told you Jörg was coming back! My inability to believe that anyone can be all bad—or all good, even the Warriors.

BRENNA LYONS

Glossary of Warrior Terms Beast- Beasts are what humans erroneously refer to as vampires. The stories humans tell are obviously not correct, but you can‘t expect a human to get everything right. Blutjagd- The ―blood hunt.‖ Warriors crave battle with the beasts, as the beasts crave blood. Warriors are tied to beasts in that they sense many of the beasts‘ special powers. A Warrior can feel the use of coercion, feeding, and other controls of humans. They also feel other Warriors engaged in Blutjagd, the death of beasts and Warriors in their range, and the presence of nearby beasts that are not fully ghosted. Rigorous battle training will quell the Blutjagd for short periods of time. Elder- One of the original beasts, the Stone stealers who were damned for their crimes against the Stone and the Warriors. The elders are gifted with powers turned beasts are not, including the ability to reproduce with a Blutjagdfrau, the ability to turn other beasts, and the inability to be killed by anyone but a Warrior. Endspiel- The point in printing when a Warrior must either seal printing or go insane. A Warrior who feels printing may not progress should break printing long before this point. Note that they are rarely smart enough to do so. Fluch- The Warrior‘s curse, passed from father to son or daughter. The Fluch may be removed from a daughter but never a son. If the Fluch is not removed in the Zeremonie der Freiheit by the time the menses begin or the Zeremonie des Schutzes is performed before freeing, the daughter is cursed to become Blutjagdfrau, a female Warrior. Because elders target Blutjagdfrau as mates, Warrior fathers will go to any lengths to free a daughter not marked by the Stone. Ghosting- A talent that both beasts and Cursed Warriors learn to harness. Ghosting can hide the physical form of Cursed Warriors

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or beasts and all they hold or carry from each other and humans. In a lesser strength, it can ―blur‖ the image of the user so that humans do not note the passage in particular but still see a person there, which avoids accidental collisions. Even a ghosted beast cannot hide uses of power that a Warrior can track. Warriors sometimes ghost in tandem to remain visible to each other but not other Warriors or beasts. Krankheit- The ―sealing sickness.‖ In the final stage of the transformation between human and Cursed Warrior, at or about the sixteenth birthday in males and a year after the start of menses in females, the sickness strikes. The young Warrior will suffer nausea, vomiting, a high fever, disorientation, dizziness and may become incoherent. It is usually the only time in a Warrior‘s life that he or she becomes ill, save morning sickness in a Blutjagdfrau. Printing- Like imprinting, a Warrior becomes tied to his mate for life. He cannot choose another if she‘s lost, cannot be unfaithful while she lives, and cannot ever divorce or otherwise dissolve the union. A printed Warrior is the most stable of men, unless his mate or children are endangered or lost. Then he will suffer the printing madness and may have to be killed by his house. Likewise, a Warrior who breaks printing, even early printing, will suffer for it. A Warrior who breaks printing too close to Endspiel will face the madness. Veriel- The Mad Elder. The Destroyer of Lives. The Mad Deceiver, who led the traitors and freed the elders from the Stone. The most hated and hunted of all the beasts. Fixated on one woman, he would destroy the world to own her. Or... At least, that‘s what the stories say of him. Warriors- Also called Cursed Warriors, Krieger der Nacht, Soldat der Nacht, or Sons of the Stone. The Warriors were an ancient race of protectors who spawned the beasts and now are driven to hunt their former brothers to extinction.

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Table of Contents Crossbearer Turned ............................................................................. 10 Warrior’s Poetry ................................................................................ 235 Excerpt from Early Histories ............................................................. 238 Excerpts from The Kaufmann Histories ............................................. 247 Excerpt from The First Book of Texts ................................................ 249

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Crossbearer Turned Kreuzträger Gedreht The major players of the houses of the first cursed… House Schwertträger (Swordbearer, later known as Armen)— Gawen Lord Schwertträger, Stone lord, and his chosen mate Bavin Regana, the chosen of Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger Abbo and Marcwi, parents of Gawen and Regana House Kreuzträger (Crossbearer, later known as Cross)— Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger and his chosen mate Regana Kethe, the chosen of Thorald, village leader Andris, son of Pauwel and Regana and his chosen mate Berna House Jäger (Hunter)— Ditrich Lord Jäger and his chosen mate Anabilia House Schmied (Smith)— Cunczel Lord Schmied and his chosen mate Lela Sibold of Schmied, master trainer to the first cursed and Stone lord House Landwirt (Farmer)— Gerhardus (known as Ger) Lord Landwirt and his chosen mate Ingela Berna, daughter of Ger and Ingela and chosen of Andris Lord Crossbearer House Maher— Wilhelmus (known as Wil) Lord Maher and his chosen mate Evfemia Riberta of Maher

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House Kaufmann— Olbrecht Lord Kaufmann and his chosen mate Lenne The beast elders— Jörg, the beast Veriel Tilbrand, the beast Resten Dado, the beast Lorian Bertolf, the beast Draden Redulf, the beast Carstol Geldric, the beast Cerran Major players in the village— Eberhard, the leader at the births of the first cursed and elders Marclef, the leader at the fall of the elders Thorald, the leader after Marclef Emecin, midwife and mother of Landric, the healer

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Prologue 484 AD

Gawen marched over the uneven ground. The trees were thick but thinning as he neared the planting fields and home. His kill was slung over his shoulder. It was only a small deer, hardly larger than a wolf, but it would feed his family well. He hefted it as if it weighed not a thing. At nine, he was already the size of many of the smaller men in the village, and the deer was not a burden to him at all. In a land full of tall, broad men with eyes as fair as a summer sky and hair the color of grain and fire and clouds, he was one of the marked. The Stone-Chosen were all dark haired—black except for the brown of Jörg‘s—and had deep brown or black eyes—except for the silver-gray of Jörg‘s and Wil‘s dark blue ones. Larger even than the largest of the local men in adulthood, the Stone-Chosen were giants even amongst the giants. He scowled at the birthmark on his wrist. The blood mark given him by the Stone was the mark of Syth, the mark of the chosen master trainer and Stone lord. He was to be Sibold‘s replacement when the time came. Most days, being chosen was simply what Gawen was. He no longer strutted about as if it made him important as he had when he was five and he had been given the duty of watching out for his younger brothers when they were brought to Sibold to play at battle with wooden weapons and hear the stories of the ancients that would define their places as protectors to the village. Their formal training would not begin for many years—at fifteen. Gawen would be fully trained by the time the next, that insolent pup Tilbrand, was ready to begin his training. He

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secretly hoped Sibold would take on Tilbrand personally and knock the cocky attitude out of him quickly while Gawen worked with Wil. He would be a man of twenty-four by the time Jörg began his training. Gawen knew Sibold and Eberhard, the village leader, were still searching for more of his brothers. The thought chilled him. They already numbered thirteen, and at times, controlling them was like reasoning with wolf pups. He sighed at the thought that Ditrich would join the play in half a year. Jörg was still a babe and would not join them for almost three years. When he did, it would be up to Gawen to shield him. Though Jörg had the blood mark of Reg—the intensity of the base of the fire, as proof of his status, prominent on the front of his shoulder, his features were different enough to cause dissention. With his rich brown hair and silver eyes, the difference had been noted immediately. Tilbrand had already been censured for wondering aloud if the difference in appearance denoted a weakness in the boy. Sibold had high hopes for Jörg. He‘d confided in Gawen that the Stone had named their youngest brother the greatest Warrior, their champion. Though Gawen was slated to lead, he would not be the strongest. He smiled at the thought that Jörg would be hard pressed to prove his place with twelve older brothers wrestling to knock him from his perch. Strangely enough, Pauwel stood out as the shining star with his blood mark of Ori—the sun, even at only four years of age. If anyone would be a challenge to Jörg, it would be Pauwel, and Gawen was not sure that Jörg could live up to that challenge. He furrowed his brow in concern. Being the most powerful Warrior made Jörg the weakest in other areas. He would be most unable to control his Blutjagd, most affected by printing, and most susceptible to being lost to madness. But, it was still a matter of many years before they had to worry about any of that. Still, the fact that Jörg‘s family‘s lands bordered his own was lucky. Sibold had given Gawen the duty of protecting their tiny, fatherless treasure as much as the fates permitted. Gawen waved to a man from the village that was working

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cutting firewood; he sighed as the man bowed his head respectfully, fearfully. It had been millennia since more than two or three had been chosen by the Stone at once and more than a century since there had been more than one. The villagers were panicked and suspicious to have so many chosen. Gawen hated the fear in their eyes. Even if there was a war coming, and by all reports it seemed there was, it was not the fault of the Warriors. Their duty was to fight to their deaths to protect all within the village. They were not the most pressing threat. The foederati was unsettled. The peace was tenuous at best. It had been ten years since Sidonius had been exiled after his battle with Elric of the Goths. Childric had continued the expansion of his father, Merovech of Chlogio, Chief of the Salian Franks, alternately allying himself with Rome and pushing the borders back to the Somme River. Three years in power, Childric‘s son, a man named Clovis, was attempting to continue the process of subduing friends and foes alike. His borders stretched out from the Pyrenees to the Rhine. Now, word was in the wind that Clovis and Ragnachar, his kinsman, would seek to take Syagrius at Soissons soon. All these things were told him by Sibold, most of it knowledge imparted to the master trainer by the Stone. Gawen learned it all faithfully, knowing that the fight would eventually come to their village. Until then, it was a mass of politics and battles that had little bearing on this place hidden away from such things. Gawen‘s people no longer bothered much with distinctions. In this region, only the tribe was of importance, only the village. Romans, Gauls, Christians, or Barbarians were of no importance here. Even the fact that Pauwel, the grandson of a Christian emissary who intermarried and produced an heir that now served the Stone of his grandmother‘s gods was hardly reason to wonder in a place like this. Buried deep in mountains rich in iron and fertile for farming, the village prospered under the protection of the Stone. The Stone chose its people well, and the bargain had been sealed

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in blood and power. Every generation, a boy was born of a different family, chosen by the Stone to be its lord and confidant. On occasion, two were born...or three, based on the Stone‘s perception of the coming need of the village. The Stone lord was always apparent by the mark of Syth. There were twenty symbols in the ancient language, and the Stone marked its choice of any of the aspects on its chosen— except Zel, signifying an end, Jee for Justice, or Ani—the sign of the birth mother of beast killers. Those were signs of war and death coming. Tilbrand had been born with the sign of Wul—the cunning and feared wolf. It was a rare symbol, but it seemed appropriate for Tilbrand. Wilhelmus, Wil, carried the sign of Len—the strength of the mountain, and he was already a mountain of a young Warrior. Olbrecht had been born as Baroo—thunder, and Dado was Pol—the strength and speed of the horse. Cunczel was Vin—the untamable wind, Bertolf was Nul—the darkest night and stealth personified, and Redulf was Iol—immovable ice. Ditrich was Dobler—the twin peace bringer and diplomat, while Geldric was Fih—war personified and Dobler’s opposite number. Gerhardus, Ger, was Hir—the cool depth of the wood. For millennia, the Stone had protected the village, but many felt the coming situation was hopeless. Only once before in recorded history had there been so many chosen. Gawen knew that the villagers weren‘t sure whether to fear another beast war or an enemy so dire as to require thirteen Warriors more. Sibold‘s magic should be sufficient to prevent beasts, but with the political situation, Gawen wasn‘t sure even the entire seventeen allowed blood marks would suffice. In the end, Zel and Jee might be required, and the village might be lost. In that case, Gawen would take the Stone away as was his duty, followed by whatever brothers remained, to find a new home. Gawen speeded his step as his home came into view. For some reason, he was suddenly glad to be there. He wanted to run his hands over the baby growing inside his mother Marcwi, a brother or sister in blood that he had almost given up hope of ever having. His breath caught, and he ranged his gaze over the group of

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people in the main room, his hand tightening on the edge of the rough door. His father, Abbo, wouldn‘t meet his eyes. Eberhard and Sibold stared at Gawen in a calculated way that made him uneasy, and he retraced his steps over the past few days to assure himself that he could not be in danger of censure for some misdeed. When his gaze fell on Emecin, the young midwife who assisted Adalind as she learned her craft, peeking around Sibold‘s shoulder and looking grim, his blood ran cold. There was a problem with the baby, he guessed. His hopes of being a true brother seemed to crumble within him as he recognized the sound of weeping from his mother‘s bedchamber. The fates could not be so cruel! It was the only thing Gawen wished for, and they could not take it from him this way after all the months of hoping and watching the baby grow in Marcwi‘s belly. Sibold smiled warmly. ―Do not be concerned, Gawen. Come meet your sister.‖ He turned and scooped a baby from Emecin‘s hands to show her to her brother. Gawen smiled widely and dropped his kill on the table as he made his way to her. She met his eyes evenly and seemed to assess him before yawning. She was newly born, still covered in a slick of their mother‘s blood and a milky substance he had seen on other new babies. Her eyes widened, as he stroked her cheek and hair with one huge finger. Her eyes were as dark as the night sky beneath a sea of black hair that was soft as down. ―She looks like me, Father,‖ he exclaimed excitedly. Abbo winced, then cast a sad look at his son, but Gawen gave it hardly a thought. Surely, it was an aberration of some sort. The Stone didn‘t choose female Warriors. ―Yes,‖ his father agreed quietly. ―Yes, she does, Gawen.‖ Sibold nodded his head. ―You are her personal protector, Gawen. No matter what happens, it is your duty to keep her always safe.‖ Gawen furrowed his brow. ―Of course. She is mine, a woman of my house,‖ he replied seriously. A Warrior‘s duty to his house, especially women of his house, was taught early, before any other consideration.

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―More than that, Gawen. The Stone demands this duty of you. Love and protect her as the Stone demands—with your life, if necessary.‖ He nodded soberly, unable to conceive of a duty greater than that to any woman of his house but accepting that it must be so if Sibold said it was. He put out his hands to accept her into his care, and Sibold placed his sister in his arms gingerly. Gawen laughed in glee, as she grasped his finger while he tickled her cheek. ―What would you name her, Gawen?‖ Sibold asked quietly. Gawen looked at him in shock and dismay. ―My mother?‖ ―She lives, though she is very weak. The child is yours, Gawen. What would you name her?‖ He looked to his father, but Abbo shook his head and left, seemingly saddened. The door closed behind him with a chilling finality. Gawen felt his heart begin to pound. They really meant to give him this child as his own responsibility. They meant for Gawen to raise her as if she were his own. ―Gana,‖ he decided. ―Regana,‖ Sibold corrected him. ―Her name is Regana. The Stone approves of her name.‖ Gawen nodded quietly. ―Regana.‖ He smiled as she brushed her mouth over his fingertip, rooting for food, his concerns momentarily forgotten. ―You hear that, little one? You are mine. You have to obey me,‖ he ordered her. ―I never said that,‖ Sibold interrupted him. ―In fact, I wouldn‘t expect it of her.‖ ****

492 AD ―Tilbrand, hold,‖ Gawen thundered. He bolted across the open area in the training building, his younger cursed brothers scattering in his wake. Gawen hit Tilbrand with a straight-arm to the chest, sending him crashing to the ground while he swept the troublesome, curly-headed child between them onto his shoulder. Jörg took one look at Gawen‘s scowl and turned from the

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encounter, running for the safety of the group by the wall. Gawen nodded at his retreating back. He tightened his grip on Regana as she tried to kick her way down. ―Stop it,‖ he grumbled at her. Tilbrand found his feet again. ―Disarm,‖ he ordered the unruly boy. Tilbrand glared at him, but he sheathed his weapon. ―I only wanted to teach them a lesson, Gawen,‖ he fumed. ―You let her run wild. She shouldn‘t even be here.‖ ―You shouldn‘t be antagonizing the little ones,‖ he countered. ―If you left them to themselves,‖ he smiled a crooked smile, ―they wouldn‘t be forced to prove who is better trained. At least they understand teamwork.‖ Tilbrand darkened in anger. ―This is the Warriors‘ training area, not a play area for little girls who need leading strings,‖ he shot back. ―You should have Eberhard‘s daughter nurse for you.‖ Regana fought her brother‘s grip, trying to exact her own retaliation for that remark. Gawen crushed her to his shoulder with one huge hand. ―Regana is my responsibility, no one else‘s. She will stay here under my care.‖ ―Yes, she will,‖ Sibold assured them, calmly walking to them, a disapproving look etched on his ancient face. Gawen sighed as Regana stilled, then shrank closer to him. At least she had the common sense to be afraid of the master trainer. He raised an eyebrow at Gawen. ―Take Regana outside to wait for me,‖ he instructed. ―Yes, Sibold.‖ Gawen ground his teeth at Tilbrand‘s smirk; but from the indulgent look Sibold tossed after the tiny girl, he guessed whose side the master trainer would ultimately take—as usual. In the tree line, he set Regana on her bottom. ―Stay there,‖ Gawen ordered as he sat beside her. She raised her chin a notch, but she sat fairly still, a miracle in the making! Gawen took in the dirty face, red cheek, and the mussed hair critically before sighing and retying the thong that

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held her hair back. Regana fidgeted and shot him an annoyed look that warned of her intent to flee such ministrations, but she let him smooth her hair. She looked to the doors of the training area nervously. ―Is Tilbrand in trouble?‖ ―I don‘t know,‖ Gawen admitted. ―He should be,‖ she decided angrily. ―So should you,‖ he reminded her. ―For what?‖ she demanded. ―He struck Jörg for no reason.‖ ―And you struck him.‖ Her face darkened. ―Only in defense,‖ she protested weakly. ―It is not your place to discipline the trainees. It is mine. All you did was anger Tilbrand. That‘s why he struck you.‖ Regana nodded, her fidgeting more pronounced. ―Now Jörg may be censured as well. He struck Tilbrand in defense of you.‖ And downed the older boy easily! Tilbrand—at fifteen and half again as tall as Jörg was—never saw the punch that knocked him flat. Her eyes widened, and she looked at him fearfully. ―Jörg won‘t really get in trouble, will he?‖ Gawen sighed. ―I don‘t know. That is Sibold‘s choice.‖ Regana nodded miserably and curled under his arm for comfort. Gawen pulled her into his lap. At barely eight years old, she was less than half his height and tiny, even for a girl. But her stature hid more strength than Tilbrand had bargained for. Gawen smiled, wrapping her in his arms and smoothing her hair. Regana had always delighted him, unless she was frustrating him or scaring him to death. He had never seen a little girl like her before. Gawen sobered slightly in realization; that was at least partly his own fault. Abbo seemed to have abdicated all parental responsibilities the day Regana was born. When he‘d walked out the door, he‘d never come back as a father for either of his children. Marcwi had lived long enough to nurse and waste-train her daughter, but she was never the same animated woman Gawen remembered. She‘d died when Regana was too young to remember her. For all

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that he was alive, Abbo had been as much a stranger to his daughter when he died shortly after his son reached sixteen. That had left Regana almost exclusively in her brother‘s care. As much as Gawen enjoyed caring for Regana, he wondered if he was doing right by her. She had no females to learn womanly arts and attitudes from, and some of the things she picked up from the young Warriors were wholly inappropriate. Already, he‘d had to correct some of the more colorful phrases she had been introduced to. Regana was learning to fight by watching the boys and by earning her lumps when her brother‘s back was turned. Her closest friend and confidant was Jörg. His father had died before he was born, and his mother had been at a loss for raising such a spirited and headstrong child. She‘d leapt at the chance to have Gawen guide him, as Sibold requested, and Jörg had attached himself to both Gawen and Regana immediately. The two were inseparable. From the first time they‘d met, any trouble one had stumbled or run headlong into, the other had been involved somehow. Gawen had worried about them playing in the woods between the houses, but he‘d soon learned that nothing in the wood would dare hurt them. Whether they were blessed or simply too spry to be caught aside, he was surprised he hadn‘t gone gray prematurely dealing with them. Neither of them seemed to have any concept of the dangers around them. Sibold smiled as he strolled toward them. Gawen wondered how he, Sibold‘s Stone-Chosen replacement and a military leader, had somehow become a nursemaid to all the children, but he supposed being responsible for them in battle and when they were walking the edges of madness had to start somewhere. ―You were always good with her,‖ the master trainer complimented him. ―If only she would listen,‖ Gawen noted in exasperation. ―You do not follow orders well, young lady,‖ Sibold scolded her, studiously hiding a smile. Regana looked at him shyly, then buried her face in Gawen‘s chest. Her brother sighed. Regana had always treated Sibold this way, despite the fact that it was obvious to everyone

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that the master trainer was akin to a faithful servant to her every whim. ―I don‘t understand it. She fears you for no good reason,‖ Gawen complained. ―She doesn‘t fear me. She is fearless,‖ the old man replied in admiration. ―Regana?‖ She peeked at Sibold, and he smiled. ―Did Tilbrand hurt you?‖ he asked. She shook her head. Sibold touched her bruised cheek gently. ―You must become a lady soon, you know.‖ Regana scrunched up her nose in distaste. ―I don‘t want to be a lady,‖ she informed him stubbornly. Sibold laughed. ―What would you like to be?‖ ―A Warrior,‖ she decided. ―That I cannot grant, though you might make a better one than some of those boys,‖ he teased. Regana smiled in response. ―No, you must learn to be a lady. Look on it as doing battle.‖ ―I thought you wanted her to stay here?‖ Gawen asked in confusion. ―I do. Kethe and Evfemia could come here to instruct her. I‘m sure you can impart household arts.‖ Gawen darkened. ―I can, but I‘m not sure she will learn it.‖ ―She will if I tell her to,‖ Sibold stated with a warning note that Gawen rarely heard where Regana was concerned. The girl nodded solemnly, knowing that no one balked that tone with Sibold. ―See? She will behave for the older girls.‖ ―I will believe it when I see it,‖ Gawen muttered. ―She will, and someday she will wed a Warrior,‖ Sibold imparted fondly. Regana made a sour face at the idea. ―Is Jörg in trouble?‖ she asked, changing the subject. Sibold sighed. ―I put him to work to keep him out of trouble, just as I am doing for you.‖ ―But, it was Tilbrand‘s fault,‖ she challenged.

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Sibold smiled at Gawen. ―I told you she didn‘t fear me.‖ He met her eyes sadly. ―Jörg must learn control, Regana. I know he believes he was only defending you, but he must learn to control his urge to fight before it controls him.‖ ―What about Tilbrand?‖ she demanded. ―He has a special duty,‖ he assured her. Gawen arched an eyebrow at the old man. ―He does?‖ ―I decided that Tilbrand has no appreciation for the sacred duty of those he must protect. Striking a defenseless child, a girl—‖ ―Defenseless?‖ Gawen laughed harshly at the thought of it. ―He pulled his blade, Gawen,‖ Sibold reminded him. He sobered instantly. ―Yes, he did,‖ he whispered, pulling Regana firmly to his broad chest. ―He won‘t do it again. I have stripped him of his weapons until the next new moon.‖ ―That‘s more than two weeks away.‖ ―You‘re right. For that period of time, he will be responsible for our two youngest children.‖ ―Ditrich and Jörg will keep him busy,‖ Gawen decided. Sibold shook his head. ―No. I meant Jörg and Regana.‖ Regana sank further into his chest. ―We don‘t like Tilbrand,‖ she pleaded with Gawen quietly. His breathing seemed strangled. Regana was his responsibility, no one else‘s. ―I don‘t like this, Sibold.‖ ―He will not hurt them. I guarantee it.‖ ―If he does, he will answer to me,‖ Gawen promised. ―Only after I‘ve finished with him.‖ **** Regana sighed and dropped her sewing into the basket at her feet. She leaned on the wall and watched Gawen training with Wil. ―What is wrong?‖ Kethe asked, her blue eyes darkening with concern. ―I hate sewing,‖ Regana moaned. ―You hate everything,‖ Evfemia remarked.

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―Not everything. Just everything a lady is supposed to do,‖ she countered, kicking her feet at the long skirts in annoyance. The skirts were another of Sibold‘s ideas for turning her into a lady. Her face was washed, her hair neatly bound, and Regana hated every minute of it. She sighed once again. ―I‘ll never be a lady.‖ ―You won‘t be if you don‘t try,‖ Evfemia noted. ―Doesn‘t a lady do anything interesting?‖ ―Like what?‖ Kethe inquired. ―Never mind. I‘m going home. If I don‘t move, I‘ll go mad.‖ Regana rose and started away, collecting the hated sewing. Tilbrand met her at the doorway, looking forbidding. ―Where are you going?‖ he demanded. ―Home. I can find my way,‖ she assured him. ―No, you don‘t. I‘m responsible for both of you. You stay or you both go.‖ ―Fine,‖ she answered from between clenched teeth. Regana turned on her heel and stormed to Jörg. ―Come on,‖ she told him. ―I have to—‖ ―I‘ll help you tomorrow,‖ she cut him off cleanly. ―Sibold won‘t allow it,‖ he protested. ―Tilbrand won‘t let me leave unless you do, too. Walk home with me and come back once he leaves. Please, Jörg.‖ Regana knew the moment she won. His scowl turned into a crooked smile, and he snuck a glance at Gawen before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the door a little faster than her skirts allowed comfortably. They tripped out past Tilbrand, Regana giggling at the end of Jörg‘s arm and gripping her basket of sewing. She loathed sewing and wished she could throw it off the highest peak. ―Come on,‖ Jörg ordered Tilbrand in good-natured amusement. ―We‘ll take up as little of your time as we can.‖ Tilbrand grunted his agreement and started walking, the two of them at his heels. Regana fought her skirts most of the way. It seemed she was constantly tripping over them or getting tangled in the hem. Several times, Tilbrand turned to give her

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dirty looks. Finally, she retaliated. ―If you want me to handle my skirts, carry the basket,‖ she demanded of him. ―Have Jörg do it.‖ ―In case you haven‘t noticed, he is keeping me from falling and hurting myself. You can do one or the other.‖ Jörg met her eyes in surprise. ―Give me the basket,‖ Tilbrand barked. Regana raised an eyebrow at Jörg as she handed the basket to the older boy. ―Told you,‖ she assured him. ―Come on,‖ Tilbrand demanded. ―If I have to play nurse, at least I can do it inside.‖ Regana looked at him in shock. ―You‘re not staying,‖ she decided. ―Just see me home. I‘ll be fine there.‖ ―That‘s not what Sibold ordered.‖ Regana shot a seething look at his back and started hiking her skirts into her belt in annoyance. Jörg looked at her in dismay, and she motioned him for silence. She cut her path in a diagonal and shot silently onto a footpath through the trees. Regana knew Jörg would follow her, so she didn‘t waste time looking to see that he did. They didn‘t make a sound, when Tilbrand realized they were gone. They didn‘t slow their escape, when he roared out an order for them to return. He had no chance of ever finding them now, and Regana was determined not to let anyone order her life like this. When they reached the great Oak, Jörg passed her up onto the lowest branch without breaking stride and followed her up into the thick cover higher up. They listened to Tilbrand searching below in amusement and moved in from the dense leaf cover to lounge on the thick branches near the trunk when he was gone. ―Why are we doing this?‖ Jörg whispered. ―I‘m tired of everyone else‘s plans for me. I don‘t want to be a lady. I hate it. I hate sewing. I hate the long skirts. I hate sitting around. I hate everything about it.‖ ―You like cooking,‖ he noted. ―Gawen cooks. That‘s not strictly something ladies do,‖ she

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countered. ―I guess. So, why this?‖ ―Tilbrand! Do you really want to spend the day with him lording over us? I don‘t.‖ ―Sibold ordered it,‖ Jörg rationalized. ―I‘m not allowed to be a Warrior. I don‘t have to listen to Sibold.‖ ―I do,‖ he breathed, looking worried. Regana chewed at her lower lip. ―You‘re right. You should go back. You‘ll get into a lot more trouble than I will.‖ ―Are you joking? Tilbrand will kill me. Besides, if I leave you up here in long skirts, Gawen will kill me.‖ ―They‘re tucked up. I‘ll be fine.‖ His eyes lit in mischief again. ―This is too much fun,‖ he admitted. ―Good. Then we‘ll stay here.‖ ―How long?‖ ―Forever,‖ she replied in a wistful voice. ―We‘ll starve.‖ ―Okay. Evening meal, but forever sounds better,‖ she decided. ―Why?‖ Jörg asked as he changed position to face her, nestling his back to the rough trunk. ―Do you know why they want to make me a lady?‖ He seemed to consider that for a long moment. ―No. Not really.‖ ―They want me to marry a Warrior,‖ she confided, wrinkling her nose in distaste. ―Can you imagine me married to Tilbrand or Wil?‖ ―Stand down,‖ Jörg ordered in mock offense. ―Not all Warriors are bad. I‘m a Warrior. You don‘t seem to mind my company.‖ ―You want to marry me?‖ Regana asked pointedly. Jörg darkened. ―Well...no. I don‘t want to marry anyone, actually.‖ ―Neither do I.‖ ―I know.‖ Jörg hesitated, as if he couldn‘t decide how to proceed. ―But, they keep telling us we have to someday.‖ He

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furrowed his brow. ―I have an idea.‖ ―What?‖ Regana asked suspiciously. ―I‘m not going to a convent.‖ ―Marry me,‖ he teased. ―I told you, I don‘t want to marry anyone,‖ she reminded him. ―Neither do I, but we have to marry someone. Why not marry a friend I can climb trees with?‖ ―That‘s not a bad plan,‖ Regana mused. ―Give me your word,‖ he demanded quietly. Regana reached her knife out of her belt and sliced a shallow line down her right palm. She handed him the knife solemnly. Jörg took it, his expression fierce. ―You want to take a blood oath?‖ he asked. ―Are you sure?‖ ―Why not? I can‘t imagine ever marrying one of those other boys.‖ She shrugged. He nodded and sliced his own hand. Jörg handed the knife back and clasped her palm to his own. ―It‘s an oath,‖ he assured her. ―We marry no one but each other.‖ **** ―Gawen,‖ Tilbrand called him in annoyance. Gawen took in his red-faced fury in concern and darted his gaze around the training area. He cursed solidly as he made his way to the boy. ―Where are they?‖ he asked in exasperation. ―If I knew that, they‘d be here—preferably bound and gagged.‖ Gawen nodded in understanding. He‘d considered that option on more than one occasion. ―What happened?‖ ―They slipped into the woods and ran,‖ he reported. ―Near my lands?‖ ―Yes.‖ ―Come with me. I know where they‘ve gone.‖ ―How?‖ ―Six years of practice,‖ Gawen spat. Tilbrand bit back a smile at the thought. ―Should I tell

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Sibold?‖ he asked seriously. Gawen sighed. ―You better. I‘m sure he‘ll have words for them, and his presence just might save that pup from me.‖ When they reached Regana‘s tree, Tilbrand looked into the branches in confusion. ―They‘re not up there. I already looked.‖ Gawen smiled and raised an eyebrow. ―Regana, show yourself! If I have to come up after you...‖ he let the warning hang. ―Oh, Gawen,‖ she complained. ―I just wanted some peace.‖ ―And Jörg?‖ he asked pointedly. She slid into view, laid across a high limb, smiling innocently as a sprite. ―I dragged him along,‖ she admitted. ―I refused to go back, and he knew you and Tilbrand would kill him if he came back without me.‖ ―You forgot me, young lady,‖ Sibold boomed out. Her smile disappeared. Regana swallowed hard enough that Gawen could hear it from the ground, and Jörg appeared on a limb above her. ―We‘re coming down, Sibold,‖ she assured him, dropping her legs over the edge of the branch, her skirts looped up above her knees for climbing. Gawen started at the view she presented. He pushed Tilbrand well out of range, as she swung herself toward a lower branch. Sibold‘s eyes widened, and he looked away, working at words that didn‘t come. ―Regana, your skirts,‖ Gawen complained. ―How else was I supposed to climb in it?‖ she demanded. Sibold found his voice. ―Ladies do not climb,‖ he assured her. ―That‘s the problem. I am not a lady, and a lady‘s skirts won‘t change that.‖ ―And you thought she was frightened of me,‖ Sibold muttered to Gawen. He didn‘t answer. Gawen was too busy watching the two children climb down. He saw the loop of skirt work free, but he didn‘t realize it was a problem until Regana tried to step down onto a lower branch. Her right foot got tangled in the hem, and her left slipped off of the branch while she tried to work it free.

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At her scream of terror, Jörg‘s head snapped down. His eyes widened at the sight of her hanging by her hands, and he dropped to the branch he was standing on and swung himself down to hang beneath it by his knees. Gawen white-knuckled the branch just above his head, weighing his options for breaking her fall. Jörg grabbed her wrists. ―Regana, look at me,‖ he ordered. She met his eyes, shaking in fear. ―Can you work your foot free?‖ Regana shook her head. ―It‘s stuck fast,‖ she decided miserably. ―If I lift you to the branch above, can you straddle it and hold on?‖ ―I think so.‖ ―We‘ll do that then.‖ Jörg lifted her easily and turned Regana to help her over the limb. ―One hand at a time,‖ he told her, releasing one and waiting for her to grip the branch before releasing the other wrist. ―Sit still. I‘m coming down to you.‖ Jörg grabbed the branch his legs were on and lowered himself behind her smoothly. While the two older men watched, he leaned around her to work the skirt free from her foot. He looped it back into her belt and tucked it in firmly. ―Can you climb down, now?‖ he asked. ―Not in this,‖ she replied, obviously shaken. Jörg nodded. ―I‘ll get you down.‖ He stood on the limb and stepped around her carefully before lowering himself in front of Regana with his back to her. ―Wrap your arms and legs around me,‖ he instructed. ―What?‖ she asked in confusion. ―Either you climb or you hold on and I carry you. Which is it?‖ She hesitated for just a moment before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. ―I‘m ready,‖ Regana told him, burying her face in his back. Jörg swung down the remaining branches easily, even with Regana‘s added weight. On the ground, he faced Gawen and swallowed hard. ―If you‘re going to strike me, please take Regana off first,‖ he requested. ―I‘ll take the punishment. Just

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don‘t place her in the middle.‖ Gawen took Regana from him, shaking so badly that he could barely stand. He let down her skirts while she clung to him. ―Regana, I have never hit you in anger,‖ he began. ―If you‘re going to, I accept it,‖ she breathed. ―Not this time. I think you‘ve suffered enough, but if you ever do it again...‖ he warned. ―I won‘t.‖ ―Are you all right?‖ ―I‘m fine.‖ Her voice sounded of exhaustion. She started to back away, but he grasped her hand. Regana wrenched it back and fisted it in her skirts. ―You‘re bleeding.‖ ―It‘s fine, Gawen,‖ she insisted. ―Let me see it,‖ he demanded gruffly. Regana hesitated, sighing before she opened her palm for his inspection. The cut was from a blade, not from tree bark. Gawen flicked a glance at Jörg suspiciously and noted that he had his hand fisted, too. ―What was the blood oath you took?‖ he asked. Regana bit her lower lip for a moment. ―Blood oaths are between the two people alone,‖ she informed him. Gawen glared at her, then slid his gaze to Jörg. ―Well?‖ he demanded, making no effort to hide the threat woven into his tone. Regana flashed Jörg a pleading look. The boy darkened. ―It is between us alone,‖ he repeated. ―Jörg,‖ Sibold barked. He winced. ―I‘m sorry, Sibold. I gave my word. Honor demands that I stand by it now.‖ ―Then honor has cost you extra duties. In the future, do not make pledges that will contradict your position.‖ ―Yes, Sibold,‖ he breathed miserably. Regana grimaced. ―I‘m sorry, Jörg. I keep getting you into trouble.‖ ―Don‘t apologize.‖ He smiled a secretive smile. ―Just remember that oath.‖ She smiled widely, and her eyes glowed in mischief.

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―Should I?‖ ―You had best remember it. It was a blood oath, and it was your idea. You‘re honor bound to it now.‖ Her smile disappeared. ―You planned this?‖ she half-asked, half-accused. ―Yes, I did,‖ he admitted happily. ―You sneak,‖ she shot at him. Jörg offered a comic bow and walked away with a smug smile on his face and Tilbrand in his wake. Regana fumed, mumbling curses at his retreating back. ―What was the oath, Regana?‖ Gawen demanded. ―Nothing he‘ll survive long enough to collect.‖ ―Now, my dear,‖ Sibold chided her. ―Is that ladylike?‖ ―Who cares?‖ she grumbled. ―I‘ll never be a lady.‖

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Chapter One 500 AD

Jörg swept Regana into his arms the moment she entered his chambers, stifling her laughter with a passionate kiss. He carried her to the furs before the roaring fire and deposited her gently on her feet. ―Undress for me,‖ he requested in a voice rough with his need. She smiled, no doubt in the knowledge of what the simple pleasure of seeing her disrobe did to him. Her movements had ceased to be tentative weeks ago, and the woman left was nothing but sensuous and bold. That, as much as her body, had him aching long before he took her every night she came to him. Disrobed and with her black hair cascading around her hips in silken waves, she reached her hands out to him in invitation. Regana was one of a kind, a rare jewel. She looked and acted like no other woman he‘d met. Some of the villagers considered her a bad omen, but Jörg could see nothing bad about her. Jörg groaned in anticipation as he took her mouth fiercely and drew a hand from her hip up to capture the full swell of her breast. ―All I can think about when you‘re not with me is this,‖ he breathed as he swept her down onto the furs with him and covered her with his body. ―I‘ve noticed,‖ she teased, running her hand over the bruise on his shoulder. ―Gawen will not be kind if you let your attention wander again.‖ ―Neither will Sibold, but enough of them. I want you.‖ ―Good,‖ she purred, moving against him purposefully. ―Tell me,‖ he requested. ―I am yours, Jörg.‖ ―You will marry me when the battle is over?‖ ―As soon as it is allowed. You are permitted your choice

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then, and Gawen must agree. He will be so intent on Bavin, he won‘t care about anything else.‖ She smiled widely. ―Besides, we have a blood oath,‖ she reminded him. Jörg chuckled. ―All that time, you complained that I tricked you to it, and now you throw it back at me,‖ he mused. ―You did, but maybe I wanted to be tricked.‖ She was suddenly very subdued. Jörg tried to meet her eyes. ―Regana?‖ She smiled weakly. ―I only fear that the others will learn about us. If they do, Gawen will kill you. You know he will.‖ Jörg sighed raggedly. ―If I don‘t have you, I die anyway.‖ He knew that was true. Jörg had fought off the fire in his blood for months before he gave in. Sibold had warned them about this part of the curse. With the speed, increased healing, reaction time, and Blutjagd—the thirst for the fight—came the sexual burn, the urge to choose a mate. Sibold had decreed that none could make that choice until after the battle, to maximize their Blutjagd in battle he was sure, but Jörg couldn‘t wait. The want had burned at him until he‘d felt he was going insane. He‘d felt himself printing and had been powerless to stop it. After that, Jörg had been tortured until he‘d consummated the union with Regana. Other women had ceased to be a comfort long before that time, though he still occasionally performed with one to this day—with Regana‘s blessing—so that no one would get suspicious. It surprised him that she‘d accepted him so readily. In retrospect, Jörg wondered if the Fluch—the curse—had helped in that respect somehow. Regana, though not the meek flower many in the village painted her, was still proper and fine, having left her tree climbing and hunting days far behind. Still she‘d reacted to his first, admittedly skirting the edges of brutal, advances so readily that he‘d rationalized later that the Fluch could only be to blame for her response somehow. He‘d rationalized that much later—after she‘d succumbed to him, after Jörg had taken her several times without even the benefit of shelter, after she‘d started coming to his chamber to meet him, once his mind had formed a truce with the fire that consumed him any night Regana did not come to lie with him.

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As he moved his hands over her, drawing her into a need that would have her ready for his invasion in mere moments, Jörg considered his situation. He had given up his life the first time he‘d touched her, with that first demanding kiss that he stole from her beneath their tree that had rolled over into his first possession of her with hardly a breath between. To this day, Jörg was not entirely sure what happened in those fevered moments between meeting her eyes and taking her on the cool grass, but once embarked upon, it was a course he could never turn from. Some part of him wasn‘t sure, even now, that Regana had admitted her willingness to the course, but she had been willing. He knew that much, and the knowledge had saved his soul and his life. In that pivotal moment, Jörg had broken the rules of training. Until he earned his seal and was granted his autonomy, he was at Sibold‘s whim, and Sibold would not be sparing in his death if he learned of this trespass. Worse, he‘d taken...and continued to take Regana, a Schwertträger woman. Her father was dead, but even were he not, by virtue of Gawen‘s place as first-cursed and having completed his training, he was lord of the house. By all rights, Jörg‘s life was forfeit to Gawen alone if they were caught. Blutjagd upon him, Gawen would demand Jörg‘s life when he could show mercy and be content with a beating for the trespass. Even if Gawen did show mercy, Sibold would not. If they were caught, Jörg would die by someone‘s hand within the hour. Regana moaned beneath him and arched to his caresses. His blood screamed for release, and he moved to take her, shuddering in pleasure as he thrust into her. Jörg took her fast and hard. He argued with himself often that he‘d like to take her slowly, but in the heat of the moment, he had no control. A part of him feared that he never would know such control with Regana, even when they gained the leisure of time for such pursuits. It was probably a good thing that she reveled in this type of passion. It would be over soon, the midnight meeting and hiding. The battle was less than a week off. Once they returned

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victorious, he could claim her openly, properly. His duty completed, Jörg would reap his reward. He would have his wife and children. He would live a life of ease, until duty called him again. Jörg roared out his release to the empty house around them, too empty since his mother had died, wrapping himself protectively around her. Anything for Regana! He would go into battle and face the gates of hell itself for her—and he might. They were outnumbered more than ten to one, but the Fluch allowed them the ability to defeat many more than that. “More than human,” he could hear Sibold quote in his mind. Jörg shuddered at the thought. Faster and stronger, yes. But in many ways, the Warriors were less than human now. They were vicious, predatory, territorial, rutting animals that were only stable killing or training to do so and lying with a woman. Regana was his salvation and his life. He held her close to him as long as she would allow and groaned in pleasure as she kissed his blood mark tenderly. Finally, she planted a kiss on his cheek and rose to collect her dress. She donned it quickly and pulled on her cloak against the chill of the night. As always, it was Regana who saw the truth that she must leave before they were discovered together. Left to Jörg, they would have been found in each other‘s arms at daybreak long ago. ―I live for the night you don‘t have to leave,‖ he told her yet again. It was an old refrain, but no less true. The idea of having her in his bed all night... To have her again and again in a night was his idea of paradise. Regana smiled patiently. ―Then make your choice of me as soon as the battle ends,‖ she teased. ―Tell them you‘ve printed so far that you cannot wait for the ceremony. By the while, I must go before Gawen finds me gone.‖ ―Take care, Geliebte,‖ he called after her as she left. Jörg smiled at the small endearment. Regana had always been his beloved. She would always be his only beloved. Jörg sighed as the door closed behind her. He stretched out on the furs and drank in the heat of the fire. It didn‘t warm him

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as much as Regana did, but until she was in his arms again, it would be his only comfort. Something intruded on his senses, and he furrowed his brow. Jörg couldn‘t identify it readily, save its obvious malice, and he sat up, grasping for his weapons. The blow to his head sent him sprawling over the drawn blade, and he vaguely felt it cut into his arm as he landed unceremoniously on the furs. A shadowy figure crossed the blurry brightness of the fire; then the darkness took him. **** ―You hit him too hard!‖ Jörg tried to place the disembodied voice that intruded on his slumber. Bertolf? But why would his cursed brothers... His heart sank. Regana! They had seen her leave his home and had taken him to face Gawen. He would die very shortly. ―Sunrise is coming soon. We can‘t hide him all day,‖ Geldric complained miserably. Hide me? Why would they bother to hide me? Jörg‘s death would be a very public display. A hand touched his neck, cold and somehow menacing even in its regard for his well being. ―Be calm. He wakes,‖ Tilbrand ordered the other men. The hand retreated, then smacked his cheek roughly. ―Wake, Jörg. Face us.‖ Jörg forced his eyelids up and squinted in the dim light of the training area. He groaned at the spike of pain that split his head in two and scanned his eyes over the men assembled around him: Dado, Redulf, Bertolf, Geldric, and Tilbrand. ―Where is Gawen?‖ he managed in a thick, confused voice. ―Are you so anxious to face him, Jörg?‖ Tilbrand asked in amusement. ―I don‘t understand,‖ he moaned, trying to find some sense in what they were saying. He would have no choice in facing Gawen. Surely, even now, the older Warrior was being dragged from his bed to come deal with the trespass to his house. Would Gawen strike Regana

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for her part in it? The thought hurt. He could do that, and in his fury, Gawen might do it. ―No one has informed Gawen...yet.‖ Jörg looked at them in apprehension for the first time. ―My penalty is in Gawen‘s hands alone,‖ he reminded them. They couldn‘t plan on taking the penalty themselves. The censure to them would be even higher than the censure to Jörg in its wake. They would overstep their bounds if they did so. ―We don‘t dispute that. We don‘t wish you to die, Jörg.‖ Tilbrand said it smoothly, too calmly for the younger man‘s comfort. ―We understand the fire in your soul for her. You are the greatest of us. It is only right that the one who burns brightest in battle is consumed in other ways as well.‖ ―Then, why have you done this?‖ he asked in confusion. ―We need your help.‖ ―In battle? Of course. If this is a warning to control the fire until after the battle, I understand.‖ The mixture of amusement and unease on the assembled faces set his teeth on edge. This was no simple warning. Jörg wasn‘t sure he was comfortable with whatever it was at this point. ―We need you for another reason, Jörg. We need you to remove the Stone for us.‖ ―You can‘t,‖ he protested. ―Sibold‘s magic protects the Stone from those who would use it selfishly.‖ ―Yes, it does,‖ Tilbrand spat. ―We cannot remove it. Only one who removes it with no intent of using its power selfishly can do so.‖ ―Why would I do that?‖ he asked weakly, suddenly shivering in the cold room, exposed before the older men in all, body and soul. ―Why would you?‖ ―To be victorious,‖ Geldric replied as if it should have been obvious. ―To be immortal,‖ Redulf added. ―I have no wish to die in battle.‖ Jörg could see the fear in his eyes. They‘d had no choice in their cursed state. They were born to it, and Redulf wanted no part of it.

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―Immortality without your soul?‖ Jörg asked in disbelief. ―You‘ve gone mad. Why should I do this? I would rather give my life to Gawen than free the Stone to you. That aside, pulling the Stone to save my life from Gawen‘s blade...or even Sibold‘s would be a selfish act. The Stone will not release to me.‖ He smiled at his victory, but his smile faded as Tilbrand threw back his head and laughed into the semi-darkness, a wild, frightening sound. At twenty-three, the only older first-cursed was Gawen himself. Tilbrand was a huge bear of a man, and Jörg suddenly felt small and defenseless. The older man‘s eyes were cold as the winter ice and friendly as a forged iron blade as he leaned over his prey. ―If that was your reason, you‘d be right,‖ he assured Jörg. ―You will not remove the Stone to save your own life. That would be selfish. I agree.‖ Jörg couldn‘t find his voice. A sick certainty cut through his heart like the slice of a weapon. He met those cold eyes again. ―You will take it for the most unselfish reason of all, to save an innocent woman.‖ His smile turned licentious. ―Well...not so innocent after all, as we‘ve all seen,‖ Tilbrand decided. ―Very well, in fact.‖ Jörg launched at the larger man, pitting his sixteen years of pure fury at the comparative giant. ―You won‘t touch her,‖ he growled out, feeling his blood burn in Blutjagd. For the defense of his mate, Jörg could take the life of one who threatened her without a single thought to the contrary. Had his only opponent been Tilbrand, Jörg had no doubts that the older man would be dead at his feet in short order. He roared in rage, as four more pairs of hands removed him bodily from his enemy‘s throat. Had they been human and not cursed as he was, Jörg would have easily killed them all in defense of Regana, even unarmed as he was. As it was, it was difficult for them to hold and subdue him. It took uncounted heavy blows to slow him and a sacred weapon at his throat to still his fight. Tilbrand administered one final, crushing blow to his already broken ribs in retribution, and Jörg spit blood at his foe. ―You‘re right,‖ Tilbrand panted at him. ―I won‘t touch her.

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I‘ll turn her over to Gawen. If the sun rises and the Stone is not in my hand, I will kill you. I will tell Gawen that you lost your mind because she baited you, breaking our laws and forcing you to print while you trained. With the battle so close, the villagers will demand her death.‖ ―Kill me,‖ he groaned. ―Gawen may do many things, but he will not take her life. I know he won‘t. You can explain my death. How will you explain hers?‖ ―He will take her life, if I speak for it,‖ another voice asserted. Jörg squinted into the deep shadows. ―Marclef?‖ he asked in disbelief. ―You cannot approve of this.‖ Surely, the young leader who‘d taken over when Eberhard was aging could not think to endorse this course of action. ―I give it my full support. I will not lose my village.‖ Jörg groaned and shook his head. ―You will not lose it. We can handle twice as many as we are.‖ ―I can‘t wager that. We cannot lose.‖ ―Why, Tilbrand? What do you get in exchange for your soul?‖ ―I‘ll be a god,‖ he decided. ―Is there any greater thing?‖ ―You‘ll be an outcast,‖ he shot back. ―You will lose all.‖ ―No,‖ Marclef assured him. ―Ensure my victory, and I‘ll ensure your place. You‘ll retain all your rights, as long as you take your blood elsewhere. You have my word.‖ ―You don‘t believe that, do you?‖ Jörg searched the faces of the men around him, finding acceptance or mild discomfort but no doubt. They couldn‘t be that blind! ―Our brothers will hunt you. Our people will fear and hate you. Better an honorable death,‖ he told Tilbrand. ―Will Regana‘s death be honorable?‖ Tilbrand asked, prompting Jörg to surge against the hands that held him fast. ―With the five of us and Marclef speaking against her, she will face a very painful death. Can you let her die for you as you would die for her?‖ Jörg closed his eyes. He prayed that Sibold and Gawen would not allow such a thing. ―I die without her,‖ he breathed. ―I lose her either way.‖

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They could do it, he realized. They could take Regana‘s life, if the outcry from the villagers were strong enough. Could he let her die if he could stop it? But life without her, even a damned life, would be intolerable, and Jörg would be releasing the worst of evils on the world to save her. ―Touch the Stone and lose all kind feelings,‖ Dado whispered close to his ear. ―She will live, and you will not miss what you have lost. If you find being damned so unbearable, kill yourself after your duty at the battle, but by the gods, save her life by losing yours...if you love her.‖ Jörg cried out his loss, feeling the mounting madness as if Regana lay dead at his feet. If he did this, he would be dead to her. ―Loose me,‖ he ground out dangerously. ―You‘ll have your Stone. Damn you all for wanting it, and damn me for providing it to you. And you!‖ He looked at Tilbrand. ―You will pay for this before I die, and if you ever lay hands on her, I will make it the most painful death I can.‖ ―As you wish,‖ he answered confidently. ―Get me the Stone, and you may have any boon you wish, except my life. That I will not grant you.‖ The hands released him suddenly, and Jörg took to his feet with a feral look at Tilbrand and then Marclef. ―Do not think your dogs will protect you from me,‖ he warned the leader as he stalked to the Stone. They would both pay for making him lose his chosen one...Regana, who was to save his soul. Now, he was giving it away to save her life. He stared miserably at the blood red stone, black and forbidding in the dim light. His soul was forfeit now—or would be in a few short moments. Please, if you have any mercy, do not let Regana die at their hands. Let me protect her somehow. He begged that one boon of the gods, sure that they weren‘t listening already, that his choice had damned him before the action sealed his fate. His hand closed around the Stone, and Jörg sucked in his breath at the surge of power that rushed in his veins. The Stone lit up with a fire from within, and he saw the blue flaw in its depths clearly in the deep red light that encompassed it. As the power built within him, the flaw spiraled before his eyes,

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expanding until it loomed like a great beast before him: two arrows crossed over a bow, Jäger seal. A voice whispered and echoed in his mind. “Only in death are you free. Your wish is granted.” He cried out in anguish as he felt himself falling through space and time, absorbing information as stars spiraled past him, burning him until Jörg felt he would turn to ash where he stood. Darkness closed around him. Jörg opened his eyes and stared at the rough stone ceiling in a numb detachment, unsure of how he came to be lying boneless on the floor. So, this is what it’s like to be emotionless. Thank the gods, I won’t feel. He considered using his newfound powers against the others before they could claim the Stone‘s power for themselves, but he lacked the ability to even control his limbs. He was powerless as Tilbrand pried the Stone from his hand. Jörg looked at the glee evident on the older man‘s face in a mixture of rage and hate. I can feel. No kinder emotions, he reminded himself. He could still feel the darker emotions. Loss. I feel my loss keenly...sadness, pain. Regana, what have I done? A tear wound down his cheek. He felt it as Tilbrand and the others joined him in damnation. Jörg saw the flaw reveal itself to each of them in turn. Tilbrand saw the tipped cross and wolf head of the Lord Kreuzträger. Redulf, Bertolf, and Geldric saw a general Kreuzträger seal—not the lord‘s seal, but there were no others but its lord now. Dado saw the seals of Jäger and Kreuzträger combined and topped by a symbol on no one‘s seal, a crown. Jörg stifled a sob, recalling that the seal revealed to him was not a lord‘s seal either. His death would be at the hands of a Warrior of Jäger, but not her lord. He would live with his loss far longer than he cared to think about, at least seventeen years until a Jäger heir was birthed and first nighted. The voice that had addressed him, addressed each of the others in their turn, naming them and warning them of the humanity they‘d lost. No longer worthy of their human names, Tilbrand was Resten, Dado was Lorian, Redulf was Carstol,

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Bertolf was Draden, and Geldric was Cerran, the names of the fallen gods cast out after waging war on the Warrior‘s paradise. But no name had been provided for Jörg himself and no warning of what he‘d lost. Perhaps, it was unnecessary. Jörg knew what he‘d lost. Perhaps, he no longer deserved a name, at all. Recovered once all were changed, Jörg faced them in a rage. ―You have your names and your damnation,‖ he spat. ―Enjoy it until your end comes for you.‖ Bertolf—Draden, he reminded himself—approached warily. ―What are you?‖ he asked. ―Why can I not sense you like I can the others? What is your name? What is your fate? Why are you apart from us?‖ Jörg‘s face broke into a broad smile. ―I am not like you,‖ he mused. ―I see all, because mine was a selfless act. I am Jörg, and my fate is to live long. The gods knew my intent when I touched the Stone. I am damned but not as damned as you.‖ Resten charged at him with his sacred weapon in hand, and Jörg read his intent to slay his enemy clearly. Even before the flood of information in his mind assured him that this was not possible on many levels, Jörg had dematerialized. Resten barreled through where the younger beast stood only a moment before, encountering only air behind his swing. When Jörg materialized again, he did so clothed and cocky. Resten whirled to face him. ―How?‖ he demanded. ―I have been gifted knowledge you are denied. You will have to learn it for yourself. Dawn approaches, and I must go to ground. Don‘t despair. Your beasts will keep you alive to see another night. It pleases them to have you as their homes. Leave your weapons. You may no longer use them. We are all unworthy to take life that way now.‖ Jörg dematerialized with a horrible, mad laugh that he could hardly identify as his own voice and raced away on the breeze. He sobbed as he looked at the cool earth. Despite his knowledge, the idea of dematerializing and sinking deep within the damp dirt beneath him filled him with dread. Fear, another emotion I wish I didn’t have but one useful in

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controlling my errant brothers. Being disembodied was disconcerting. Still, the sun was approaching and being damned aside, Jörg could not leave this life until he was sure Regana was safe. Miserably, he sank into the waiting soil. The soil would heal the wounds the others had inflicted on him, all but one wound. That one would be with him for the rest of his days, until some Warrior Jäger geboren released him. Jörg would not be permitted to die any other way. He knew that now. The beast inside him would make him seek survival at all costs, until his life was honestly taken by the right Warrior. Jörg felt a rush of satisfaction and amusement as the others were forcibly dematerialized and dragged beneath the ground wherever they had staggered to in the short time since their change. He felt an almost savage glee that Resten burned momentarily before his pain forced him to stop fighting his beast. Resten feared this part of their existence most of all. That could prove a most useful bit of information when it came time to call in his revenge.

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Chapter Two ―How could they?‖ Gawen demanded. Pauwel cringed inwardly at the explosion of his temper. At twenty-five, five years Pauwel‘s senior, he‘d assumed Schwertträger was above such outbursts. ―We knew this was a possibility when there were so many born,‖ Sibold sighed, showing his age for the first time that Pauwel could remember. ―But the magic on the bloodstone... How could they get past it?‖ Gawen continued, making his demand more specific. ―It cannot be taken selfishly.‖ ―You are right. You see the weapons left here? They are only of the five older men.‖ ―What of Jörg?‖ Ditrich demanded. ―As a beast, he cannot wield them. Or have they killed him?‖ ―No,‖ Sibold assured him. ―He lives as a beast. The Stone confirms that. I had already checked their chambers before I sent for you. Jörg was brought here by force. There is no doubt of that. He was injured and dragged from his bed. Once here, he removed the Stone for them.‖ ―Still,‖ Pauwel countered, ―he would have to be willing to touch the Stone, not simply to save his own life.‖ ―He was. He did. He removed it for them willingly but unselfishly. I don‘t understand it. The Stone speaks to me, but it is frustrating in what it does not say. ―And it makes no difference why Jörg touched the Stone. The beasts are free now. As the Stone demands, our curse is now permanent. Until the final beast is freed, you stand charged, as do your descendents. It is the price you were born to. Our futures are linked. Neither can be free without freeing the other.‖ Wil grunted his agreement. ―Then we finish them quickly,

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before they are set in their new power,‖ he decided. ―No,‖ Marclef exploded. Pauwel rolled his eyes. Leader or not, this was not Marclef‘s concern. It was the concern of the Warriors. ―We have few enough Warriors left to us. We cannot risk losing the rest of you—or even some of you, before our enemies are vanquished. After the battle, there will be time enough to hunt them.‖ Sibold sighed bitterly. ―It is not the worst plan,‖ he admitted. ―Training will be required. Fighting beasts is much different than fighting humans. A killing blow to a human may not even slow a beast.‖ All heads came up, as the door swung open and someone rushed in. Pauwel strained his neck to see over and around the crowd, and his breath caught as he saw Regana...pale, jittery and out of breath, at the edge of the training area. ―Is it true?‖ she demanded in a shaky voice. Gawen scowled at her. ―Go home, Regana. You cannot be here now. This is a time for the men.‖ Pauwel looked at him in shock. Never had there been a time that Regana had not been welcome in their midst. ―Is it true?‖ she asked in a more urgent tone. ―Yes,‖ Gawen snapped at her. ―Now, go! We will discuss this at home.‖ She scanned the faces of the assembled men in a sort of shock and disbelief, making a list of her lost brothers no doubt. ―Regana!‖ She met her brother‘s eyes miserably and turned away. The door closed with much more force than Pauwel thought possible for a woman her size. Pauwel dragged his gaze away painfully. He knew Regana was his chosen. He had known it forever, it seemed. Seeing her upset made him ache and his blood burn to avenge the hurt, but touching her would mean death or madness, madness if he didn‘t claim her for his own and death if he did. He tried to attend to the conversation, though his attention kept wandering to the door she‘d left by and his mind to the lady herself. ―What was that all about?‖ Cunczel demanded.

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Gawen sighed. ―She and Jörg played together as children, as you well remember. She still sees him as a beloved brother. It will be very hard for her to think him capable of what he has done.‖ Pauwel fisted his hand behind the cover of his back, feeling the bones shift and his nails cut flesh. As if Jörg‘s betrayal was not enough alone, he had hurt Regana in doing it. Pauwel seethed at the thoughtlessness of the beast Jörg was before he turned truly beast. **** Regana veered off the main trail and into the woods that separated her family‘s land from Jörg‘s. No, she reminded herself, not Jörg‘s anymore. His lands and possessions were forfeit now. As the last of his line, they could not even be passed to a younger brother or to a married sister. She pushed the thought away before she could follow it to its painful conclusion. Regana rushed past the cold, empty house and all its memories of demanding, unrestrained lovemaking before the fire in his chambers...all promises broken. That was a place of lies. He‘d dared ask for her promise to marry just before he betrayed all! How could he make love to her and make promises to her if he planned this? She collapsed at the base of the tree she and Jörg had played under as children. Nine years older, Gawen had been more a young adult than a playmate. He‘d rarely come here unless it was to drag them to their homes. He‘d never played here with them. It was a place for them alone. At the time, it had seemed so right that the first few times Jörg took her, he took her here, beneath the branches that had sheltered and protected them all their lives. Maybe it had been right then. Regana couldn‘t help but believe that Jörg had been honest when it all began. She knew that he hadn‘t been lying then. He couldn‘t have been. He‘d touched her in ways she‘d never imagined were possible. He‘d kissed her and taken her with a fierce passion she‘d never dreamed existed before Jörg made his intentions

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clear to her. Could a man... Could Jörg touch her and show love in such a way and not be utterly sincere? Regana curled her cheek into the grass and let the tears fall. ―Damn him,‖ she hitched. Her tears intensified in the realization that he had taken care of that step by his own hand. He‘d left her. Jörg had convinced her he wanted her as his chosen, then he‘d left her. Why would he do that? There were only two possibilities that came to mind. In the first, Jörg had been tricked into what he did. She‘d like to believe that, though she realized how unlikely it was. The second frightened her. If he did it willingly, Jörg had used her with no intention of ever choosing her. Regana fisted her hand in the new grass as the full force of that thought assaulted her. When she was cried out, she lay for a long time in their place, saying a strange sort of goodbye to her hopes and dreams. Regana could not say goodbye to Jörg, until she knew for sure that he had done the horrible things he stood accused of. If he hadn‘t done them— Still, he was lost to her for all time. **** Gawen felt as if the very life had been dragged from him. The entire day had been spent arguing. The Stone spoke to Sibold in the strange way it did with its chosen keeper. It had named the beasts that inhabited their former brothers—all but Jörg. The Stone had named him not at all. In the end, Sibold was still confused by that, so he‘d named the beast himself. For all intents and purposes, Jörg was now Veriel, the Mad Deceiver. It seemed fitting, considering the circumstances. Marclef had a twisted view of their priorities. He couldn‘t see past the approaching enemy. Oblivious to the fact that a much smaller complement with much more potential for destruction existed, he seemed to be doggedly ignoring the larger threat in favor of the smaller. On some things, Sibold agreed with him, like waiting to attack the beasts. On others, it became a battle between the man

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responsible for the people‘s livelihood and the Warrior responsible for their security. Everyone present knew that Sibold was the person operating in his own bailiwick, but Marclef was popular and powerful in his own right and held the threat of wielding that power to make their duty difficult over them. On some issues, Sibold had accepted the smaller man‘s ridiculous bullying to shut him up. The thing that worried the young Warriors the most was the change Marclef had demanded in the choosing. Originally, all fifteen of the marriageable young ladies had agreed to stand a panel, accepting whatever Warrior chose them for printing. Only in the case that two Warriors chose the same woman would mediation by the leader and Sibold be required. The woman‘s preference would be considered, since she would suddenly be in a position to have a preference and thus to be unwilling with one or the other, but the relative needs of the Warriors would be paramount, and the ladies understood that. A Warrior too far printed could not change course lest he go insane. As it was, any man in the throes of printing, even early printing, would experience excruciating pain at the loss of his proposed chosen mate. Marclef had demanded to set aside the original agreement. He‘d argued that the women had agreed to wed men whose curse would end with them and give birth to fully human children to husbands who may, as any Soldat, be called to fight again for the village. What they would be agreeing to now would be very different. They would be marrying into a cursed line and producing cursed children of men who would be doomed to prowl the night to hunt down vicious beasts. Marclef proposed to ask each woman to reconsider her participation, based on the new situation. That proclamation had raised a riot among the Warriors. They had persevered the waiting, upheld their half of the arrangement, based on the participation of the whole group of fifteen women. The possibility of beasts had never been a secret. What if more than eight of them pulled out, leaving one or more of the Warriors without a chosen mate? Not only would

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the future of fighting the beasts be weaker, but the unwed Warriors would eventually go mad and have to be put to death. In addition, there was the unspoken concern many of them shared. As Gawen craved Bavin, several of the other men had developed a longing for a favorite—had, in effect, made their choices without benefit of claiming the woman in any way. Sibold knew it. They all knew it. Ditrich favored Anabilia. Pauwel had the look of a man fallen, but he kept the woman‘s identity deeply hidden. Unlike the others who gave indication that their hearts were lost, he never gave a hint of the woman who‘d caught his eye. If any of those women changed their minds... It was a death sentence for the man too far printed. All in all, this announcement was not what the Warriors needed with beasts underfoot and the battle looming. On the other hand, the importance of the Warriors established, they had been granted their seals to protect their families in this time of need. The Lords of Jäger, Kreuzträger, Schwertträger, Schmied, Landwirt, Kaufmann, and Maher had taken their places as true lord Warriors. Sibold had looked at the seals of their opposite numbers sadly before locking them away. Gawen sighed as his home came into view. Now he had to deal with Regana. He slipped through the door and took in the sight of his younger sister. Her hair was pulled back in a hasty thong behind her head, and she had obviously spent a great deal of time crying. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks were enflamed. She cooked frantically, a sure sign that she‘d come to no accord with her emotions. As always when Regana was so upset, it tore his heart from his chest to see it. Gawen would do anything to make it right for her, but this time, he was at a loss. ―Regana,‖ he soothed her. ―I don‘t want to talk about it,‖ she warned him. ―I‘m sorry I snapped at you. I was upset.‖ ―Apology accepted.‖ She pushed past him in annoyance. ―Please, tell me what‘s wrong.‖ She looked at him in disbelief. ―Everything is wrong,‖ she

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exploded, as she chopped roots into the stew she was working on without looking at them. Her hands were shaking so badly that he was afraid she would take her finger instead of the food. He reached for her hand to remove the knife, but she jerked away. Cursing himself, Gawen gripped her wrist and pried the knife from her fingers. Regana glared at him, and he released her wrist, keeping the knife from her. ―Now, if you‘re concerned about the beasts, don‘t be. We can handle them. It has happened before, in ancient times.‖ ―I‘m sure you will, Gawen,‖ she answered sarcastically. Regana started to walk away, but he took her by the arm and led her to a chair. She sat, looking uncomfortable and tense. ―I can‘t help you, if you won‘t explain,‖ he informed her calmly. ―There‘s nothing to explain,‖ she protested. ―If this is about Jörg—‖ Regana shot him a seething glare that stopped him cold. ―I told you I don‘t want to discuss it. My friend is a traitor, and he is gone. His holdings are forfeit. What more is there to say, Gawen?‖ He sighed raggedly. ―I know you‘re upset—‖ ―Upset?‖ she stormed. ―Upset doesn‘t even begin to cover what I‘m feeling right now.‖ ―Should I retreat now and try again when you‘re calmer?‖ he asked in exasperation. ―Retreat for all time. I never want to hear his name again,‖ she finished miserably. Gawen sighed. ―As you wish. There is one thing we must discuss.‖ ―And that is?‖ ―This.‖ Gawen dangled an amulet before her eyes. ―The beasts are loose. You must be protected. All the lords are protecting their families now.‖ ―You‘re a lord.‖ She said it evenly, sadly, and Gawen could almost hear the statement in her mind that Jörg could have been a lord, too. Instead, he chose damnation. ―Yes, and I must do this.‖ ―I don‘t want it,‖ she decided.

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―What?‖ he stormed. ―Why not?‖ ―It‘s bad enough that you‘re my lord now. That...thing means you own me. I won‘t stand for it.‖ ―It means nothing but that the beasts cannot touch you.‖ She shot him a look of mistrust. ―Nothing has changed.‖ ―Everything has changed,‖ she muttered. ―I have no more power over you than I ever had.‖ Gawen ground his teeth. He had little enough, as it was. ―Yes, I have to approve a marriage for you, but if you are content to wed, I would not stand in your way. You know that.‖ She snorted and rolled her eyes rudely. ―As if either of us have a choice in that.‖ ―You do now,‖ he informed her. ―Marclef has decreed that any woman who so chooses may rescind her vow. None of you will be forced to wed the Warriors. If you choose to keep to your vow, you will abide by the rules of choosing. If not, you are freed.‖ Gawen felt his heart sink. If Regana pulled out, Sibold would be most put out. He had always claimed that the Stone intended for her to be a lady to one of the young lords. He would not take it lightly if she balked him now. Still, it was not within either of their power to demand this of her. If she was unwilling, nothing could be done about it. Regana looked at him in shock. ―Is it really that simple? Say the word, and I am free?‖ ―Yes. The Warriors are furious, but Marclef has the right to make that declaration.‖ She met his eyes sadly. ―Then, I am not taking part in the choosing. I will not marry a Warrior. I may never marry, if such is my choice.‖ ―If this is about—‖ ―It‘s not,‖ she shot back, cutting him off cleanly. ―Will you wear the amulet?‖ ―As you wish,‖ she conceded. Gawen settled the amulet around her neck and recited the ancient blessing. ―Durch die Götter, die uns alle schmiedeten, bewillige ich Ihnen den Schutz der HausSchwertträger

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Irgendwelche und die ganze unsere Art und Stämme legen das Leben nieder, um Ihr vom Übel zu Konservieren, das unter uns geht. Weg jetzt gesegnet unter uns.‖ He sealed the blessing by brushing his lips over her forehead. Regana nodded quietly. ―May I continue cooking now, Gawen?‖ ―In a moment. Why have you removed yourself from the choosing?‖ ―Because, it is my right to do so,‖ she countered smoothly. ―Did Jörg make some promise I should know about?‖ ―Jörg? He was a hopeless child who is now a beast. I don‘t want to discuss him.‖ ―Then why?‖ he prodded. ―Because, I will not marry a Warrior. Not now. Not ever,‖ she promised. ―Because they must fight the beasts?‖ ―That‘s not reason enough?‖ she inquired in disbelief. Gawen sighed. ―I hope you‘ll reconsider. You can, anytime you like.‖ ―I won‘t,‖ Regana decided. She snatched her knife away and went back to cooking. **** Jörg materialized well after nightfall. He was so miserable that he couldn‘t even find amusement in the clumsy attempts his damned brethren made at the job. His first duty after materializing was speeding off into the night to check the progress of the enemy approaching. That done, he had no problems tracking the others. Resten sneered, as Jörg materialized in their midst. ―What do you want?‖ he growled. ―Do you intend to keep your word?‖ he asked. ―Will you fight to keep your place?‖ ―I thought you believed the promise was a lie,‖ Carstol shot back miserably. ―I still do. I fight because I gave my word when I started training. I asked if you intended to do it.‖

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Cerran nodded. ―It is our only hope of peace. We must.‖ ―Good. If you start out now, you can reach them in three days walking speed for you, since you know no other way of travel.‖ He grinned. ―Perhaps, four for all of you. That will give you several nights to experiment with killing lone soldiers before the main battle. Your beasts will help you learn.‖ ―How could you know that?‖ Draden asked. ―I have just returned from scouting their location.‖ ―How?‖ Resten demanded. ―Tell us how you move.‖ ―Ask your beast. You wanted it. Learn from it, if you dare. I have what I need.‖ ―Will you come with us?‖ Lorian asked in his quiet way. ―I will be there for the battle, and to lead you to the battle. I can find you when I have need to find you.‖ A cold smile touched his lips. ―Why should I be uncomfortable until then?‖ He looked to the sky and took a deep breath of the night air. ―You should go now. The moon is already high.‖ He dematerialized smoothly and stayed to hear them cursing him, cursing themselves and their choice, and deciding to go. The others had no sense of him, and for that Jörg was glad. It gave him yet another advantage that they could never know when he watched them unless he wished it, even if he didn‘t expend the energy required to hide himself from the Warriors. They left, still cursing their inability to utilize the immense power they had chosen. They needed the practice, and they knew it. If Jörg was lucky, they might even get themselves seriously injured enough to send them to ground for several days and make them easier for the Warriors to pick off at the battle. Of course, Resten was the only one he could hope to rid himself of that way, he realized. He was the only one who‘d seen a lord‘s seal in the Stone. On the other hand, if the beasts succeeded in their learning, it would only be the enemy they were killing off. Overall, killing off the incoming forces was a good plan, no matter how it was accomplished. Jörg sped over the countryside to Schwertträger lands. His heart sank as he looked at the house. It had once been his second

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home, where he‘d chased Regana through the rooms while she‘d squealed in delight. Everything was different now. Gawen, who he had once considered a brother, was his mortal enemy. Regana was lost to him. Even if she didn‘t turn from him, he had nothing to offer her now. Jörg had no kind emotions to spend on her. He couldn‘t give her children and be a husband to her, as she deserved. He pushed away the pain that ate at him, the loss he would always bear. He should have realized when he chose a place to go to ground that Regana would come there in her pain and grief as well. Her time there had been torture for him. Disembodied, Jörg hadn‘t been able to touch her, to hold her as she deserved. If he could have chosen death at that moment just to hold her and ease her pain, he would have. But, he couldn‘t. Being damned had closed that door to him. Jörg could not choose death now. In addition, no matter what pain his continued existence cost her or himself, Jörg couldn‘t die if he knew that there was any possibility that Regana needed him. Still, as Jörg lay below, he had heard her cursing him, and it hurt in a way he hadn‘t realized he could hurt. Worse, Regana believed his love was a lie...or that it had become a lie at some point. He could imagine the salt of her tears as they mixed with the soil beneath her, as they mixed with him. Her goodbye burned him. Hours later, the words and thoughts echoed in his mind, unable to be expunged. Regana felt she had no future now. Jörg understood her point. He had taken her maidenhead in the promise of marrying her. Not even that at first. Not until he came to the realization of what he had done. Now many black futures fought to crush her, because of his recklessness. She could admit the truth to Gawen. For his many faults, her brother doted on Regana. Still, Jörg wasn‘t sure that even Gawen could protect her from the choosing ceremony. If a Warrior chose her and found her less than intact— He shuddered to consider the many possibilities. Even if no one chose her, and Jörg couldn‘t imagine that happening, she would face the difficult task—perhaps

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impossible task of marrying at all without censure for her state of fall. A life with no man and no children was not one he would wish for Regana. As much as it would kill Jörg to see her in another man‘s bed, better that than alone, childless, beaten, or dead. One thing he realized immediately was that he owed her an explanation. Jörg couldn‘t tell her the whole truth. That much was certain. Knowing the others had used her against him would crush her. Whatever lie he told her depended on one key element. Regana could never think it was her fault. He could never let there be a seed of doubt on that point. Now, after hours of thought, he believed he had the perfect story to ease her mind. She would know that he felt he had no choice but not that the entire plan had hinged on her. He hid himself, what the Stone called ‗ghosting.‘ Jörg couldn‘t take the chance of Gawen sensing him before he had a chance to talk to Regana. He had to speak to her alone. Perhaps, after he had convinced her, he could convince Gawen to make a pact with him. He had to put her at ease somehow. The sight of Gawen sitting up awake shook him. He hadn‘t counted on that. It was more than halfway through the night. He had planned for Gawen to be lost in sleep in his bed, not vigilant. Worse, the older man had such a sad look on his face that Jörg started. He shouldn‘t feel for his former friend. Jörg had been promised no kinder emotions. Still, he could almost swear he felt something resembling compassion for his former brother. It shouldn‘t be possible, and so he dismissed it. The gods could not be so cruel. Gifted as he was, damned as he was, they could not damn Jörg further with kind emotions he had no hopes of acting on. One look at Regana made him curse the gods who‘d damned him so completely. He still felt for her. Jörg felt not only the longing and pain but also the love. She looked so beautiful in sleep that his mind flashed onto a hundred memories of her smile. He wanted to see her smile, to be the one to make her smile again. Jörg sat lightly on the edge of her bed and reached to run

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his hand along her cheek. The blast that pushed him away was painful, and his mind supplied the answer for him automatically. His gaze locked on the amulet that lay over her breast as she scrambled to the wall, shocked awake by the reaction. Regana held the cover to her chest like a shield, and her eyes were wide and frightened. He ached at the fear in her eyes. ―Regana, please,‖ he whispered. ―I won‘t hurt you.‖ Jörg startled as the door swung open. He had been so shocked, he had forgotten to ghost. Or, was it her amulet that summoned Gawen? He dematerialized as the Warrior shot through the door with his weapons drawn. Gawen moved to shield his sister, and his Blutjagd was a blue fire that surrounded them both. ―I know you‘re still here,‖ he spat. ―Show yourself or go.‖ Jörg streamed out into the night and then he ghosted and came back. Believing his foe departed, Gawen sheathed his weapons and ran a gentle hand over Regana‘s tear-streaked cheeks. ―Are you all right?‖ he crooned to her. Regana wrapped her arms around her waist and her shift strained against her chest in a way that reminded Jörg of their stolen moments together. She nodded mutely. ―Did he touch you?‖ Gawen‘s voice was gruff in barely controlled bloodlust. Jörg felt anger at his assumption that he would— He realized how truly damned he was. He had done precisely what Gawen accused him of before he touched the Stone. ―Did he?‖ he demanded. ―My cheek. He touched only my cheek,‖ she replied in a small, broken voice. Gawen groaned and sank to the bed. He gathered her to his chest gently and held her while she cried. ―It‘s all right, little one,‖ he soothed her, as Jörg had seen him do so many times before. ―Veriel is gone from here.‖ Jörg started. The Stone hadn‘t named him that. The Stone had not named him at all. How dare they brand him with the

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name of the Mad Deceiver? He looked at Regana‘s broken state and streamed away miserably, his anger forgotten. Perhaps, the one who‘d named him wasn‘t so wrong after all. Veriel, the Destroyer of Lives...

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Chapter Three Pauwel took to his feet as Gawen stormed into the training area. The older man was furious. Whatever was wrong could not be a small thing. The other Warriors sensed it, too. They gathered around him as Gawen faced Sibold. ―We must hunt the beasts,‖ Gawen demanded. ―It cannot wait any longer.‖ ―Gawen, Marclef is correct. Between the upcoming battle and the training required, we cannot undertake it at this time. We must wait.‖ ―Then I hunt them myself,‖ he roared. ―What has happened? What has made you lust for their blood?‖ Sibold asked. ―Veriel—‖ He took a deep breath and shook his head before continuing in a cold voice. ―The beast Veriel came for Regana last night.‖ ―What?‖ Pauwel thundered. His heartbeat had taken on an alarming cadence. His brother Warriors covered his explosion with demands for information of their own. Pauwel barely heard Gawen‘s answers to them. ―She is shaken, but she is fine. No, her amulet protected her. He touched her cheek.‖ The next few comments went largely unnoticed. Pauwel found himself ordering the information unconsciously. The beast had swept on her while she‘d slept. He‘d touched her, but her amulet drove him back. He‘d fled rather than face Gawen‘s wrath. The image of her that came unbidden at Schwertträger‘s description shook Pauwel to his soul. Regana huddled in her bed weeping was his undoing.

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―I stand with you, Gawen,‖ he decided. ―We will hunt together. If he haunts your land, I will bring Kethe there, so she will not be unprotected in my home while we hunt.‖ Gawen looked at him in surprise and nodded slowly. ―Thank you, Pauwel.‖ ―I can do no less. You and yours are under attack. I am at your service in this matter.‖ ―No one will hunt them,‖ Sibold decreed. ―Gather to protect what is yours, but no one is to seek out confrontation until after the battle. That is my order.‖ ―It is my duty to protect her. You taught me that yourself,‖ Gawen argued. ―I did not order you to hunt. Guard her only.‖ Pauwel closed his eyes, pushing back the need to avenge his chosen mate. ―Then I will help you protect all that is yours,‖ he amended. Regana. I will help you protect Regana. Veriel will never touch her again, he vowed. **** They stood watch for Veriel together for the next three nights, but the beast never showed his face. Gawen watched Pauwel. The young Warrior seemed to get more anxious and angry as the days wore on. Sibold finally collared him while he was pacing the edge of the training area. Gawen moved quickly, knowing the younger man‘s concerns well. ―Explain yourself,‖ Sibold demanded as Pauwel trained his gaze on the floor sheepishly. ―The battle is upon us, Kreuzträger. I know you do not want to join the beasts, so what is your problem?‖ Gawen dropped a hand on the younger man‘s shoulder. ―He is worried about leaving the women unprotected,‖ he assured Sibold. ―They‘re playing with us,‖ Pauwel muttered. ―Who will protect the women while we‘re off in battle? We cannot leave them unguarded.‖ ―Are you trying to claim that duty?‖ the master trainer asked archly.

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Pauwel looked at him in shock. ―No. Of course not. I trained for battle. That is my place.‖ ―You have a suggestion of a Warrior to be left behind then?‖ he prodded. Pauwel looked around at his brothers, all training and trying studiously to ignore whatever censure Sibold was delivering. He shook his head slowly. ―No, Sibold. We will need every man,‖ he decided. ―I agree,‖ Sibold said in approval. Pauwel nodded miserably and started away. Sibold called him back. ―I notice that there was one Warrior you didn‘t look at when you considered it, Pauwel,‖ he said evenly. Pauwel cast his gaze about in confusion. ―There was?‖ Sibold nodded grimly. ―Yes. You did it again,‖ he assured the young man. ―I don‘t understand.‖ ―You never met my eyes,‖ Sibold informed him. Pauwel gaped at him. ―This is no duty for you,‖ he protested. ―You are the greatest of us. Of course, you go to battle. Looking to you was unnecessary.‖ ―No. I am an old man who has seen more than my share of battle. All of you were chosen for this battle. I‘ve trained you well, and I am proud to say that you are all stronger than I ever hoped for you and than I ever hoped to be myself. I trained you to follow Gawen in battle. Never myself. Did it never occur to you that such a move would be unnecessary unless I had no intention of fighting in this battle? ―I was trained as a solitary protector to the people here. That will be my duty while you do yours. Bring home glory to me, and stop worrying about your women. I will protect them with my life if that is what needs be. That is the duty I was trained for.‖ ―Then they will be well protected,‖ Pauwel assured him with a tight smile. ―Now that it is settled, put your mind and arm into training so that you survive to the choosing ceremony,‖ he ordered gruffly but with a fond smile curling his lips.

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Chapter Four Pauwel sat his mount, watching the other lords commit their protected to Sibold at the training area. The open space was big enough to accommodate them all for as many nights as they required to end it. In addition, the building was designed for defense, with its reinforced walls, window slits, and metal doors unlike any building he had ever seen before. Any enemy, human or beast, would have a hard time breaching it if Sibold set his mind to the task. Finally, the Stone would protect the space as well as any friendly being within that space. He and Kethe had said their farewells at home. Dropping her lightly to the ground by the doorway and watching her walk away had been a fairly painless thing for him, though Pauwel could see the hurt in her eyes when she glanced back at him from the threshold. What was painful was watching Gawen part from Regana. Pauwel tried to make it appear as if he wasn‘t watching any family in particular, moving his gaze from person to person, but his attention returned to his chosen wife often. Though her chin was raised proudly, Pauwel could see the fear in her dark eyes and the slight hitching of her breathing. It was obvious that her brother saw it, too. His hand brushed over her cheek and down the length of her long, black hair to her shoulder. Gawen murmured something to her before he wrapped Regana in his arms. Pauwel‘s blood simmered uncomfortably, aching for the day when he could hold her like that. It seemed all he lived for, even more so since Veriel‘s attack on her person. He was so intent that he didn‘t realize most of the other lords had mounted up and joined him. Then Ger spoke. ―What‘s on your mind, Kreuzträger?‖

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Pauwel smiled crookedly and raised an eyebrow at Ger. ―I‘m wondering how long the great Lord Schwertträger is going to make us wait for him,‖ he called in a voice designed to cover the entire open space easily. Gawen turned suddenly and glared at the younger man, while the other lords laughed at his reaction. He sent Regana inside, then mounted his horse and started toward them, looking decidedly dangerous. ―Do you need to taste my blade to remember some respect, Kreuzträger?‖ he warned. ―No, Gawen. After all, we don‘t want to be late to the battle.‖ He smiled widely as he prodded his horse on. ―Not to mention— Well, I wouldn‘t want you in less than top form for the enemy,‖ he teased over his shoulder. Gawen matched his stride, raising an eyebrow at the young Warrior. ―I see I will have to teach you who the first chosen was,‖ he warned. ―Only because my mother wasn‘t of marriageable age, old man,‖ he taunted. Gawen laughed heartily at that barb. ―I will remember to take that comment out of what is left of your hide, Kreuzträger.‖ ―I look forward to it,‖ Pauwel assured him. **** Gawen tapped Ger on the shoulder and pointed to the encampment below. As always, Gawen was their leader, unpartnered so he could move from team to team where he was needed most. After the others went to the Stone, fighting partners had to be rearranged. Wil and Olbrecht had always been partnered, but Cunczel and Ditrich—now working together—had originally been paired with Dado and Geldric respectively. Ger had originally been matched with Bertolf, while Tilbrand and Redulf—beast both—had been partnered. Now Ger and Pauwel were a pair. Gawen had always questioned the pairing of Pauwel and Jörg, but Sibold had claimed that they‘d balanced each other. Where Pauwel had a cool grace about his fighting, Jörg was

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more like the legendary berserkers. Even before he went to the Stone, there had been a bit of the beast in Jörg. He had been their strongest Warrior and the worst cursed, as his choice more than proved. Dusk was upon them and dark coming on fast. The fighters below were eating and preparing for sleep after a long day of travel. The Warriors, on the other hand, were well rested. After finding the place the Stone had foretold for their battle the evening before, they‘d had little to do but sleep, eat, and choose their places for the coming attack. As the sun set and the weary fighters settled next to their fires, Gawen gave the next signal. A large attacking force on horseback would have alerted them, but seven men on foot in dark clothing, coming silently from three different directions, were a greater danger to them. The sentries were slain without a sound. The horses were led away from dead guards and handlers without causing alarm. When the assault started, there was pandemonium in the camp. Gawen took them down, one after the other. Still, they came. Though they carried swords, the Warriors were faster, more skilled, and gripped by a stunning Blutjagd. Twice, Gawen saw Pauwel take down an enemy posing the danger of flanking Ger only to dance back to those attacking himself for another volley, smooth and patient as always. ―Gawen,‖ Pauwel warned him. He threw his head around and took down two of the three sneaking up behind him, but the third fell on him and managed to knock Gawen to the ground. Grappling for the other man‘s sword and pushing it back without much difficulty, Gawen started as the man above him stiffened and rose away with not one but four blades protruding through his chest. As the enemy fighter was tossed like a sack of roots to die far from Gawen, the Warrior met the killer‘s eyes. Veriel smiled. ―Good evening, Lord Schwertträger. The other half of your forces have arrived to do battle for you,‖ he reported smartly. He reached his hand down, as if to help Gawen to his feet. Gawen sliced at his outstretched arm and drove him back.

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Veriel‘s smile disappeared, and his eyes glittered red-tinged silver in the firelight. ―We‘re here to keep our word, Gawen. Use us to kill the enemy or die trying to fight us both. The choice is yours, of course.‖ For a moment, Gawen couldn‘t find his voice. He nodded stiffly. ―If you‘re here to fight, go fight,‖ he ordered. ―You know what to do.‖ Veriel‘s head snapped up, and he disappeared like a tendril of smoke as Pauwel pounced on his previous position. ―Are you all right?‖ the young lord demanded of Gawen, dragging him back to his feet. He nodded. ―Yes. He didn‘t touch me.‖ ―Trying to kill off Regana‘s protector?‖ he asked acidly as he took down another enemy barreling at them. Gawen scanned the battle. ―They are doing the duty they agreed to. There is Draden.‖ He motioned as he took an enemy‘s throat without taking his gaze from the center of the battle. ―And there is Veriel. He says they are all here to fight as agreed.‖ ―Why?‖ Gawen shrugged as he strode into the mass of frightened fighters and started to take them on. ―I have no idea, but I have a feeling we‘re going to find out.‖ **** Jörg stuck mostly to killing with his blade-like claws, feeling most like the style of fighting that he had trained for. The killing styles of the other beasts sickened him. Cerran and Lorian were ripping out the throats of the panicked fighters with their fangs. Carstol preferred using his great strength to break their necks or crush their chests in. Draden had learned to change his form of a fashion. His face was elongated into the snout of a great hairless wolf, his skin stretched grotesquely over the new shape of his face while he mauled whatever came into range. Resten, the beast Tilbrand, had come up with the most disturbing way to kill of all. With his vicious nature, he was

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ripping the hearts from the chests of the enemy fighters and piercing them with his teeth for the blood inside before the men even fell. Overall, the strategy worked well enough. The beasts were in the center and the Warriors around the outside. That kept a buffer zone between the new enemies who were once brothers, but it afforded another advantage. Fighters attempting to escape the beasts were driven into the Warriors and vice versa. It worked so well that the entire battle—seven Warriors and six beasts facing nearly two hundred men—was over in little more than an hour. The allies faced each other warily across the sea of dead and dying foes. Having not learned how to clean themselves, the other beasts were bathed in blood, both the enemy‘s and their own. It stained their faces, necks, and teeth in addition to their clothing and hands. The Warriors looked at them in sick distaste before settling their stares on Jörg. As fresh as if he had just bathed, he was in startling contrast to beast and Warrior alike. ―What now, Veriel?‖ Gawen called out. Resten interrupted before Jörg could speak. ―We go back together,‖ he asserted as if it were a foregone conclusion. ―Back?‖ Pauwel demanded. ―We were promised—‖ Resten began. ―He knows nothing of the false promises,‖ Jörg boomed out, closing on Resten. ―Ask them. We‘ve done our duty, but as I warned you, the promises were a lie.‖ ―He wouldn‘t dare,‖ Carstol exclaimed. ―Of course, he would.‖ ―What promises?‖ Gawen exploded. Resten shook his head in disbelief. ―We were promised all our rights as Warriors, all our property— As long as we fought as beasts and won, we were promised—‖ He looked at Jörg hopelessly. ―Tell them,‖ he roared. ―He lied,‖ Jörg replied smoothly. ―I told you, but you refused to believe me.‖ ―What can we do?‖ Draden asked. ―To get what you were promised? Nothing, just like I told you. To get revenge?‖ He smiled a cold, calculating smile. ―He

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is mine alone.‖ ―Who is yours?‖ Ditrich asked quietly. ―Marclef. His life is forfeit only to me.‖ Jörg glared at Resten. ―Only one of the lives I intend to take. Would you care to come with me to prove his deceit to our brothers?‖ Resten looked at him uncertainly. ―Tonight is not your night to die,‖ Jörg assured him. ―I suppose I have your word on that,‖ the other beast noted acidly. ―You would do well to remember that I always keep my word,‖ he countered. Resten nodded. ―I want to hear the truth for myself.‖ He looked around. ―Is one of your gifts controlling a horse?‖ he asked hopefully. Jörg smiled widely and shook his head. He grabbed Resten by the arm roughly and pulled him into his sadistic smile. ―Try this,‖ he invited, as he forced Resten to dematerialize in his hands. Resten screamed in shock and fear as Jörg dragged his essence over the countryside. The beast‘s terror and confusion were even more satisfying than the shock evident on the Warrior‘s faces. Resten‘s terror stemmed only partly from not knowing—not knowing how Jörg was forcing his will on him this way, not knowing how he was accomplishing this feat of flying, and not knowing what the younger man‘s intentions were. The rest was even more satisfying. Resten feared dematerializing. Better, he loathed the sensation. Even if he survived longer than Jörg planned for him, Resten would never master flight. His beast still forced the process on him before every dawn, having tired of waiting for the burning to distract Resten before completing its task. When he forced Resten back into his solid form, the man lunged at him with wild eyes. Jörg dematerialized while Resten barreled through him and reappeared as the madman turned to glare at him. ―You cannot touch me unless I wish it,‖ Jörg informed him patiently. ―Come with me while I collect Marclef.‖ ―Collect? I thought—‖

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―Sibold will know why I am doing this. Perhaps, if the Warriors know what you were promised, it will go easier on you.‖ ―You don‘t believe that,‖ Resten whispered. ―No, I don‘t,‖ he admitted. **** Gawen turned from the space where the two beasts once stood, as Pauwel tore off for the trees. ―Pauwel! What are you doing?‖ he barked. The younger man stopped and shot him a look of disbelief. ―They are going to the village to exercise their rights. Regana, Kethe, Riberta, Anabilia—‖ He threw up his hands in frustration, as Gawen‘s eyes widened in understanding. ―And all those who don‘t have amulets.‖ Bavin doesn’t have an amulet. ―He‘s right. We have to go now. We can‘t waste time—‖ Gawen broke off as he realized that the beasts had gone to ground to protect themselves, until the Warriors left them to finish off the half-dead of the enemy in a healing feeding frenzy. ―We go,‖ he ordered, struggling to catch up with Pauwel as the Warrior sprinted to the trees where their horses were sheltered. They rode as hard as they dared push their horses. If only they had the time to spare to find the horses they‘d driven off before the battle, this wouldn‘t be necessary, but they didn‘t. As it was, the Warriors were on the edges of self-control every time they had to slow or stop to keep from losing their mounts. Common sense told them that traveling on foot was not an option, but the idea of driving the horses to death on the chance of reaching the village sooner seemed strangely attractive in their desperation. It was daybreak before they reached the training area. The foul smell assaulted their senses first, the same smell that had wafted over the battlefield from the injured beasts. ―Beast blood,‖ Gawen noted. He strode toward the doorway in the gray half-light with his weapons up, unsure of how much light was required to send a beast to ground. ―Where is Sibold?‖ Wil asked him, as Gawen crouched to

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examine a dark stain on the packed earth. ―Inside. Dragged inside,‖ he assured them after confirming to himself that the track he was examining was human blood and not beast. Pauwel strode to the doors and pushed one back in annoyance, obviously tired of playing at hiding with the beasts. Too late to stop him, Gawen launched after the headstrong young Warrior. As Pauwel ducked into the darkness beyond the door, Gawen saw the attack coming. He grasped the wrist that held the blade headed for Pauwel firmly as the other man spun away. Gawen swung one of his own blades for the unseen enemy‘s throat. The feminine cry of fear stopped him in his tracks. He dragged the woman into the soft light filtering through the doorway, as her cry set off sobs and screams from the far reaches of the pitch black room. Brown eyes met his and widened in surprise. Gawen dropped his blade and dragged her to his chest. ―Regana,‖ he rasped into her hair. Gawen knew he was shaking, but he couldn‘t seem to help himself. He could have killed her. Without his instruction, Regana dropped the blade in her hand to the floor, and he relaxed his grip on her wrist to wrap his arms around her fully. ―Gawen?‖ Ger asked, a tentative note in his voice. ―Light the fires. We have to see what we‘re dealing with.‖ In the meantime, he brushed his hand over her hair and soothed Regana while she shook. ―What were you doing?‖ he finally inquired as the fires were lit. ―I thought they‘d found a way in,‖ she managed. His anger resurfaced suddenly. ―They would have killed you. Why would you try something like this?‖ he demanded. ―Sibold gave me his weapons. What else was I to assume I was supposed to do?‖ she asked weakly. Gawen was still struggling with the improbability of such a thing when he got a good look at her in the new lights being lit all over the building. Her clothing was stained with blood, and smudges of it marked her face and hands, human blood. Gawen ran his hands over her looking for some sign that he—or anyone

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had injured her. Regana shook her head in understanding and half-dragged him toward the shadowed depths of the room. ―It‘s Sibold‘s blood,‖ she corrected him. ―He wants to see you.‖ She hesitated and shuddered. ―If...‖ Gawen lengthened his stride, passing between the protected family members huddled on the floor. He noted that they sank back in shock, but their eyes weren‘t locked on him. They seemed wary of Regana for some reason, but he didn‘t have the time to question that now. Ditrich was already at Sibold‘s side when he arrived. He looked up at Gawen and shook his head. ―The damage is too severe. There is nothing that can be done.‖ Gawen nodded and knelt to lay a hand on Sibold‘s shoulder as Ditrich wandered away in search of his family. The master trainer opened his eyes and smiled weakly. ―Battle is for the young, Gawen.‖ ―You kept them safe. You gave your life to keep them safe, just as you promised.‖ ―Now that is your duty. You know the Stone chose you to be my replacement.‖ ―I could never replace you,‖ Gawen protested weakly. ―You are the Stone‘s lord. You are the master trainer. You must train them to fight the beasts.‖ ―I only know what little you‘ve taught us so far.‖ Sibold growled out his displeasure. ―You have a duty, and you will perform that duty. The Stone will guide you.‖ Gawen tightened his jaw and nodded. ―I will do my duty,‖ he agreed. Sibold looked past his shoulder, and Gawen followed his gaze to Regana, standing quietly at the edge of the crowd of protected that distanced themselves from her carefully. ―You have another duty,‖ he whispered. Gawen nodded and met his eyes. ―Yes, I know.‖ ―The beasts will not rest in their quest to take her from you now. I gave her my weapons to give her some protection until you came for her.‖ ―Why? Why do they want her?‖

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―She is different than the other women. She is a fighter. The Stone will explain, when the time is right. For now, just know that they will pursue her.‖ He looked to Regana again. ―Call her.‖ ―Regana,‖ Gawen ordered. She surged forward and knelt across Sibold‘s body from her brother. Regana took the dying man‘s hand gently. ―Do you need something?‖ she asked. Sibold laughed lightly and touched her cheek with one gnarled hand. ―For hours, you have asked me that. What I need is your safety. You do not follow orders well, young woman,‖ he scolded. Regana darkened and flicked a wary look at Gawen that made his heart pound. She smiled weakly as she met Sibold‘s eyes again. ―So my brother has told me many times, and so you have warned him that I would not almost as many,‖ she admitted. ―It is all right,‖ Sibold soothed her. ―I have indeed made that prediction of you many times. I owe my life, living long enough to pass his duty to him properly, to your headstrong nature. I should have known the Stone would protect you.‖ Regana nodded. ―I‘d prefer not to make my brother an old man by telling him the tale,‖ she teased. ―You must,‖ Sibold told her. ―You must tell Gawen everything. Until he knows the whole tale, he will not know his path.‖ Regana swallowed hard, then nodded. Sibold tightened his grip on her hand. His eyes were suddenly piercing. ―Everything, Regana. The Stone cannot lead him properly to all he must do until he knows everything you have to tell.‖ She met Gawen‘s eyes and nodded. ―I understand, Sibold.‖ But there was something in her eyes that was new, something dark and closed off where Regana had always been open to him before. Gawen knew that she would not willingly tell him everything, whatever everything was. Sibold lived long enough for the transfer of power, as the Stone requested of him. There was no question when Gawen

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crossed to the Stone and unsheathed his blades. He crossed them before his face and laid them on the Stone. The surge of power was like a cold wave washing up his arms and gripping his mind in a numbing rush. Before the Stone released him, it passed an amazing amount of information to him. Talking to the Stone was maddening. At times, it was clear and concise in its instructions—how to kill beasts, their limitations, and so forth. Sometimes, it talked in riddles— strategies and timelines for defeating them. With regard to Regana, the Stone was absolutely still and silent. Released at last, Gawen sank to his knees and tried to catch his breath, his muscles unknotting. His gaze moved from Warrior to Warrior and settled on Regana. Regana with hidden secrets in her eyes, suddenly feared by the villagers, and a black spot in his seemingly bottomless well of knowledge. Gawen met Pauwel‘s eyes, pushing stiffly to his feet. ―Send the protected ones home,‖ he instructed. ―We have much to discuss.‖ He grabbed his sister lightly by the arm as she tried to brush past him toward the doors. ―Not you. You have a story to tell.‖ She slid her gaze from his and headed back into the room. **** Regana sat with her back to the wall, watching the Warriors nervously. Everything? There was no way she could tell them everything. She looked at the Stone and bit her lip in worry. Would the Stone tell Gawen if she lied? Worse, would it really refuse to lead him if she did? Regana shuddered at the thought. She started as she realized that Gawen was watching her intently. His eyes were narrowed in a way that made her blood run cold, and she tightened her jaw stubbornly in response. He nodded in challenge as he stalked toward her, looking every bit the Warrior and not at all the brother she loved. Regana supposed that made what she had to do easier. The other lords dropped to the ground in a semi-circle around her, but Gawen stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes cold and hard. ―What happened last

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night?‖ he asked. ―We‘ve heard a lot of unbelievable stories. We need the truth.‖ Regana nodded. This much, she could tell him. ―I woke when Sibold started putting out the torches.‖ ―Why?‖ ―He said he didn‘t want the beasts to see inside easily. I helped him put out all the fires and get the protected against the far wall. Then he went outside.‖ ―But not you?‖ She felt her cheeks darken. ―Of course, he told me to stay with the others,‖ she admitted. ―Why didn‘t you?‖ Regana shrugged hopelessly and let her breath out in a huff. ―I don‘t know. I just went.‖ ―Outside?‖ Pauwel demanded. She shook her head and pointed to the window slits by the door. ―Just there to see what was happening.‖ ―What did happen?‖ Wil asked. ―Sibold was out on the path. I could see three men approach.‖ ―Three?‖ Olbrecht asked in confusion. ―Marclef,‖ Pauwel surmised. ―And two beasts with him,‖ she supplied. ―Resten and Veriel,‖ Gawen corrected her. She looked at him in confusion. ―Tilbrand and Jörg?‖ His patience was obviously straining. His attitude annoyed her as much as the sick sensation in the pit of her stomach did. ―If you already know everything, why are you bothering to ask?‖ she snapped back at him. ―I don‘t know everything,‖ he noted, a touch of sarcasm biting at his words. ―Of course.‖ Regana took a deep breath and began again. ―Jörg...Veriel,‖ she managed weakly, ―insisted Marclef tell Sibold the truth about the beasts.‖ She furrowed her brow. ―He kept saying ‗the others,‘ as if he wasn‘t...‖ She struggled to find the words to express the separateness he was expressing. Gawen nodded. ―Did Marclef admit to promising them their rights?‖

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Regana glared at him. ―I thought you didn‘t know this story?‖ Her brother tightened his jaw dangerously. ―Yes, he admitted it. He begged Sibold to accept it, but Sibold explained why it wasn‘t possible.‖ ―What happened next?‖ Cunczel interjected. ―Resten went mad. He started demanding his rights. He grabbed Marclef by the throat and demanded that he find a way to keep his word.‖ She shuddered at the memory. ―Did they kill Marclef?‖ Ditrich asked. ―I don‘t know.‖ They looked at her expectantly. ―Veriel removed Resten‘s hands and took Marclef from him. He told Resten to go tell his brothers they had been lied to while he took care of Marclef‘s treachery.‖ Regana considered the chill that had passed through her when Jörg seemed to meet her eyes directly in the darkness and shuddered again. ―Somehow, that seemed worse,‖ she admitted. ―He took Marclef away into the trees, east. I don‘t know where.‖ ―What about Resten?‖ Ger asked suddenly. ―Did he go with them?‖ ―No, he didn‘t. When the others were gone, he demanded his rights of Sibold. He demanded to choose his mate.‖ ―Why didn‘t he take a woman from the village? An unprotected one?‖ Wil asked. ―He said his chosen mate was in here,‖ she answered simply. ―Did he say who?‖ Gawen demanded. Regana looked at him in surprise. His face was set in harsh, angry lines and his eyes were emotionless as a snake‘s. Gawen was abruptly someone that she didn‘t recognize at all. She shook her head and pressed her back into the wall. ―No. He just said that she was inside.‖ He nodded stiffly. ―Resten tried to force his way in?‖ She nodded. ―Sibold held him off as long as he could. He even wounded him. You saw what Resten did in return.‖ Regana swallowed a sour lump at the memory of the pain the beast had inflicted on the master trainer. ―Once Sibold had been defeated,

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Resten charged at the doors, but he was thrown back when he touched them.‖ ―So, he couldn‘t get in,‖ Ditrich prodded. ―He grabbed Sibold and demanded to know the secret of how to get inside. When he found out that the Stone would never let him pass the doors, he ordered Sibold to bring us out or lose his life. Sibold refused.‖ ―What happened?‖ Olbrecht asked. ―Veriel appeared out of nowhere, and they started fighting. He had some sort of weapon with a lot of blades on it.‖ ―Did you see this weapon?‖ Gawen asked. ―It was too dark to see it clearly. I thought he was going to kill Resten, but he stopped. I could hear them arguing. For some reason, he couldn‘t kill him.‖ She shrugged. ―I can‘t explain it any better than that.‖ Gawen nodded. ―The beast elders can only be killed by a Warrior. They can‘t kill each other.‖ ―What did he do?‖ Ger asked. ―I don‘t know.‖ They all stared at her intently, and she groaned in frustration. ―Am I to blame if Veriel kept dragging his—prey, victims, whatever they are—out of my field of vision? All I can tell you is that they left.‖ ―Not by Resten‘s choice, obviously,‖ Wil noted. ―Then what?‖ Gawen asked. Regana grimaced. ―They were gone, and Sibold was hurt.‖ Her brother glared at her, and she winced at the coming scene. ―You went out there?‖ Pauwel exploded. ―Have you gone mad?‖ Ditrich asked. ―You had the Stone to protect you in here,‖ Olbrecht noted. ―Sibold was here to protect you, not the other way around,‖ Wil shot at her. ―Let her tell the story,‖ Gawen demanded over the riot of other voices. She sighed. ―I tried to get the others to help, but no one would. The most help I could get was help with the doors if— when I made it back in.‖

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―So you walked right out and brought Sibold in?‖ Gawen snapped. ―Don‘t make it sound so easy. Yes, I went out there, and yes, I dragged him back to the doors.‖ She hesitated. ―And?‖ Gawen prodded. ―And...Veriel came back before I was back inside,‖ she admitted sheepishly. Surely, the others had already told him that much, so it shouldn‘t be new information for him. ―We were so close. I couldn‘t leave Sibold a mere body length from the doors. So, I pulled harder and made it all the way to the doorway, but the others wouldn‘t let us in because they could see Veriel.‖ Regana grimaced at the memory of the argument behind the doors that had ended in the decision to keep them closed. ―Veriel—said he wanted to help.‖ ―Help? Help how?‖ Gawen asked. ―I don‘t know, and I wasn‘t prepared to find out. So...‖ She met his eyes and grimaced again. ―I pulled Sibold‘s blade from his hand and threatened Veriel with it.‖ ―What did he think of that?‖ ―I am sure he wasn‘t very happy about it, but he backed off.‖ ―He backed off but he didn‘t leave,‖ Gawen noted. Regana shook her head. ―What did he say?‖ She sighed. ―He was trying to convince me to put the weapon down.‖ Gawen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ―He tried to convince me that he didn‘t pose a danger to us, and he claimed that he hadn‘t chosen his course—to become beast, I mean.‖ ―How did you respond to that?‖ ―How do you think, Gawen? I had just seen him drag a man and a beast away, and neither of them came back.‖ He stared at her intently. ―All right. I told him I‘d plant the blade between his eyes if he didn‘t leave.‖ Gawen rubbed his forehead roughly. ―What did he say to that courteous offer?‖

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―He—‖ She furrowed her brow. ―Regana?‖ ―It was rather disconcerting,‖ she admitted. ―It was...like talking to Jörg. Just Jörg.‖ He stared, confused. ―The same jokes, the same looks. He still treats me like I‘m seven. He always treated me like that. I can‘t explain it,‖ she decided in frustration. ―He was trying to lull you into trusting him,‖ Gawen decided. ―Did he say why?‖ ―No, but it didn‘t work.‖ ―Good thing,‖ he mused. ―I wouldn‘t have come back either,‖ she decided miserably. ―Most likely not.‖ Gawen stared at the Stone. ―What else?‖ ―When he realized I wasn‘t going to drop my guard, he left.‖ ―You mean he disappeared.‖ ―No, he walked away into the trees,‖ she insisted. ―Why?‖ Regana hesitated. ―I don‘t know. Maybe, so the others would see he was gone? Maybe, so they‘d let us back in? I don‘t know. He didn‘t exactly explain himself.‖ Gawen was quiet for a long moment. ―What else?‖ he prodded. ―They let us in. Kethe, Anabilia, and I tried to stop Sibold‘s bleeding. I tried to give his weapon back, but he told me to keep it, then handed me the other as well.‖ ―Why?‖ ―For protection.‖ ―Whose protection?‖ ―Everyone, I suppose.‖ ―Why you? Why not one of the men?‖ Regana groaned and buried her face in her hands. ―I don‘t know. Maybe because I was willing to use it against Veriel. Maybe because I was the only one who came out to get him. You should have asked Sibold while you had the chance.‖ ―Didn‘t you?‖ he demanded. ―No, I guess I never really thought about it,‖ she admitted.

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―I had other, more pressing, problems on my mind, like trying to keep Sibold alive.‖ Gawen seemed to consider that. ―What else?‖ ―You know the rest. We waited for daybreak. We‘d planned to send someone for Landric when the sun was up. That was when you arrived. I didn‘t know who you were, because you didn‘t announce yourselves, and I didn‘t want to chance the beasts seeing me at the window slit, so I attacked the first person through the door.‖ ―What else?‖ he demanded. Regana rubbed her head. She was really starting to loathe that refrain. ―I don‘t know what else you want. That‘s it. That‘s all that happened last night.‖ ―What else did Veriel say?‖ She stared, exhaustion weighing her down. ―I‘m tired, Gawen. He just kept trying to convince me that he wanted to help and that he wasn‘t a danger—over and over.‖ ―There has to be something else,‖ he insisted. ―There were people just behind the doors. There were people at the window slits. Ask them. For the love of all that‘s holy, I don‘t remember anything else.‖ Gawen ran his hand over the beard on his chin and regarded her with a look that chilled her. ―Come with me,‖ he ordered. A few of the other lords started to rise. ―Alone,‖ he qualified. Regana followed him outside, trying to ignore the looks on the other men‘s faces. She wasn‘t sure what the Stone was telling him, but she knew it wasn‘t good. Gawen motioned for her to sit at the base of a tree and sat facing her. ―Regana, I need to know what you‘re not telling me. It‘s just me now. If Sibold felt you knew something important, you do.‖ ―Then, he should have told me what it was,‖ she commented miserably. ―What exactly did Veriel say?‖ ―When I threatened to use the weapon, he teased me about how I could never win a fight with him. He always teased me about that, how I had to pout to win against him. He reminded

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me of times we got into trouble together as children. He talked about regrets. I really don‘t understand what was so important, Gawen.‖ ―There are two possibilities. Either you really have no idea what I need to know, or you‘re lying to me.‖ He met her eyes, and she had to steel herself not to look away. ―I know you‘re hiding something from me. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you avoid my eyes. There is nothing you cannot tell me.‖ ―There is nothing to tell.‖ ―There is, and until you confide in me, the Stone cannot help me protect you. It will not help me. Do you understand?‖ Regana sighed and planted her chin on her knees. She was spent. What difference would telling Gawen really make? Then again, why would the whole story be of any importance to anyone but herself? She yawned and tried to fight her eyes open. ―Why are you lying to me?‖ Gawen asked quietly. ―I‘ve told you everything you wanted to know. I‘ve told you the truth, Gawen,‖ she managed sleepily. ―Go home,‖ he ordered. ―Take my horse.‖ She pushed to her feet and headed for his mount. Gawen lifted her into the saddle gently. He took the reins from her and patted the horse‘s shoulder. ―You‘ll have to tell me soon, Regana,‖ he whispered. Her heart started to pound, and she was suddenly wideawake. ―What do you mean?‖ she asked evenly, though she was terrified. Her mind shut down at the possible things he might be referring to. Regana couldn‘t think about that. She wouldn‘t consider all the consequences of her actions, here and now, with Gawen watching her. ―If Sibold is right, things are only going to get worse until you tell me. How bad will you let it get before you trust me?‖ ―I do trust you, Gawen,‖ she assured him. Gawen was probably the only one she could trust now, but Regana couldn‘t expect him to protect her against the rest of the world. If the others knew that she had been going to Jörg‘s bed for all that time, they would only see her lying with a beast. Nothing could be gained by that.

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**** Gawen uttered a number of colorful curses as he made his way back inside. The other men looked at him uneasily. ―Did she say anything?‖ Wil asked. ―Nothing that helped me understand. If only the Stone would tell me what I‘m looking for,‖ he commented in frustration. ―Sibold gave you no clue?‖ Ditrich asked. ―None. He seemed to think Regana would know what to tell me, and I‘d recognize it immediately.‖ ―Could she be lying to you?‖ Ger asked. Gawen hesitated. He knew she was, but he wasn‘t about to tell the others that and risk one of them confronting her about it. This was between Regana and himself. ―She could, but I don‘t know why she would,‖ he admitted. ―What do we do?‖ Pauwel asked solemnly. ―Nothing. I‘ll keep prodding her for information. In the meantime, we have more important things to do.‖ ―For instance?‖ Will asked. ―I need to teach you all the Stone has shown me about killing beasts.‖ **** It was after nightfall when they finally broke from training and headed to their homes. By the time Gawen reached the other side of the village, only Pauwel and Ditrich were still with him, preparing to take the paths to their own homes. Gawen drew his weapon before the two beasts materialized, and the other two Warriors moved just after him. Veriel threw the other beast at their feet and smiled. ―I could kill this beast,‖ he informed them. ―I choose to let you do the honors. I want him to understand what he has inflicted on others.‖ The beast on the ground pushed to his feet in a series of jerky movements that seemed forced. His skin was gray, and he

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was obviously weakened for them and in need of feeding. He met their eyes miserably. ―Marclef,‖ Ditrich breathed as he reached toward the leader reflexively. Gawen grabbed his hand and pushed it back. ―No. He is not human. He has been turned.‖ ―Beg them, Marclef,‖ Veriel taunted him. ―See if they will spare your life now that you are no better than the other beasts you helped create.‖ ―I didn‘t want this,‖ Marclef moaned. ―Did I?‖ the beast elder countered. ―As I recall, you gave me ample reason, but did I want this?‖ ―I know your secrets, Jörg. I—‖ He stopped speaking and started gasping for breath. His fingers clawed at his throat hopelessly as if trying to pull off fingers invisible to the eye. ―My secrets are not yours to tell,‖ he chided Marclef. ―The death I would give you would be infinitely more painful than any death the Warriors will grant you. I could happily torture you for days before I kill you. I could force you to feed, so you will know what monsters you created. I am being generous by granting you a quick death and kind executioners, Marclef. I warned you at the Stone that no one would save you from me. Do not forget that promise, and do not forget your place.‖ Marclef sucked in a deep breath as the elder released his hold on him. ―How?‖ he croaked. ―I turned you. That means I retain leading strings on you. I can see all you do or think to do. I control what I permit you to do, even from a distance. My secrets are my own.‖ Marclef nodded and surged forward as if he had been pushed. ―Kill me,‖ he requested of them. ―For the love of all that‘s holy, kill me.‖ ―Why?‖ Pauwel asked. ―Why should we do Veriel any favors?‖ The elder shrugged. ―You will be kind in killing him. I will not. It is Marclef you are showing mercy to. I would not balk at killing him myself, as slowly and painfully as I can.‖ His smile widened at the thought. Gawen took Marclef‘s heart without taking his gaze from

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Veriel. ―There! Your puppet is destroyed and your amusement along with it. What secret did he know?‖ he asked. ―You‘ll never know, not from one of my puppets and not from me,‖ he taunted. ―What do you want with Regana?‖ Veriel‘s eyes narrowed and his smile dimmed somewhat. ―She amuses me. No human man would dare threaten to plant a blade in me. She has spirit that I find refreshing.‖ ―Stay away from her, Veriel,‖ he warned. The beast laughed. ―A threat, Gawen? Perhaps the spirit is simply a family trait.‖ ―I don‘t care what it is. Regana doesn‘t want your attention. Look elsewhere for your next meal.‖ His smile disappeared. ―I would never feed on Regana,‖ he growled. ―But you would—what? Amuse yourself with her?‖ he accused. ―Perhaps not, Gawen. Perhaps, it is too late for games.‖ Veriel dematerialized and streamed away. Gawen sheathed his weapons and stormed toward his home with Pauwel at his heels. He vaguely registered that Ditrich had turned back to town, presumably to notify Marclef‘s brothers to dispose of him properly. ―Where are you going, Pauwel?‖ he growled. ―What are you doing?‖ the younger man countered. ―Getting answers,‖ he snapped. ―Then I am making sure you don‘t kill her,‖ he commented evenly. ―This isn‘t a joke, Pauwel.‖ ―I didn‘t say it was. I‘m serious.‖ Gawen stopped and stared at him in shock. ―You think I‘d hurt her?‖ ―I‘ve never seen you so cold for a kill. I‘ve never seen you this angry. Honestly, I don‘t know what you‘re capable of right now.‖ He nodded uncertainly. ―Come on. You may be right,‖ he conceded. In truth, Gawen had visions of shaking the truth from her, and that was not a sane response. He started walking again,

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confusion slowing his step a bit. Pauwel matched his pace. ―Why do you think he wants Regana to trust him?‖ he asked. ―They pursue her.‖ ―You think Resten wanted her when he demanded his mate?‖ ―I know it. Sibold told me as much.‖ ―Why Regana?‖ ―I don‘t know. She‘s different than other women.‖ ―Her coloring, you mean?‖ ―More than that. Veriel mentioned her spirit. Sibold talked about her being a fighter. It has something to do with that, but I don‘t know what.‖ ―What does the Stone say?‖ ―It doesn‘t.‖ Pauwel snapped a startled look at him. ―The Stone doesn‘t tell me anything about Regana. It won‘t.‖ Pauwel nodded uncertainly, but he didn‘t ask whatever was on his mind. At the house, Regana looked at them warily. ―You‘re late,‖ she commented. ―We had something to take care of,‖ Gawen replied evasively. ―Dinner, Pauwel?‖ she offered. ―No. Kethe will have something for me. Thank you.‖ ―It‘s no trouble,‖ she assured him. She moved to the fire and started to fill the bowl she had waiting for Gawen. ―Regana, what was Jörg‘s secret?‖ her brother asked suddenly, trying to take her off guard. She stilled for a moment before turning and placing the bowl on the table. ―What secret? All the secrets I know are years old. I hardly think sneaking out with his father‘s bow when he was nine to hunt wolves was the secret you had in mind.‖ ―He snuck out to hunt wolves when he was nine?‖ Pauwel asked in amusement. ―How would you know?‖ Gawen sighed. ―Jörg told her everything.‖ His eyes narrowed as Regana darkened. ―Regana?‖

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―I went with him,‖ she admitted. Gawen felt his blood burn. ―Sit! Now.‖ Regana raised an eyebrow. ―Yes, I‘m ordering you, and if you know what is good for you, you will do as I say this time. Sit.‖ She took her seat and sighed. ―Yes, Gawen?‖ ―How could you possibly—‖ He stopped in frustration, trying to get a handle on his anger. ―Sneak out? You are quite a heavy sleeper,‖ Regana replied coyly. ―Risk yourself like that,‖ he qualified. ―I was eight. You were hunting then.‖ ―Not wolves,‖ Gawen protested. ―Children do stupid things. They don‘t realize what the consequences of their actions are.‖ She seemed far away for a moment. Gawen shook his head. ―You changed the subject on purpose, didn‘t you?‖ ―I was making a point, Gawen. I don‘t know what use anything I know could be. Who cares what he did when he was eight or ten? You need to know about the last week. That is information I cannot provide.‖ ―What about the last year?‖ She shook her head slowly. ―You saw him as often as I did. What could I know that you don‘t?‖ she reasoned. Gawen watched as she rubbed her scar nervously, the thin line of some blood oath she had taken with Jörg when they were children. That oath represented just one in a whole line of things she hadn‘t told him where Jörg was concerned—and still wouldn‘t. Gawen had tried several times in the last week. Regana simply answered that one could not have an oath with a being that had no honor. He grumbled dangerously. ―Jörg had a secret he‘d rather kill Marclef than have me know. If you know that secret, you have to tell me.‖ Regana paled considerably. ―He did kill Marclef,‖ she breathed. ―Are you all right?‖ Pauwel asked, no doubt trying to get

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Gawen to back down somewhat. ―I don‘t feel well,‖ she admitted. ―Regana, this is getting us nowhere,‖ Gawen barked. ―I don‘t know what secret Marclef knew,‖ she whispered. ―I hope I never do.‖ Regana met his eyes miserably and headed for her bedchamber at a run. Pauwel watched her go in confusion. ―What do you think? Is she lying?‖ he asked quietly. ―Absolutely, but she‘s lying for a reason. She‘s terrified of something. I just wish I knew what.‖

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Chapter Five Gawen grumbled to himself as he pulled his best tunic over his freshly bathed body. Regana had made it for him months ago for this night, and though he knew that the trim covered a few minor errors in construction, it had been lovingly made for him by her, and he would not point out the faults in craftsmanship for anything. This was supposed to be a happy night, but all he could think of were problems. Part of it was the delay in the choosing ceremony. All the Warriors were on edge, but until Thorald had been chosen and accepted as village leader, there could be no ceremony. Gawen made sure he was included in the choice of the new leader, citing Marclef‘s deception to secure a strong voice in the appointment. Thorald had been the youngest man considered by far, but he was strong in his convictions and would not betray his people or their protectors. The whole mess cost them two weeks of time that the Warriors should have been allowed to actively print on their mates. They were little better than snarling beasts now. Regana still refused to take part in the choosing. She claimed that she had no wish to marry a Warrior. That, in itself, bothered him. If beasts pursued her, being wed to a Warrior was the safest place for her. Of course, Gawen already protected her, and he was in no hurry to relinquish his duty to someone else, though some days she tried his patience until he felt he might go mad. Regana still wouldn‘t tell him why she‘d changed her mind, though he knew in his heart that Veriel was to blame somehow. She also refused to tell him whatever secret she was hiding from him. More than once in the two weeks, Gawen had stormed

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away to keep from doing her physical harm. He had tried every approach conceivable, and she had steadfastly refused to be drawn into the discussion. No amount of force worked. Putting her at ease failed, though Regana seemed less at ease in general than Gawen had ever seen her. Reassurances swayed her only momentarily, but never enough to get her to confide in him. He worried about her safety—and his own sanity if she didn‘t tell him soon. Gawen strapped on his weapons belt and looped the amulet for Bavin around the hilt of one of his weapons securely. His printing had been gnawing at him so intently that he‘d actually spoken to Bavin to reassure himself that she had not removed herself from the choosing. He had been gladdened by her surprise and her rather shy confirmation. He had discovered soon that the move had created its own set of problems. The stolen looks Bavin had cast him ever since had him aching for her. He had argued with himself that the battle was over and his right to choose was guaranteed, but Gawen ultimately decided that he would not do Bavin the dishonor of taking her before the ceremony. He smiled at the knowledge that he could kiss her at the ceremony and take her to mate as soon as she was willing. He prayed that she would be willing soon. His smile faltered somewhat at the sight of Regana staring into the flames. She had been so volatile and unpredictable lately that Gawen felt he was living with a stranger. At times, he expected her to argue with him, and she would stare at him sadly or stop speaking to him entirely. At times, he expected her to laugh and smile for him, and she got angry and stormed off or looked at him warily as if she expected some trap from him. Gawen sighed as he realized Regana had not smiled an honest, joyful smile since at least the night Marclef died, probably earlier than that. ―It‘s time, Regana. Are you ready?‖ he asked. She didn‘t look away from the fire. ―I‘m not going.‖ ―Of course, you‘re going. The entire village is going.‖ ―Everyone but me. I‘m not participating, Gawen. There is no point in going.‖

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―Come to see me choose then,‖ he invited, forcing his tone lighter. Regana shook her head. ―I‘d rather not.‖ Gawen sighed in frustration. ―I cannot protect you, if you are nowhere near me,‖ he challenged. ―Your amulet protects me. Your training blades are in your chest. That‘s worked in the past,‖ she commented ruefully. ―I can‘t leave you unprotected,‖ he decided. ―You can‘t leave Bavin waiting for you at the ceremony. Go choose her. I‘ll be fine.‖ Gawen looked at her in shock. ―How did you know my choice?‖ he asked. Regana smiled a sad, secretive smile. ―I know most of the chosen. Ditrich is choosing Anabilia. Ger is choosing Ingela. Wil is choosing Evfemia. Olbrecht is torn between Ingela and Lenne, so he will choose Lenne after Ger makes his choice. Cunczel is undecided, but I believe he will choose Lela since Riberta annoys him and Giana is too quiet even for him.‖ ―What about Pauwel and Kethe?‖ he asked archly. ―None of the Warriors favor Kethe that I know of. I know Cunczel thinks she‘s too outspoken. She has another admirer who hopes she is not chosen tonight. I don‘t know who Pauwel favors,‖ she admitted. ―How could you know all of this?‖ ―It‘s not difficult when you watch closely enough. Go on, Gawen. Don‘t be late to your own choosing.‖ He hesitated. ―Did anyone favor you?‖ She shrugged. ―No one who is left does, so what does it matter? Obviously, those who went to the Stone didn‘t have anything to lose, so I suppose not.‖ ―What about Pauwel? You don‘t know who he favors. You admitted that.‖ She met his eyes again uncertainly, then shook her head. ―He doesn‘t want me,‖ she decided. ―He wants someone, but it‘s not me.‖ ―How can you be so sure?‖ ―I‘m sure. Go Gawen. You‘re late.‖ She motioned him toward the door.

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Gawen nodded in confusion and went. His mind kept turning the conversation over and over while he walked, but he only created more questions. If Gawen had watched closely enough, would he have the key to unlocking Regana‘s problem? **** The Warriors followed Gawen into the training area. Nine women stood across from them. As if by some unspoken agreement, the men who had already latched onto a particular woman were permitted to move to the front of the line. Gawen thought it impossible, but he found himself distracted from the thought of claiming Bavin. He found himself drawn to Pauwel‘s expression as Kreuzträger scanned the women who waited for choosing. He kept his expression studiously even, but he never once stopped on a face. When he was done, he nodded and walked to the rear of the line. Gawen‘s heart sank. Whatever woman Pauwel had been counting on was not present, but before he could corner the young Warrior, the ceremony started. ―Gawen, Lord Schwertträger, Stone lord and master trainer,‖ Thorald boomed out. ―Stand forth now and choose your wife and mate.‖ Gawen crossed the room to the women and took Bavin‘s hands gently. ―I choose Bavin, if she will have me.‖ Bavin smiled and blushed deeply. ―Does any man protest this match?‖ Thorald asked. Silence greeted him for a reply, and Gawen felt his muscles relax. ―How deep is your need, Gawen? Is the joining ceremony one moon hence sufficient to you?‖ Knowing that he could pursue Bavin and take her if she was willing charged him. He could wait for a formal ceremony forever if need be. ―I am content with waiting, Thorald.‖ The other Warriors were called forth one by one and chose their mates with no interference from another. Predictably, all announced that they were content to wait for the joining to take their chosen wives into their homes. By the sixth, they stood

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hand in hand with their mates: Gawen with Bavin, Ditrich with Anabilia, Cunczel with Lela, Ger with Ingela, Wil with Evfemia, and Olbrecht with Lenne. Regana had been right on every match. Finally, only Pauwel remained for the Warriors. Giana, Riberta, and Kethe remained for the women. Kethe smiled at her brother and left the floor. ―Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger, stand forth and choose your wife and mate,‖ Thorald called. Pauwel crossed halfway to the two women and stopped. Giana looked distinctly nervous. Riberta was smug almost to the point of appearing predatory. Pauwel moved his gaze back and forth between them, and a muscle tightened in his jaw. ―I choose...‖ He looked from one to the other again and closed his eyes. He shook his head and met Thorald‘s eyes resolutely. ―I choose not to marry at this time,‖ he decided. The assembled villagers roared in distress, and Thorald held up a hand to still them. ―Pauwel, these women have agreed to marry. Your curse demands—‖ ―Do not tell me what the curse demands. I know what it demands. At this time, it does not demand me to choose a mate. I will not choose until it makes that demand of me. As for the women, they may consider themselves free of their obligation to me this night.‖ ―And when the time comes, if the woman is unwilling?‖ the leader demanded. ―Then I die at Gawen‘s blade,‖ he answered simply, in a quiet, disinterested voice that frightened the master trainer. ―You are determined?‖ Thorald asked. ―I am. I will not choose at this time.‖ ―Very well. As it is your right to choose a mate, it is your right not to choose.‖ Pauwel nodded and returned to the doorway. Giana left the floor, her face a mask of relief. Riberta glared at the young Warrior before she stormed away. Gawen shuddered at Pauwel‘s choices: Giana, who doubtless agreed out of a sense of duty, or Riberta. It would have surprised Gawen if any Warrior had chosen the self-centered beast that had the face

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of an angel. ―You have chosen your women. Protect them, now,‖ Thorald decreed. Six amulets appeared in unison. Six men placed them lovingly around the necks of their chosen women, gave their blessings, and sealed the match. Some sealed it passionately, some in a chaste exchange. The one who worried Gawen was the one who sealed no one to himself that night. Bavin stared up at him, blushing demurely, and Gawen cursed himself for allowing anything to steal his attention from her. ―Go, Gawen. You are master trainer, and you must see to him. I will be waiting for you when you are free to come to me,‖ she finished shyly. Gawen kissed her passionately. ―I will come for you very soon,‖ he promised her. He squeezed her hand and launched across the open area after Pauwel, dodging well-wishers on the way. It took him only a few minutes to catch up to Pauwel as he walked from the festivities, looking angry and dangerous. ―Pauwel, hold,‖ he demanded. The young Warrior sighed and stopped. ―Why?‖ he asked simply. ―I could not bind myself to either of them. I could not do it,‖ he replied, his face all harsh lines in the gathering darkness. ―I can‘t blame you,‖ Gawen joked lightly. Pauwel smiled a tight smile at that. ―Walk with me,‖ he invited. Kreuzträger‘s smile disappeared, and he nodded sadly as he started moving again. ―Who is she, Pauwel? Who has captured you so that no other woman will find your heart open?‖ He looked away. ―Someone who does not care for me. That much is obvious. Without a kind eye from her, it is all meaningless.‖ ―Are you sure no other will do?‖ ―I‘m not certain of anything but that Riberta and Giana will not.‖ Gawen nodded in relief. ―Have you spoken to the lady?‖ he

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asked. ―Of course not,‖ Pauwel snapped. ―It would not have been appropriate to announce my intentions. It would not have been kind. What if I had approached her and then died in battle? I could not live with hurting her that way.‖ ―Have you thought of speaking to her at this point? Perhaps, she might consent to marry if she knew your feelings. Perhaps, it was only the crush of the ceremony that frightened her and she would look favorably upon you personally.‖ He seemed uncertain for the first time. ―What if she doesn‘t look favorably on me? If she rebuffs me, I die.‖ ―You die if you let this continue. Think about it.‖ Pauwel nodded miserably. ―I should go back for Kethe. Night is falling.‖ ―She will want to stay and celebrate with friends. The others will see her home. I know Ditrich and Ger will. Come home with me for a quiet meal and a drink.‖ Pauwel shook his head miserably. ―I‘d rather be alone, Gawen.‖ ―Then as master trainer, I order you. This is not a good time for you to be alone.‖ The young Warrior smiled tightly again. ―For my own good?‖ he guessed. ―Certainly.‖ ―Don‘t you have a chosen to be a nuisance to?‖ Pauwel complained. ―She bade me tend to you. If I do less, I bring her displeasure down on myself,‖ he theorized. ―Well then...I suppose I have no choice in the matter.‖ They walked in silence, drinking in the cool, night air as the moon rose over the trees. Gawen swept the door to his home open happily. ―Regana, we have a guest,‖ he announced. When she didn‘t appear from one of the rooms, he furrowed his brow. ―Regana?‖ He moved from room to room, glancing into the bedchambers and pantry in increasing apprehension. The fire was banked and blazing. If Regana left, it was not long ago. ―Gawen? Could she have gone to the ceremony late?‖

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Pauwel inquired. ―No. We would have passed her on the road.‖ ―Then where—‖ He got no further. Regana‘s voice, high in panic, reached them. ―No,‖ she screamed. ―You can‘t do it.‖ Pauwel launched through the open door toward the sound of her voice with Gawen close behind. Their weapons were drawn even before they shot up the path into the trees. **** Regana paced the floor. Her emotions were a knot within her. She had snapped at Gawen when he‘d appealed to her to come to the choosing. Even if she were not to participate, she could still have watched him choose. He‘d left in an obvious upset at her stubborn refusal. She couldn‘t go. It was that simple. It wasn‘t just her own lost aspirations of being chosen by Jörg. If it was just that, she could probably have managed to make the requested appearance and nursed her hurt. Regana wouldn‘t be chosen, now or ever. She had surrendered her maidenhead, and allowing another man access to her would generate too many questions that she could not bear to answer—or that might cost her her life in the answering. But there was an even greater fear now. The moon was full and the waxing gibbous past. It marked the second time Regana had missed her moon time. The first time, she had been sure it was the stress of the upcoming battle and the fear of being discovered in their deception. By the night Jörg went to the Stone with the others, she had been secretly hopeful, imagining that not even Gawen would raise a hand to Jörg if there was a child involved. In the three weeks since that night, Regana had denied the possibility, even to herself. Now she could no longer deny it. Regana was undone, and not even Gawen could save her, she was sure. She‘d considered telling him several times, but every time, Regana felt as if her heart would burst if she uttered the damning words to him. He‘d assured her over and over that there was

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nothing she could not tell him, but this went beyond anything Gawen was prepared for, she was sure. Not to mention, the villagers would make no distinction between a child of Jörg, the Warrior, and a child of Veriel, the beast elder. Her life would be forfeit, if the father was known, and how could it not be? This was a problem, as Gawen had surmised the morning after the battle, which would only get bigger with time. Regana stared at the dark sky morosely. If she had told Jörg that she had missed her moon time, would he still have gone to the Stone? She supposed it didn‘t matter now. Not really. Drawing a cloak around her, Regana looked back at the empty house she was leaving behind. She needed a walk in the night air. If Jörg came to her, she‘d ask for answers. If he didn‘t— It made no difference, she supposed. Regana wasn‘t even sure what she wanted to ask him except a hopeless ‗why.‘ What would Jörg say if he knew about the child she carried? What would he do? He had no kinder emotions to love it or her. Still, nothing Jörg did, even to killing them, would be worse than what she already faced, she surmised. Regana stepped out into the darkness and darted up the path to their tree. Even in the trees, there was enough light from the full moon to see clearly, not that she had need of a lamp. She had traveled this path many nights without one. What was one more? On all but the darkest of nights, Regana could navigate her way through the paths to the clearing and to Jörg‘s chamber without a light to walk with. It had seemed their salvation at the time. Now she cursed it. The clearing opened ahead of her, and she looked at the great tree through bitter tears. ―Jörg?‖ Regana called out. There was no answer. She curled up at the base of the tree, determined to wait all night if she had to. Or until Gawen came to drag her home, she reminded herself. Either way, Regana would have to tell Gawen about the child soon, if she could just make her mouth form the words. A rustling over her shoulder drew her attention. ―Jörg?‖ she called again.

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But it wasn‘t Jörg who stepped from the trees. It was Tilbrand. Resten, she reminded herself as she launched to her feet and bolted down the path the way she had come. He moved as a flash, faster even than Gawen in training. Regana backed away from him as he stopped down the trail from her. Resten advanced on her, looking hungry and dangerous. ―What troubles you, Regana? I simply want what was promised me,‖ he crooned. ―Promised?‖ she squeaked as she backed into the great tree. ―What promise?‖ ―Marclef promised we would retain our rights if we gave him victory in battle. We did that. Now the night of choosing is upon us. I came to make my choice.‖ ―No,‖ she breathed. Regana clenched her fists against the rough bark to still the shaking that started at his suggestion. ―You gave your word. You agreed to marry any of the thirteen who chose you.‖ ―You‘re not a Warrior,‖ she countered uneasily. ―I was promised my rights,‖ he growled as he approached her. ―I have Gawen‘s blessing. You cannot touch me,‖ she warned, hoping to drive him off. He hesitated for only a moment before his eyes hardened. ―I will find a way to rip it from your throat,‖ he vowed. Resten jerked back as he reached for her, but the push of the amulet never materialized. He opened his mouth in a mute scream as long claws, wet with his foul blood, extended through his chest. As Resten was lifted up and away from her, Jörg took shape behind him. His face was set in fury, and his eyes shone silver beneath the moonlight. Jörg glanced at Regana, then turned his attention back to his foe. ―I warned you that I would never allow you to touch her,‖ he growled as he dropped the beast at his feet only to grab him up by the hair with a hand now pristine and perfect. ―You can‘t kill me,‖ Resten breathed. ―It is not permitted.‖ ―I can give you pain,‖ Jörg promised. ―I can give you pain such as you‘ve never dreamed possible. And I will see you dead very soon. It is not an impossible thing.‖ He turned his silver

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eyes to Regana again. ―Go home. Leave here.‖ ―No,‖ she breathed. He looked at her miserably. ―Regana, I do not wish for you to see what I am now. I do not want you to see what I must do.‖ ―I cannot go yet.‖ ―He heals, Regana. I must act quickly,‖ Jörg urged her. She shook her head, adamant that she wouldn‘t leave while there was a chance at the answers she sought. His jaw clenched down in anger. ―As you wish,‖ he decided. Regana sucked in her breath, as Jörg‘s teeth lengthened into killing fangs. ―No. You can‘t do it,‖ she cried in distress, as his intent became clear. Her stomach lurched, as he fell on Resten, tearing at his throat. The sound of his feeding made her physically ill. Jörg‘s eyes closed in something akin to pleasure as he stole the lifeblood from Resten. Regana wrapped her arms around her stomach, shaking in the shock of seeing him like this. Jörg pulled his head back. The foul, dark blood on his fangs and dripping from his chin made her stomach clench. Regana fought to remain conscious despite her mind‘s rebellion in the face of the idea. ―I did not want this, Regana, but this is what I am now. There is no turning back from here. Please, do not look at me that way. Go now—I beg of you.‖ She backed against the trunk of the tree, incapable of answering, incapable of doing more than simply willing her heart to beat, her body to breathe, and her eyes to stay open to the sight as he returned to his feeding. This was not Jörg. This was the beast Veriel. Her child had no father. Regana would never admit that the soulless beast before her had any connection to the precious life in her womb. She couldn‘t. **** Pauwel barreled toward the sound of Regana‘s cry, barely breathing in his panic. Veriel! It was undoubtedly Veriel come

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for her because he thought her unguarded. Trees whipped at his face and chest as he crashed up the narrow track. Pauwel prayed that her amulet was intact. If the beast could not touch her until they arrived, he would give almost anything in return. To find her unharmed would even be worth giving his life in her defense. He ground to a halt as a clearing opened before him. Regana stood, her back pressed to a tree, shaken and looking in horror at the two beasts before her. Veriel raised his head, blood running in thick rivulets off his chin and splashing in heavy drops on Resten‘s face. He smiled a humorless smile. ―Lord Kreuzträger, you have arrived just in time.‖ He threw the beast in his hands toward Pauwel in disdain. ―Kill that while it is weakened. Do not let it go to ground and heal. It is not worth the pain of weakening again.‖ Gawen crashed out next to Pauwel and launched toward Veriel, but the younger Warrior stopped him. ―Protect Regana,‖ Pauwel ordered. Gawen nodded without a thought of who should be ordering whom. When he had placed his larger body between Regana and Veriel, Pauwel strode forward, feeling the Blutjagd take hold in full force. His entire being cried out for Veriel‘s blood. Veriel smiled in amusement as he came, his face now clean and boyishly handsome again. ―Why come for me, Kreuzträger? Take Resten‘s life. He is the one who will come for your women, again and again, until he is dead.‖ Pauwel glanced at the downed beast, barely moving in his dire state. He hesitated. Chances like this would not come often. He delivered a blow to the beast‘s heart and took his throat on the way back to his feet. Pauwel hesitated again at Regana‘s groan. She buried her face in her hands, weaving on her feet. He glared at Veriel and stepped over Resten‘s body toward him. Veriel put up a hand to still Pauwel‘s advance on him. ―Hold, Kreuzträger. Tonight is not our time. I will go now. Guard Regana well, Gawen. There are much worse beasts than myself to protect her from, as tonight shows.‖

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He sighed and looked over Gawen‘s shoulder at Regana‘s tear-stained face. ―I‘m sorry, Regana. You know what I am now. Never come to this place again. I am not what I was, and the others are worse.‖ Veriel shook his head and growled out several curses as Regana turned from him. He nodded to Pauwel and faded away. The young lord looked at the empty space in shock. His senses told him nothing. Pauwel turned several times, scanning for any sign of attack, but none came. Still, for all he knew, Veriel remained in the spot where he once stood—or behind the tree Regana huddled by. Wherever he was, Pauwel had no way of predicting it. He locked his gaze on Regana. She looked shocked and frightened in light of Gawen‘s rage. Her brother had her by the arm, venting his displeasure at her while she all but cowered from him. Pauwel‘s heart softened as he watched her. She‘d had enough. Couldn‘t Gawen see that? When her brother smoothed her hair, he knew that the older man had found his control again. ―Gawen, we should get her in,‖ he half suggested, half ordered. The master trainer looked around suspiciously, suddenly aware as Pauwel was that they could not predict the next attack. He nodded and swept Regana to him as he turned. **** Gawen grabbed Regana by her arm and swung her around to face him. He towered over her, and she shrank from him as if she expected him to strike her. On some level, that fear angered him. On another, she was not far from the truth of his state of mind. ―What were you thinking?‖ he demanded. ―Explain this!‖ ―I just...wanted to take a walk. I have my amulet,‖ she managed weakly. The urge to shake her was almost overwhelming, and his hand tightened around her upper arm as he fought to control his urges. ―In the night? You must never leave the house after

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nightfall. Not without me.‖ Regana nodded silently and lowered her eyes in a way most uncharacteristic for her. Gawen stilled. Something was very wrong here. He smoothed her hair back from her face in concern, in their ritual of healing. ―Gawen,‖ Pauwel called to him. ―We should get her in.‖ Gawen scanned the area, nodded, and wrapped an arm around his sister protectively, leading her back to the house with Pauwel at their backs. Tremors seemed to race within Regana‘s body as she walked. ―We will talk inside,‖ he assured her. She shot him a look that he could only classify as fearful before casting her gaze down at the path again. ―Regana, what is wrong?‖ She met his eyes and looked as if she was about to say something. His heart nearly stopped in relief. Then Regana closed her eyes with a tortured expression and shook her head before returning to her survey of the ground before her. Gawen sighed and swept her into the main room. She didn‘t fight him when he seated her in a chair by the fire, but she didn‘t meet his eyes. His arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the top of her head. Regana was making herself as small as possible in the chair and studiously avoiding him. ―Regana, what were you doing in the woods?‖ ―A walk,‖ she mumbled. ―A lie,‖ he countered. She shook her head slowly. ―What did Veriel say to you?‖ She shot another fearful look at him before staring into the fire. ―He ordered me to leave while he handled Resten. He didn‘t want me to look at him, to see what he is now.‖ ―Why?‖ Regana shrugged. ―Why didn‘t you leave?‖ ―I wanted to know why...‖ She faltered and shook her head. ―You were baiting a beast?‖ he asked incredulously. ―He‘s not!‖ Regana met his eyes angrily, swallowed, then

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looked away. ―He can‘t be, but he is,‖ she decided miserably. Gawen sighed and sank into the chair across from her. ―I know you and Jörg were friends, but he is not Jörg any longer,‖ he told her quietly. ―He‘s not human, Regana.‖ ―Neither are you,‖ she spat. ―I‘m not damned. Cursed, but not damned. He chose—‖ he tried to explain. ―I don‘t believe that,‖ she whispered. ―He had no reason.‖ ―Fear of death is a powerful thing.‖ ―He wasn‘t afraid of death.‖ ―You can‘t know that,‖ Gawen reasoned with her. ―I know,‖ she replied with a conviction that made him nervous. ―How, Regana?‖ She shot a guarded look at him, as if something lay just beneath the surface of her. Regana rose to storm away, but Gawen caught her by the wrist and started to pull her back. She was shaking like a tree limb in a high wind now. Why would she fear him, of all people? He looked at Pauwel out of the corner of his eye and noted that the young Warrior was making himself inconspicuous in the dark corners of the room. Regana seemed to have forgotten he was there, and Gawen had no wish to lose the tenuous cracks he was seeing in her shell. He turned his attention back to her without asking the other man to leave. ―How could you know that, Regana?‖ She took a deep breath. ―I can‘t,‖ she admitted, but in a tone that didn‘t ease his apprehension. ―I couldn‘t, could I?‖ Something burned in her eyes, not quite a challenge but proud and somewhat defiant. ―But, you are adamant in your belief that he was not afraid of death?‖ She lowered her eyes and didn‘t answer. ―Regana,‖ he barked. ―Jörg would never,‖ she began miserably. Gawen sighed. ―What was there between you and Veriel?‖ ―Nothing,‖ she proclaimed in horror. He furrowed his brow. Perhaps, the difference for her was

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in a complete separation of the man and the beast. Gawen wondered if he had simply asked the question in a way that repelled her somehow. ―What was between you and Jörg, then?‖ he asked in irritation. Regana didn‘t answer, and she refused to raise her head. Gawen felt his anger rising dangerously. He would have to leave her so as not to hurt her if he came to no conclusion soon. Gawen stood, gripping her wrist tightly so that she could not bolt from him, and cupped her chin to raise her face to him. His heart took up a choppy rhythm. She was crying. Silent, heartbreaking tears stained her cheeks. ―Jörg would never choose that path,‖ she assured him quietly. ―Not willingly. He was tricked into it somehow. I know it, and he confirms it. This was not his choice.‖ ―Tricked or not, it‘s done. It‘s over.‖ Regana swallowed again and nodded. ―May I go, Gawen?‖ He tried to meet her eyes, but she avoided him studiously. She ran her fingers over the scar on her hand nervously. ―What was the blood oath you took?‖ he asked, suddenly sure that it was vital to her upset. She didn‘t meet his eyes. Regana didn‘t seem to breathe for a moment. ―That we would wed no one but each other,‖ she admitted. ―He‘s holding you to that?‖ Gawen asked. ―You were a child, and even then, you claimed he had tricked you into the oath.‖ Regana shook her head, half swallowing another sob. ―He freed me from it the night Sibold... He told me that he had made many promises in his life, and there were only certain ones he could honor now. I knew what he meant.‖ She shook as she admitted it. Gawen searched the Stone for answers, sure that he had uncovered what he needed to know, but it was still silent. He sensed her in frustration, not sure that it would tell him anything he could use. He had never used it on anyone but the women provided for their needs, so he had no idea if it would tell him the depth of their relationship. Could it tell Gawen if she

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was intact? He resisted asking that question outright, sure that he would spook Regana and she would close herself off from him again. He groaned in understanding. Her body was not on a cycle. ―Sit down, Regana,‖ he ordered sharply. She hesitated for just a moment, then took her seat again. Regana met his eyes nervously. She hadn‘t told him. Was this what she felt she couldn‘t tell him? ―Tell me the truth,‖ Gawen demanded. ―Is the child Jörg‘s?‖ Her eyes widened. She paled, weaving, then righting herself. ―Is it?‖ he asked more gently. ―You must tell me.‖ Gawen no longer cared that Pauwel was there. The entire village would know that she carried when she started to show. There would be no hiding this. It will only become more of a problem in time— ―Yes,‖ she admitted in a low, sad voice. Regana ran the palms of her hands over her stomach protectively. ―Why did you do this?‖ ―I loved him,‖ she answered miserably. ―Does he know? Does anyone know?‖ Regana shook her head. ―When h-he—‖ she hitched out through trembling lips. ―I wasn‘t certain yet. A-after, it was too late.‖ Gawen seethed at Veriel‘s incompetence. He met Pauwel‘s speculative look in surprise. ―What are you thinking?‖ he demanded. ―We can protect her from this,‖ he decided. ―How?‖ Gawen stormed. ―This is not something we can hide. Veriel will figure it out eventually...or the villagers.‖ Regana flinched as he said the beast‘s name. ―Will they? If she were wed, a baby would be the expected outcome. Is Veriel watching so closely that he would realize? And need anyone else know that Veriel was involved in any way? Her baby could be her husband‘s child, if it is presented that way.‖ ―Wed to who?‖ Gawen snapped.

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―I‘ve not made my choice yet,‖ Pauwel reminded him. ―No,‖ Regana stormed. ―I cannot be your duty.‖ Gawen stared at him, his mind numbed by shock. ―Pauwel, I cannot allow this,‖ he replied weakly. Was the young Warrior really so heartbroken for his lost chosen one that he would consider this course? Still, was Pauwel so far printed that Regana could not take the place of the one he‘d lost in time? If he were so printed, Pauwel would eventually have to renege on this course or die. ―I cannot allow it,‖ Gawen repeated, cursing himself for considering Regana‘s well being before that of this honorable young man who was willing to accept her dishonor for her. ―You must. The alternative is unacceptable,‖ he stated calmly. Gawen sighed. The villagers would kill Regana, if the father of her child were known, and he could not allow his sister to die for such a mistake as this, no matter how monumental a blunder it had been. ―You‘re right, of course,‖ he conceded wearily. ―No,‖ Regana repeated. ―I will not be bound to any man for his honor and duty.‖ ―You want this baby, Regana? Do you want the child to live? And yourself?‖ She looked away with tears in her eyes. ―Then you must accept what we must do to protect you.‖ ―A child of—Jörg would undoubtedly be a powerful Warrior,‖ Pauwel noted carefully. ―Born into another house and raised as part of it, the child need never know his true parentage.‖ ―You would raise him as if he were your own?‖ Gawen asked. If Pauwel could not accept the child and do so, it would all be for naught. ―He would wear my seal and be my heir,‖ Pauwel offered honestly. ―I would nurture him and train him. He would be as one of my own children. You have my vow on that. If I do this, no one will ever know that he is anything but a child of mine.‖ ―Regana?‖ Gawen asked for her acceptance. If she could not go to him willingly, disaster would ensue.

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She looked at Pauwel uncertainly, then dropped her gaze away. ―What about...‖ Gawen could see the blush come up on her cheeks clearly. ―He‘ll be your husband, Regana,‖ he thundered. ―I would never take an unwilling woman, Regana,‖ Pauwel answered quietly. ―You have my word on that, as well.‖ Regana looked at him in surprise and nodded. ―Pauwel, you cannot make an agreement like that,‖ Gawen protested. ―As long as she presents as a married woman would, I will manage. Do you agree?‖ he asked her. ―I do,‖ she answered quietly. ―I will present the pretense of a married woman.‖ Pauwel nodded. ―Then Thorald will join us tomorrow.‖ ―Tomorrow?‖ Regana protested, panic touching her voice. The young Warrior smiled crookedly. ―We are a young couple in love,‖ he countered. ―What would happen if I did not claim you immediately? We must secure our union as soon as possible—for the child‘s sake.‖ ―We‘ll have to convince Thorald that this is truly Regana‘s choice before he will consent to join you,‖ Gawen noted. ―That should not be overly difficult. Convincing him to join you immediately will be more difficult.‖ ―He will consent. I will tell him that I am well into printing, and he must, by virtue of my need and her wish, join us now. Thorald is a reasonable man.‖

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Chapter Six Regana looked around Pauwel‘s house, the house she would share with him, in apprehension. She jumped slightly as her husband—she tested the word—brushed past her. He looked at her sadly. ―I‘ll show you where you can put your things,‖ he offered. She nodded and followed him into the larger bedchamber. Pauwel dropped her small bundle onto a chest. ―You may use this,‖ he told her. ―Some of my mother‘s things are still in it. Use any of it you wish.‖ ―Thank you, Pauwel,‖ she replied. ―You are most kind.‖ ―It is not kind to provide for a wife. It is expected that I would do so,‖ he informed her. ―I thank you anyway.‖ Pauwel nodded slowly. ―This is our chamber.‖ ―Together?‖ Regana asked in shock, before she could get a handle on her tongue. Of course, together. Why would they sleep apart? That was a thing for Kings, not for common lords of the Stone. He sighed. ―We must present as a married couple. Kethe sleeps in the other chamber.‖ Pauwel paused and met her eyes. ―You gave your word,‖ he reminded her quietly. Regana nodded. ―Yes, I did. It is fine, Pauwel,‖ she assured him. He smiled tightly. ―Good. Then we can do this.‖ He seemed strangely tense, and he avoided looking at her directly. ―Kethe will be here soon,‖ he commented. ―Why don‘t you get settled in? I must go train with Gawen and the others.‖ She smiled tentatively. ―Watch out for Gawen‘s left back slice,‖ she warned. ―He likes to sneak it in behind a right thrust.‖ Pauwel looked at her in surprise. ―Yes, I know it well. I will

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be careful.‖ He moved as if to touch her cheek, then he looked at his hand and dropped it to her arm instead. ―I will return to share the evening meal with you. It smells as if Kethe has a stew on. You should,‖ he glanced at her midsection and away again, ―eat some, please.‖ ―I will.‖ Pauwel nodded and lowered his hand to his side. ―Good,‖ he repeated. For a single, tense moment, he stared at her before he turned on his heel and strode away. Regana watched him go, willing her body to unwind. She uttered several dark curses that she was sure Gawen would disapprove of as the front door swung shut behind Pauwel, her husband. She pressed her hands to her stomach miserably. Her wedding night was supposed to be a very different affair: a different place, a different man, and some hope of love in her future. Now her baby and a living lie were all that were left to her. Regana packed her things into the chest Pauwel had provided for her, pausing to run her hand over the clothing already inside. Her breath caught in her throat. The pieces may be old, but they were stunning. They were a collection of beautiful reds and blues in fine fabrics, accented with rich trims and fur. An amber pendant lay on top. Regana shook her head. Such a precious family jewel should be Kethe‘s. It was not for a woman like Regana, only brought here out of a sense of duty and kinship to her brother. She closed the chest and moved away. She settled on the high bed, set on a low dais against the far wall of the room. Regana would share the bed with her husband this night, a relative stranger offering protection for herself and her child. He was offering her safety and respectability, and she was being selfish to ask for more than that, she decided. Regana sighed and scanned her surroundings with a critical eye. The etching on the bed caught her attention, and she ran a hand over it in awe of the craftsmanship. ―Pauwel made it himself,‖ a voice behind her explained. Regana snapped a startled look at Kethe and took to her feet

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in embarrassment. ―He made it for his wedding night. I am sure that he didn‘t tell you,‖ she teased, while Regana felt her cheeks darken. ―I‘m sorry. I didn‘t mean to startle you.‖ That was so like Kethe, she remembered. The woman was apologizing to an interloper in her home. Would that Regana had ever been half as proper and gentle a lady as Kethe was she would not be in this mess now. ―No. It is fine, Kethe.‖ Regana turned her gaze back to the etching. ―It‘s very good,‖ she noted in a more confident tone. ―He‘s been working on it for over a year.‖ ―Oh…‖ Regana felt her stomach knot painfully at the thought. Pauwel had put all that work and hope into his wedding bed, and now he was sharing it with her instead of his chosen— whoever so foolish a woman was. She felt sick at what he had given up for her. ―Come. I saw Pauwel on his way to train. He ordered me to see that you eat. I notice that he was right and you have not done so of your own accord.‖ ―I‘m not very hungry just now, Kethe. Thank you anyway,‖ she managed. In truth, Regana felt as if she would bring back anything she attempted at that point. ―It was an order.‖ The older woman smiled. ―I don‘t know about you, but I‘ve found it unwise to ignore Pauwel‘s orders.‖ Regana looked at her apprehensively. Was that the sort of man she‘d tied herself to? A man to fear? Kethe laughed as she took the young bride‘s arm. ―A joke, Regana,‖ she assured her. ―Surely, you know better than anyone how gentle Pauwel is.‖ **** Ditrich hit the floor hard, and Gawen winced at the bruises it would leave. ―Hold,‖ he called. ―Pauwel, sheathe and attend!‖ The young man sheathed his weapons and turned to follow Gawen out into the clear day outside. Pauwel was one of the few Warriors skilled enough to fight dual style. Only Gawen himself

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and Veriel had joined him in following Sibold‘s path in that regard. The other Warriors all fought standard. The training for dual was much more vigorous and the handling of two blades required much more control, a step that never seemed to apply to Veriel. His blades seemed literal extensions of his hands, much like they truly were now. But Pauwel was his problem now. Gawen had never seen the young Warrior train this vigorously before, and his control seemed strained. ―Explain,‖ Gawen requested as cordially as he could. Pauwel shrugged, then shivered in the release of his Blutjagd. ―I don‘t want them to get cocky. After all, if they take me, they will think themselves capable of taking an elder. Even I only defeated an injured one, a weakened one. Why must we make so much of this, Gawen?‖ The master trainer sighed. ―They need hope. They need to believe that we can win this. If we can kill them, we have a chance.‖ Pauwel nodded his agreement and turned his face to a thick stand of trees. ―I just don‘t like deceiving them,‖ he admitted. ―I can‘t be sure that I would have defeated Resten alone. If Veriel hadn‘t—‖ ―Do not speak his name to me,‖ Gawen growled out, cutting him off. Pauwel shook his head sadly. The older man sighed. ―Things are going well with Regana?‖ he asked. ―Very well,‖ he replied simply. He eyed the younger man suspiciously. Pauwel‘s jaw was set tight and his muscles bunched beneath the sleeves of his tunic. ―Pauwel, you do not have to do this.‖ ―Yes, I do.‖ He said it quietly, calmly. ―If you find yourself printing on a woman, save your sanity and return my sister to my care. There will be no dishonor for you. We will simply explain the burn, that it was all a mistake,‖ he finished. ―It will never come to that,‖ Pauwel asserted. ―Even if it

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drives me mad, I will never send Regana away.‖ ―You must. If it comes to that, send her away and save your soul.‖ ―It will not come to that,‖ he repeated. He met Gawen‘s eyes, looking determined and angry. ―I‘m for home. I think the others have had enough of my arm today. Besides that, what would they think of me if I did not run to my bride at my first opportunity?‖ ―Keep my offer in mind.‖ Pauwel glared at him as he swept past. Gawen watched him stalk away. How had he let himself get talked into this? Pauwel was skirting the edges of madness, all because Gawen had not been strong enough to find a way to save Regana that didn‘t involve risking the young Warrior. **** Pauwel forced his hands to unfist as he left Gawen far behind. What a damned ridiculous situation he had gotten himself into. Cuckolded before he could even claim his chosen bride and giving her a promise not to touch her just to get her to wed him. He growled at the stupidity of the entire situation. He knew Regana was fond of watching the men train, but Pauwel had never considered that she was watching anyone in particular. She had been careful not to show a preference. Or had she? He slowed his step as he considered it. Regana watched the men training dual most avidly. At the time, Pauwel had assumed she was drawn by the excitement of the two-bladed style. In retrospect, she had probably been watching Jörg and Gawen all that time. Pauwel ground his teeth at his own foolish pride. How many times had he sought out a fight in her line of sight to try to draw her attention? How many times had he misread a kindly smile from her? How many nights had he dreamed of claiming Regana after the battle or fantasized her beneath him as he lay with one of the women provided for their needs? All that time, she had been in Jörg‘s bed, releasing the need in that damned pup that had all but driven Pauwel himself to

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madness. He groaned in the knowledge that she loved Jörg. It would be easier to convince her to turn a kind eye to himself if she were not pining for another man she could never have. The fact that Jörg took her before the battle was almost forgivable. Pauwel had walked the edges of insanity many nights. Slipping over the edge wouldn‘t have been difficult. All it would have taken was a kind word from Regana at the wrong moment to ensure his own fall. The first unforgivable thing Jörg had done was taking her— ever, even once!—without making sure she wasn‘t in high cycle. He could not have been so cocky as to think himself invulnerable. His death could have occurred in battle easily, leaving Regana alone and with child without the benefit of Jörg‘s protection. While Gawen would have demanded the child‘s rights of inheritance and likely been granted it, it would still have been an unconscionable hardship to submit her to. Worse, Jörg hadn‘t died. His outright death would have been kinder to all involved. Leaving her the way he did, child or no, had left Regana questioning why, lost in self-blame, and dishonored in the worst possible way. Did she still dare hope that Veriel was not the beast all knew him to be? That he might harbor some kind emotion for her and her unborn child? He shuddered at the thought. The baby had been a shock to him. For a torturous moment, Pauwel had considered turning his back on her and walking away. Then the familiar burn had set in, and he‘d known his course. The baby may have been an accident of Jörg, but it was part of Regana. The regret that Pauwel had not put it in her womb himself was immaterial compared to the possibilities of the joy of placing the next, and he could see the child as an extension of Regana until he forged love for it on his own terms. He would have promised anything to get Regana to accept him as husband and father to her child. When she agreed, Pauwel had almost wept in relief. Now she awaited him at his home, an unwilling bride that viewed him as a duty and a means to the end of safeguarding herself and her child. Worse, Regana feared him. She shied from his every touch.

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Pauwel sighed. Having her in his bed and still not touching her would mean madness for him, but as long as his brothers put the mad animal in him to death after Pauwel had convinced all of the baby‘s claim to his estate, he will have done all he could for the only woman he could love. And, if the gods showed him the ultimate mercy and Regana turned a favorable eye to him before that time came, his soul would sing for the rest of his life. Pauwel was too far into printing to do any less for her. He hadn‘t lied to Thorald about that. He eased the door open and steeled himself before entering. Pauwel came in slowly and followed the sound of voices to Kethe‘s chamber. He smiled at the sight of them sitting together and talking. He stayed silent so as not to disturb them. At least, Regana would have Kethe to bring her peace here. He was glad for it. ―You‘re being ridiculous,‖ Regana asserted. ―Why can‘t I help? I must earn my keep here somehow.‖ ―Oh, you‘ll earn it,‖ Kethe teased boldly. Before Pauwel could roar out his anger at the impertinence of such a statement, Regana buried her face in her hands. If only Kethe hadn‘t said such a thing. He would never win her, if Regana continued to be so upset at the notion of intimacy with him. ―I am undone, and you think it funny,‖ Regana groaned. Pauwel‘s blood ran cold. Regana could not— No! She would not tell Kethe that. She understood as well as anyone what was at stake if the truth were known. ―Nonsense,‖ Kethe replied. ―If anyone is undone, it is my hot-blooded brother. It is lucky for him that Gawen decided to grant his blessing and not take his head for this trespass.‖ Pauwel let out his breath in relief, as his wife started speaking again. ―He didn‘t have much of a choice, I suppose.‖ That much was true. Pauwel had played on Gawen‘s fear to get his permission. ―And this is hardly Pauwel‘s fault,‖ Regana defended him hotly. ―Please, Kethe. Do not vilify him in this.‖ ―Still, I owe him harsh words for not being honest with

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me,‖ Kethe countered. ―When you swooned while drawing water, I nearly joined you in fear.‖ ―She what?‖ Pauwel thundered from the doorway. Regana stood and spun to face him with a frantic look on her face. Too quickly, he noted. He was a blur of movement as he saw the color drain from her face, and he caught her smoothly as her balance deserted her. Pauwel swept Regana up in his arms and headed for his own bed. ―Kethe, fetch a cool cloth,‖ he ordered. She scrambled ahead of him as he turned into the other room. Pauwel lay Regana on the bed with her knees up on his leg to raise them slightly and rubbed her hands to help her blood move more naturally. Regana looked at him in concern and started to rise. He pushed her back gently with one large hand to her shoulder. ―Pauwel,‖ she began. ―Stay there,‖ he growled. ―Drawing water? You‘re mad.‖ Regana watched him warily, sinking back into the mattress, as if he was a danger to her somehow. ―Other women—‖ ―Other women are not my wife. Kethe will make sure you rest from now on.‖ Pauwel barely registered the panic that tinged his concern for her. ―I will not allow you to risk yourself—or my child.‖ Her eyes widened, and she flicked them toward the doorway as if she expected Kethe to be standing there watching the scene unfold. ―Your...‖ She stopped uncertainly. ―My wife and my child,‖ he repeated. ―You will not endanger either one.‖ Pauwel met her eyes, and his heart softened. ―I couldn‘t bear it. Do you understand that?‖ She swallowed hard and nodded, tears misting her dark eyes. ―I understand. It will be as you wish. You have my word.‖ ―Good enough.‖ He took the cloth from Kethe‘s hand and settled it on Regana‘s forehead. He met Kethe‘s smirk with a hard glare, and she returned to her room without comment. ―Close your eyes and rest a few moments,‖ he crooned to Regana. Pauwel watched her long after her eyes fluttered shut, confused at his reaction. Women carrying a child did not require

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such coddling, and he knew it. Still, some mad part of him demanded such care with her and— My baby. Ours! Mine! Not simply Regana’s and never Jörg’s. She was his and so was the baby she carried. Nothing would be permitted to threaten that, while he lived to prevent it. **** Regana pulled the covers around her hips and waited nervously for Pauwel to come to his bed. She wasn‘t sure if he had stayed with her the entire time she‘d slept that afternoon, but he had still been watching her when she woke. His eyes had been disconcerting, soft and shimmering like warm, black liquid. His eyes drew her, and she‘d had to look away. Even now, those eyes haunted her. She berated herself soundly. When had she left all semblance of decency behind? Regana barely knew anything of Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger though she‘d known him practically from her birth. At least she had grown with Jörg. Not that the fact excused her wanton behavior, but she had no idea what to expect of the man she had to pretend was the father of her child, that she had to share a bed with. Not that Regana could claim to know what Jörg was capable of either. The moment when his madness had taken hold of him still haunted her. When his body lay over her, crushing her into the grass beneath, and his mouth claimed hers, her first reaction had been fear. The moment had come out of nowhere. Jörg had come to the clearing while she was relaxing there and sat to talk with her. Regana remembered smiling at him in answer to some teasing comment he made before he had her under him, his hands pulling at her dress and his eyes strange and fierce, as if not possessed of his senses. The first time had been quick, her cry of pain muted in his mouth, as her fingers fisted in his tunic. Jörg hadn‘t paused but had continued to master her, his seed easing the way for him. Her fear had subsided, as he‘d muttered endearments and pleas between the motions of his hands and the possessions of his mouth. The printing, she

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understood. Jörg would have died without her. He‘d needed her to retain his sanity. If he‘d waited for the choosing ceremony after the battle, he would not have survived. In the end, her shocked inability to act had given way to her acceptance of what he was doing to her. In time, Regana had come to revel in his inability to control his need for her. Jörg could not wait to see her unclothed. He could not wait to claim her with his body. He‘d taken her there beneath their tree and laid gentle kisses over Regana when it was over, professing his love to her. It wasn‘t until later that Jörg seemed to realize the full import of what he had done, but he‘d assured her of his love and his intention to marry her. That moment, when he‘d fallen on her under the tree to claim her without reason, Regana had been sure she didn‘t know him at all, though she‘d reasoned later that it was only the madness she hadn‘t known and not the man. When Jörg went to the Stone after all his promises and assurances, she had been sure she hadn‘t known him at all. Now she was married to a man she truly did not know, and—Gods help her! Regana wanted to be a real wife to him. As if he‘d have her! She considered her life miserably. Giving herself to Jörg got her into this mess, but she wasn‘t so sure throwing herself at Pauwel would make it better. He‘d never given any indication that he wanted more than the marriage of convenience he‘d contracted for. Even if Pauwel did, what would he think of her if she threw herself at him? A harlot, Regana realized sadly. As if she wasn‘t proof of that already. She had resigned herself to that sad state when she hadn‘t screamed at Jörg‘s handling. Regana had resigned herself to that when she began to enjoy the things Jörg was doing and the power her body had over him. She‘d given up all decency when she‘d started going to him willingly, allowing him to sate his needs in her without remorse for the laws she was breaking to do so. She‘d lost all decency when she‘d decided her love for him was more important to her than morals.

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Regana would have lied for him. She had lied for him more than once. Worse, she‘d decided that what they had was more important than the possibility that Gawen would take Jörg‘s life for it. It bothered her, but she‘d still allowed it to continue and even urged it to continue despite that fact. Like it or not, Regana couldn‘t act on this mindless attraction she felt for Pauwel. Was she such a wanton that the first man who looked kindly on her after Jörg left her bed had her in such a state? Regana laughed at the irony of it. She was married to a man who was honorable and caring, a man who made her heart race, and she couldn‘t even express how much she wanted a real marriage with him. She startled, as Pauwel stepped into the room, pulling the covers to her chest. He took in the sight of her, and she met his eyes, burning too brightly in his half-shadowed face. Regana looked away, aware of what he must see in her. She watched him through her eyelashes. Pauwel nodded grimly and closed the door behind him. He moved to the bed in the almost non-existent light and disrobed quietly. She felt the bed sink, as his weight settled onto it lightly, and she held her breath. ―Lie down, Regana. Get comfortable. I told you that I don‘t take unwilling women. I didn‘t lie to you,‖ he whispered. She let out her breath slowly and sank to the bed. What had seemed like a huge bed that morning suddenly seemed cramped with Pauwel‘s form sharing the space with her. It was impossible to move without touching him, and every touch made her want to touch him again. It was like finding your way after your lamp died out. Her cheek brushed the muscles of his arm and she tried to move further away. Her hand connected with the nude expanse of his thigh, and Regana jerked away in shock, abruptly and acutely aware of his state of complete undress. ―Regana,‖ he growled under his breath. She stilled immediately. ―I‘m sorry. I am unaccustomed to sharing a bed with a man.‖ Regana groaned as she considered how ridiculous that sounded coming from her mouth. ―I mean,‖ she began miserably. ―I know what you mean,‖ he grumbled. ―If touching me is

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so horrible for you, we‘ll figure something out.‖ ―It‘s not horrible,‖ she countered in a whisper. It wasn‘t, and that was part of the problem. ―I mean...‖ Regana gave up and swore fluently under her breath. Pauwel jerked in surprise. ―Where did you learn that?‖ ―At training. Several of the men are eloquent in their usage.‖ Regana held her breath, waiting to see what his response would be, and was shocked when he chuckled. ―I suppose they are,‖ he conceded. ―Well, I will inform them that such things are inappropriate around a lady such as yourself before the next time you come to training.‖ She froze. Pauwel had said it honestly enough. There didn‘t seem to be an underlying snub in his comment about her character. In a moment of clarity, Regana realized that it was nothing more than the appearance he would fabricate for them both. ―You wish me to go to training?‖ she asked, her heart aching that it was nothing but a casted play. ―I would much appreciate it if you did,‖ he answered. There was something cautious in that, as if he thought she might refuse him...or he was testing her agreement. ―Very well. I will accompany you tomorrow.‖ ―No. I want you to rest tomorrow. The following day will be soon enough. Agreed?‖ ―As you wish.‖ ―Now, will you relax? If you don‘t find touching me horrible, and I don‘t find your touch horrible, can we sleep in peace?‖ ―Sleep well, Pauwel.‖ Regana lay awake—and very still for long after his breathing normalized into a deep, peaceful rhythm. When she was sure that he was fully asleep, she relaxed against his shoulder and dropped off to sleep.

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Chapter Seven Pauwel drifted into a warm, semi-conscious state, aware that daybreak had passed but too comfortable to consider starting his day. A movement against his chest caught his attention, and he lay very still, searching his memory for an explanation. A pulse of pleasure gripped him as the answer came to him. Regana. His wife was in his bed with him. He opened his eyes, praying his body wasn‘t imagining the glorious sensations he was experiencing. During the night, she had curled into his shoulder. The warm, soft length of her lay along his side and her knee rested lightly on his thigh. Pauwel‘s heart beat frantically behind his ribs as he placed his hand over her hip gently. He drank in the feminine scent of her, and his body tightened in response. He ground his teeth in restraint as the burn in his blood reached a fever pitch, demanding he claim her properly and be done with this torture. The knock on the chamber door came without warning, and Regana startled in response. Her eyes widened as her position became clear to her, and she started to push away from him. He tightened his hand around her slightly and bent his head to whisper next to her ear. ―Be still. We will use this to present the first of many scenes.‖ In truth, Pauwel didn‘t care about the scene. He simply wanted an excuse to keep her in his arms and bed as long as he could manage. Her struggle ceased. Regana nodded and sank back to her nest against him. He brushed his beard through her hair, laying his lips to the silken strands as he laid back. ―Come in,‖ Pauwel invited. Kethe popped her head around the door and smiled a knowing smile at the scene before her. ―Ditrich and Gawen came

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to fetch you on their way to train, but I sent them away. They do expect to see you sometime today,‖ she teased. ―Soon, Kethe,‖ he crooned, drinking in the look in Regana‘s eyes. He could feel her nervous wriggling, but he could also smell her arousal. It may frighten her, but there was a definite chance for a true marriage with her. He thanked several of the ancient gods and the new god of his grandfather for their mercy on his soul in granting that wish. Kethe chuckled as she removed herself, closing the door carefully. Regana sighed in relief. ―She‘s gone,‖ she reminded him, her fidgeting more pronounced. ―Is this so terrible?‖ Pauwel asked, drawing her closer to him, reluctant to release her so soon. Regana closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing as her breasts swelled against him. ―No, it‘s not,‖ she admitted. ―Good, because we will have to do this type of thing often. I‘d like to think you don‘t dislike it too intensely.‖ ―I don‘t,‖ she whispered. Pauwel felt a sudden urge to push the limits a little, to gauge her response to him. ―It may be called for— I may have to kiss you from time to time. Would that be too uncomfortable for you?‖ She looked at him in surprise, and her body stiffened. ―Kiss? In public?‖ she asked in a nervous, little voice. ―Ah, that‘s right. Your—intimacy has always been private,‖ he mused. ―Let me show you.‖ What was intended as a command came out a request. Regana locked on his eyes, and he was afraid she would refuse him. Finally, she nodded in a jerky movement. Pauwel turned to face her, moving his hand from her hip to her face. He cupped his fingers around her cheek and ran his thumb over her jaw and lips. Regana trembled at his touch, and her eyes dilated in shock, but he could feel her body temperature rise in response. He leaned his face to replace his thumb with his lips, teasing her with the feel of him without demanding anything in return.

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At first, her lips hardened. Regana‘s hands locked against his chest like a shield, not pushing him away but keeping Pauwel at a constant distance. Her shield didn‘t relax, but her mouth softened beneath his in a mute surrender to his attentions. Pauwel flicked his tongue lazily over her lips, tasting her. Regana shuddered against him and bit back a small sound in her throat. As he ran his tongue along the slight opening of her mouth, she melted against him and simultaneously granted him the access he craved. Her tentative side fell aside abruptly, as his tongue surged forth into her waiting mouth. He startled in the realization that she was suddenly on familiar ground. Her reactions were hot and demanding, and Pauwel found himself torn. Part of him wanted to follow the heat between them as far as it would lead immediately. Regana was obviously willing to give him this, and he needed it so very badly. Another part of him argued that such actions would make him not much better than Jörg had been. Regana‘s reactions told a story. The impetuous pup had wronged her even more deeply than Pauwel had realized. He‘d never taught her the sweet, slow, kind touch a man could use when making love to a woman. Demanding was all Regana knew, all Jörg had taught her. For that reason alone, Pauwel could not be demanding. Damn Jörg for this! He sobered. Jörg was damned, all right. Pauwel cupped her face with both hands and slowed his pace to a torturous exploration of her. Regana matched his pace. She moved against him in a haze borne of passion. He pulled his face away and met her eyes solidly. Regana searched his expression. She seemed to wilt into a hopeless unhappiness as she looked at him. She averted her gaze and wrapped her arms around her breasts, hard and heavy in her obvious excitement. It took a moment for him to realize that she was stifling sobs. ―Regana,‖ he soothed her, touching her cheek gently. She shrank from him, trembling, seemingly frightened of his touch.

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―Please, tell me what‘s wrong. Have I hurt you somehow?‖ There had to be some reason for this response. What had he done wrong? ―No,‖ she assured him in a broken voice, her shoulders quaking harder. ―Then what?‖ ―You deserve better,‖ she choked out. ―Why did you agree to this marriage? I know why I did, but why would you do this to yourself?‖ ―I don‘t understand.‖ That was no lie. Nothing she was saying made sense to him. ―You‘re a good man, Pauwel. You deserve a real lady, not someone like me.‖ ―Someone like—‖ He felt his temper start to burn. ―I fail to see what you think is wrong with yourself,‖ he growled. Regana tensed in his arms, and Pauwel willed his voice to gentle. He was frightening her, and he had no urge to do that. Pauwel forced himself on. ―You made a mistake. You gave yourself to a man you loved. I can‘t speak for his feelings, but I know he didn‘t treat you the way he should have. I know he didn‘t show the proper concern and care for you. He took you, possessed you, but he never showed you tenderness. What I just did— You‘ve never felt anything like it, have you?‖ She looked at him in confusion. ―I‘m too bold. I curse like a man. You deserve a gentle lady,‖ she argued, but it was a weak, uncertain thing, as if she was both sure and unsure that he would agree with her. ―You are bold only because that is all you were taught. Would it make you feel better if I forbid you to curse?‖ Regana furrowed her brow. ―It wouldn‘t,‖ he assured her. She hesitated for a long moment, then managed a nod. ―Now, you may try to defend him to me, though I hope you do not, but I will tell you the truth of Jörg. He has wronged you in every conceivable way a man can wrong a willing woman right up to leaving you the way he did. ―You have nothing to feel guilty for. You trusted him to behave as an honorable man should have. He didn‘t. If I am

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reading your reactions to my overtures correctly, he never did. When he took your maidenhead—‖ Regana startled and tried to push away, her breaths hitching violently, her eyes wide. Pauwel dragged her back to his chest, stilling her flailing hands as gently as he could. ―Don‘t,‖ he breathed. ―I am not Jörg.‖ She shook in his embrace, but her struggles ceased. ―Did he take you tenderly then, at least?‖ Regana didn‘t reply. ―Did he?‖ he asked more forcefully, keeping his voice a mere whisper. ―It is supposed to hurt the first time,‖ she replied. ―I‘ve always heard that.‖ There was something shamefully damning of Jörg in her insistence. So, he hadn‘t been tender and kind, even then. That stoked Pauwel‘s fury another notch. The need to have her list Jörg‘s crimes for him as judge beat at him. ―Yes, it hurts,‖ he ground out, ―but tenderness can minimize the pain. He didn‘t do that for you, did he? Jörg was demanding. He was always demanding. Wasn‘t he?‖ ―He didn‘t... He was...t-too far,‖ she stammered. ―His printing was too far for it to be different. Please, you don‘t understand.‖ Pauwel stilled, his mind working on that damning statement. ―He didn‘t ask your permission,‖ he breathed. ―He took you unwilling.‖ ―He didn‘t ask my permission, but he didn‘t— He couldn‘t—‖ She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. ―I loved him,‖ she whispered, seemingly tortured by the admission. ―I wanted...‖ Her eyes opened again. She faltered, pleading with him silently, as if she were uncertain what she‘d wanted even now. Gods, but she was confused. Pauwel started to question her several times but stopped himself, his mind rebelling at what she was saying. Jörg hadn‘t asked her permission, but she believed him incapable of it. She believed him gripped by madness and unable to be kind. What had she forgiven him? How heinous

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were his crimes? ―Unready, then,‖ he ventured, praying he was wrong. It was the least courtesy Jörg had owed her, arousing her to accept him with a ready sheath for his cock. ―Demanding and unready?‖ Regana shuddered, no doubt reliving memories that were best forgotten. ―I...‖ She squeezed her eyes shut, as if blocking them out of her mind. The sour smell of true fear poured off her in waves, answering when she was unequal to it. There was little question that unready was an accurate description, that the very memory of the crime terrified Regana...even now. Pauwel tried to push away visions of Jörg forcing himself into her dry body, taking what he wanted, using her maiden‘s blood to ease the way. Why had she not turned him over to Gawen? The answer was obvious. She‘d loved Jörg, and was confused by his madness—perhaps frightened of what Jörg was capable of. ―He didn‘t even grant you a kind hand in convincing you, did he?‖ Pauwel caressed her arms, suddenly aware of his fingers biting into her skin. What was he doing? She‘d suffered enough of that sort of thing, he was certain. ―Like you did when you kissed me?‖ she asked, her brow creased in confusion. Her uncertainty wounded him. Gods alive, what had Jörg done to her? Had she no concept at all of the respect and care she should have been shown? Apparently not. It was time to teach her. ―Like that,‖ he agreed. She shook her head and buried her face in his chest. He uttered several curses under his breath, and Regana pushed from him as far as his arms would allow. Pauwel felt his Blutjagd spike at that. She was afraid of him, afraid when he was loving and afraid when he was angered. It seemed that no interaction would be safe until Regana learned what was appropriate from a man and what was not. Damn Jörg! ―You owe him nothing beyond contempt,‖ he spat. ―I cannot even excuse him for his youth and inexperience. He knew. He could not have been tutored by the older women and engaged in all the conversations of the last year and not know.

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―I will admit something to you, Regana. He was not the only man who wanted you.‖ She looked at him in shock. ―Who wants you,‖ he qualified. ―Why did I agree to this? Because, I can‘t live without you.‖ He drew her hand to his erection, still pulsing in his need despite his anger because she was in his arms. Regana stilled as she realized what he was telling her. Her breathing hitched. She met his eyes, fear warring with confusion in her expression. She didn‘t know what to expect from him. Considering her past, that wasn‘t unexpected. ―I want you, Regana. I want ours to be a true marriage, but I will not take you as Jörg took you.‖ Pauwel guided her hand away slowly. ―When you are ready to learn tenderness, come to me. Until then, I will ask only what we must present in company.‖ He kissed her forehead and left the bed. His body screamed at him for what he was doing, and her look of amazement as she surveyed the naked and aroused length of him wasn‘t helping. Pauwel covered himself quickly, pulling a practice tunic over his head to hide the evidence of his present condition. ―Pauwel?‖ she called softly. ―Yes?‖ He kept his voice even, not willing to risk spooking her with a reaction at either extreme that pulled at him. ―I found an amber pendant in your mother‘s trunk. I tried to give it to Kethe, but she said it wasn‘t your mother‘s. She said you had it made for your chosen wife.‖ Pauwel snapped a look at her. She was more than a little frightened by that concept. What did she need to be at ease? Pauwel would willingly do whatever it was, but he had no idea what Regana sought with that comment. He pulled on his trews, working the lacings as he considered it. ―I had it made for you,‖ he assured her, praying it was the response she‘d hoped for. ―Are you sorry...now that you did?‖ she asked, tears in her eyes. His eyes widened in shock. ―No, I‘m not. Someday, you‘ll wear it for me.‖

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She nodded shakily as he turned away again. Pauwel kept his back to her as he used the trunk to wrap the bindings for his boots around his legs and fastened his weapons belt around his waist. ―I must go. Wedding night or not, I must go to training now.‖ ―I understand,‖ she managed. ―I will accompany you tomorrow.‖ ―I would appreciate that,‖ he answered in that same even tone. ―Don‘t. It is a small boon you ask, much less than I am asking of you.‖ He faced her in disbelief. ―I wouldn‘t just appreciate it,‖ Pauwel assured her. ―I would enjoy it. It‘s a selfish thing I‘m asking.‖ ―Not so selfish. I don‘t think you‘re capable of being truly selfish.‖ ―You pay me far more honor than I am due.‖ He left the chamber quickly before he could prove that point. Gods, but his blood was screaming at him to release his morals and take her in the way she was obviously accustomed to. Pauwel couldn‘t do it, and he knew he would rather face Gawen‘s blade than give in to it, so he had to leave. ―Will you eat, Pauwel?‖ Kethe offered as he passed through the main room. ―No. I am late.‖ And he felt as if his appetite would never return, as if Veriel had struck him a gut shot...or one to his sac. In a manner of speaking, that was precisely what had happened, and he was at a loss to undo the damage done. ―Happily so, I am sure.‖ ―Yes,‖ he agreed as he headed for the door, knowing his face would tell his sister more than he wanted her to know. ―Pauwel?‖ He paused with his back to her. ―Midday meal,‖ she reminded him as she pressed the food wrapped in a scrap of cloth into his hand. He nodded and started for the door again, certain that his appetite would not return that soon. ―Kethe, see that Regana gets some rest today. This has been a storm of emotion and events for

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her. She needs to get her bearings.‖ ―I will. Don‘t concern yourself, Pauwel. I‘ve seen the kind looks she has for you. Regana may be frightened or upset at the turn of events, but she‘ll soon be the same woman you came to love. Trust me.‖ Pauwel nodded and headed down the dirt track, through the village, and to the training area. He snorted at Kethe‘s parting statements. What he wouldn‘t give to be able to start over. The best he could hope for was that Regana would come to him and let him teach her the gentler way, to start them off right from here. Pauwel just prayed she‘d do that before he lost his mind. **** Gawen watched Pauwel as he trained. The young Warrior was distracted, and the others had noticed it as well. He was still holding his own, but his mind was nowhere near the training area. Where he was dangerous in his lack of control the previous day, he was dangerous in his inattention now. Finally, he called the hold for the meal and approached Pauwel. ―Come eat with me,‖ he issued in invitation that his eyes added the order to. Pauwel averted his eyes. He nodded mutely and gathered his package of food. Pauwel led the way to the tree line and sank to the earth with his back to a young tree. Gawen sighed as he surveyed the other man. ―I don‘t like what this is doing to you, Pauwel.‖ ―I will survive it. I just have a lot to think about,‖ he countered, taking a sparing bite from a huge chunk of bread. ―Regana?‖ ―Some of it,‖ he admitted. ―If it‘s going to make you this inattentive, return her to me now. I won‘t have you injured or killed to protect her name.‖ Pauwel stared at him in shifting emotions that swung from disbelief to dismay and settled on a steely anger. ―No. She is not leaving my home, though leaving now would not harm her good name. Kethe knows that Regana is with child and that the child

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is mine. That is all anyone need know. The rest... The rest will simply take more time to work out.‖ ―This is not part of your duty,‖ Gawen conceded. ―I was wrong to let you offer this. Regana—‖ ―Regana is not at fault here,‖ he growled the warning not to persist in that vein. ―She allowed—‖ ―That damned pup knew exactly what he was doing. I will not tell you all I have learned. I don‘t think that is necessary. Nor do I think Regana would thank me for it. Believe me when I tell you that she has been used in the worst possible ways. His lack of tenderness and regard were so complete that she now fears a kind hand, Gawen. He wanted satisfaction, and he used everything he knew to get it, everything but the basic considerations that he should have shown her. He didn‘t even…‖ Pauwel looked at the bread in his hand and threw it into the woods in annoyance, followed by the rest of his food. Gawen took a deep breath and forced his heart to slow. He had naturally assumed Regana was largely to blame for her current situation. The idea of her being manipulated or mishandled hit him hard. How could he miss something like that? ―You‘re sure about this?‖ he managed. ―I‘m certain. As near as I have been able to determine, she allowed it because she believed his printing made him unable to do better by her.‖ Pauwel shook his head and laid it back against the tree. ―Are you saying...‖ Gawen found that he couldn‘t even think the worst, let alone say it. ―The fact that she was ultimately willing in some fashion is about the best I can say for him. Though how willing, I cannot say,‖ he grumbled. Some fashion? Gawen felt his heart sink. What had Veriel done? ―Then I have even less right to expect this of you. I should have protected Regana. She is my responsibility,‖ he decided. Pauwel swung those cold, dangerous eyes to Gawen. ―She is my wife,‖ he growled. ―She is not leaving my care. Not even you will take her from me.‖ Gawen‘s eyes widened in surprise. ―You‘re printing,‖ he

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guessed. ―It‘s always been Regana. She‘s the one who was missing at the choosing ceremony, the one you wanted to choose.‖ Suddenly, so many things made sense, from his willingness to accept this burden and Regana‘s child to his unwillingness to accompany Gawen home after his crushing blow at the ceremony. Facing her at that moment must have seemed like a version of the Christian hell to him. ―Yes,‖ Pauwel admitted. ―Return her before it‘s too late,‖ he ordered. ―It is already too late for that. If I lose her, I die.‖ ―Will she accept you?‖ ―In time. I know the damage is not complete. Regana has the capacity to accept me as her husband. I just have to give her space and let her come to me.‖ ―How much time? How much space?‖ Pauwel shrugged. ―No. This isn‘t acceptable.‖ ―It‘s unavoidable. I will not take an unwilling woman.‖ Or even convince an unwilling woman into some fashion of willingness. ―She‘s your wife,‖ Gawen protested. ―No matter what ridiculous promise you made her, you must use whatever is at your disposal to help her turn to you, and you must do it quickly.‖ ―If I feel I‘m losing my control, you will take my life before I can do her more damage. After that, you will raise my son for me and protect my wife. First night him and give him my seal at his first kill, so that he will be the new Lord Kreuzträger.‖ He said it all calmly, too calmly—as if he already accepted that the fate awaited him. ―That baby—‖ ―Is mine, and anyone who suggests otherwise will face me at my worst. This isn‘t simply about honor and duty and promises. I can give her no less than my best. If I die to do that, I die. No one will ever know any truth but the one I will weave for us. Do you understand?‖ Gawen nodded. ―You will play this to the end, even if it kills you to do it.‖ ―That is the way it is,‖ Pauwel agreed as he pushed to his

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feet and headed back inside. Gawen watched him go and considered how unfair the situation was. Pauwel was one of their finest. He‘d waited patiently for his woman, as all the first cursed who had not gone beast had done. Still, he could yet be lost to them. Gawen barely noted Riberta entering the training area as he considered what he could do to ease Pauwel‘s time. **** Pauwel raised his head as the noise level across the room jumped considerably. Wil was arguing heatedly with Riberta, the younger of his two sisters. Riberta was a year or two older than Regana, but she still acted the spoiled child. The lithe girl flipped her bright blond hair and gestured in annoyance at Wil. Pauwel sighed. Riberta had been impossible to live with, since the Warriors made their choices. When they numbered thirteen, she had been virtually guaranteed to be some Warrior‘s chosen, if for nothing else, then for her looks. She felt she should have been the lady of a house lord, and the beasts‘ departure had denied her of her prize. Being bride of a chosen had many advantages. The women would not only be the lady of a house and have the protection of their husbands, but many believed the rumors that the Fluch of the Warriors made them insatiable and talented lovers. Some women, like Riberta, were a little too eager on that point to be appealing for long. In the end, she‘d been passed over by the seven young lords left to choose. Wil turned his head and met Pauwel‘s eyes, and Pauwel could feel the malevolence of the older man washing over him, heating his blood for a fight. The larger man stalked across the room to where Pauwel sat with his back against the wall. Feigning indifference took all of Pauwel‘s strained control, but he managed it. Whatever Riberta was up to was sure to be a malicious annoyance. The angry Warrior stopped a few arms‘ lengths away and

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scowled down at him. Pauwel raised an eyebrow as he glanced around Wil at the four other Warriors crowded behind him. He smiled tightly. ―You need to speak to me?‖ he asked in an even voice. ―I‘ve just had disturbing news, Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger.‖ Wil took the lead, as Pauwel had expected him to. ―And it concerns me in what way?‖ ―I‘ve just been told that your chosen mate already carries your child.‖ ―You find a baby threatening? Funny, I find it anything but threatening. Exciting, wonderful, nerve-wracking at times, but never threatening or disturbing.‖ His smile was genuine that time. ―You admit it?‖ Wil asked in disbelief. ―I‘d be a fool to deny that Regana carries a child. She will show soon enough,‖ he answered honestly. ―You took her before the battle, didn‘t you?‖ Olbrecht demanded. Pauwel sucked in his breath audibly. It was time for the first of many outright lies, and he steeled his nerves for it. ―Of course. How else could I be so certain of the fact?‖ he replied. ―Why have you done this?‖ Cunczel roared, his black eyes hard and hateful. ―I had a choice. Either I broke my vow to wait and took my chosen mate or I went mad from the waiting. That option not only meant death but also that we would be a man shorter in battle. Have you ever reached Endspiel? The insanity is not just a story. You print or you die. It is not an exaggeration.‖ Pauwel realized how close to the edge he was already and grimaced internally at the truth of his argument. ―A man who cannot control himself is no better than a beast,‖ Ger submitted. ―You broke our laws.‖ ―Yes, I did. My life was forfeit to Gawen, if he chose. There are no secrets between us about this matter. I faced his judgment.‖ ―And I chose to take a single blow and let him live,‖ Gawen thundered. ―It is not within any of your rights to question my judgment in this matter.‖ He stepped forward to stand next to

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Pauwel. ―The subject is closed.‖ ―It is not,‖ Wil decided. ―He not only wronged you and your house. He broke the rules of training. That is an offense against our honor and trust.‖ ―And I am master trainer,‖ Gawen interjected. ―The rule was to maximize thirst for battle. Did you slay as many as Pauwel? Ger, how many did he save you from? Have you killed an elder?‖ Pauwel swallowed a sour lump. Today was the start of his lies, but Gawen was well versed in the art. ―The point?‖ Ditrich asked. ―Pauwel broke the rule, but his reasoning was sound. It was more advantageous to have him in top form but printed than dead by our blades and unable to fight. In point of fact, his drive to protect his chosen most likely made him a more dedicated fighter than he would have been otherwise.‖ ―So, you will do nothing?‖ Cunczel shot back. ―I didn‘t intend on it. No. I have taken my blow from his hide.‖ ―What of the others he‘s injured?‖ Wil demanded. ―What others?‖ Pauwel asked, honestly perplexed by their ire. ―How does this injure any of you? I did my duty. I continue to do my duty. The battle is over. You have your chosen mates. Who have I injured?‖ ―By choosing before the battle, you did not give proper consideration to the matter. You took what was readily available,‖ Wil spat. Pauwel shot to his feet at the implied insult to Regana. Gawen put out a hand to stop him bodily. His eyes warned Pauwel to bite back the urge to end such talk physically. The younger man glared at Wil over the master trainer‘s shoulder. ―If I wanted what was readily available, Riberta was busy throwing herself at any Warrior who crossed her path, hoping for her title.‖ The larger man went crimson in fury. ―Think I‘m lying? Ask them. Perhaps, one of our damned brethren would have chosen her had they not chosen the Stone. After all,‖ he smiled a vicious smile, ―they were obviously less

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picky in their choices.‖ Riberta launched toward him with her hands out as if to wound him physically. Wil pushed her aside. ―Go away, woman,‖ he ordered. ―You are of my house, and it is my place to judge him for his lies.‖ Ditrich strode to place his hand on Pauwel‘s shoulder. He met the master trainer‘s eyes before turning back to Wil. ―Pauwel may have broken our rules, but he‘s not lying about Riberta‘s actions. She tried more than once to entice me to her bed while we were training. I might have fallen to her had I not already observed her working her whiles on both Pauwel and Dado. I cannot say whether any man fell to her, but I know that the three of us rebuffed her.‖ ―A woman rebuffed,‖ Gawen scowled at her, ―is hardly a proper judge of her former prey and his chosen.‖ Wil faced her. ―Is it true?‖ She raised her chin in challenge. ―I have bedded no man,‖ she assured him. ―You tried to sway the men to you so one would choose you?‖ he demanded. She looked around uncertainly. ―I only made myself known to them,‖ she protested. ―There was no harm in that.‖ ―You baited us,‖ Ditrich countered. ―You knew we were skirting the edges of madness and you played on that fact, trying to make one of us print on you.‖ ―What did Regana do?‖ Riberta fumed. ―She did the same, and you accept her while you speak against me. Why? Because she was successful, and I was not?‖ Pauwel felt his blood boil in rage for Regana. ―She threw herself at no one. I pursued her, and I was judged for it. Do not think to drag my chosen into the mud with you,‖ he warned. ―Regana watched the training as often as she could. She put herself beneath the men‘s noses. She spent more time tempting them than I did,‖ she decided. ―Wil, you know the truth of Regana‘s presence within these walls. If you will not silence this woman‘s lies, I will,‖ Pauwel growled at him. In fact, he was barely managing to restrain

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himself as it was. Wil apparently recognized it. He crossed to Riberta and grabbed her by the upper arm, half-dragging her to the doorway. ―Home,‖ he ordered her. ―You‘ve done enough damage to Maher for a lifetime. We will discuss this matter when I return home.‖ She started to speak, and he propelled her bodily through the doorway. Wil watched until she was halfway across the open area before he returned to the group of men. ―The truth,‖ he demanded. ―How many of you did she approach?‖ Pauwel nodded. ―Ditrich spoke the truth. She pursued me, and I saw her approach him.‖ Ditrich nodded his agreement. Gawen shook his head. ―She didn‘t attempt it with me,‖ he asserted. Cunczel and Olbrecht shook their heads in denial of involvement with the affair. Ger darkened and looked away. ―Ger?‖ Gawen prodded. The young man glanced at Wil nervously. ―Riberta approached me. She all but undressed for me,‖ he noted miserably. ―Her hands—‖ Ger shook his head. ―How far did it go?‖ Pauwel asked. ―I kissed her before I came to my senses. I am at your mercy, Wil. It should not have gone so far. I know that, and had I been of sounder mind, it never would have.‖ Wil darkened and nodded curtly. ―She baited you, Ger. She‘ll pay for it.‖ He flicked a glance at Pauwel. ―Believe me, she will pay for it.‖ ―And my punishment?‖ Ger asked proudly, willing to accept the blow he knew he was due. ―You‘ve shown enough honor to admit what she undoubtedly will not. You knew that she would not and still admitted it to me and accepted your censure. I think you‘ve earned my gratitude for that.‖ ―Thank you, Wil.‖ ―Don‘t thank me. Suffering my sister seems to be akin to a plague.‖

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Gawen nodded. ―Knowing what we now do of Riberta‘s motivation, is there any more concern about Pauwel‘s wife and child?‖ One by one, the Warriors agreed that the issue was closed. Pauwel sighed his relief. ―My only question is this. What rumors are about that drove Riberta to this?‖ ―None that I know of,‖ Wil assured him. ―I will attempt to control my sister so that she does not create them herself out of spite.‖ ―Then how could she know about Regana?‖ he asked. ―She said she stopped by to visit the new bride and found her abed and ill.‖ Pauwel groaned and looked to Gawen miserably. ―Go to her,‖ he replied to the unspoken plea. ―I‘m sure she‘s fine, but go see for yourself.‖ Pauwel nodded and took off for his home at a run. **** ―No broth, please,‖ Regana begged, swallowing down another wave of nausea. Kethe nodded and retreated with the offending bowl. Regana closed her eyes and curled to the edge of the bed. She knew it was the baby making her sick, but it had never made her this ill before. It had never been difficult to hide the slight queasiness from Gawen. He was gone from sunup to sunset most days, after all. She heard voices in the main room and prayed that it wasn‘t more visitors. Riberta of Maher had been more than enough aggravation for a decade. Her fake concern and feminine posturing had left Regana cold. In fact, the worst of the nausea had only struck after her visit. Regana had never liked Riberta. She hated her now. The voices in the main room rose sharply. ―You should have sent for me,‖ Pauwel asserted. ―It is only the baby troubling her, Pauwel. She asked me not to interrupt you for so trivial a thing.‖ ―She‘s been bedridden all day. That is not trivial,‖ he

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countered. ―Yes, she has. Only your son could cause so much trouble,‖ Kethe teased. Pauwel grumbled loudly as he made his way to the bedchamber. Regana opened her eyes, as he stopped in the doorway. He rested his fist on the wall and leaned his weight against it smoothly. His jaw tightened slightly as he looked at her. ―I would have come, Regana. I did come as soon as I heard.‖ His voice was soft, and his eyes were the disconcerting liquid warmth again. ―There‘s nothing you can do,‖ she countered. ―The hell there‘s not.‖ Pauwel pushed off the wall and crossed to the bed. Regana blinked her eyes as she watched him. He didn‘t seem to walk. Rather, he glided toward her. He was—beautiful, for lack of a better word. He pulled the cloth from the bowl of cool water and placed it on her neck. Pauwel crossed to the other side of the bed and stripped off his boots and tunic. He dropped his belt to the floor and settled on the bed behind her. Regana startled as he ran his hands up her back. ―Relax,‖ he crooned. ―Let me help you.‖ She nodded and sank into the sensation of his hands. He rubbed at chosen spots on her body: her wrists, her ear, jaw line, her hands, and feet. Regana groaned as the nausea faded somewhat. ―Better?‖ he asked. ―Mmmm. What are you doing? How does this work?‖ she asked from behind closed eyes. ―I‘m rubbing healing points,‖ Pauwel explained. He moved his hands to her back. ―You‘re tense from the stress,‖ he noted. ―Once you feel better, we‘ll get some food in you.‖ ―Tired,‖ she managed. Pauwel wet the cloth again and started bathing her face, neck, and chest in gentle strokes that made her want to sleep all the more. Part of her mind argued that she should be selfconscious about his intimate handling of her, but Regana couldn‘t summon the drive to think such a thing when it all felt

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so wonderfully soothing. ―Being so sick is draining,‖ Pauwel breathed close to her cheek as he wet the cloth again. Regana felt consciousness slipping away. His hands returned to her back and caressed away more of the tension in her muscles. ―Sleeping?‖ he asked. She tried to answer but her mind and body seemed disconnected from each other. ―Good,‖ he crooned. ―You‘ll feel better when you wake.‖ Regana vaguely noticed when Pauwel dropped his weight fully behind her, stretching out on the bed with her. He nestled to her back, wrapping his arm over her and settling his hand over her baby. He caressed the patch of her womb as he kissed her shoulder gently. Tenderness. Her mind supplied the term for her. Pauwel was definitely a very different man than she was accustomed to.

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Chapter Eight Regana didn‘t come to watch him train the next day—the next three days. Every morning and evening, Pauwel would work his magic. Most likely because of it, she could keep food down if she was cautious with her actions and rested often. A tea from Emecin helped when things were at their worst during the day, so she would not resort to calling Pauwel from training for her. On the fourth morning, Regana woke feeling much better than she had since long before her hasty marriage. She smiled at Pauwel as he woke. ―How are you feeling?‖ he asked. ―Hungry,‖ she admitted. ―And tired of bed. I want to accompany you to training today.‖ ―Are you sure?‖ ―I doubt I‘m completely through with being sick. I won‘t waste a good day.‖ Pauwel smiled widely and planted a kiss on her cheek. ―If you get ill, tell me immediately. Promise me.‖ ―I promise.‖ ―Get dressed then.‖ He rolled his eyes, but she could tell he was acting a scene for her benefit. Pauwel really was a playful man when you got to know him. She planted an impetuous kiss on his cheek. ―Thank you, Pauwel.‖ Regana stilled as the longing in his eyes struck her. She bit her lower lip lightly for a moment before leaning to meet his lips. Pauwel groaned as he ran his hands through her hair and parted her lips gently to deepen the kiss. As his tongue swirled within her, Regana felt an explosive need building in her thighs and washing upward.

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As if sensing that need, Pauwel pulled her to his chest and turned gingerly to place himself over her. He ran his lips down her neck and paused at the neckline of her shift. He sighed as he ran a hand underneath to slide it off her shoulder. His lips followed the motion until they rested on the soft flesh at the top of her breast. He met her eyes briefly, as if seeking her approval, then sank his mouth to the sensitive spot he had discovered below the edge of the shift. Pauwel freed the breast from it smoothly and drew his tongue in slow circles over her nipple. Regana stifled a cry, as a shock wave of pleasure sliced through her. Pauwel sucked in at the nipple gently, and she arched to him, trying to still the gasping breaths that wracked her while a slick heat pooled at the center of her, aching for his attention. The knock on the door startled them both. Pauwel‘s head came up. ―What is it?‖ he growled. ―Gawen is here,‖ Kethe informed him. He cursed solidly. ―Tell him I‘ll be there in a few minutes.‖ Pauwel stared at Regana miserably, running his fingers over the nipple he was being forced to abandon. ―Promise me we‘ll come back here later,‖ he pleaded. ―If the rest of your teaching is as pleasurable…‖ ―What?‖ he asked with a hungry look. She blushed. ―Nothing. Yes, we can come back here. You have my word.‖ Pauwel nodded and started to dress. Regana did likewise, determined not to be left behind. They launched into the main room together, Pauwel chuckling as she all but tripped out on the end of his arm. Gawen looked at them with a raised eyebrow. ―I thought you were ill,‖ he teased. Regana leaned to kiss his cheek. ―I‘m feeling much better today, thanks to Pauwel. I‘m going to training.‖ Gawen smiled. ―That‘s good. You‘ve been missed.‖ **** Pauwel smiled at Regana as he took the field against

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Cunczel. The other man was less than a year older, but his time smithing had left him roughly the size of a small mountain, larger even than Wil now that he was grown. The first two blows went to Pauwel, and Regana clapped in glee. ―Your wife is very proud of you,‖ Cunczel noted. Pauwel glanced her way momentarily. ―Yes, I guess she is.‖ He brought his weapons up to defend against the attack Cunczel was waging, believing him distracted. ―She‘s much prettier than I remembered. It‘s easy to see why you succumbed to her.‖ Pauwel felt his jaw tighten reflexively. ―I did not succumb. I pursued,‖ he reminded the other man patiently. ―I just wondered how it was that you managed that,‖ he commented. ―Managed what?‖ he snapped. ―Pursuing her. You had as little free time as the rest of us, no more. Plus, she was of Gawen‘s house.‖ He smiled a slightly cold smile. ―I think you need to go tumble your chosen. This matter was closed, Cunczel. It is inappropriate to cast suspicion now.‖ ―Just a nagging wonder that came up later,‖ he excused his rude questioning. Pauwel sighed. In truth, he had no idea how Jörg managed it. He‘d never asked. He didn‘t want to ask, because that would simply undo the distance he was placing between the damned pup and Regana. Already, she accepted his gentle touch without reservation. Reminding her of the other man‘s demanding, brutal ways would only cause her undue pain. ―Are we sparring or not?‖ Pauwel asked. ―Of course.‖ Cunczel raised his weapon with a broadening of his smile, and they exchanged several more blows. ―So, how did you manage it?‖ ―I cornered her while she did evening work and convinced her,‖ Pauwel lied smoothly, reminding himself to tell Regana about this addition to their story. ―You took her on Gawen‘s own land?‖ he asked with a licentious leer her way that made Pauwel‘s blood boil jealously. ―I‘ve been judged for all, including my poor choices in my

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madness,‖ he countered acidly, striking a harder blow than was necessary. ―Well then...perhaps the great lady is not so virtuous, after all,‖ Cunczel mused. Pauwel swept Cunczel‘s feet from beneath him and straddled his chest, pinning his arms to the floor and crossing his blades around the other man‘s throat. ―I will kill you for such a lie,‖ he warned. ―What do you want? Do you want to hear every detail of how I convinced her? It was dishonorable. It was beneath me to act in such a fashion. I know it. Regana deserves better than what I gave her, and I‘ll not have lies like these tainting her name for my sins.‖ Cunczel nodded frantically. Pauwel knew he should back off, but some part of him screamed for a permanent lesson, a lasting one. He barely recognized Gawen‘s voice as the master trainer demanded a hold, as he ordered Pauwel to stand down. Fighting the animal within had him shaking in his exertion. He noted Gawen storming his way, but he almost missed the flash of color that seemed to melt around the master trainer‘s body. ―Regana, no,‖ her brother bellowed, his hands skating off the back of her dress, missing her as he lunged to hold her back. Cunczel used the momentary lapse in Pauwel‘s attention to throw the smaller man off. Pauwel rolled to his feet in a blur of motion. He swept Regana behind him, as Cunczel‘s blade flashed. Pauwel deflected the blow easily, his Blutjagd fueled by the fact that the weapon would have caught Regana had he been slower in his reactions. One blade sliced a shallow line across the smith‘s face while the other planted solidly at his throat. ―Disarm,‖ Pauwel ordered. Cunczel gaped at him and dropped his weapon to the dirt. ―Pauwel, I meant no—‖ ―I know what you meant,‖ he growled. ―You made yourself very clear. I will do the same. Do not seek to injure my chosen in word or action ever again. Am I understood, Lord Schmied?‖ Cunczel eyed Pauwel‘s hand on the weapon that brushed his throat and nodded. ―Yes, Pauwel. I understand.‖ Regana‘s hands moved over Pauwel‘s back in circles that

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calmed his blood. He groaned in release as Blutjagd was forgotten and sheathed his weapons. Her hands wrapped around him, and Regana pressed herself into his back in a way that made him tighten in pleasure. Pauwel moved in the circle of her arms, as Cunczel backed to the side, holding a hand to his cheek in disbelief. Pauwel took her shoulders in his hands. ―Are you all right?‖ he asked. She nodded and ran a hand over his cheek. ―Are you?‖ she countered. ―I am now. Never— Promise me you‘ll never run into a battle again.‖ Regana nodded. His mouth went dry, as she wound her arms around his neck and nestled her face into his shoulder. Caught in the other fire and screaming for release as he had been for days, Pauwel buried his face in her hair in a hopeless need for her touch. As if she understood perfectly, Regana tipped her head back and brushed her lips over his, standing on tiptoe to reach him comfortably. ―Are you sure?‖ he whispered against her mouth. She repeated the move as her answer, and Pauwel moved one hand to cup her jaw line while the other snaked around her shoulders. He drew her to him, drunk on the sensation of the velvet warmth of Regana‘s mouth under his. He groaned as he buried his face in the fall of black curls again. Pauwel wanted her, and if he didn‘t take her very soon, he‘d be on the wrong side of a blade—Gawen‘s most likely. His entire body ached for her. His mind and soul were scrambled and nervy. Gawen‘s hand landed on his shoulder. ―Take her home, Pauwel,‖ he whispered. ―You‘ve had enough today.‖ Pauwel nodded and wrapped an arm around Regana‘s hip to lead her out into the overcast day. He tried desperately to ignore the looks from the other lords as they left. Concerned or hostile, it was a fairly even split. Suddenly, he decided that the gray sky was a perfect complement to his black mood. They walked in silence for half the trip. Finally, Regana spoke. ―Please, tell me what‘s wrong. What

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I saw— It frightened me, Pauwel. I didn‘t recognize any of you in it. Explain for me,‖ she pleaded. ―My control is shaken,‖ he admitted. ―Because of me.‖ Her voice hitched at that. Regana likely feared that Pauwel was as mad as Jörg, that his tender side would melt away, and he would become the same sort of beast she‘d fallen prey to last. He could not allow her to believe that was possible, or she would never come to him willingly. ―No. Never because of you. It is me. If I can‘t control myself, I‘m no better than a beast. I will control myself better. You have my word on that.‖ ―You‘re printing, aren‘t you?‖ ―Yes, I am.‖ ―Then we should definitely finish what we started this morning,‖ she mused. ―Not if that is your reason,‖ he countered stubbornly. Just as she could not live with being his duty, he would not take her if that was her motivation. Regana stopped and looked at him in disbelief. ―Am I that... Can you kiss me and not know how much I want you?‖ Her face darkened, and she looked away abruptly. ―I‘m sorry. I shouldn‘t have said that,‖ she managed. Pauwel ran his thumb along the sensitive line of her jaw. ―I hope, but I‘m afraid I‘m only seeing what I hope for.‖ She nodded, a jerking motion that announced her upset when other indicators lied. ―Why are you so uncertain of yourself?‖ he asked. Regana shrugged and started to walk away, but he took her by the arm and drew her back. She surveyed him as if gauging his state of mind. ―Explain. Please, or I will never understand.‖ She removed his hand from her arm resolutely. ―It‘s not appropriate to discuss it with you,‖ she answered evenly. ―Jörg?‖ he guessed. ―Well, if it‘s not you,‖ she joked in a weak voice. ―Of course, Jörg! Why does everything bad in my life have to come back to Jörg?‖

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Pauwel wrapped an arm around her and led her off the trail into a stand of trees. He sat on a fallen trunk, denuded of branches for firewood, and drew Regana down next to him. ―You still want him?‖ he asked, an atypical spike of fear lodging in his heart. As always, it was Regana that made him feel it, only she that touched that unknown corner of his soul. ―No. I said my goodbye the first day. He can‘t come back, after all.‖ He nodded, thankful for that small favor. ―Then what?‖ ―I want to know,‖ she admitted miserably. ―Know what?‖ he prodded. ―Why? Why he chose to... He must have gone not long after I left him. Could I have stopped him?‖ Pauwel groaned, but Regana hurried on before he had a chance to protest her innocence. ―He wanted me to stay longer. If I had, would he still have done it? He had doubts. I knew that. It was so important— He had to hear that I would consent to marry him after the battle almost every time he saw me.‖ She stared at her hands in unhappiness. Pauwel‘s head seemed to spin lightly as he digested this new information. ―Wait! You‘re saying Jörg took you. He demanded to hear that you would marry him. He asked you to stay, and then…‖ She met his eyes and nodded, tears pooled and waiting to spill. ―What else did he say that night?‖ he demanded. ―Does it matter?‖ She choked on the words. ―Yes. It does matter. I think it matters very much. Tell me.‖ Regana sighed raggedly. ―He told me all he could think about was me. He was even losing concentration in training.‖ ―You or lying with you?‖ Pauwel asked pointedly. She furrowed her brow and darkened. ―With Jörg, there was not much of a difference,‖ she admitted. She grimaced at some unwanted thought. ―If there was any.‖ He motioned to her to continue, tapping down his fury at the thought of it. Pauwel had suspected as much of the fool, but hearing Regana say it was almost too much.

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―He said— He couldn‘t worry about getting caught, because Gawen could only take his life, and he would die without me anyway.‖ Pauwel wrapped his arms around her. ―No wonder you looked so shattered the next morning,‖ he mused. ―Did he tell you that he loved you too?‖ She was silent for a long moment, so still she barely seemed to breathe. ―Regana?‖ ―No, he didn‘t,‖ she admitted. ―He called me Geliebte. He always called me that, but—‖ ―Did he ever tell you he loved you?‖ ―Once. Maybe more, but I remember once clearly.‖ ―Probably not,‖ he bit out. ―Did he say it to get you to agree the first time?‖ Pauwel winced at the bite of sarcasm in his voice. Whether he believed it of Veriel or not, it was inappropriate to say such a thing to the woman the beast had wronged. Regana blushed deeply. ―I told you he didn‘t ask,‖ she whispered. Yes, he‘d forgotten that—or tried to forget it. ―Then, when did he say it?‖ She didn‘t answer. Her hands fisted in her skirts. Pauwel felt his heart sink. ―In the aftermath of the first time?‖ he guessed. ―After he took you and he realized what he had done.‖ ―Yes.‖ Her voice was so low, he almost missed her answer entirely, and a tear spilled down her cheek. He held her to him, at a loss to take away the many hurts he wished he could. ―I should have handed him over to Gawen.‖ Her voice was small and lost. ―Why did I believe him? I was a fool.‖ ―No. Never that,‖ he soothed her. The urge to throttle Veriel was nearly overpowering. Whether he‘d planned what he did or got dragged into agreement somehow, leaving Regana as he had was unconscionable. If he‘d planned it, leading her on was below contempt. If he had been dragged into it, the least Veriel owed

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her was an explanation to ease her pain. But how does a man, a man honestly enamored of a lady like Regana, lay with her and tell her he wants her forever only to choose anything but an honorable death? He pushed that thought away with a renewed spike of fury. Jörg had never been honorable with Regana. What else would he expect from that beast? ―Pauwel,‖ she whispered, ―I do want you. I have since you cared for me that first day when I felt faint.‖ ―Out of thanks or for what reason?‖ he inquired evenly as he drank in the feeling of her body pressed to his. Pauwel hoped it was more. He prayed it was to every god he could remember or even vaguely remembered hearing of. ―Not appreciation. Because of the type of man you are. You are kind and gentle. You are caring. You are willing to accept censure for me with no guarantee of a return. I‘ve never met a man like you.‖ ―You want me, but you haven‘t come to me before now?‖ ―I— What kind of woman would I be?‖ she asked hopelessly. ―I don‘t understand.‖ ―To jump from one bed to another that way,‖ she qualified. ―You said it yourself. I have only been taught to be wanton and bold. I don‘t want you to see me that way.‖ ―You‘re not being unfaithful. He gave you nothing to be faithful to. You want to learn the tenderness I offered?‖ ―Yes,‖ Regana breathed. ―More than anything.‖ ―You‘re not offering out of appreciation or fear for me?‖ he whispered. ―You truly want this?‖ ―I want it. I want you.‖ ―Then we should go home. If I touch you now, I won‘t be able to stop myself,‖ he admitted. ―Yes,‖ she agreed. ―Let‘s go.‖ **** Regana felt as if she were being blown along by a strong wind. After his pronouncement, Pauwel had swept her under his

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arm and started back to their house. Twice, she‘d had to ask him to slow down for her. Both times, he‘d blushed and offered his apologies with a crooked smile. ―I‘m sorry,‖ he finally managed. ―I‘ve been waiting so long for this moment that I can hardly contain myself.‖ ―I know what you mean. Every moment in your arms or in your bed—‖ ―Far longer than that,‖ he admitted. ―I‘ve been on the edges of insanity for you for months. I lived for the choosing ceremony.‖ ―And I wasn‘t there,‖ she groaned. ―You couldn‘t have chosen another if you wanted to, could you?‖ ―The thought was sickening. I could never bind myself to another. I‘d rather have died.‖ ―I‘m sorry, Pauwel. Had I known—‖ Regana stopped speaking abruptly. ―I can‘t lie about it. I wouldn‘t have gone to the ceremony.‖ He raised an eyebrow at her. ―You‘d have let me suffer?‖ ―No. Yes— Dammit!‖ ―Regana!‖ ―You haven‘t forbidden me to curse,‖ she reminded him. ―I should. Explain.‖ ―I would have been offering you a lie, Pauwel. I wasn‘t intact. I knew that I was with child to another man. How could I allow a man to choose me like that?‖ ―I would have had I known the circumstances. What am I saying? I did choose you knowing it. I was desperate, Regana. If you didn‘t let me claim you and our child, I was as good as dead on Gawen‘s blade.‖ She nodded sadly. ―I wish the baby was yours,‖ she whispered. Pauwel stopped walking abruptly and turned her to face him. ―It is mine,‖ he informed her. His eyes softened, and he caressed the area of her stomach near her navel as he‘d been doing more and more often over the last few days. ―Never suggest differently,‖ he crooned. ―Not to anyone. Most of all, don‘t suggest it to me.‖ Regana‘s eyes closed in pleasure. His touch was so gentle

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and his intent was so pure. He would give anything for this child to be his own. Pauwel‘s face moved close to hers, and his breathing was sweet music in his need. She covered the hand over their child with her own. ―Pauwel,‖ she invited. ―Yes?‖ ―When we reach home, I want you to remind me how it was when you planted the seed of our child. Make me remember, please.‖ ―You‘ll remember nothing else,‖ he promised. ―Trust me, and you‘ll have the sweetest, most beautiful memories.‖ Pauwel ran his hand down her throat. ―If I kiss you, I‘ll make it no further. I want to kiss you.‖ ―Take me to our bed, Pauwel.‖ He swept her into his arms, carrying her quickly toward the house. Pauwel smiled sheepishly at her confusion. ―It‘s faster,‖ he assured her. ―And I have a plan.‖ ―For what?‖ she asked, but Pauwel simply smiled secretively and moved faster. He carried her through the main room past Kethe. The other woman looked at them in concern. ―Should I get cool water?‖ she offered. ―No, Kethe.‖ Pauwel settled Regana on the bed. ―You could go to Emecin for another soothing tea—perhaps sweet bread from Bavin,‖ he suggested. Regana knew his aim was to create privacy for them, but the worry on Kethe‘s face troubled her. ―Pauwel,‖ she whispered, ―don‘t make her worry. Please, don‘t.‖ He nodded in understanding and smiled at his younger sister. ―And Kethe,‖ he began, raising an eyebrow at her, ―don‘t hurry back.‖ Her face softened into a knowing smile before settling into annoyance. ―If you wanted leave to seduce your wife in peace, you could have asked outright,‖ she countered. ―But the tea and bread are such a fine idea either way,‖ Pauwel protested. ―Regana shall have them. I will see you both for a cold dinner,‖ she teased.

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―Dinner will be the only time you see us, if my wife is so inclined,‖ he countered. ―Oh, and Kethe, I don‘t care if Gawen, all my brother lords, and Thorald show up at the door together for me. Until it pleases me, do not admit them. For the love of all that‘s holy—‖ Kethe laughed lightly. ―It‘s been too long for you.‖ ―Much,‖ he agreed. ―Now go!‖ ―As you wish, brother.‖ She closed the door and moved away. Before the outer door closed, Pauwel had dropped his weapons belt and pulled off his tunic. He went to work on his boots and smiled as Regana did the same, but he stopped her as her hands moved to her dress. ―No. That is for me to do,‖ he breathed. Regana nodded, though she had no idea what he had in mind. Jörg had practically dragged her clothing from her body the first few times he‘d had her. After that, he‘d asked her to remove them right away. Always, his need to have her unclothed for him was of paramount importance. Pauwel settled on the bed with her, and his hand cupped her face. ―Can I show you now how it has always been between us?‖ he asked seriously. ―Yes,‖ she breathed. ―Please show me. Put your child in me all over again.‖ Pauwel groaned as his lips brushed hers. ―Slowly,‖ he crooned. ―Let me love you slowly.‖ ―You always have,‖ she replied softly. ―Yes, I have.‖ He sank his mouth to capture hers. Pauwel pulled her to him, causing her breasts to rub his chest through the fabric of her dress. Regana gasped against his lips as her nipples hardened in response to even that minor contact. ―The red baby‘s wool,‖ he mused. ―I want you in the red baby‘s wool with fur at your neck and the amber pendant for the joining ceremony. Promise me.‖ ―Yes, I saw it in the trunk. If it fits—‖ ―It will,‖ he assured her. Pauwel captured her mouth again, parting her lips to

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explore every inch of her mouth with painstaking care. By the time he eased her back to the bed and moved his attentions to her throat and lower—to the neckline of her dress, Regana‘s need was an urgent, aching burn in the very core of her. He smiled down at her. ―You‘re not convinced yet,‖ Pauwel crooned. ―You will be by the time I‘m through.‖ ―But—‖ His hand covered her mouth, just enough to shock her to silence without exerting pressure. ―I know we shouldn‘t,‖ he purred against her ear,‖ but I must have you.‖ Regana nodded her agreement. Pauwel wanted to play as if the past had never happened, as if he was actually seducing his child into her now. She groaned as his hands played at her breasts, making them harden for him, while his mouth explored her throat and face. She let the sensations draw her away from reality. Jörg never existed for her. Pauwel was so caught up in his madness that he pursued her and was seeking to make her his. When his mouth closed over her breast, she bit back a cry of pleasure, the illusion of the forbidden almost more than she could bear. ―It‘s all right,‖ he soothed her. ―You don‘t have to hide from anyone. We‘re all alone here.‖ He returned to his ministrations, and she did cry out as he took her breast in his mouth again. ―That‘s better, isn‘t it?‖ he asked. ―Pauwel,‖ she pleaded. ―Let me convince you,‖ he breathed, as he licked her taut nipple through the fabric of her dress. Regana moved her hands up the wall of his chest, committing the play of muscles to memory. She explored his back and arms and pulled the thong from his hair to run her fingers through the depths of it. No touch, no matter how he reacted to it, speeded his exploration of her. She moved her hand down his chest to continue her own exploration, and he stilled as she encountered the thick length of him straining against his trews. Tentatively, she outlined him with her fingers. Pauwel shuddered, then guided her hand away, kissing her fingers. ―Not yet,‖ he pleaded in a hoarse voice. ―You don‘t

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know what you are doing to me.‖ He shifted away to scoop his hands beneath her skirts. Pauwel drew them up slowly, caressing her legs as she was slowly uncovered to his hungry eyes. Regana lifted her hips to help him unclothe her, but he shook his head. Instead, Pauwel drew her astride his lap with her skirts pooled around her hips and kissed her thoroughly, anchoring her against him so she could feel the evidence of how much he wanted her. Regana cried out harshly in her longing and arched to him. ―Please, Pauwel,‖ she begged. ―You‘ve convinced me. Please— ‖ He ran his fingers over the sensitive center of her, wet and wanting him. ―Not unready,‖ he whispered. ―You must be ready for me, dear one.‖ Pauwel slid his hands up her stomach beneath her dress, his thumbs playing at the underside of her breasts as his fingers splayed out over her ribs. ―This dress limits me. Are you convinced enough to let me remove it?‖ ―Yes,‖ she breathed. Pauwel skated the material over her head smoothly and tossed it away. His breathing was ragged and his eyes wide as he took in the sight of her disrobed before him. For some strange reason, Regana had to fight back the urge to cover herself, and she blushed deeply. He looked at her in amazement and ran his hand over her cheek. ―I won‘t hurt you. I promise I won‘t,‖ he crooned. ―You‘re so innocent.‖ Regana started to protest, but he captured her lips to still the flow of words. ―Your body tells me the truth,‖ he assured her. ―No experienced woman covers herself and blushes.‖ She didn‘t argue the point with him. Pauwel affected her in a way she had never anticipated. Regana stopped considering it, as he set about his exquisite torture of her again. His fingers caressed her, playing at the slick center of her being as his mouth pulled at the peaks of her nipples, swirling his tongue or drawing her deep into his mouth to punctuate the other movements he lured her in with. Regana threw her head back and cried out wildly in her pleasure, as he pulled her

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further onto his fingers and brushed her against his stiff member in the same movement. Pauwel‘s hand and mouth drew her higher. ―Please, Pauwel. I am ready,‖ she begged of him. ―Not yet. It is a special favor I ask. You are not ready. You will be soon.‖ Regana panted as she arched further to him and wrapped her hands around his head to cradle him to her breast. Her body was reaching for something just out of sight. Regana moved against him hopelessly, seeking something she couldn‘t put a name to. She cried out in shock, as the strap pulled taut within her exploded into a shower of shards. Pauwel‘s face clarified before her, as all else spun away. Regana gripped his shoulders and stared into his eyes, using him as an anchor, the rest of her mind ripped away by a fierce wind. Still, it wasn‘t over. The pleasure inside her built and released over and over until she felt she might go mad from it. When it abated at last, Regana lay limp against Pauwel‘s chest, trying to hold the last vestiges of the powerful sensation to her in case it never came again. She realized that tears stained her cheeks though she had no memory of shedding them. ―Now,‖ Pauwel assured her. ―Now you are ready, and now you are experienced.‖ Regana smiled weakly and laid a lingering kiss against the mat of black curls that covered his chest. ―What could I possibly be ready for after that?‖ she teased. He laughed darkly. ―I still have a seed to plant. I want you to carry my child, Regana. Have I convinced you?‖ he crooned. ―You‘ve convinced me, but I won‘t survive more,‖ she pleaded. ―We have time.‖ He laid her on the bed and curled around her. ―When you‘ve recovered, I‘ll ask again.‖ Regana was half-lost to sleep when she realized that Pauwel hadn‘t taken her for himself. He hadn‘t taken release at all. He had given her the most precious, wonderful thing she had ever experienced with no payment in return and no push for that repayment even though his need was crucial.

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**** Pauwel ran his hand over Regana‘s cheek, and she favored him with a warm smile as she stretched against him. ―I‘m sorry. How long have I slept?‖ she asked. ―Not long. About an hour, I would guess, but you needed it. Such a heated reaction is very tiring.‖ His hands traced her breast as if not of his control. ―I noticed. Is that what it is like for men?‖ ―Sometimes.‖ Pauwel leaned to feather his lips over her forehead. ―I won‘t ask if you‘ve ever experienced that before. I know from your reactions that you haven‘t.‖ Regana blushed deeply. ―I‘m glad it was with you.‖ ―So am I,‖ he admitted. ―I would like to say I wish you‘d had the experience before, because you deserved to know such a thing existed, but I can‘t. I‘m glad I could give you something so precious.‖ ―There‘s something else you can give me, something just as precious,‖ she offered. ―What would that be?‖ he asked. If Regana wanted something—anything of him—it was hers for the asking. He‘d do anything she requested. ―Give me your child to carry.‖ Pauwel sucked in his breath, as the full force of that statement hit him. ―Are you recovered?‖ She smiled wickedly. ―I don‘t think I‘ve ever felt better.‖ He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Regana drew a hand over his cheek. ―Take me, Pauwel. I know tenderness now. You can show me tenderness anytime it pleases you. It would certainly make me happy if you do, but I have been well pleased today. What would please you?‖ Pauwel groaned and sank to his back, drawing her with him. He planted his lips in the center of the palm pressed to his face before placing it on the already-hard length of himself. ―Undress me.‖ Regana furrowed her brow for a moment before she started removing his trews. It was another new experience for her, he realized.

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There seemed no end to the experiences she hadn‘t had. Jörg had had months to teach Regana, to experiment with finding all the things that would truly excite her. He hadn‘t. Pauwel was not about to make the same mistake. He wouldn‘t ask her. He had drawn enough attention to the shortcomings in that relationship already. Like everything else, Pauwel would experiment, and his expressive bride would tell him all he needed to know by her reactions alone. Still, he guessed that his opinion of Veriel would not be enriched by the knowledge. His trews removed, Regana took in the sight of him. She met his eyes bashfully as she ran her fingertips through the thick mat of dark curls that surrounded his cock. ―What do you want?‖ she invited. Pauwel panted for self-control, as her fingers teased the sensitive length of him. ―I want you to touch me however you want to touch me,‖ he managed, praying that her exploration of him would continue to be as invigorating as it had been so far. She smiled crookedly and wrapped her small hand around the thickness of him. Regana watched his face while her hand moved in maddening strokes and caresses. She explored the entire nest of his shaft from the curls and his hardening sac to the rigid length, pulsing at her touch. She leaned over him, tracing her mouth over the strata of muscles on his chest and the outline of his blood mark, laying a long lick over his flat nipples that threatened to bring him off the bed. Still, Pauwel knew that everything she was doing was new to her, exciting in the reactions she was producing in him. Regana leaned over him further, her hair tickling his chest and stomach and mingling with the curls at the base of his cock. Finally, her mouth reached his throat; her breasts brushed against his chest, swelling again though he was not the one doing the teasing. Her hand continued the endless stroking that stoked his blood until Pauwel felt he would turn to ash if he didn‘t have her immediately. Regana rose higher still, leaned full out over him to reach his jaw line and lips with her exploring mouth. His cock brushed into the damp curls deep in the cleft between her thighs,

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her hand still stroking further down the shaft. ―Enough,‖ he breathed as he drew her legs astride him. Pauwel guided her down over himself smoothly, moaning in ecstasy as her muscles contracted around him. Regana threw her head back and closed her eyes as he filled her. She moved experimentally, mewing at the feeling of him deep inside her. She met his eyes in a stunned sort of fascination. ―What do I do?‖ she whispered. Pauwel spanned her waist with both hands and guided her, meeting her with long, smooth thrusts. His pace increased, as she started making sounds of intense pleasure. Her hands gripped his arms, a mute plea burning in her dark eyes. He held back for her. Pauwel hadn‘t realized that she could climax for him again so soon after the first, but he was determined to wait for her now that it was a reality in the making. He reveled in the fact that Regana had lost control so completely the first time, and he wanted to taste that reaction again. Pauwel knew she‘d had no idea what she was doing and saying, which made the fact that Regana had begged Pauwel to hold her at her moment of complete vulnerability all the more compelling to him. She‘d wept. She‘d held to him. He sobered slightly. Regana had begged him never to leave her, to stay with her forever. His printing had fairly screamed at her agreement, demanding him to seal her to him immediately, but he‘d waited. That encounter had been intended for Regana alone. And he would wait again, ensuring her bliss before he made her his own. Pauwel made it—barely. His control was slipping and the edges of the vortex drawing him in when the feeling of her muscles contracting around him propelled him over. He screamed her name, as the blackness took him from her momentarily. He came back slowly, drawing his arms around her and holding her close to his pounding heart. ―We have our baby, Regana,‖ he whispered into her hair. ―Are you sure?‖ she teased. ―Perhaps, we should keep

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trying to be certain.‖ Pauwel groaned. ―Don‘t tempt me, woman. If I thought it would please you, I would take you endlessly, every waking moment.‖ She placed her chin on her folded arms and looked down at him, considering something seriously. ―We have to eat, and Gawen will not let you hide from training. I think we could manage that otherwise.‖ The sound of arguing closed on them, and Regana tried to pull away. Pauwel held her to his chest and swept a thick fur over them both. ―It‘s Gawen,‖ he informed her in a gleeful tone. ―This should stop his interfering, don‘t you think?‖ She stifled a laugh and buried her face in his shoulder. ―Come now, my love. I think welcoming your brother while I am still happily buried in you will work wonders for the man,‖ he teased, while she tried desperately to still the amusement hitching in her chest. ―I told you, he doesn‘t want to see you right now,‖ Kethe exploded. ―Out of my way. I will speak with Pauwel whether he likes it or not.‖ The door swung open, while Gawen was still looking over his shoulder at the young woman behind him. ―Now Pauwel, if you think you can hide behind a woman—‖ he started to storm, turning his head toward them. Gawen turned a deep crimson and took a step back, sucking in his breath in surprise. Pauwel laughed heartily. ―Gawen, excuse my lapse. I should rise to greet you, but I am indisposed at the moment. Dear one, your brother is here.‖ Regana gave up trying to control her laughter and shook in her mirth. ―Hello, Gawen,‖ she managed into her husband‘s shoulder. ―Was there a reason you came here at so unfortunate a moment—again? Really, Gawen! Twice in one day? We must work on your timing,‖ he chided. Regana burst into a new gale of laughter, and Pauwel groaned in response. Her sheath vibrating around his half-erect length spurred him back to readiness. Her laughter hitched in

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response, and she turned her face up to his, her eyes hungry. Oh, yes. Dismissing Gawen was necessary. ―I-I came to speak with you about the incident with Cunczel today,‖ the master trainer stammered, thankfully staring at a spot on the wall so the exchange between them escaped his notice. ―A momentary lapse that won‘t happen again.‖ He looked at Regana meaningfully. ―Ever again, Gawen. I promise I‘ve taken care of my appalling lack of control for good.‖ ―I can see that. I‘m glad. I should go now.‖ ―Stay for dinner. Kethe won‘t mind, I‘m sure. If you‘ll excuse us, my wife and I need to dress—in a moment.‖ Gawen glanced at them in wonder. ―I think I‘ll do that.‖ He backed out of the room and closed the door firmly behind him. Regana met Pauwel‘s gaze, eyes glittering and crimson all the way down her lovely body from her laughter. ―You have an evil streak in you,‖ she accused. Pauwel smiled wickedly. ―I‘ll show you evil,‖ he promised, flipping her beneath him and burying his face in her hair and his shaft within her while she squealed in delight. He kissed her passionately, excited now and moving toward another release, while Regana smiled up at him and arched against him. Pauwel groaned in his release and sank over her to lay another kiss on her swollen lips. ―Let Gawen wonder,‖ he joked with a raised eyebrow. **** Jörg knew that something had changed. There was a subtle shift that disturbed him. He had actively avoided looking in on Regana since the night Resten died. Even before that, he‘d avoided more than passing glimpses of her. It wasn‘t just that Jörg couldn‘t touch her, which was torture in itself, but also that seeing her unhappy—or worse, seeing her fear of him was more than he could bear. Something had changed, and Jörg had to act. Regana‘s amulet kept him from reading her thoughts as he had with her that first morning. For that, he had been thankful until now. Only

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powerful emotions like intense pain or terror seemed to seep through to him, while she wore it. Still, he had felt those emotions from her often enough. So far, only the night Resten came for her had proven something requiring Jörg‘s intervention. The other times, he had ghosted in to assure himself that Regana was whole and sound and ghosted away without incident. Now something was seriously amiss. Jörg couldn‘t identify the emotion emanating from her, but he knew that what he felt were occasional bursts of something exceedingly powerful. Waiting until the land had fallen to darkness had been a maddening exercise. Once the night was dark and thick, Jörg took wing on the wind to Schwertträger. For a long moment, he stared at the bare bed in disbelief and panic. Regana couldn‘t be dead. If she were, the horrors he would rain down on those responsible would be the stuff of legends! Then Jörg would seek his death in any way he could. No, she couldn‘t be dead, he reasoned. Surely, he would have felt such a thing. The fact that he sensed nothing of Regana at the moment was simply a sign of her amulet. He searched the whole house with no sign of her. Jörg considered waking Gawen and shaking the truth from him, but his former brother would no longer believe Jörg‘s intentions were honorable. Worse, Gawen would sooner die than tell Jörg anything that he believed would bring Regana to harm. Jörg took wing again. If there was no other way, he would use strategy. He would search for Regana, house by house, until he either found her or exhausted the entire village in his quest. In the case of the latter, Jörg would find someone who would be no loss to the village at large—and who has no personal interest in protecting Regana—and do whatever was necessary to get the information he needed, even unto death if need be. He searched his own house first, alternately praying that she had gone there in her grief and hoping that she was not so despondent as to do such a thing. There was no sign of Regana, but the state of his home fueled his resolve. Angered at his part in the downfall, vandals had stolen the things that had once been

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his and burned much of the rest. The fine stone walls of his family home were blackened with the ferocity of what they had done. The next two houses only increased his apprehension. At the third, he hovered in shock, gripping his ghosting like a shield that would protect him from the sight before his eyes. Had Jörg not been disembodied, a scream of pain and loss would have rent the air around him at the sight of Regana wrapped in Pauwel of Kreuzträger‘s arms. Some part of him screamed for the other man‘s blood. His mate was taken by another. His prior claim was cast aside. She was Pauwel‘s now. Her naked breasts brushed the other man‘s chest above the fur thrown over their bodies, his to hold as Jörg could never hold them again. His mind screamed in anguish at what he was seeing, at what he had lost. Pauwel snapped awake and grabbed for his weapon as Jörg turned his mind back to ghosting. By the time the older man was fully awake, there was no sign of Jörg left for him to trace. Pauwel shook his head and normalized his breathing, probably believing himself awakened by a dream. He dropped his weapon back onto his belt and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Jörg reasoned his way out of his fury. He had left her with nothing. Worse, he had left her unmarriageable. Regana deserved the things he had promised her. She deserved to be happy, to have children and a home of her own, and to be loved. He could give her none of it now. Pauwel could. Pauwel chose Regana despite the way she was left. Or perhaps—he chose with no knowledge of that but accepted her still when he learned the truth. Otherwise, she would not be here in his arms but rather taken before Gawen and Thorald for judgment. No matter his feelings, Jörg had to accept that he had given up all rights to Regana that first night, and some kind gods had kept their word to protect her by giving her Pauwel in his stead. He watched in agony, as Pauwel bent to lay kisses over her waiting breast. Regana stretched and smiled, running her hands through his hair. ―Waking moments,‖ she commented sleepily, as he licked a

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hardening nipple. ―You are awake,‖ he teased. ―And you are beyond redemption. That‘s cheating.‖ ―I told you I would prove that evil streak you accuse me of,‖ he commented as he took her breast into his mouth. Regana arched beneath him and moaned in pleasure more intense than Jörg had ever seen from her. Pauwel kicked away the fur, and she was abruptly gloriously naked before his eyes. Jörg knew he should leave. He could not bear to watch this, but something held him fast. He watched as Pauwel played at her body, drawing her to increasing pleasure until Regana was boldly touching him in return. ―Please, Pauwel. Don‘t make me wait,‖ she pleaded. He mounted her smoothly, drawing her legs up to his hips. ―Hold me to you,‖ he asked as he moved within her. Regana traced the muscles of his chest and arms as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. She was so different with Pauwel than she‘d been with Jörg. What he wouldn‘t give to have had her like this just once. He watched as Pauwel took her gently, slowly despite his obvious need for her. Regana cried out in a shattering release, and Pauwel took her fast and hard while she continued to express the pleasure he was giving her, while she begged him not to stop his possession of her. Pauwel roared out his own release, and she arched to him, driving him deeper within her. Pauwel curled around her, laying feathery kisses over her face and body while he still lay sheathed inside her. ―I love you, Regana,‖ he breathed. ―Please, never doubt how much I love you.‖ ―Never let me go. I couldn‘t bear to lose you,‖ she replied quietly, cradling his head to her. Jörg knew that he could go now. It felt as if hands released his soul. He left quickly and didn‘t look back. Jörg had no doubts that the gods wanted him to see her with Pauwel. They‘d called him to see it and refused his bid for escape. But why? Was it part of his punishment or was it just one more example of how his inattention had affected Regana‘s life? She certainly seemed to enjoy Pauwel‘s care and solicitude

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much more than she had ever enjoyed Jörg‘s touch. Had Jörg ever considered her pleasure that way? Had he ever brought her to release in those months? Had he ever taken her slowly and simply enjoyed touching her instead of taking her mindlessly? How often had he told her that he loved her? He cringed at the truth of it. He hadn‘t taken the time he should have. He hadn‘t shown Regana the attention she deserved. Jörg had never seen past his own release to hers. It hadn‘t been important to him to do so. Always, taking her and releasing himself had been at the forefront for him. Preparation was all he‘d granted her, and not even that every time. He hadn‘t told her he loved her—not nearly often enough. She deserved those things, and Pauwel could give them to her as Jörg never thought to do. Had he ever been simply a Cursed Warrior? The more he considered his relationship with Regana, the more Jörg believed that he must have been born a beast. Perhaps, that was why the Stone had never named him. Of all of them, perhaps he deserved to be damned, lived to be damned.

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Chapter Nine Regana made her way along the road with lunch for herself and Pauwel in her basket. She placed her free hand on the swell of her pregnant belly, now clearly visible beneath the dress she wore, in this case a bright blue that had belonged to Pauwel‘s mother. She‘d been honest with Emecin about when she‘d missed her first moon time. It was the only thing Regana was honest about with the midwife and her son Landric, the village healer, but none of that was of any importance as far as delivering a baby was concerned. Their story had been told and retold, fleshed out over time when the occasion called for it in conversation and in their bed. Over time, they‘d come to view such things as planning for battle and had become quite good at a sort of game banter when it was necessary. Pauwel had learned what it was like to live the lie she and Jörg had lived. He‘d learned about the fears and the excitement, the practicalities that he might be called upon to recount. At times, Regana could tell that what he learned, said or unsaid, sent him into a black fury, but it was never she that he was angry with. If anything, Pauwel would be all the more tender with her in the hours following something that had upset him. She knew that his fury was directed at Jörg, and Regana couldn‘t fault that feeling though she didn‘t always understand what sparked Pauwel‘s anger. So, they‘d worked out detail after detail to protect the lie, using the truth of her relationship with Jörg as much as it was appropriate to keep confusion from setting in. Some things they‘d changed were obvious to her. At other times, Pauwel would doggedly insist on changing a detail that made no sense to

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her, but Regana never questioned his reason, since he was always gripped by the fury when it happened. She supposed that what he changed was something he felt Jörg should not have done, but Regana‘s understanding of Pauwel‘s viewpoint was still limited by his unwillingness to upset her with his opinions when he felt it could serve no purpose to do so. Regana sighed and squared her shoulders, as she spied Riberta approaching with Gerlent. It would be another session of questions and barely veiled innuendo, posturing and double meanings, she was sure. ―Good afternoon, Regana Lady Kreuzträger,‖ the tall blonde called out cheerfully with a flip of her hair. ―Good afternoon,‖ she replied, offering a strained smile. ―You‘re looking well.‖ Regana nodded her thanks. ―My but that baby is going to be a big one.‖ It always came to that, as if Regana were even further along than she admitted to, another veiled innuendo. ―Yes, he is. Emecin believes he will be as big as his father was. She attended Pauwel‘s birth, you know.‖ ―Yes, I know.‖ They walked in silence for a few moments. ―There‘s something I‘ve always wondered,‖ Gerlent noted suddenly. ―Really? There are many things I wonder about,‖ Regana answered as if she were distracted. ―Untangling some of the old Stone lore with Gawen is one of my current interests. It‘s fascinating, actually.‖ Gerlent looked at her in shock, and Regana controlled her smirk studiously. ―I meant— May I ask you something, Lady Kreuzträger?‖ ―Certainly, Gerlent! You should have said so. I am sorry. My mind was obviously elsewhere. We are working on a particular problem of a passage about the Stone‘s life that has me quite distracted.‖ Regana had been studying Kethe‘s method of apology carefully. It did come in handy stalling Riberta and her friends during conversations such as this. ―Oh. Yes...‖ Gerlent hesitated and looked at Riberta in

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confusion. Regana dearly loved running Riberta and her friend of the hour in circles. It was far too easy. ―Why didn‘t you go to the choosing?‖ Gerlent asked earnestly. Regana felt a sick swirl in her stomach. ―I was afraid for Pauwel,‖ she lied. ―By then, I knew I was carrying his child.‖ ―I don‘t understand,‖ the young redhead pressed. ―It would become obvious that I was with child very quickly. I was afraid of the backlash on Pauwel when that happened.‖ ―What good would not going do?‖ Riberta cut in, her eyes over-bright in her predatory state. ―I could refuse to reveal the father, and only I would be undone,‖ she answered simply. ―But what of Pauwel? Surely, you realized that he could not choose another if he was printed on you.‖ ―I hadn‘t thought it through. I was acting on panic,‖ she postulated, imagining herself in the situation she‘d described. Regana certainly hadn‘t thought this through. The question of why she hadn‘t gone had never come up before. This was another discussion she and Pauwel would have to have in the peace of their bed. ―How often did you see Pauwel?‖ Gerlent asked. ―It varied. Sometimes, for a few nights in a row. Other times, only once or twice in a week,‖ she replied evenly. That was one of the details that they‘d kept truthful and wonderfully vague. ―He didn‘t come for you every night?‖ That was a detail they‘d changed, but Regana understood his fury that Jörg let her wander around the dark woods without a lamp without explanation. ―Of course not. That would have been impossible to hide.‖ ―What about the night the beasts were loosed?‖ Riberta asked suddenly. ―No. I didn‘t see Pauwel that night,‖ she replied. Regana had no idea where Pauwel really had been, so it was better not to lie about that.

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―Really? Old Eberhard said he saw you in the woods that night. I thought, perhaps, you had gone to see Pauwel.‖ ―No. I liked to take walks in the moonlight, one of the many pleasures the beasts have stolen from me.‖ ―With no light?‖ she asked incredulously. ―It‘s my family‘s land,‖ Regana countered smoothly. ―I‘ve been walking the paths since Gawen was my keeper and I was barely out of leading strings. I don‘t need a light to find my way.‖ ―Eberhard said you liked to walk the woods,‖ she agreed smugly—too smugly. ―He watched you for years, you know.‖ Regana shuddered internally at that. Eberhard had always made her feel nervous. He had piercing blue eyes that seemed to follow her every move, even when she‘d been a child and he still leader. The fact that his small home bordered their lands had never occurred to her, and the thought of walking the woods with him so close by bothered her now that she thought about it. ―No, I didn‘t know,‖ she replied pensively. ―Well, I suppose I should feel more comfortable with that knowledge now that I‘m no longer at Schwertträger to be watched.‖ ―Many people watch you,‖ Riberta continued. ―Really? I hadn‘t noticed that.‖ Regana looked toward the training area and rubbed the palm of her hand over her son, willing the walk to pass faster somehow, wishing that Gawen or Pauwel—or even Wil or Ditrich would come to her rescue. Regana rarely felt this ill at ease, and she wasn‘t sure why she was now. All she knew for sure was that Riberta was leading up to something very unpleasant. ―Did you know that Eberhard and Sibold attended your birth?‖ Riberta asked suddenly. ―They attended every birth after Gawen. The Stone warned Sibold to watch the births. They were at your birth, too,‖ Regana dismissed her. ―Every birth from Gawen‘s to yours,‖ she corrected. Regana stared at her in confusion. ―I don‘t understand what you‘re hinting at,‖ she admitted as she speeded her pace slightly. ―They were waiting for something. For you, I suppose.

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Once you were born, they stopped looking. People have always rumored that a woman with your coloring was an omen of some sort. I‘ve always wondered what they were looking for.‖ ―What did Eberhard say?‖ she countered smoothly. ―He wouldn‘t. Isn‘t that strange? He was so talkative on other subjects.‖ ―Yes, it is.‖ Pauwel stepped out of the shadow of the building and smiled tentatively. Her resolve shaken somewhat, Regana ran to his embrace, dropping the basket at his feet to wind her arms around his neck. Pauwel met her eyes in confusion. Without asking for an explanation, he glared at Riberta over his wife‘s head. The other women bowed their heads demurely and left at a trot. ―Thank you, Pauwel,‖ Regana breathed next to his shoulder, closing her eyes and relaxing into his strong arms. His hand massaged the tense muscles of her back. ―What was that all about?‖ he asked. ―More questions and innuendo,‖ she admitted. Pauwel led Regana to the trees and helped her down to the grass. He handed her a slice of meat from the basket and rubbed his hands over their baby to soothe her. ―Now tell me,‖ he invited as his hands ran in the enchanting circles that seemed to unknot her body instantly. ―It started with questions about why I didn‘t go to the choosing ceremony.‖ ―I‘ve always wondered about that,‖ he teased smoothly. It was their game of banter. She smiled and joined the game. ―I didn‘t want Gawen to kill you when he learned that I carried the son you‘d planted in me, of course.‖ He smiled at her coy look, and his eyes grew hot and hungry. ―I thought to take the dishonor alone, but I didn‘t consider that you had printed and could not choose another.‖ ―Good thing I admitted it to Gawen and demanded that you marry me, wasn‘t it?‖ Pauwel asked with a raised eyebrow. ―The smartest, most courageous move I‘ve ever seen,‖

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Regana teased him. ―What else did she say?‖ He ran one of his hands lower to tease at her woman‘s curls momentarily, smiling at her blush. ―They wanted to know how often I saw you.‖ ―Ah, yes. Everyone wants to know that. It is the second most popular question around the village.‖ ―After when we started seeing each other,‖ she noted. ―Was that the innuendo?‖ ―Not exactly. They asked if I was with you the night the beasts were freed, which of course, I was not.‖ Pauwel furrowed his brow in confusion. ―Why would they ask a question like that?‖ ―They said Eberhard saw me walking in the woods that night.‖ She shivered, and he stopped to look at her in shock. ―They said Eberhard made a habit of watching me—that many people have for my entire life.‖ ―Why?‖ ―Was my birth really the last Eberhard and Sibold attended?‖ ―I don‘t know. They told you that?‖ Regana nodded. ―They also said that Eberhard won‘t discuss what made mine the last, but many people—including Riberta, I might add—are convinced I‘m an omen of some sort because of my coloring. And because I was the last.‖ Pauwel darkened in anger. ―We‘ll get to the bottom of this. I won‘t stand by and let Riberta spread these lies.‖ His voice was controlled, but Regana could tell he was barely maintaining that control. ―How do we know it‘s a lie?‖ she asked quietly. ―It is, and we will settle it today.‖ He kissed her gently. ―Stay here and eat. I‘ll join you in a moment.‖ Regana nodded as Pauwel went back to the training area. She took a hunk of bread from the basket and started eating it ravenously. Now that the sickness had passed, she found that her son demanded much in the way of food. Regana never thought it possible to eat so much and gain so little, except for the mound of her quickly-growing baby. Pauwel reappeared as she was liberating another slice of

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meat from the basket, Gawen and Wil close at his heels. The red-faced Wil bowed his head to her and turned to storm toward town. Regana groaned as she realized that he was off to offer correction to his errant sister. She only hoped his correction wouldn‘t make things worse. Gawen dropped down next to her as she took a bite of the meat and planted a kiss on her forehead. He ran his hand over her pregnant belly with a wistful smile, but whether he was dreaming of the day when Bavin would be so big or remembering the days of Regana in Marcwi‘s belly, she could not be sure. ―Are you all right?‖ he asked. Regana smiled. ―I‘m fine. I was sparring well until the end.‖ ―You have questions?‖ ―Was my birth really the last they attended?‖ she asked nervously. ―I don‘t remember,‖ he admitted. ―They did attend yours, though. I remember that clearly enough. I was busy with you after that, so I didn‘t pay much attention to what was going on outside of it.‖ Something in his expression increased her apprehension. ―What aren‘t you telling me, Gawen?‖ He rubbed a hand over the close cut beard on his chin as he considered it. ―When I came home from hunting, everyone seemed wary of my presence. At first, I thought that something had happened to you, and I was very angry and distressed. ―You were newly born, so new that no one had cleaned our mother‘s blood from you. Still, you were brought before the men in that state. Marcwi was being tended to by Adalind while they examined you.‖ He met her eyes. ―Go on,‖ she breathed. ―Sibold gave you to me. Aside from the midwives and Sibold, I was the first honored with holding you.‖ ―Before our mother?‖ He nodded. ―Why?‖ ―Sibold gave you to me, Regana. Marcwi and Abbo were

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your parents in name, but they each relinquished you to me in those first moments. I named you at Sibold‘s insistence. Our father did not question that it should be so. He—left without even hearing what name I chose for you. Sibold told me that it was my duty to keep you always safe.‖ He hesitated, looking pained. Regana touched his hand in comfort. Gawen never talked to her about Jörg, but she knew that he blamed himself for not seeing and acting against the other man. He felt he‘d failed her in some way, though Regana knew he hadn‘t. ―It was my duty to love and protect you, not just as a woman of my house, but as a sacred trust the Stone demanded of me. The fact that you had been born to my house named me as your guardian.‖ Regana‘s stomach turned. ―Why, Gawen?‖ Pauwel asked quietly. ―Why would the Stone demand that? What did they see but a beautiful baby girl with Regana‘s coloring that convinced them of more?‖ ―I don‘t know. Whatever it was, I never saw it. Sibold wouldn‘t tell me. The Stone does not tell me.‖ He shrugged hopelessly. ―Then Eberhard will have to,‖ Pauwel decided. Gawen shook his head sadly. ―I tried that when I became Stone lord. All he will say is that Sibold would not allow him to tell their reasons. There is little left of his mind these days. Even if he knew it once, all Eberhard knows now is that he must not say. He will never tell us what we need to know.‖ ―This is ridiculous. There must be someone who knows and who will speak,‖ he exploded. ―No one,‖ Gawen replied sadly. ―I have tried every road with no success.‖ Pauwel wrapped Regana in his arms. ―It is not true,‖ he assured her. ―What Riberta said is a lie, and I will prove it somehow.‖ Regana nodded as she sank her cheek to the warmth of his chest. Pauwel was right. There was a way. Regana would handle the matter herself. Perhaps if it were just her and not the house

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lords asking, Emecin would tell Regana what really happened the day she was born. **** Jörg watched from the mist, as Riberta stormed up the path. Though her amulet muted her thoughts, she was performing the mental equivalent to screaming in rage. While he had always been careful to keep his vow in the past, he intended to break it tonight—for Riberta. Jörg always went to ground somewhere near the village, since he could hide himself like no other beast could. That meant he was privy to some of the thoughts and feelings of villagers who wandered near him while he rested...if he chose to search them out. He‘d tried to be happy for Regana when he‘d learned she carried Pauwel‘s child, though the thought was painful to him. Jörg had cut off the stream of thoughts from the gossipy woman abruptly, as was his usual course when the thoughts were about Regana. Listening to her happiness or her sadness was equally painful, so he typically avoided thoughts that dealt with her as much as possible. For some months after the day he‘d learned she carried, Jörg had avoided thoughts that centered around her completely, hoping to avoid the pain of knowing her life, but he‘d given in miserably when the separation from her became its own torture. When the need for word of her finally overwhelmed him again, Jörg had been shocked by the dangerous innuendo being spread about his beloved Regana. The stories that she was an evil omen who was somehow responsible for releasing the beasts posed a very real and immediate threat to her. If the villagers acted on that belief— The thought chilled him too much to follow it to its conclusion. Something had to be done to stop it. After nightfall, he‘d actively searched the memories of several rather glaring individuals about the subject. From them, he‘d learned the identity of the one responsible, Riberta of Maher. Jörg would not have expected to see her walking alone, but

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her mind‘s shouting told him enough. She was hiding from her brother, trying to scare him into an apology—or at least make him deal with the nuisance she was making of herself, upsetting his plans with Evfemia in the bargain. During the latest of many disagreements with her brother, Wil had struck her for bringing yet more shame upon Maher. Jörg streamed along behind her, listening to bits of her internal tirade. She knew the damage she was causing Regana. She reveled in it. Regana was Pauwel‘s lady, a place Riberta had aspired to herself. When Pauwel passed her over at the ceremony, she had been made a joke. Like a child in the midst of a temper fit, Riberta sought to destroy the object of her anger. Destroying Regana would destroy Pauwel, and she would be rid of them both. Jörg‘s course was determined in that moment. His idea of scaring her or coercing her into submission forgotten, he decided that a permanent end to her threat was called for. Riberta sought to destroy Regana not for some wrong the other woman had done her but because Riberta was a spoiled child who wanted a man she could not have. For all these months, Jörg had kept his word. Even though Marclef had broken the agreement, Jörg took his blood and satisfaction elsewhere, just as he‘d promised he would. His ability to fly long distances made this an easy thing for him to do. The other beasts had only started doing the same when the hunts started, but to his amusement and dismay, Jörg knew the hunts were the least of their worries, for at least another seventeen years. None of the remaining beasts would die by a lord‘s hand. He‘d chosen his prey well, once he‘d grudgingly moved to human prey. Jörg fed deeply only on the worst of men, sometimes returning to a particularly bad one several times to weaken him or killing him off if the world was better rid of him. The women he took momentary release in were far from pure and innocent, but Jörg loved them well—better than he had afforded Regana. It was a penance of sorts. He was doing what he should have done long ago, though it was too late to make things right for Regana. All he could do was treat these other

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women well. He should have treated Regana in a manner similar to the women he now chose from any night the burn became too much for him. That in itself was torture for Jörg. His beast forced him to seek solace in women, but he could never again touch the one woman who gave him true peace. Now Jörg intended to break his vows—for this night only. To protect and avenge Regana, which was his highest duty, Riberta had forced him to take this action. So, he followed as she kept moving steadily away from the village. He‘d let her get far enough—and carry her further— that it would be too late by the time the Warriors arrived, drawn by the knowledge of what he was doing in their range. Jörg considered, in dark amusement, that he wasn‘t really breaking his vow. Riberta was a villager, but he was definitely hunting outside the village. The moon was high by the time he approached her, clothing himself in the illusion of Pauwel. Riberta looked at him in surprise, then took a step back in confusion. ―Lord Kreuzträger,‖ she addressed him coolly. ―You wish to speak to me?‖ His smile spread as he raked his gaze over her. ―There are many things I wish to do, but talking does not rate high among them,‖ he drawled suggestively. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. ―But you are married to another woman,‖ she observed. ―Printed to her.‖ ―No. Not printed. I married Regana only to claim a son by Gawen‘s house,‖ he lied. ―You do not understand the matters of Stone bloodlines, but it was necessary to secure a child from her, and I was determined to make it my child. I thought to come for you after his birth. Since he is cursed as I am, he will need my guidance, and Gawen and Thorald will be forced to give him to me after he weans.‖ ―Come—for me? I don‘t understand.‖ ―Thorald will set aside my marriage to Regana, if I admit printing on another.‖ Jörg smiled a predatory smile that led credence to the tale. She smiled coyly. ―On me?‖ she asked. He raked his eyes over her again, his blood screaming for

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some release to take the place of the ultimate release he could never have again—in her case, both types of release, he decided. ―I cannot wait for you any longer,‖ he breathed. ―This will work out better. If you conceive before I make my proclamation, they will know I am not printed to Regana. A man who is truly printed could never do such a thing.‖ ―And I would be Lady Kreuzträger in Regana‘s place?‖ she demanded. ―Yes, if you‘ll still have me, Geliebte.‖ Jörg‘s stomach clenched, as he uttered the endearment, but he reminded himself that it was Regana he did this for, his true beloved. ―You wish to take me?‖ Riberta offered as she moved toward him. ―Take your amulet off first.‖ Riberta looked around in confusion. ―But I would be unprotected,‖ she argued. ―I will protect you,‖ he crooned. ―You should know that Wil can follow your amulet. He cannot follow me.‖ She looked at him in horror. ―He can?‖ ―Yes. Remove your amulet and come to me, so I can claim you properly.‖ She pulled off her amulet and held it clutched in her fist. Jörg created the illusion of Pauwel dragging off his tunic and dropping his weapons belt. He ran his hand over the evidence of his arousal slowly, and Riberta dropped her amulet over a bush. Jörg smiled in triumph. Riberta moved to him and ran her hands over his chest and cock possessively. Jörg took her mouth hungrily, sweeping her up and moving away, faster than any human or even Warrior could travel. Already the Warriors would have felt the illusion he was casting, and Jörg had to put more distance between them and the approaching enemy. Riberta was unaware of how far and fast he took her. When he finally stopped and covered her with his body, she was already groaning in her need for him. Jörg drew her with him into ecstasy, using the kindest touch. When he took her maidenhead, he controlled her mind to erase all memory of pain. As a willing subject, it was a simple thing to do. He waited for her climax to reveal himself to her.

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Her eyes widened. Riberta let loose a piercing scream as she tried to beat him off, suddenly aware that she had surrendered herself to a beast and not to the Warrior she coveted. He pinned her arms to the ground and continued his possession of her, rough now that he did not need to be gentle, reveling in the revenge he was taking more than in her tight body around him. The fact that her terror and pain added to his enjoyment should have revolted Jörg on some level, but it was sweet nectar that pushed him toward a release that surpassed anything besides Regana. When Jörg found his release at last, after what seemed like a very long time of pinning her suddenly unwilling body beneath his, Riberta started to weep. He released her hands, knowing her too traumatized to defend herself against him. ―For Regana,‖ he told her, drawing his hands over her intimately and extending his fangs to scrape them gently over her chest and throat in an unspoken threat. ―You choose your enemies unwisely.‖ With her crime against him stated clearly, Jörg began to feed. As always, the memories of his victim took him into as great a pleasure as he had not found otherwise since those final moments with Regana in his arms. Still buried deep within her, he hardened even more as he saw her attempts to bait the Warriors to her bed. Jörg started thrusting into her as he fed, feeling her shudder at his touch. “What’s the matter, Riberta? You wanted a man who was insatiable,” he spoke in her mind. “Perhaps, I should take you far from here and use you every night for as long as you amuse me. You could amuse me for a very long time.” He bit viciously, as he watched her attempts to harm Regana. As Riberta‘s lifeblood flowed into him, he saw every barb, every rumor, every time she made his beloved angry or sad or uncomfortable in any way. Her enjoyment of it was coming back on her now. Perhaps, he would use her for several days. Riberta wasn‘t worth so much to him personally, but she deserved to feel that much pain for all she had inflicted. Jörg pulled back suddenly, replaying the memory of

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Pauwel‘s face as he argued with Wil at her instigation, her lifeblood pouring onto the ground from the ragged wounds he‘d left. Pauwel took Regana before the battle? She carried his child at choosing time, three weeks later? He looked at the woman beneath him, his only source of information, and started feeding again, desperately searching her memories for more. Jörg needed to work quickly. He had already fed deeply, forcing her blood into his tissues until it made him uncomfortable to do so. She‘d lost still more blood to the soil around them, the ragged bite spilling much more than one of his bites typically would. Riberta would soon expire. Little more came in the time he had. He pushed away from her in disgust as her heart stopped beating and paced over her, not bothering to clean or clothe himself. Had Pauwel taken Regana into his bed just after Jörg left? Damn him! Why? Had Pauwel known about their relationship and used it to force Regana to his bed as Marclef and Tilbrand had used it to force Jörg to the Stone? It could be a mistake, he reasoned. If Pauwel took her later— Perhaps, Jörg could get some idea of the truth by her size. If Pauwel was innocent of what Riberta believed of him, Regana should barely be showing her state. He dematerialized and sped across the night to her. If I do not know, I really will go mad, he decided. Had he been so intent on his own pain that Jörg had left Regana unprotected and open prey to Pauwel? He grimaced inwardly at the possibility. If he found that Pauwel took her by means that were dishonorable, the Lord Kreuzträger would answer to Jörg in his full fury. He ghosted up to Kreuzträger‘s house and scanned the area. Pauwel was off with the others on the trail Jörg had left them to Riberta‘s body. He could not find Regana because of her amulet, but he assumed that both she and Kethe were in the house somewhere. Jörg streamed through the bedchamber she and Pauwel typically shared, but it was empty. He assured himself that Kethe was asleep in her own bed before moving to the main room.

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Regana was there, pacing the floor in worry before the dim light of a dying fire. He surveyed her, but the stage of her pregnancy was impossible to gauge beneath the cloak she had wrapped around her to ward off the chill, night air. His mind and soul warred between his fascination with her and his anger at what he‘d seen in Riberta‘s mind. He had seen her with Pauwel. Could such a man have forced her to his bed? Could Regana love such a man, if that was how he took her? Jörg shuddered at the memory of his first possession of her. Hazy though it was, he knew how brutal he‘d been with her. Regana had an unbelievable capacity to forgive such things. Still, was Pauwel any worse than he was himself, even if he was guilty? Jörg shook his head in frustration. The argument could drive him mad. Better to decide if Pauwel was guilty of anything at all first. He materialized and crossed to her silently, laying his hand at the base of her neck. The blast of power from the amulet pushed at him, but Jörg took the cloak with him, ripping it from Regana‘s body as he moved away and she stumbled the opposite direction. Regana turned to face him, her eyes widening in fear as she backed away with her hands placed protectively over the baby within her. Placed over a mound much too large for Pauwel to have done anything but take her directly to his bed once Jörg was gone, he noted. He met her eyes in fury, fisting the cloak in his hand and loosing his claws into the fabric to vent his uncontrolled lust for revenge. ―You carry his child,‖ he spat. ―Pauwel is my husband,‖ she whispered. ―He took you to his bed before the battle.‖ Jörg didn‘t bother to ask it. It was obvious that he must have. He took a step closer to her, demanding an answer silently. Regana scrambled back another step, keeping the distance between them. She looked away to the door to Kethe‘s chamber and back to him slowly. ―Yes,‖ she admitted. ―Why? Did he force you? What did he do to convince you?‖

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―He did nothing. I love him.‖ She said it with a quiet pride that almost defeated him...until Jörg remembered his own printing, his own possession of her. ―It‘s not love. It is the influence of printing on a prospective mate,‖ he thundered. Regana sank back further. ―You don‘t know what you‘re saying.‖ Her eyes pleaded with him. For what? To leave? Not to take the illusion of happiness she‘d so painstakingly cultivated within these walls? To forget whatever wrongs had been committed against her? Jörg could allow none of those things. His blood demanded to know how she had been wronged and to set it right. ―It is not love you feel for him, Regana,‖ he informed her. ―It cannot be.‖ ―It is,‖ she insisted. ―I know it is.‖ Her hands caressed the babe again, as if seeking comfort from the life she carried. Was that her reason for believing she loved Pauwel? Because he planted his seed in her? She carries his child! ―You drove me to madness. I gave up everything for you,‖ he roared. ―Were you in love with him that whole time?‖ Regana looked at him in shock, her skin a sickly gray hue. ―Please, I beg you. Don‘t do this. You made your choices, whatever your reasons. I‘ve made mine. I am Pauwel‘s wife now. This is Pauwel‘s son that I carry. You asked me once to walk away and not look back. Please, I ask you to do the same. You are not the Jörg I knew. I am not the girl you played with when we were children.‖ She shook her head hopelessly. ―Tell me why and I will go.‖ It was a demand. He would know the truth. A mad urge to shake that truth from her gripped him. Jörg pushed it away. No. His days of brutality with Regana were over. ―You‘ll go anyway, beast.‖ Kethe‘s voice was cold and hard. She held a sacred weapon in her hands, one of Pauwel‘s training weapons.

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Jörg laughed in amusement, envisioning her shock if he calmly disarmed her. ―What do you intend to do with that?‖ he taunted her. ―Take one step closer to her and you will learn what I am capable of,‖ she warned. Regana skirted toward the other woman. ―Kethe, don‘t. Don‘t bait him. It‘s not a good idea.‖ Jörg threw up his hands in frustration. Interference and annoyances and half answers seemed his lot in life. ―You will not give me the answers I seek, will you?‖ he shot at her. ―I have,‖ Regana insisted. ―Then perhaps I should ask Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger directly,‖ Jörg growled at her. Regana paled further, weaving on her feet. ―No. How has he wronged you?‖ It came out a gasp of breath. ―Then tell me,‖ he roared. ―I have,‖ she screamed at him in near hysterics. ―There is nothing more to tell. There is nothing more Pauwel can tell you.‖ ―We will see,‖ he warned. Regana‘s jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed in challenge. ―I love him and I carry his child. Your chance to choose any woman ended when you went to the Stone,‖ she reminded him. ―It was your choice to relinquish that privilege.‖ ―If I hadn‘t chosen damnation, would you have been mine for the choosing?‖ ―I don‘t—‖ She looked at Kethe, seemingly shaken, then turned her eyes to the fire miserably. ―No,‖ Regana whispered. ―I would not.‖ Jörg nodded and threw her cloak at her, noting with a mixture of satisfaction and unhappiness that she recoiled from the feel of it. ―I understand,‖ he assured her. ―Then I will leave your home, Lady Kreuzträger. There is nothing here for me. There never was. May you not live long enough to know what that is like.‖ He dematerialized and streamed away to go to ground, painfully alone for the first time. Always before, Jörg had felt that he had something precious in his printing, though he could

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never touch her. He‘d had a purpose, a reason for going on. But he had nothing. She‘d lied to him. It had all been lies. He never would have believed Regana capable of it—until now. A thirst for blood outside of feeding gripped him. Why would she do this? Jörg shuddered at the thought that she might have gone along with him out of fear or to ensure his participation in the battle before turning him over to Gawen and Sibold for his brutal possession of her when he took her maidenhead. Both men doted on her. They would have taken Regana‘s word for it if she claimed rape and coercion. It would have been a vicious sort of revenge for his treatment of her, and she would have suffered no ill effects from it. Whatever her reason, she‘d let him print with no intention of returning on it when the payment came due. He could not vent his rage on Regana directly. Her amulet aside, he still loved her despite her admission. Jörg would always love her, because he was trapped by his printing, but not enough to let her treachery go completely unpunished. Regana had left him nothing. Jörg would return the favor. Like Riberta had been promised the illusion of Pauwel and had it ripped away, Regana‘s illusion of safety and love with Pauwel would be ripped away. First he would take Kreuzträger from her. Then her precious child would be taken from her—not as a child, but when she felt safe of his survival. Any man who dared love her would suffer the same fate until Regana dared not love, until she felt what it was like to have no prospect of love. Jörg sobbed that he had sunk so low. **** Pauwel rode like a man possessed of demons. When he and Gawen had felt the attack on Regana‘s amulet, they‘d stopped immediately. Veriel unghosted, and they‘d barely glanced at each other before turning back. They hadn‘t wasted time explaining to the others. They would feel it too and know why the two of them broke off for home.

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When the beast moved again, Pauwel had nearly cried for the distance he still had to travel. If Veriel had injured Regana or Kethe— He pushed the thought away. He needed to control the Blutjagd until the fight was closer or he would burn off the edge. At the house, he was off his horse with his weapons drawn before the animal even came to a halt. Kethe threw the door open with one of his training blades in hand. ―For the love of all that‘s holy,‖ she exploded. ―Get in there and show your wife that you are still alive, before she worries herself into childbirth.‖ ―Alive? Of course, I‘m alive. Why wouldn‘t I be?‖ he demanded. ―That mad beast all but promised you wouldn‘t be. Regana has been absolutely frantic. It was all I could do to keep her here with me instead of rushing off to find you.‖ Pauwel pushed past Kethe, but Regana was already hurtling across the room at him. He dropped his weapons to sweep her into his arms. ―It‘s all right,‖ he soothed her, holding her close to his chest while she sobbed. ―Did he hurt you?‖ Regana shook her head against his chest. ―He threatened and frightened her,‖ Kethe offered. ―He really is mad.‖ ―Yes, he is.‖ Pauwel glanced at the training weapon in concern. ―You didn‘t try to use that, did you?‖ ―No. I just warned him away with it.‖ ―Good. Remember that Veriel is as highly trained as any of the Warriors are. Even with your amulet, attacking him would be very dangerous.‖ Kethe nodded and collected up his weapons for him, as Gawen rode up. ―Pauwel,‖ he called, his voice demanding an answer without him speaking the question. ―She‘s fine, Gawen.‖ He ran a hand over their child. ―You are, aren‘t you?‖ he asked softly. ―Yes. He didn‘t hurt me,‖ she breathed, still clinging to his tunic. Gawen stormed in and closed the door to the night. The

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older Warrior built up the fire to ward off the chill in the room, while Pauwel led her to a chair close to the hearth. Regana shivered, and he tried to hand her the cloak lying forgotten on the floor. ―No,‖ Kethe screamed. Regana pushed it away with a strangled squeal of protest. ―No,‖ his sister repeated softly. She took the piece of clothing from Pauwel and pitched it into the fire. He furrowed his brow. For a moment, he thought he could see the flames dancing through the fabric before it started to burn. ―It‘s all right, Regana. I will get something to warm you,‖ Kethe assured her as she bolted for their sleeping chamber. Pauwel met Gawen‘s eyes and raised an eyebrow in confusion. ―What was that all about?‖ he wondered aloud. ―Veriel,‖ Regana croaked. ―He pulled it from my shoulders and threw it at me when he left.‖ ―Why?‖ Gawen asked. Regana ran her hands over their child and looked at the two men miserably. ―By the Stone, no,‖ Gawen breathed. ―What happened?‖ Pauwel asked gently, nodding to Kethe as she draped their mother‘s cloak around Regana‘s shoulders. ―He was furious that I‘m carrying your child,‖ she answered simply. ―Why did he want me dead?‖ ―You took me before the battle. He‘s convinced you used some sort of coercion or trickery—or that I led him on somehow. I don‘t think he knows what he thinks any more than I do.‖ Pauwel groaned as her meaning hit him. ―He thinks I took advantage of you,‖ he guessed. ―Or that I took advantage of him—or...‖ Regana shook her head, looking weary. ―It‘s worse than that,‖ Kethe spat. ―The beast blames her for the choice he made to be damned, that wanting her drove him mad.‖ Pauwel shot a startled look at Regana, but she was staring

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into the flames intently. ―You know that‘s not true,‖ he soothed her. ―Whatever his reason, you are not to blame for his actions. What else did he say, Kethe?‖ ―He demanded to know— If he had not chosen damnation, would she have been his or yours.‖ Pauwel sank into the chair beside Regana and took her hand. ―You told him the truth?‖ he asked, knowing it was the only way to phrase it so that Kethe would not become suspicious. Regana looked at each of them miserably, Kethe first. Her gaze finally settled on Pauwel. ―I am yours. I have always been yours,‖ she finished, seemingly exhausted. ―There is no other truth.‖ He nodded, thankful for her fortitude in the face of the beast. Everything depended on it, and Regana had done well, despite the threat to him, despite the threat to herself. ―Let‘s get you into bed. You‘re exhausted.‖ Regana allowed herself to be led to the bed. As Pauwel settled her beneath a heavy fur, she ran her hand over his jaw. ―I‘m sorry, Pauwel. He intends to take you from me, and it is my fault. I should have told him what he wanted to hear and told Kethe that I lied to save you. Why didn‘t I do that?‖ she berated herself. ―Don‘t— Please. You did exactly what had to be done. Will you be all right while I speak to Gawen?‖ She nodded. Pauwel kissed her forehead gently. ―Take care of my son for me. Rest for him and for yourself. I‘ll take care of the rest.‖ ―Be careful, Pauwel. I don‘t want to lose you.‖ ―I will, dear one. I will.‖

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Chapter Ten Regana stretched against Pauwel. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. ―Let me hold you,‖ he mumbled. ―Just a few moments until I have to rise—‖ ―Training?‖ she asked. ―No. The others are coming. I should meet them clothed this time.‖ Regana startled. ―Now?‖ The sun was barely more than a line on the horizon. ―They‘ve been out all night?‖ ―Yes. Just let me hold you.‖ She nodded and sank into his arms. In the end, he waited until Gawen‘s horse could be heard on the path outside before he rose and dressed. By the time Regana dressed and followed him, the other Warriors had arrived. At first, the bundle in Wil‘s arms didn‘t make sense. It wasn‘t until she saw the expanse of a woman‘s leg over the horse‘s shoulder that she realized the bright yellow was a fall of hair over the cloak she was wrapped in. Wil‘s face was drawn into tired lines. His eyes burned with fierce emotion unlike any Regana had seen on him, and she had memories of Wil that stretched back to her early days in leading strings. Ditrich shook his head sadly. ―Riberta,‖ he informed them, confirming her suspicions. Wil‘s other sister had lighter hair. It could only have been Riberta. ―She took off her amulet. We don‘t know why.‖ Regana hid her face in Pauwel‘s shoulder, chilled by the loss of someone she knew so well. ―He used her?‖ Pauwel asked as he wrapped an arm around his wife. Ditrich swore fluently. ―And he fed from her until he killed

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her,‖ he announced. ―We hunt the beast tonight,‖ Wil informed them evenly. Pauwel nodded. ―Agreed.‖ ―Your women came through safely?‖ Ger asked, his voice solemn. ―They did. He‘s playing with us, terrorizing our women to get to us.‖ Gawen settled a hand on Regana‘s back. ―Perhaps, Kethe should take her in now,‖ he suggested. ―No,‖ Regana decided. ―I‘d like to take a walk.‖ She met Pauwel‘s eyes, and he nodded his agreement. ―You will be all right?‖ he asked. ―Yes. I just want to talk to Emecin. I‘ll be fine.‖ Pauwel looked at her uncertainly and ran a hand over their child. ―Nothing is wrong?‖ he asked nervously. ―Our son is fine. I just have need of Emecin‘s company for a bit.‖ He kissed her forehead. ―Then go. Be careful.‖ Regana bowed her head to the other lords and accepted a kiss from Gawen before leaving them far behind. She shuddered as she considered the sight of Riberta‘s body in her brother‘s arms. Even if it weren‘t so important for her to talk to Emecin, Regana couldn‘t bear to see that tableau much longer. She couldn‘t listen to what they had to discuss. There would be talk of what was done, and that was more than she could bear to know. As she walked, she tried to take her mind off the accusations Riberta made, but it seemed that every head turned to watch her as she passed. Regana tried to reassure herself that they only noticed her as Pauwel‘s lady, but the looks weren‘t ones of awe or respect. They were wary, suspicious, and outright hostile. She hurried the last stretch to Emecin‘s home, suddenly feeling exposed without Pauwel by her side to protect her. Regana breathed a sigh of relief as she came to the midwife‘s door. The older woman answered her knock promptly, and her wide smile was genuine. ―Regana!‖ She enveloped the young woman in her arms. ―Come in. What brings you?‖

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―I must speak to you.‖ Her smile faltered somewhat. ―Is there a problem? Is the baby troubling you somehow?‖ Emecin moved to let Regana pass into her main room. ―No. I just need to speak with you.‖ She met Landric‘s curious gaze evenly. ―Alone,‖ she qualified. The young man, only fourteen but still the most skilled healer the village had seen in many years, straightened and bowed his head to her. ―I know my mother‘s work, and I am a healer. Perhaps, I can be of some help in this matter.‖ ―If my problem were of that nature, I would humbly ask your healing,‖ she assured him. ―Please, I must speak with your mother alone.‖ ―Go, Landric, but do not go far. We will continue your training later.‖ Emecin hitched her head toward the door, and some unspoken command passed between them. The young man nodded and bowed to both women again. ―As you wish, Lady Kreuzträger,‖ he answered respectfully. ―I will be in the stables when you seek me, Mother.‖ ―Well enough. Go now.‖ Regana sighed as the door closed behind him. Emecin motioned for her to sit. ―No, I‘d rather not,‖ she replied, fidgeting nervously and seeking for a way to broach the subject. The midwife shook her head, showing her age as she hadn‘t moments earlier. ―I knew this day would come,‖ she cursed. ―What day, Emecin?‖ Her heart started to pound in her breast. Emecin did know. She had to know. But would Emecin tell what she knew? ―The stories that are circulating. You came here for the truth Eberhard will not tell, the truth all were forbidden by Sibold to tell.‖ Regana sank into the offered chair slowly. ―I knew you‘d know,‖ she whispered. ―Of course. I placed you in Sibold‘s hands myself. How could I not know?‖ ―What happened? Why won‘t Sibold and Eberhard say? Was my birth really the last they attended?‖ Regana had so

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many questions that she couldn‘t seem to order them, and they started tumbling from her lips without end. Emecin held up a hand to stop the flow of words. ―Your birth was the last,‖ she confirmed. ―Why? What was so important about mine?‖ ―You were the last, the one who sealed the pact. Your mother knew the moment she saw your coloring.‖ She shook her head sadly. ―Both of her children. It was too much for her.‖ ―I don‘t understand. The last of what? I know I have the coloring of a Warrior, but women aren‘t chosen as Warriors.‖ ―You understand that the Warriors are typically chosen one or two at a time, as the Stone foresees the need for them in the future.‖ ―Of course. The Stone rarely chooses more than two. Even three is exceedingly rare. I imagine so many nearly caused panic.‖ ―When Gawen was born with the mark of Syth, there was great celebration. A new Stone lord is a time of renewal. Then Tilbrand was born two years later. People were hopeful, but they knew there would be bad times in the years ahead. Wilhelmus came next—just on Tilbrand‘s heels—and we knew it was more than a small skirmish we faced. Olbrecht came very soon after, and people began to look to Gawen and the others in concern. ―Then came Dado, Cunczel, Pauwel, Bertolf, Redulf, Gerhardus, Geldric, and Ditrich. For those years, every male child born was cursed. Women became afraid to carry a child for fear of losing him to the Stone‘s choosing. Two years went by with no more cursed babies. The panic was veiled, but the sight of the boys brought before Sibold to play together made the villagers very nervous. This was an army.‖ ―Go on,‖ Regana prodded her. ―They had stopped attending births. That is, Eberhard had. Sibold still attended every one. The Stone spoke to him and told him to expect more births. He recognized Jörg immediately and knew that the complement of men was complete—save one.‖ Regana shivered at the realization that Emecin meant herself, but she pushed away the thought. There were still so many questions. ―Why thirteen Warriors?‖

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―You‘ve heard the story of the original fall of the beasts. The ancients who fought for the Stone—those who coveted its power for their own and those who fought them and trapped their souls in the Stone for all eternity—together numbered thirteen.‖ ―Until Jörg and the others freed them,‖ she corrected. ―Yes, I know the tale.‖ Her mind worked at something just out of reach. ―Sibold knew some of the Warriors would go beast, didn‘t he?‖ ―Yes, he did. He and Eberhard argued about it. Eberhard wanted to stop it from happening, but Sibold said that they could not do so without destroying the balance with the Stone and the village itself in the process. They knew Jörg would be the strongest already. The Stone had named him as such, but even then, they feared whether he would be strongest as beast or Warrior.‖ ―So, they had the complement of thirteen. Why was my birth so important?‖ ―If you remember the other stories, you remember the woman who gave birth to the first true elder killers, as well.‖ ―Raga? She married the first lord beast slayer in the story.‖ Regana felt a sick swirl in her stomach. ―Pauwel, elder killer,‖ she breathed. She had never spoken her husband‘s new title, but she knew it well. ―You are Raga,‖ Emecin confirmed for her. ―You are the mother of the greatest Warriors, the true elder killers.‖ ―No, that‘s not possible,‖ she denied weakly. ―Every Stone-Chosen has a blood mark to identify the aspect born to them. The mark of Ani lies under your hair. I saw it myself when Sibold took you from my hand. To be complete, Raga had to join the men. Your birth marked that point.‖ ―What am I to do?‖ she managed. Emecin smiled and ran a hand over the swell of the child within Regana. ―Only this,‖ she assured the young mother. ―Just give your husband children who will be strong Warriors.‖ Regana nodded stiffly and rose to leave. ―Thank you, Emecin. I needed to know this.‖ ―I know you did. I always thought Sibold and Eberhard

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were wrong not to tell Gawen why he protected you. He should have been told.‖ ―Yes. It might have made things easier had he known,‖ she admitted. She walked outside, deep in thought. Emecin touched her shoulder fondly as she headed off to the stables to collect her son for his training, but Regana‘s mind was already far away. Raga gave children to the first lord beast slayer, the most powerful of Warriors. Technically, Pauwel was the first lord elder killer of the new war, and she would give him children, as many as he would grant her. But what of the child she carried? Technically, Jörg had been a Warrior when he‘d sired the baby, and he‘d all but killed Resten himself. But now he was a beast and no longer the strongest Warrior. Pauwel held that distinction for himself. How did this child fit into her place as Raga? As much as she and Pauwel had created the pretense that this baby was his and not Jörg‘s, lived the lie until it was more true than the truth, this baby was not the child of the first lord elder slayer. Would his existence foul the Stone‘s plans? She was so caught up in her musings that she didn‘t realize Bermer, the old blacksmith, was in her path until she nearly collided with him. Regana backed off a step. ―Many pardons,‖ she mumbled as she tried to step around him, but he moved to block her path. Regana took another step back and glanced at his face. Her smile of amusement that they seemed to be having difficulty clearing the way for each other disappeared as she met his fierce blue eyes. She took another step back in shock. His red-gold locks were stained dark with smoke, his work hardened fists at his sides, and he loomed large and threatening over her. Bermer smiled a tight smile and bowed his head to her stiffly, but he moved to block her path again as she stepped cautiously to the side. Regana looked around warily, and Bermer took the opportunity to step toward her again, keeping her within his grasp, she noted uneasily. ―Lady Kreuzträger,‖ his voice rumbled in something resembling a greeting.

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Regana looked for some sign of people around them, but there was none. There was only the silent wood as far as she could see. ―Bermer, you need to speak with me?‖ she asked with more conviction than she felt. His eyes hardened. ―Your lord leaves you unprotected too often,‖ he accused. ―Would you allow me to accompany you?‖ For some reason, the idea of Bermer as protection seemed laughable. ―That won‘t be necessary, Bermer. Thank you, but I will make the distance just fine on my own.‖ His jaw tightened, and Regana felt her stomach sink. Surely he wouldn‘t try to force her to accompany him. ―I‘m afraid I must insist,‖ he growled, confirming her worst fears that he would do just that. She ran a palm over her child protectively, and the large man smiled at the move. His eyes glinted with the edge of something dark and dangerous. ―I‘m not feeling well,‖ she managed. It wasn‘t a lie, she realized. Regana felt sick and faint and shaken. ―I think I should return to Emecin‘s home. Landric offered me a tea. I should have taken it while I was there.‖ Regana backed away, but Bermer kept advancing, keeping his distance from her constant. Her eyes flicked on the motion as his hand disappeared behind his back only to reappear holding a knife nearly as long as a sacred weapon. She stared at the blade, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening even as she heeded her mind‘s order to keep backing away from him. When Bermer struck, Regana acted without any conscious thought of what she intended to do. She ducked his blow and pushed against his shoulder with the arc of his blade to knock him off of his feet. “Use the weight of your opponent against him,” Sibold instructed Wil in her mind. As Bermer crashed to the ground, she turned and bolted for Emecin‘s house with her hands cupped beneath her son. Regana screamed in fear and frustration as Bermer‘s huge hand closed around her arm and dragged her to a halt. ―No,‖ she begged. ―Please, do not do this.‖ ―You keep them here. If you are gone, they will go too,‖ he

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reasoned while a fanatic light lit his eyes that belied reason. She tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp, but Bermer tightened his grip, until Regana whimpered at the pains shooting up her arm and the numbness below. He dragged her toward his blade. Regana squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating his killing blow. She had no hope of defeating him now that he had hold of her. The splash of heat washed over her, but it came without pain. She opened her eyes in shock and confusion. Bermer‘s wrist was held locked in another hand, the blade he wielded hovering a hand‘s width from her throat. Blood coursed down the large man‘s chest from his slit throat. His eyes, wide in disbelief, seemed to dim, and his hand fell away from her arm. Regana backed away, shaking in terror. As Bermer fell, she saw the strange hand release his blade hand to let him fall smoothly. Landric appeared from behind the man who‘d towered over him in life. A blood-soaked blade was clutched in his hand. He looked at her miserably as he wiped and sheathed his weapon. Landric put his red-stained hands up to her in a calming gesture. ―I will not hurt you,‖ he assured her in a soothing voice. ―Are you injured, Lady Kreuzträger?‖ ―I think I have to be sick,‖ she managed, trying to look anywhere but at Bermer. ―I can‘t leave you here alone to get help. Will you allow me to take you to your lord?‖ She looked at him in shock. Had she escaped death at Bermer‘s hands only to find herself faced with the same choice again? ―I left my horse in the trees when I heard your scream. Let me help you, Raga. I cannot allow you to come to harm.‖ His voice took on a pleading tone. Regana nodded and sank to the grass, weak and trembling. She willed herself not to indulge in the disgrace of fouling herself further by giving in to the sickness rising in her throat. Landric went to get his horse. She could trust him, she reminded herself. He knew what she was. His mother had sent

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him to protect her, no doubt. She could trust him. **** Pauwel barely glanced up from the discussion at the sound of a horse ambling up the road to the house. The group of Warriors had been busy forming their strategy for finding and destroying Veriel since Wil and Olbrecht had left with Riberta‘s body. Kethe went to the door to investigate, as Pauwel knew she would. Her strangled cry brought his head up. She launched through the open door, calling out his name in a panic. He shouldered Gawen out of his way as he bolted for the doorway. ―Regana,‖ Pauwel breathed, knowing that nothing else would have rattled Kethe so. His heart stuttered at her nervous chatter. ―Be still,‖ a male voice ordered from outside. ―You are only upsetting her further. The blood is not her own.‖ Blood. Pauwel uttered several harsh curses as he tore across the open area toward the women standing by the horse‘s side. Landric looked at them sadly. His hands and tunic were stained with blood, still not dried, he noted. If Regana had even half that much on herself, someone had surely died. Kethe was using the edge of her dress in an attempt to wipe the blood from Regana‘s face and neck. She was practically bathed in it, from her face to her waist and below. ―I‘ll get water,‖ Kethe decided as Pauwel reached them. ―I cannot see anything until I clean her.‖ ―Go,‖ he barked, meeting his wife‘s wide eyes and taking in her trembling. Pauwel touched her cheek gently. ―Who did this?‖ ―Bermer,‖ she whispered. Pauwel nodded. ―I will kill him for this,‖ he promised her, ―as soon as you have recovered.‖ Regana closed her eyes and swallowed slowly as her complexion, what little he could see of it, paled further. ―I‘ve taken care of that for you, Lord Kreuzträger,‖ Landric offered quietly, averting his eyes. ―I know it was your right to

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exact punishment for his crime, and I am sorry that I overstepped my bounds, but it was the only way I could save her from his blade.‖ Pauwel drew her to his chest as Regana rocked forward on her feet. ―He took a weapon to my wife?‖ he demanded. ―Yes, my lord. He thought to slit her throat—as I did him.‖ ―Thank you, Landric. Your trespass is a trivial thing compared to Regana‘s life.‖ The young man blushed. ―I will bring a paste for her arm later. She will bruise deeply from his handling of her. Do you have a calming tea? The one for her sickness, perhaps? I can bring another, if you do not.‖ ―Yes. Kethe will make some for her,‖ he promised the healer. Landric nodded. ―Sleep and food when she feels up to it. A rich broth if she can manage nothing else. Send for me, if she needs anything I can provide.‖ ―I will.‖ Pauwel swept Regana into his arms and brushed past his stunned brothers, congregated around the open door. He saw Gawen step up to speak with Landric as he swung his wife over the threshold, but Pauwel didn‘t wait to find out what their conversation was about. He carried her to their bedchamber and started removing her bloodstained clothing. Kethe charged in with a large basin of water and a cloth. Pauwel sent her to make the tea while he washed the blood from Regana‘s body. Already, her arm was ringed purple from the beast of a man who‘d attacked her. Pauwel shuddered as he considered her screams, the screams that had brought Landric—but no one else—to her aid. By the time he settled her beneath a warm covering, she was already half asleep. Pauwel ran a hand over the bruise on her arm, and she met his eyes in exhaustion. ―Sleep,‖ he crooned to her. ―Kethe will bring you tea and sit with you, but I will be in the next room. I will not leave you while you need me. Never fear that.‖ Regana closed her eyes without a word, without a gesture that she understood him. Pauwel kissed her forehead and watched her as she drifted into sleep.

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He had failed her. Her protection was his most sacred trust, and knowing dangerous rumors abounded, Pauwel had let her wander off unprotected. He could not allow such a thing again. Pauwel left quietly so as not to disturb her and encountered Kethe, headed to the room with the tea he had ordered her to make. ―Stay with her while she sleeps and call me immediately if she wakes,‖ he ordered. His sister left to tend to Regana without question. Gawen sighed raggedly. ―She‘s a fighter, Pauwel.‖ ―If you mean she will heal from this, I know it.‖ Pauwel paced the floor in impotent anger, at himself as much as at the man who‘d dared lay hands on his wife in such a manner. ―It never should have happened, Gawen,‖ he fumed, trying to staunch the Blutjagd he had no outlet to still. ―No, it shouldn‘t—but no, that is not what I meant.‖ Pauwel stopped pacing and swung to face the master trainer. ―What do you mean?‖ ―The blow Landric stopped was Bermer‘s second. He was not in time to stop the first.‖ ―He missed?‖ he breathed in sick disbelief and relief combined. ―Regana evaded his first swing and felled him before she ran from him. Bermer‘s—handling of her was to prevent a second attack.‖ ―Felled? Bermer was more than twice her size, almost the size of a Warrior,‖ Pauwel exploded. ―She used his size against him, as Sibold taught us.‖ He met Pauwel‘s eyes. ―I want to train her.‖ ―You‘ve gone mad. Women are not Warriors,‖ he countered. ―What makes a Warrior? She moves like a Warrior, silent and graceful. She is fast and strong. You know I am right about this.‖ ―She carries my son!‖ ―She is Raga,‖ Gawen whispered. ―For her own protection, you must allow this, Pauwel. The Stone has touched her. I know this for a fact.‖ Pauwel felt a crippling shortness of breath. He was only

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vaguely aware of the blood rushing in his ears as he staggered to a chair and crumpled into it. His mind protested what Gawen was saying. She could not be Raga. She was Regana. She was his, not the mother incarnate. ―That is why I was given the duty of protecting her,‖ he continued, though Pauwel wanted to hear no more. ―That is what she went to Emecin to ask. That is why Emecin sent Landric to protect her, with his life if necessary. The Stone has confirmed it for me.‖ ―Why has no one told us?‖ Cunczel demanded. ―Was Raga trained?‖ Ger asked in confusion. ―The villagers will not stand for training a woman,‖ Ditrich noted. ―Too many of them fear her already.‖ ―Who knows this?‖ Ger cut in again. Pauwel‘s mind locked on a single piece of information to refute what was being said of her. ―It‘s not true,‖ he breathed in relief. The other men stopped to stare at him in shock. ―It is true,‖ Gawen assured him. Pauwel took to his feet, livid at their obvious blindness in the matter. ―It is not,‖ he insisted. He pulled his tunic up to reveal the blood mark of Ori, clearly visible through the light mat of hair over his heart. ―It‘s safe to say I know my wife‘s body intimately,‖ he spat. ―Regana bears no mark. She cannot be chosen if she bears no mark.‖ Gawen sighed and shook his head. ―Come with me, Pauwel.‖ He half-dragged the younger man to his bedchamber and to his wife‘s side. ―I had already questioned the Stone about this,‖ he explained. ―I saw her unclothed as a babe more often than anyone. I thought the same as you.‖ He reached for the hair over her right ear and parted it several times with his large hands until the dark red mark appeared. He moved the hair this way and that until the symbol of Ani—the mother and the sign of birth—was revealed beneath the hair. Pauwel closed his eyes in mute acceptance, and Gawen led him back to the others. He sank into the chair again, drained of his great strength in light of who and what his wife was. Of all

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of them, she was the most precious, the one they could not lose. Pauwel buried his face in his hands. ―It‘s true?‖ Ditrich asked nervously. ―It‘s true,‖ Gawen confirmed for them. ―The mark was hidden beneath her hair, just where the Stone said it would be.‖ ―What does this mean?‖ Ger asked. ―It means she will be hunted by the elders and men alike. The elders will not want her to produce children. Regana‘s children will be great Warriors, the finest Warriors. The villagers— Today shows what they are capable of.‖ ―If they were told,‖ Cunczel argued. ―If they knew her children would mean the end—‖ ―They only want the beasts to leave. They believe Regana draws them here. It may be true. If they know what she represents, they may be here to stop her. The villagers are panicked. They would rather see the beasts free and feeding elsewhere than wait for their redemption.‖ ―Can they take her to mate?‖ Ger asked fearfully. ―No. Regana is not Blutjagdfrau. She is chosen for another purpose. We only train her to protect her. She will not be Krieger der Nacht. She will not hunt.‖ ―Why hide the truth from us?‖ Ditrich asked. ―At first, Sibold could not know which Warriors would go beast. He couldn‘t risk the beasts having foreknowledge of their end. After— I imagine he wanted her to find her mate naturally. Can you honestly claim that the thought of siring the great beast killers wouldn‘t have swayed your choice?‖ Ger sighed and shook his head. Of course, he can’t claim that. What Warrior wouldn’t like the honor of it? Except perhaps the man who learns it this way! ―How do we proceed?‖ Ger inquired. ―I will train her,‖ Pauwel decided. ―I cannot take the chance of her being injured.‖ ―For now,‖ Gawen agreed. ―When she has learned enough, Regana will begin proper training.‖ ―After my son is safely from her womb,‖ he thundered in warning. ―Of course,‖ Gawen soothed him.

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Pauwel nodded and went back to his dark thoughts. Raga had been the mate of the first lord beast slayer. Regana carried the child of the true beast slayer. Pauwel knew that he could not have defeated Resten without Veriel. The beast had used him to strike the killing blow the Mad Deceiver was forbidden to strike, but Veriel had slain Resten otherwise. Was this a good omen or bad? Whose children would be the great Warriors, Veriel‘s son or his own? And what of the others? Surely, it wasn‘t only children born of Regana but only certain ones, the ones to her true mate. Only time would tell which of them should have been Regana‘s mate. **** Jörg heard musings of Regana‘s near miss with death while he rested. Despite his anger with her, his printing demanded he protect her. After nightfall, he sought out the other beasts. Their lot had improved little, and Jörg had been hoping that was the case. It fit his needs perfectly. When he appeared in their midst, they regarded him in disgust. A few bared fangs they had no concept how to hide, and most wore tattered, filthy tunics. ―Come to kill more of us?‖ Lorian demanded. ―I only kept my vows. I vowed to kill Resten, and I vowed to make it painful if he ever dared touch my woman. Did I vow your deaths?‖ ―What do you want?‖ Cerran asked. ―I‘ve come to offer you a trade. I will teach you how to use one of your powers, if you use it to serve me.‖ ―Teach me how you travel,‖ Cerran demanded. ―Teach me how you clothe and clean yourself,‖ Draden decided. ―Teach me how you hide yourself when the Warriors are near,‖ Lorian interjected. Carstol nodded his agreement. ―Nothing that would help you so much,‖ Jörg replied in amusement. ―Then what?‖ Cerran asked suspiciously.

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―I will teach you to see human thoughts—if you use it for me. A few nights‘ work in exchange for the skill.‖ He shrugged as if it didn‘t matter to him if they profited from it or turned him down. He could handle the situation alone, but it would take much longer and make out only Jörg as the monster. ―It could have uses,‖ Lorian admitted. ―We could anticipate their blows in battle even when they outnumber us grossly. What do you want in return?‖ ―Use it to find the villagers who threaten Regana and kill them,‖ he replied simply. ―Why?‖ Lorian demanded. ―You know why,‖ Jörg answered coldly. ―I am printed to her. Even though I cannot have her, I am still bound to protect her as printing demands. Any who threaten her face my wrath.‖ ―You still feel for her,‖ Carstol accused with a predatory cast in his mind, forgetting that Jörg could easily read his intent to use Regana to force Jörg to teach them all he knew. The fool! Just because they could not read him, they forgot too often that he was not hampered in such a fashion. ―No,‖ Jörg lied smoothly. ―You know I have no kinder emotions. Making me beast while I was printed simply made me a slave to my duty to her. Nothing more. All I feel is hatred for any who harm her.‖ ―Of course,‖ he grumbled, seeing his aspirations fading away. ―You must keep my vow in this. I swore never to hunt the village except in her defense. You must only kill those who pose a danger to Regana. If you break this agreement, your life is forfeit. I will not hesitate to exact the same punishment I heaped on Resten to any who cross me in this. Agreed?‖ ―Agreed,‖ Lorian intoned. The others nodded and grunted their agreement just after him. ―Good. Then I will teach you. The night is still young. We will eat enough for months in the nights to come.‖ ****

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Pauwel sank into his bed in exhaustion. For four nights, the beasts had been in a frenzy of feeding and murder. Every night, they had been sent to ground by the Warriors, but their beasts always kept them alive and healing to fight another night. He had to admit that training side by side with the Warriors all those years had allowed the beasts to anticipate the Warriors‘ fighting styles too effectively. There would have to be a new generation to defeat them, new personalities and styles that the beasts did not know intimately. Regana curled to him and ran a hand down to cup him. He laughed as he hardened in her hand. ―Now, who is the evil one? I have hunted all night, and I must train you this afternoon. When will I sleep?‖ ―I propose we conduct my training now. Then we can sleep late together,‖ she offered. ―I‘m too tired, Regana,‖ he pleaded. ―You? Never,‖ she breathed. Her hand moved over him, drawing him into a deep groan. ―Some part of you wants to see to my training.‖ Pauwel‘s grin widened in understanding. He pinned Regana beneath him and mounted her smoothly. He stilled half inside her, as she arched against him, teasing her with what she‘d asked for. ―Is this the training you want?‖ he crooned. ―Yes,‖ she panted, trying to draw him deeper as he backed off to keep his penetration minimal. ―Perhaps, I should train you in patience,‖ he teased, moving with excruciating slowness. To Pauwel‘s surprise, his gentle rocking propelled Regana into pleasure and dragged him along with her. He took his release in just a few deep strokes into the sweet warmth that beckoned him and milked him to blackness. As they lay stunned in the aftermath, Pauwel ran his hands over their son tenderly. ―No,‖ Regana moaned, stilling his caress. He looked at her in shock. ―Why not?‖ ―You make me want you again, and you are too tired to take me a second time,‖ she replied simply. ―Am I?‖ he asked with a wide smile.

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―Yes, you are,‖ she assured him as she nestled her cheek to his chest. ―How was the hunt?‖ Pauwel sighed. ―What happened to the days when my bed and our child were the only things we had to talk about?‖ he countered wearily. ―As I recall, Gawen decided I needed a Warrior‘s cares. And I‘ve always worried,‖ she finished quietly. ―Is there some reason you‘re not telling me?‖ ―No,‖ he lied smoothly. ―We drove them to ground, as we always do.‖ Pauwel yawned, a move only half for show. ―Sleep with me.‖ Regana murmured her acceptance of the invitation and settled her hand on his chest next to her face. As Pauwel expected, she was asleep long before he was. Regana had spent most of the night awake as she always did while he hunted. Kethe suspected it, but the Warriors that had protected Regana from villagers and beasts alike over the last three nights had confirmed it. I lied to her. Pauwel grimaced that he would do such a thing, but the truth would disturb her. While the other beasts were on their rampage, Veriel kept hidden. At the rare times he‘d revealed himself, it was to make a vicious kill of a villager approaching Regana‘s location. For that reason alone, the chosen protector each night was wary but well rested. The killing the previous night had been paced, almost sparing. While the Warriors had originally feared the beasts meant to destroy all life in the village, it now seemed that they were choosing their targets carefully. Pauwel shuddered at the possibility that this was Veriel‘s version of protecting Regana. But why? He threatens her, but he protects her fiercely? Somehow, it just wasn‘t something Pauwel could fathom.

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Chapter Eleven Jörg watched the Warriors prepare to hunt. Gawen had been the one chosen to watch over Regana that night. He nodded his approval. If any Warrior had to soothe the new widow, Gawen was the one Jörg would have chosen. Separating Pauwel from the group was easier than he imagined. Several carefully orchestrated attacks, arranged by Jörg to occur simultaneously in different areas, caused the Warriors to scatter accordingly. Of course, Jörg had forfeited another boon to the beasts for their co-operation, the ability to clean themselves this time. It made their lives more tolerable, a fact he loathed, but better that than giving them any true power. Pauwel didn‘t see Jörg‘s attack coming until he had been knocked from his horse. The older man rolled to his feet stiffly and scanned the landscape for his attacker. ―I know it‘s you, Veriel. No other can hide as you do,‖ he challenged. ―Show yourself. Or do you intend to kill me in this cowardly fashion?‖ Jörg materialized, laughing in amusement. ―I don‘t need tricks to best you.‖ ―Prove it.‖ ―If you wish, but answer first. Did you know when you took her that Regana was mine?‖ ―That you left her,‖ Pauwel corrected. ―You left her with nothing, not even some sad excuse for why you would wrong her as you did.‖ ―And you used her grief,‖ he guessed. ―No. I sought only to comfort and protect her, but I was walking the edges of madness. Do you remember it? You gave in to it just as I did—well, not exactly alike,‖ he ground out with obvious rancor. ―Why do you have such a problem with this? Had you not left her, Regana would have had no need of my

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comfort and she would not be carrying my child with me printed to her.‖ ―She said she would have been yours at choosing,‖ Jörg accused. ―Tell me! When did you approach her?‖ ―When you left her,‖ Pauwel insisted. ―Look at what you are, Veriel. Do you think she can admit openly what you were to her? Kethe was there when you asked the question of her. Even if she hadn‘t been, Regana had to put you in her past. You can be nothing to her now. You have nothing to offer her.‖ Jörg hesitated. Kethe had been there. What would Regana‘s answer have been had she not? But Kethe hadn‘t been there when he‘d first approached her, and Regana had showed him no love, then. ―She feels nothing for me,‖ he breathed. ―Nothing but fear. Why didn‘t she let me explain?‖ ―I cannot say, but she has said her ‗farewell.‘ You must do the same.‖ ―I can‘t,‖ he shouted. ―I wish I could, but I am well and truly damned!‖ Jörg knew his voice showed the torture in his soul. He would not be half as damned if he could walk away from her. ―Of course,‖ Pauwel answered in obvious confusion. ―You do not understand. A printed man cannot release his emotions. I cannot walk away any more than you can. Without her, I die.‖ The Warrior looked at him, suspicious. ―That is not possible.‖ ―It‘s my punishment.‖ ―It‘s not true,‖ Pauwel stormed. Jörg growled in frustration. ―Why will no one believe me?‖ ―Tell me why,‖ Pauwel challenged. ―Tell me how a printed man could choose not to be with his wife. Tell me how you could choose damnation over her. Were you afraid of dying?‖ A bitter taste flooded his mouth at the fact that Pauwel believed his motive been something so cowardly. ―I was not afraid of death. I stupidly believed myself immortal, unless I died by Gawen‘s blade. I didn‘t choose damnation instead of Regana. I chose it for her.‖

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―Do not blame her for your choice,‖ he raged. ―I don‘t. The two I blame most are dead already. I will see the others dead if I can.‖ ―Explain,‖ Pauwel ground out from between clenched teeth. ―My choice was not between damnation and life with Regana. It was not even between damnation and death. I chose death and had it denied me. My choice was between damnation—leaving Regana to make her way without me—or death for us both. I gave my life to save hers,‖ he explained quietly. ―I tried to tell her how I was tricked—‖ He laughed bitterly. ―A lie, of course, so she would have no idea how they used her against me. I never got the chance to explain properly.‖ ―Impossible! Even if they took her to Gawen, he would not have killed her—or did they threaten her murder?‖ ―Marclef planned to make a public call demanding her death, after they killed me as mad. I wouldn‘t have had the opportunity to speak on her behalf. He wouldn‘t have stopped until the villagers saw her dead.‖ Pauwel looked at him uncertainly, and his weapons wavered. ―If— If that is true, I am sorry for your loss, but all the stories say you are lying. No kinder feelings.‖ ―Which made it the only way to damn me. I freely accepted everything else.‖ ―You die without her,‖ Pauwel spat. ―Seek death, because you cannot have her.‖ ―I cannot. The beast does not allow it. It is the perfect curse. I am the finest Warrior among us, and I never age and rarely tire.‖ He smiled crookedly. ―I am always in my prime. Until a better Warrior comes along, I cannot die.‖ ―I am sworn to kill you,‖ he reminded Jörg. ―For Regana or for your duty?‖ Pauwel hesitated. ―What aren‘t you telling me, Kreuzträger? I cannot read you well, but I know you are hiding something from me. You have been this entire time. I can find out what it is. I have that power.‖ His eyes hardened. ―Never,‖ he promised. ―You call me a liar, but I know you to be one. Tell me the

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truth, and you have my word that I will walk away.‖ ―Now who is lying?‖ Pauwel snarled. ―I will have the truth. If you force me to take it, I will.‖ ―You will have to rip what you seek from my dead lips.‖ Jörg smiled coldly. ―As you wish.‖ He lengthened his hands into blades and closed the distance resolutely. He could smell Blutjagd on Kreuzträger as he struck. Pauwel had improved markedly since he‘d crossed weapons with him last. Had Jörg not been beast, Pauwel would be his equal—perhaps his better. The Warrior landed the first blow, and Jörg nodded in appreciation of the skill required to do such a thing. Pauwel didn‘t break at all. He attacked again, but Jörg anticipated the move. His blow knocked the Warrior flat, and he had disarmed the disoriented man before Pauwel came to his senses. ―Now,‖ Jörg growled, ―will you tell me the truth you‘re hiding from me or will I take it by force? I will walk away. You have my word of honor.‖ ―You have no honor,‖ Pauwel returned weakly. ―You‘re right,‖ Jörg whispered. This marked the first time he had considered feeding selfishly. Always, he had chosen his prey well, in defense of Regana or feeding on the worst of mankind—or both. What Pauwel had told him was true enough in itself. Did he really have the right to demand whatever secrets he wasn‘t offering? Pauwel was printed to Regana. Whatever choices he made, he would make them to protect her. The thought angered Jörg. If Pauwel was lying to him, he was doing it because he believed Jörg was a threat to Regana. But why would he believe that? Unless Regana has some secret worse than what I already know of her. ―I must know. I‘m sorry, Pauwel.‖ The Warrior‘s eyes widened at the sight of his lengthening fangs. He tried to hold Jörg off, but his beast made him stronger than his former friend. Pauwel cried out in frustration, as he started to feed, not in pain since Jörg remedied that immediately. Pauwel blocked Jörg‘s attempts to read his memories. He was strong. He should not have been able to do that while Jörg

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was feeding. “Don’t Pauwel,” Jörg spoke into his mind. “I will take what I need. Let it end quickly. You cannot stop what I will do.” ―No,‖ he breathed. His fight continued. Jörg exerted coercion. He shouldn‘t have needed it while he fed, but he did. Images of Regana in Pauwel’s arms flooded his mind, intimate moments that made the encounter the gods had called him to see pale to nothingness. Jörg fed slowly, trying not to kill Pauwel with it. Conversations filtered in, more of what he already knew. Still, the block was clearly visible. “I don’t want to kill you. You will die if you continue to fight me.” ―For Regana,‖ he replied. He stepped up the coercion. The block buckled slightly. More conversations filtered in, and the truth started seeping in with it. Regana had been in both beds at the same time. Pauwel hadn’t waited for her. He’d pursued her as avidly as Jörg had, and she had fallen to them both. The memories didn’t come with it. He had to see it, had to know that it was true. Pauwel was still blocking, still denying Jörg what he sought. “Tell me, damn you! Tell me before you die for her,” he demanded angrily. ―Then I die.‖ He whispered it, a calm acceptance of his death. Jörg pushed as hard as he could, and Pauwel cried out in true pain. The wall started to crumble, and a single quote slipped past his defenses. Regana’s voice was sad and quiet. “I wish the baby was yours—” Jörg screamed in anguish within the link. “Mine!” The baby she carried wasn‘t Pauwel‘s. It was Jörg‘s. “My son!” He tested the idea. ―Never,‖ Pauwel promised as he started to slip away. “You stole my child from me,” he thundered.

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Pauwel‘s control slipped in his weakness. His mind cried out in terror and anguish as the wall came down. He tried to lock down his memories before they flowed to Jörg, but it was too late. The full import of them rocked Jörg out of his anger and into desperation. Jörg broke off his feeding and howled in his shock and disbelief, stopping the flow of Pauwel‘s blood. ―You fool. You incredible fool,‖ he berated himself. ―What have I done?‖ He was truly damned now. Jörg was taking an honorable man from her, a man who‘d accepted Regana‘s child and loved them both, a man who‘d accepted another man‘s dishonor and lived the lie until it was more real to him than the truth. Pauwel had accepted Jörg‘s censure because he could do no less for her. Pauwel was slipping to death, and there was no way to stop it. Already, his heart was weakened and his body barely drew breath. All Jörg had to offer him was damnation, but Pauwel was printed. It would be damnation that Pauwel could keep her through, if Regana let him. If not, Jörg would end his misery. He could kill a turned beast even as he could never kill an elder. He opened his wrist with a blade of a finger and offered it to Kreuzträger. ―Drink,‖ he ordered. ―For Regana. For the love of all that‘s holy, please take this.‖ Pauwel clamped his mouth shut and turned his face away. ―Better an honorable death,‖ he ground out from between clenched teeth. ―You don‘t have to lose her. Live for her,‖ Jörg pleaded in desperation. He had only turned Marclef before, and he‘d never considered whether that was right or wrong. It had been justice. Jörg pushed away the thought of whether turning Pauwel was right or wrong. He had no other options this time. He would not take this man from Regana. He could do no less than to give back what he had clumsily taken as best as he could. ―Not that way. I‘d rather die.‖ Jörg closed his wound and met Pauwel‘s eyes resolutely. ―I will not do this to her. Regana will decide. If she turns from you,

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I will give you peace in death. If she chooses to stay with you, will you accept her as you will be?‖ ―No. I will not drink from you,‖ he asserted weakly. Jörg bent to continue feeding. Pauwel raised a hand to fend him off, but Jörg pushed it away with no effort, sinking his teeth deep again and stilling Pauwel‘s pain. “You will take this from me. If I must do it this way, I will.” ―No,‖ Pauwel protested in a hoarse whisper. Jörg sobbed as the memories poured in, unable to be silenced. All the compassionate things his rival was and did seared him. “What have I done?” he asked again. As he skated on the edges of death, Pauwel‘s will finally fell under Jörg‘s control. Jörg closed the wound a second time to fend off death for a few minutes more. He opened his wrist again. ―Drink,‖ he invited with a touch of coercion in his voice. Unable to fight the push, Pauwel accepted his blood in return. Jörg sent information to Pauwel with the flow of his blood. He would be a match for any elder, unworthy to take their lives as Jörg was unworthy, but more powerful in the knowledge that Jörg granted him. He held no knowledge back. Pauwel could not kill him, and whatever retribution he took, Jörg deserved. He broke Pauwel‘s hold and closed the wound. For a long time, the older man lay, barely breathing as his body began the adjustment necessary to the change. When consciousness returned, Kreuzträger stared at him in confusion before realization sank in. He rent a heartbreaking scream into the whipping wind and started to sob. ―You‘ve damned me.‖ ―Yes,‖ Jörg admitted. ―Your fate lies in Regana‘s hands.‖ ―She will let me die. She must let me die,‖ he pleaded in a hopeless prayer to gods now unhearing of one such as he. ―I will take you to her and let her decide,‖ he promised. Jörg hefted Pauwel over his shoulder with a heavy heart and sped to Regana.

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**** Pauwel felt sick. The motion was bad enough in his dizziness, but the knowledge of what he was becoming was worse. He could feel the change, and he hated every second of it. Veriel‘s blood had leached into his veins and now coursed through him, searing every muscle as it sank into him. ―It would not hurt so badly, if you didn‘t fight it,‖ Veriel counseled him. ―You expect me to accept this with no fight?‖ he asked acidly. ―You cannot stop it. You should let it happen painlessly.‖ But Pauwel wished it to be painful. How could he have done what he had? How could he have accepted the foul blood? ―Will you kill me painlessly?‖ he shot back, annoyed with Veriel as much as himself. ―If that is what Regana chooses, I will. If she does not wish you to die, I will protect you with my own life. I will force you to live, if I must—for her.‖ ―I will not permit it,‖ he growled. ―I will find a way to die tonight.‖ ―Only if Regana gives you leave,‖ Veriel countered stubbornly. Pauwel closed his eyes as the landscape rushed by him. He wished the sour sensation in the pit of his stomach would allow him to be sick and rid himself of this poison even as he knew it was far too late for that. He spit to rid his mouth of the taste of Veriel‘s foul blood, refusing to use the cleaning power he now knew and admit that small defeat by doing so. Pauwel groaned, as Veriel dropped him to the ground, and opened his eyes to the sight of what had once been his home. Gawen stormed out toward them, then stilled at the sight of Pauwel at the elder‘s feet. His jaw tightened in fury that blazed around him, blue-white light that hurt Pauwel‘s changing eyes. ―Back off, beast,‖ Gawen commanded. ―Bring Regana to me. Her husband‘s life lies in her hands,‖ Veriel requested in a voice that almost passed for cordial. ―Don‘t do it, Gawen,‖ Pauwel pleaded. ―Kill me now.

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Don‘t allow him to hurt Regana again. Better a widow than married to me as I am.‖ Gawen nodded miserably. ―You‘re sure?‖ he asked, his reluctance to be the one to slay his sister‘s husband evident on his face. ―It‘s too late for me. Don‘t let Veriel play this game with her. Promise me, please.‖ Gawen nodded again and started toward them. ―It‘s no game,‖ the beast corrected him. ―You can have her. She can choose your life. And you,‖ he motioned to Gawen, stilling his advance, ―cannot best me. Unless you want to widow your wife and sister in the same night and leave both the children fatherless, you will stand down. It is Regana‘s choice. Not his and not yours.‖ ―As this?‖ Pauwel demanded. ―I will not live this way.‖ ―For her, you will, just as I will.‖ Gawen wheeled around at a movement behind him and launched back into the house. Pauwel sobbed as he realized that he could easily hear him trying to convince Regana to stay where she was. Her sobbing at the news that Pauwel would not survive what was done to him speared him. ―Please, don‘t do this to her. Have you no heart?‖ he begged, but Veriel‘s face was set in stone. Gawen returned, looking angrier than ever. ―You‘ve already upset her, beast. I know you can hear it. Leave now and let me finish this.‖ ―You‘ve not asked her,‖ he replied calmly. ―You‘ve not given her the choice I set. You told her that her husband is dead.‖ ―I am dead,‖ Pauwel countered. ―I am lost to the sun, beyond redemption—I cannot even father children now.‖ ―I am sorry I took those things from you. If I could give them back, I would. Had I known the truth— No, that is my fault, not yours. I had no right to take it that way. All I can give you is each other.‖ ―As a beast that lives by killing?‖ ―You don‘t have to kill. Your sustenance need not even be

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human. I know.‖ ―What of the rest?‖ ―If Regana chooses you, you need not look any further,‖ he answered dispassionately. ―If she doesn‘t choose you, you will not live to concern yourself with it. I will kill you at any time she rejects you or is lost to you. It is the least I can do.‖ ―Pauwel?‖ Gawen asked in confusion. ―Tell her the lifeless beast I am now. Tell her I wish her to set me free. If Regana commands it, Veriel will let me die. I must die. You know that.‖ Gawen took a deep breath and nodded, then stepped inside. Regana‘s ragged cry cut through Pauwel‘s soul. She charged through the doorway, and Gawen grabbed her by the shoulders to make her halt. ―You,‖ she spat at Veriel. ―Can you do anything that does not ruin my life?‖ ―This is my fault, I know. I make bad choices where you are concerned, ones that hurt you when I should do better by you. There is no forgiveness for me. If I was not before, I am damned now.‖ ―Now you ask me to condemn my h-husband?‖ Regana‘s voice broke at the end, and she looked at Pauwel through tears. ―I ask nothing. I give you all I can give. You can still have him. Despite what Gawen told you, he will not be changed. Pauwel cannot give you more children. That...I wish more than anything I could change. He will not take meals with you. Otherwise, he will be the man you‘ve always loved.‖ Pauwel could see her wavering. ―No, Regana. If the villagers discovered it, they would kill you and our child.‖ He smirked as Veriel flinched at the thought of her death—or of Pauwel claiming what he knew to be his son, he couldn‘t tell. ―The life he offers would be a lie. You know it would.‖ Regana ran a hand over their child slowly, and Pauwel ached to do the same. ―If I lose you, I die,‖ she whispered. ―Who will protect our son?‖ ―Gawen has given his word already. He knows what needs done,‖ he assured her. ―You can choose another husband if you wish. You should have a husband who can give you what I cannot.‖

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―Stop it! I will not choose again. I cannot.‖ She pushed free from Gawen‘s grip and stormed toward him with her brother at her heels. ―It is easy for you to choose death,‖ she accused. ―It is not, but I have nothing to offer you.‖ Regana knelt to touch his face, but her amulet pushed her away. She landed unceremoniously on her backside, looking stunned and pained. ―You see? I am not even worthy to touch you now.‖ Without warning, she tore her amulet off and threw it at Gawen. Regana launched into her husband‘s arms. Pauwel looked to Veriel fearfully, knowing he could not defend her when he was incapable of standing. The beast nodded in understanding and stepped back to allow Gawen to slide between him and the couple on the ground. Pauwel used the cleaning power, suddenly aware of the need not to let Regana touch any of that beast. Regana ran her hands over his chest, and Pauwel felt a crushing rush of emotion. ―You can touch me. You are my protection.‖ She drew his hands to the mound of her pregnant belly. ―Feel our son move. Can you give us up so easily? I can‘t. Tell me you don‘t want us, that you don‘t love us, and I will let him kill you. But answer me honestly,‖ she begged. Pauwel nodded as he stroked his hands over their son. He smiled weakly as the baby beat at Regana‘s belly near his hand. ―He‘s so strong,‖ he mused. ―He will be a fine Warrior someday.‖ ―Do you still want him?‖ she asked. He guided her up to kiss the pulsating spot of his son‘s assault tenderly. ―Nearly as much as I want you,‖ he reassured her. Pauwel couldn‘t leave her. He‘d find a way to be her husband somehow. ―Then don‘t make me choose your death,‖ she pleaded. Pauwel met her eyes and ran a hand over her cheek, drawing her down to his mouth. She met his advance with passion, and his decision was sealed. Regana still wanted him as husband in every way. ―It won‘t be the same,‖ he cautioned her. ―To the world, I

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will be dead and you a widow. I cannot even be a father to our son once he is old enough to repeat what he sees.‖ ―But you can keep him safe from harm and be my husband?‖ ―If you would still have me.‖ Regana met his lips again, brushing hers over them softly. ―As far as I can tell, you‘ve never been more tender. Why would I not want you?‖ ―Gawen?‖ Pauwel asked nervously. ―If it is Regana‘s choice, I will support this plan as long as you are controlled,‖ he agreed. ―If you seek death, I will stop you,‖ Veriel warned. ―Regana has made her choice.‖ ―I will not choose death as long as she will have me. I am printed. You knew I couldn‘t leave her if she asked,‖ Pauwel accused. ―Yes, I did,‖ Veriel admitted.

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Chapter Twelve 501 AD

Regana watched the night coming eagerly. Andris lay nestled next to her breast, tired from his labor and sated on her milk. Pauwel would soon meet his son. As agreed, Gawen had given Andris his blessing and a Kreuzträger amulet as soon as Emecin freed him from her body. Kethe and Thorald had left long ago for their own home, and Regana could read the sadness in the older woman‘s eyes that she would not see her brother hold his son for the first time. Still, Thorald and the other villagers had no knowledge of how Pauwel came to Regana nightly, playing his hands over their growing son and making love to her before disappearing into the night to hunt beasts or prey to feed on. Some mornings, she woke to find a flower laid on the bed beside her and ached that Pauwel had not lain a fond hand on her cheek before going to ground and leaving her to face another day without him, that he could not do so because of the amulet she wore at all times when he was gone from her. Only Gawen and Bavin had stayed with her, waiting Pauwel‘s arrival. Bavin, Kethe, and Anabilia were the only true humans entrusted with the knowledge of Pauwel‘s half-life. While she was certain Emecin and Landric suspected, they never asked, never hinted at the possibility that Pauwel lived and shared her life. Bavin was the only one with the knowledge of Andris‘s true parentage. Gawen had decided that his wife would only become more and more suspicious if she were not told the truth. Despite Regana‘s fears, she‘d found the other woman nothing but encouraging. Even the Warriors, who still had no knowledge of her

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involvement with Jörg, had taken their time warming up to the idea of Pauwel as a beast. At first, the sight of the Lord Kreuzträger materializing to take the life of a turned beast or to send an elder to ground for up to a week had made them distinctly uneasy. Over time, they had come to appreciate his assistance, admire his improved prowess, and even joke with him about a kill. Gawen chuckled darkly, and Regana looked at him in confusion. ―What is it?‖ she asked. ―Your husband is stirring, and he is—concerned,‖ he warned her. ―He must have felt your son‘s birth, but the pain and emotions translate outside the framework of the complete picture. He probably thinks you‘re gravely wounded.‖ Bavin sighed and placed her hand over the formidable swell of her belly. ―She has been,‖ she countered. ―You Warriors enjoy spreading your seed well enough, but we women have to carry the young Warriors. Believe me, that is no small task.‖ Regana smiled as Gawen kissed his wife playfully and ran his hands over his son. The joke of the virility and potency of the Warriors was well earned. Bavin seemed to have conceived the first night Gawen came for her. Gawen had wasted no time at attaining that goal, taking his mate for the first time the night after choosing, as Regana had settled into life with her husband. Anabilia and Evfemia were with child at or soon after the joining ceremony. Until Regana gave birth that afternoon, all seven had been carrying. She swiveled her head around as Pauwel materialized, looking frantic and dangerous. His expression melted into one of shock and then into a wide smile. ―Come meet your son, Pauwel,‖ she invited, removing Andris‘s amulet, then her own and setting them aside. He crossed to her and kissed her passionately before taking in the sight of their baby. ―He‘s perfect,‖ Pauwel crooned, playing his fingers over the chubby cheek of the sleeping infant. ―Yes, he is. Would you like to hold him?‖ she offered. Pauwel sank to the bed beside her and took Andris from her

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arms. He ran his fingertips over the baby‘s hands. ―Big for a newborn,‖ he mused. ―No wonder he caused you such pain.‖ ―It‘s a wise man who says that,‖ Bavin assured her husband. ―Remember that comment when I am the one sewn to heal.‖ ―Are you in much pain?‖ Pauwel asked. Regana smiled weakly. ―It‘s much better now. Landric left me a willow tea.‖ ―Good. I‘m—‖ His eyes widened, and he settled Andris back into her arms abruptly. ―Amulet,‖ he barked. Gawen drew his blades and urged Bavin toward the bed. Regana fumbled with the baby‘s amulet, while Bavin dropped onto the bed and scooped Regana‘s back over her head. Pauwel pressed one of his own blades from the belt hung over the bed into her hand, and Regana nodded mutely. Veriel materialized at the foot of the bed in a fury. His features softened as he took in the group of women and babies huddled on the bed with their men standing guard over them. He reached toward Regana, but Gawen‘s blade and Pauwel‘s claws came up to block him. He lowered his hand slowly. ―You have to let me hold him,‖ he breathed. ―Let me hold him just once, and I will walk away.‖ Regana shook her head frantically and held Andris closer to her. ―No. You can‘t have him.‖ ―I won‘t hurt him, Regana. Please—just this once,‖ he pleaded. She was almost drawn in by the look in his eyes, but a picture of Pauwel half-dead at Veriel‘s feet steeled her resolve. ―No,‖ she insisted. ―You won‘t take him from me. I won‘t let you.‖ Regana looked from Pauwel to Gawen, and both men nodded in reassurance. Pauwel faced Veriel. ―Regana has made her choice. I had to live with the choice she made for me. You must do the same,‖ he decided. ―Her choice for you has been bliss. You have her love and her body. You have her child. I‘m not asking for much, Pauwel.

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I could be happy with so little. Regana—‖ ―No,‖ she exploded, startling Andris. Regana tried to calm the baby, never taking her eyes from her enemy. ―You can‘t. I can‘t trust you.‖ ―I‘ve always kept my word when I could,‖ he countered. ―You‘ve never kept your word,‖ she replied miserably. ―I gave your husband back to you.‖ ―You took him from me. It was the least you could do to ease your conscience,‖ she spat. ―You took away our ability to have more children. If you take my son too— I will not allow you to take everything from me.‖ Veriel nodded in tired resignation. ―You are drained from your hard labor. I will ask another time.‖ He smiled a sad, tight smile. ―He is beautiful, Regana. I would sooner die than allow him to come to harm. Perhaps someday, you may see that.‖ With that, he faded from view. ―Is he gone? Is he truly gone?‖ Regana asked, knowing the men could sense such things. Pauwel and Gawen glanced at each other. ―Yes,‖ Pauwel snapped in irritation. ―He‘s gone.‖ Regana nodded and handed the weapon to Bavin to sheathe for her while she scooped Andris‘s amulet off, then her own. ―Good,‖ she decided. ―Now, meet your son.‖ She placed him back into her husband‘s arms. ―I named him Andris.‖ Pauwel bit back some strong emotion and nodded. ―My father‘s name. Thank you for that, Regana.‖ She shivered as a sudden chill ran up her spine. Regana looked around and tried to find the source of the draft, but there was nothing she could see. Her heart started to pound, and she considered pulling Andris back to her chest, but Pauwel had only these precious few years, and he would protect their son with his life. ―Are you all right?‖ Bavin asked. Regana nodded uncertainly, though a dark sense of foreboding washed over her. Tonight would have repercussions. She knew it. ―Yes. I‘m fine,‖ she managed.

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**** Jörg felt Pauwel coming. Though he could, Kreuzträger didn‘t ghost himself. He knew Jörg wanted to talk to him. Jörg had made that fact clear to him when he‘d called Pauwel to him, so there would be an uneasy truce—for the moment. Jörg seldom forced his will on the other man. It would be dishonorable considering the circumstances, but his honor was tarnished beyond polishing now. Even Jörg was unsure how much of it remained tacked to his tattered soul. ―What do you want, Veriel?‖ he asked impatiently. ―You know what I want,‖ he answered evenly. ―I want to hold my son, just once. I‘ve been denied everything else. I want this one thing.‖ Pauwel shook his head, resolute. ―I have done what I could. I lied to her for you, dammit! I lied so you could get as close as you did.‖ ―As a wisp of air, half formed. I couldn‘t even feel his skin on mine.‖ ―Regana felt your presence. Even now, she‘s uneasy.‖ ―She fears me, but she doesn‘t need to. You know that.‖ Jörg waved his hands in exasperation. Pauwel leaned against a tree trunk and sighed raggedly. ―Yes, I know it,‖ he admitted. ―Tell her. Convince her. If anyone can, you can.‖ ―I‘ve tried. You know I have, ever since I saw this coming. Regana will not accept that you‘re sincere. You‘ve lied to her too many times.‖ ―I didn‘t. I‘ve never intentionally misled her,‖ Jörg exploded. ―From her point of view,‖ Pauwel dismissed. ―Let‘s not argue that again.‖ ―Very well. Tell her I‘m still printed to her,‖ he argued. ―Tell her what that means. Tell her how I dream of her every day-sleep, how I dream of holding her again in the mid-day sun.‖ ―I can‘t,‖ he answered miserably. ―Because she might choose me,‖ he accused.

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―Never. Regana has made her choice. All it could do is hurt her. I won‘t do that to her. If you are truly printed to her, you cannot force me to do it, knowing it will hurt her.‖ ―He‘s my son,‖ Jörg thundered. ―I didn‘t know when I made my choice. She never told me. She knew that night, didn‘t she?‖ ―She suspected, but what difference would it have made if you had known? You would have been even more determined to protect her.‖ ―He‘s my son!‖ ―You have to forget that for her sake,‖ Pauwel countered. ―If word of that got around, the villagers would kill them both, while we were helpless in the earth. The other beasts would use them to bring you to your knees and force you to tell them your secrets. ―As it is, I must leave his life before he can know me or risk the same from the villagers. The beasts only ignore that he is my child, because you‘ve led them to believe I cannot pass the knowledge you have given me to them. It would serve little purpose for great risk, as things stand now.‖ ―You have to leave. You have to give up. You have that time. I don‘t!‖ ―I didn‘t choose to be damned. I chose to die.‖ ―I will hold my son,‖ Jörg warned him. ―Someday, I will. If I have to talk or bribe his amulet off just to feel him in my arms once—‖ ―If you try it, the lords will hunt you down, believing you pose a threat to all their children. Even Gawen will hunt you, if you give Regana one more moment of pain in her life. I can‘t stop that.‖ ―I‘ve done nothing to them,‖ he raged. ―Why would they persecute me this way?‖ ―You betrayed them, threatened their families, and Wil—‖ Pauwel snorted at that. Jörg groaned at the memory. ―Riberta threatened Regana‘s safety,‖ he protested weakly. ―Do you honestly think Wil cares what your reasons were?‖ he countered sarcastically. ―You used her and fed from her until

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she was dead—brutally. Nothing else matters to him.‖ ―I‘ve done many things I‘ve regretted later. I can‘t take any of them back. I wish I could.‖ ―Make the right choice this time,‖ Pauwel cautioned him as he turned to go. ―Why is it so easy for you?‖ Jörg asked quietly. The older man paused mid-stride. Pauwel took a deep breath before he turned to face him. ―You won‘t like the answer I have for you.‖ ―Tell me. Tell me honestly.‖ ―You were always a beast, even before you went to the Stone.‖ He said it calmly and without a hint of censure. It was a simple statement of fact for him. Jörg closed his eyes in understanding. ―Regana told you that?‖ ―She didn‘t have to. She didn‘t want to admit much of your relationship to me. Her body told me all I needed to know, and occasionally, I would ask her something directly. Most of your handling was better left forgotten. Do you know the things you subjected her to made her fear a gentle hand?‖ ―I‘ve tried not to relive your memories too closely. They‘re—painful for me.‖ ―You should. You would understand her more if you did.‖ With that, he dematerialized and sped away into the night to feed. Pauwel usually hunted prey that he bled and left for Regana to use in a stew, but occasionally, he took a bit of blood from a human, always those who needed correction in their ways as Jörg also chose. Pauwel never killed humans, not even those Jörg would have. He simply weakened them, gave them mental correction while he fed, and left them to discover the error of their ways. Jörg stared at the empty space where Pauwel had been for a long time, arguing with himself about whether or not he should heed Pauwel‘s advice. Finally, he decided to try. The attempt didn‘t last long. The memory of Regana weeping in Pauwel‘s bed the morning after they married, her self-doubt and anguish, her fear of Pauwel‘s reactions to his

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discoveries about her prior treatment— It was all too much for him. Jörg sobbed at the thought that he was the cause of it all. ―I am damned. I always have been,‖ he decided.

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Chapter Thirteen 517 AD

Gawen surveyed his nephew critically. The young man was stronger and faster than any Warrior he had ever trained, including his own son Abbo, who would first night in three months‘ time. All seven of the young Warriors in training were more skilled than the aging lords already. All they lacked was the practical experience that they would learn fighting beasts. He handed Andris his father‘s belt. His nephew met his eyes in concern. ―I may not wear these, Uncle. I am not Kreuzträger‘s Lord yet. I must earn my seal first.‖ ―It was your father‘s wish that you use his blades from the first night you face a beast. I will grant you your seal at your first kill, but for now, you will obey me utterly, no matter what your blades say of you. You will be unprotected for the first time in your life. Those weapons and myself will be your only defense. Do you understand?‖ Andris stood taller, looking down on his uncle slightly as he did so. ―Yes, Uncle. I understand.‖ ―Good. Then put on your weapons belt and give me your amulet. If I order you to wear it—‖ Andris snapped a startled look at him. ―You are the only Kreuzträger.‖ Gawen sighed. ―I will not ask it unless I can no longer protect you,‖ he promised. All of the other houses had more than one young Warrior, and a few were blessed with freed daughters. Ditrich alone had four sons and a daughter. Andris nodded his agreement and started strapping on the belt. ―My father was a good Warrior. I‘ve heard that much,‖ he said.

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―Our finest,‖ Gawen agreed. ―You do him proud.‖ ―He fought dual like I do.‖ ―Not like you. Your style is your own.‖ Gawen swallowed hard. Andris was a better blade than Pauwel or Jörg had ever been, but he wasn‘t so sure the young man was better than Veriel. And, he might have to be. He would be better in time, Gawen was sure. He just hoped the young Warrior was granted that much time. ―What was he like? My father?‖ ―Pauwel was a good man. He was utterly devoted to your mother. He was strong of character and of arm.‖ Gawen accepted the amulet Andris handed over and tucked it in his pouch for safekeeping. ―He would have loved to see this night. You should try to be like him. He was a Warrior like no other.‖ ―I heard Lord Maher say he broke the rules of training. It could have cost him his life.‖ ―It was necessary.‖ Gawen smiled at Andris‘s sidelong look. The boy longed for an answer but didn‘t want to appear a child by begging for it. ―He claimed your mother sooner than was allowed. That is why you are so much older than the other young Warriors are. You will discover printing soon enough. It‘s impossible to ignore.‖ Andris darkened. ―I know,‖ he admitted. Gawen regarded him in shock. ―You haven‘t!‖ ―No, but I‘ve thought about it. It‘s driving me mad. I must win my seal.‖ ―Who is she?‖ Gawen asked with a broad smile as they made their way into the dark night. ―Ger‘s daughter,‖ he sighed. ―Berna is...‖ Andris waved his arms in exasperation, looking for the perfect compliment for the lady of his affections. ―Off limits until you have your seal,‖ he ordered. ―Understood?‖ ―Yes, Uncle. Understood.‖ ―Of course, once you have it, feel free to ask Ger‘s permission. If she‘s willing—‖ Even in the moonlight, he could see Andris darken further.

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Gawen grabbed the young pup by the scruff of his neck playfully. ―Off limits,‖ he reminded him. ―Completely off limits.‖ ―Off limits,‖ he mimicked. ―But, Uncle...‖ ―Yes?‖ he asked suspiciously. ―Find a turned for me soon,‖ Andris pleaded, then joined Gawen‘s roar of laughter. ―Don‘t get over eager. You make mistakes that way. Think! Always use your head.‖ ―It‘s your sharpest weapon,‖ he finished for the master trainer. ―That‘s right.‖ They walked in silence for a long time, scanning but finding no sign of beasts about. ―Uncle, was that the mistake my father made? Was he too over zealous?‖ ―No. Veriel is the most powerful of the elders. He does not lose.‖ Andris nodded. ―I‘ve heard he‘s mad.‖ ―He is.‖ ―Why has he attacked my mother so many times?‖ ―Why do you wait until first night to ask so many questions?‖ Gawen teased. ―I haven‘t, but I‘m a man now, so you are answering them—finally.‖ ―Ah, well in that case—‖ He considered his answer carefully. ―Veriel and your mother were children together, raised under my hand. He hoped to choose her but didn‘t stay away when he felt his blood burn for her. He went mad from it.‖ ―Is that why he took the Stone?‖ ―So he says,‖ Gawen answered evenly. Veriel unghosted into a malevolent cloud so quickly that the master trainer barely had time to sweep Andris to his back before he took shape before them, exuding a wave of pure fury. ―Haven‘t we had enough of lies, Gawen?‖ he challenged. ―You dare not, Veriel,‖ Gawen spat back. ―You know who I protect, and you know that I protect him with my life if need be.‖ ―I know,‖ Veriel sneered. ―I came to see the boy who would

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be Lord Kreuzträger.‖ Andris shifted to get a better look at him. ―What do you want with me, beast?‖ ―Only to offer you the same thing I offered the first cursed.‖ ―What? Death like you gave my father?‖ ―No. Cooperation. Gawen knows the truth. He knows I am not like the others. I want them dead, and with cooperation, we can accomplish that. He knows it is within my power to do this. Give me your hand as a sign of trust, and I will deliver them to you and your brother Warriors.‖ He extended his hand for a clasp of agreement. ―No. You are called the Mad Deceiver for a reason,‖ the young Warrior decided. Veriel glared at Gawen. ―Why was it necessary to poison the young Warriors against me?‖ he demanded. Gawen shook his head sadly. ―Wil, Ger— They‘ve all seen your killings. The children have been raised on their stories. I couldn‘t counteract that influence. Even you must realize that.‖ ―And each passing generation will make it worse.‖ He smiled a tight smile. ―Unless I educate the young Warriors,‖ he decided. ―How?‖ Andris asked suspiciously. Veriel laughed harshly, and his fangs extended. ―Fates be damned!‖ Gawen exploded, reaching for the amulet in a panic. Regana will kill me if I let Veriel feed. The beast had tossed Gawen like a doll and had Andris by the throat in less time than a lightning strike. He used a single claw to cut away the young Warrior‘s belt as Andris fumbled one of his weapons halfway out of its sheath. Andris gasped for breath as the belt and weapon fell away from him. He kicked and clawed at the beast, as Gawen shot to his feet and launched toward them with a ragged battle cry. A furious wind knocked Gawen aside, and Pauwel materialized with the claws of his right hand firmly embedded in Veriel‘s chest. The beast dropped Andris in shock, and the young Warrior came up with his belt and backed away quickly. ―Are you all right?‖ Gawen asked as he skirted the battling beasts and grabbed his nephew by the shoulder.

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Andris nodded painfully. Gawen reached for the amulet, but it was gone, thrown free from his pouch as he fell. He growled in frustration and pushed Andris behind him again before turning back to the battle, praying that Pauwel would be the victor this time. Pauwel had taken Veriel‘s throat, and the bleeding was formidable, but he had also taken heavy damage. Still, they battled. It was all a matter of who was forced to ground by loss of blood first. When Veriel finally cried out in fury and disappeared into a fine smoke, Pauwel collapsed to his knees. Gawen made a move to go to him, but Pauwel glared at him, and he remembered the pretense. As far as Andris was concerned, Pauwel was a beast like any other beast. Like the earlier lies he‘d told for Regana, even to death. ―What do you want, beast?‖ Gawen challenged him. Pauwel looked at him in shaky exhaustion. He would have to go to ground soon. ―Why did you save me?‖ Andris asked, understandably confused by the turn of events. Pauwel laughed. ―I did not save you, boy Warrior,‖ he replied sarcastically, playing his part well. ―Veriel turned me. I have no love for him, so we play this game. What he wants, I take from him. You are just another stone on our game board, boy. Do not think too much of yourself.‖ ―Be gone, beast,‖ Gawen ordered. ―You spared us. We will spare you—for tonight.‖ ―Uncle?‖ Andris breathed in shock. ―Silence! I have dealt with this beast before. He does not kill or take and he is a beast killer that rivals the Warriors themselves, so I tolerate him.‖ He pleaded with Pauwel with his eyes. He had to go to ground. ―Gawen Lord Schwertträger, master trainer and Stone lord,‖ Pauwel answered formally, ―I tire of this game. I must rest. It has been far too many years for me, and I may never be this weak again.‖ Gawen‘s eyes widened in shock. ―You wish to die? Tonight?‖ ―I have asked this before, but I could not be killed then. I

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am at my lowest. My blood leaves me as we speak. Grant me my wish now.‖ ―As you wish,‖ he answered with a heavy heart. Gawen started forward, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. ―No,‖ Pauwel barked. ―Not you. The boy will take my life from me.‖ ―He is only a first night,‖ Gawen protested weakly. ―I know what he is. The son of Regana and Pauwel Lord Kreuzträger needs a seal to claim his place. He will fight me for that seal,‖ Pauwel decided. Gawen nodded in understanding. It was the only thing Pauwel had left to give his son. ―Andris, arm yourself. The beast wishes to fight you. He is injured but he can still do you harm. Will you free him from his torment?‖ ―I will,‖ he promised. Andris moved toward his father, resolute, Blutjagd burning fiercely in him. Gawen swallowed a cry of rage at that, keeping his face impassive. It was wrong. It was wrong to let Andris do this, but it was Pauwel‘s wish. Pauwel pushed to his feet unsteadily, but Gawen knew he was still a formidable foe. He faced the young Warrior. ―Andris of Kreuzträger, give me peace if you can.‖ The battle was longer than Gawen anticipated, since Pauwel‘s beast was intent on keeping him alive despite his battle to die that night. The beast drew first blood, a deep cut to Andris‘s shoulder that was sure to scar. The blow only enraged the young Warrior, and his Blutjagd took on legendary proportions in his fury. In retribution, he landed three consecutive slices on Pauwel before dancing away in a move he‘d learned from his mother. Knowing his opponent would next go to ground, Andris threw one of his blades, planting it in the beast‘s ribs to pin him to a solid form. Pauwel looked at the blade in a mixture of amazement and joy, and Andris thrust his killing blow before he recovered, pulling both blades free as he danced away again. Gawen bit back tears as Pauwel fell, but the former Warrior laughed in relief. ―Thank you for freeing me, Lord Kreuzträger,‖ he gasped,

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greeting the new lord formally as his final gift. His head sank to the ground. Andris looked at his blade uncertainly. ―Uncle, it‘s not like I expected,‖ he admitted. ―I thought I‘d be happy, but—‖ ―It‘s all right, Andris. I grieve as well. It‘s what separates us from the beasts we hunt. When the life we take is not truly foul, we regret the loss. In the meantime—‖ He stripped off his own tunic and used it to make bandages for the wound that would need stitched. Landric would be waiting with the others, in case such a thing was needed. That done, Gawen painted the blood seal in Pauwel‘s blood on Andris‘s forehead and over his heart and gave him his autonomy. ―Get your belt,‖ he ordered gruffly. ―It‘s a long walk back to the training area.‖ Gawen retrieved the amulet and placed it in Andris‘s hand. ―Take this. You may need it for Berna tonight.‖ Andris‘s smile widened, and Gawen had to trot to keep up with the young lord. **** Regana paced the floor of the training area nervously. Andris was out there unprotected. No, she reminded herself, he has Gawen and Pauwel. Her stomach twisted. If only Gawen had let her go too. She was trained, after all. But she wasn‘t a Warrior. Regana was just a mother, and her job was done now. ―They‘re coming,‖ Abbo shouted from the doorway. Regana raced through the crowd to watch their entrance. Andris took her breath away. A blood soaked tunic—obviously Gawen‘s—was wrapped around his left shoulder. A dark bruise marred his throat. His weapons belt was slung over his right shoulder, cinched but looking suspiciously short. The smell assaulted her before she locked on the blackened blood staining his hands and clothes, painted on his forehead and chest beneath his torn tunic. Without a word, he held his amulet aloft as a sign that he would wear it no longer. A cheer resonated through the room. The other house lords rushed forward to greet him, while Gawen moved to her slowly.

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It was not her place to congratulate him, and Regana couldn‘t have managed it if she‘d tried. From the looks of him, she‘d almost lost her son. ―Couldn‘t keep him out of trouble, could you?‖ Ditrich teased Gawen in a booming voice. ―Too much of Pauwel in him,‖ he replied in good humor, though Regana could clearly see the strain on his face. He avoided her eyes. ―I did not disobey a single order, Uncle,‖ Andris shot back happily. ―That is true,‖ he conceded. ―You fought well, Andris.‖ ―Then, what is this?‖ Wil demanded, tipping the new lord‘s chin up to inspect the bruising. ―And this?‖ He poked at the makeshift bandage. ―Veriel had other ideas,‖ Gawen confirmed. ―We may have to send out more than one Warrior with first nights with Veriel looking to educate them in this fashion.‖ The crowd went stony still, and Regana had to force herself to breathe. Veriel had tried to take her son from her just as she‘d always feared he would. Gawen took her shoulders from his place behind her to steady her. ―The blood is Veriel‘s?‖ Olbrecht asked quietly. ―You sent him to ground?‖ Andris shook his head and smiled sheepishly. ―I‘m not sure Gawen and I could have stopped his rampage alone,‖ he admitted. ―He had the strength and speed of fifty.‖ ―How did you escape him then?‖ Cunczel asked, though they all expected the answer, Regana was sure. ―Another beast with a prior issue to settle with him sent him to ground to frustrate the Mad Deceiver,‖ Andris offered. ―What beast? Name him,‖ Ditrich asked quietly. The young lord hesitated. ―I forgot to ask his name, but Gawen has had dealings with him before.‖ He turned to face his uncle uncertainly. Regana stiffened, as his hands tightened on her shoulders. ―He is known only as the great beast killer,‖ her brother confirmed. ―He went to ground as well,‖ Ger decided, ―after the

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battle.‖ ―No,‖ Gawen interrupted before Andris could speak. ―He challenged the young Lord Kreuzträger and met his end.‖ Regana spun to face Gawen in a panic, searching his eyes for some sign that she‘d heard wrong. It wasn‘t there. The crowd fell into a sort of split. The older Warriors were quiet, while the younger ones in training roared their approval. Gawen met her eyes miserably. ―I‘m sorry, Regana. He wished to grant Andris his seal, and he was mortally wounded. We would likely never have had a chance like this to free him again,‖ he whispered. Regana pressed her hands to her stomach and stifled a sob. ―Pauwel,‖ she managed brokenly under her breath. Gawen nodded and wrapped her to his chest to comfort her, but there would be no comfort for her. ―Look, Regana. You must see what Andris is about to do.‖ She turned to watch. Her son walked half the length of the room to Ger. The room quieted in anticipation of whatever interaction was to come. The move was a clear challenge of some sort. Andris stopped an arm‘s length away from the older man. ―You wish to speak with me, Lord Kreuzträger?‖ Ger challenged him openly. ―Gerhardus, Lord Landwirt,‖ he greeted him without the slightest bow of his head, proudly announcing his own status as house lord. ―Tonight I earned my blood seal and my autonomy. I am lord of my house. I ask you now, Warrior to Warrior, for my right of choosing.‖ Ger stiffened, and murmurs of surprise rose and fell throughout the room. ―I know Berna is still half a year from fifteen, and I would not presume to claim her as wife tonight. With your permission, if she will have me, I would offer her my protection this night, give her my seal to hold for our children, and wed her when that time has passed. I await your decision.‖ Ger looked at the dark blush on his daughter, her glittering eyes above a shy smile, and darkened in rage. He turned on Gawen. ―How much of Pauwel is in his son?‖ he demanded.

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Gawen laughed lightly. ―I believe he has more of a head on his shoulders, but that is a question you should ask the Lord Kreuzträger himself.‖ ―You had best be right, Schwertträger.‖ He glared at Andris, but the young man held his ground admirably. ―It would be a shame to have to kill off a great house for so impetuous a pup,‖ he warned. The other lords laughed, knowing Ger would not dare take the life of the only son of Raga. If anything, Andris would be denied his right to choose Berna and would not breathe without pain for a week or two. ―What of it, Lord Kreuzträger? Have you laid hands on my daughter?‖ ―No. I have not.‖ Andris glanced at Regana with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile that made him appear half his age. ―My mother taught me the proper respect for a woman very well,‖ he informed the other man. Regana laughed through her tears despite the fact that her heart was breaking, while the others roared in approval at his wit. ―I‘m glad to see you were listening,‖ she teased. ―I thought, sometimes, that you set out to ignore me.‖ ―Of course not, Mother! Your back swipe is deadly,‖ he finished ruefully. That admission prompted a new round of cheers, and Andris faced Ger again. The older lord met his eyes evenly. ―Berna, will you have this man as lord, husband, and mate?‖ he asked. ―I will,‖ she decreed, her smile heartfelt and wide. Ger placed her hand in Andris‘s and nodded. ―You have my permission on one condition. You will not take her high cycle until you are wed. Berna is too young to carry your child, and I want to make sure you survive that long, to determine how much of your father‘s impetuous nature you share.‖ Andris darkened, but he nodded his agreement and clasped Ger‘s arm firmly to seal the pact. ―You have my word. When I take her, it will be as you say.‖ ―Then make your promises to her with my approval.‖ Andris released Ger‘s arm and placed his amulet in Berna‘s

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hand. ―Hold this for the children we will have together. When you are of age, I will take you to my bed as wife. Now and always, you have my protection and my love. That is my vow to you. Do you accept what I offer you?‖ ―I will accept what you offer.‖ Andris bent to seal his vow, but what was intended as a chaste promise ignited into fiery passion, while his training brothers cheered. ―Two weeks,‖ Gawen guessed. ―He‘ll bed her within two weeks.‖ ―Only if she‘s high cycle,‖ Regana countered. ―I give him three days, otherwise.‖ Watching Andris with his chosen made Regana‘s heart ache. Never again would she have Pauwel by her side. Tonight, she would go with Gawen and the other lords to bury her husband.

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Chapter Fourteen 518 AD

Regana checked on Berna and found her sleeping soundly. She closed the door quietly, sure that nothing could disrupt her plan this time. She had waited a year, patiently biding her time while Andris wed his chosen and brought her home to his bed. Berna had carried his child after the first high cycle in his home. Still, Regana had waited until Berna was well established before carrying out her plan. A year— For more than a year, she‘d lived without Pauwel. Regana found little joy in all the joyous things happening around her, and she knew her family worried about that. Gawen and Bavin understood, though they could offer little comfort. Andris had stopped asking after her troubles long ago, when it became clear to him that Regana would take her concerns to the grave with her rather than share them with her son. And the grave was where Regana intended to go—to meet her husband again. ―Without you, I die,‖ she whispered as she strapped her weapons belt on. She left her cloak and went hunting for Veriel. If she had to beg him, he would do this one thing for her. He would do this one thing that would bring her peace. She took no lamp or torch but made her way past darkened homes to the place where the beast Jörg had taken her first, their place together. Regana settled at the base of the great tree to wait for him. He would come. Veriel would feel her presence here and come to give her peace, to give her rest with Pauwel. **** Jörg materialized and took in the sight of Regana, sitting

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demurely on the grass beneath the tree they‘d played and loved in the shelter of. He eyed her weapons suspiciously. ―I told you never to come here, Regana. Why do you torture me?‖ She turned her head slowly, and his breath caught at the tired circles beneath her eyes, the look of defeat and apathy. ―I ask a favor of Jörg—if any of Jörg still exists as Pauwel believed he did.‖ ―He does. What favor would you ask?‖ he inquired. Regana stood and unsheathed her weapons, and he took a step back. ―Battle with me,‖ she replied. ―I can‘t do that. You couldn‘t possibly win. You could never...‖ Jörg stopped, mute in the realization that the old jokes were in poor taste after all they had been through. He had no right to use them with her after all the pain he‘d caused her. ―I know,‖ she whispered, her breath puffing out through her dark lips in trails of smoke. The night was a cold one, and she had come with no cloak. ―I do not believe that Pauwel is anywhere but the Warrior‘s rest. I am tired. I would join him there now. If Jörg exists, he will understand and allow me this. If you are only Veriel, you will leave me in suffering.‖ ―You cannot ask this,‖ he breathed. ―I cannot touch you, even if I wished to.‖ Regana caught the loop of the thong holding her amulet and sliced it cleanly with one of her weapons. She met his eyes as it fell to the grass between them. ―Now you can. Battle me and give me peace.‖ She didn‘t plead. It was an order she issued him. ―Regana, you know I cannot do this.‖ ―I know you can.‖ She advanced on him and back sliced, wounding his arm. Jörg let her land the blow, knowing she couldn‘t kill him with it. It was the least he owed Regana for all the pain he‘d caused her. ―Fight me, damn you,‖ she demanded. Regana lunged for a heart shot, knowing his beast would force him to react, but Jörg and his beast had come to an understanding the first night. The force of his reactions were his own, no matter how poorly he chose that response. Jörg clamped her wrist in his hand, and caught the other

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when she swung that blade at him. ―Drop them,‖ he ordered gruffly. ―Never. I will die fighting you. It is the only way.‖ Tears misted her eyes. Jörg leaned close to brush his lips over hers. She looked at him in shock, as he kissed her gently, showing no reaction, positive or negative, to his invitation. ―Can you fight this?‖ he asked. ―I know the mistakes I‘ve made, Regana. Let me make as many as I can right. I was never Veriel, not willingly.‖ Regana seemed to regain her composure. ―There‘s nothing left to make right. It‘s all gone,‖ she argued. ―You were always a beast. How can I trust you?‖ Jörg pushed her away in frustration, knowing she was right even as his heart tore at the condemnation on her lips. ―Go home. I cannot do what you ask.‖ He started to walk away, but her blade planted firmly in the back of his ribs, and he stopped in confusion. It was painful, but Jörg had learned to live with pain. He turned at looked at her in disbelief. ―Now you have to fight,‖ she decided. ―You can‘t use your tricks, unless someone removes the blade for you. It is outside your reach, is it not?‖ ―Why do you want this?‖ he demanded. ―I am already dead. I died the night my husband did, but my heart no longer speaks to me and so does not know that it is a sacrilege that it continues to beat unwanted. I am damned and in pain, until you set me free.‖ There was no emotion, only brutal honesty. Jörg sighed in resignation. ―If I refuse? What will you do?‖ ―I will search out another beast to do this for me.‖ ―Then take your blade from my back,‖ he decided. ―So you can leave,‖ she spat. ―Coward.‖ ―No,‖ he managed, a sick swirl in the pit of his stomach. ―So I can free you from your pain.‖ She nodded and pulled out her blade. ―Fight me,‖ he invited. ―I will make it as painless as I can for you.‖ ―Pain is immaterial,‖ she assured him.

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Regana closed the distance, and Jörg sparred with her gently, angering her. When she finally lunged at him, Jörg captured her wrists again, brutally this time. He pulled her to his chest, shuddering at the feel of her pressed against him. It had been so long— He sank in his teeth for the kill, replacing her pain with orgasmic pleasure as soon as their minds connected. The very pleasure he had always denied her was granted her only for death? Jörg cursed himself for the thought even as it took hold. Jörg tried to drown out the flow of her memories by giving her his own, but still he sobbed as his callous actions—filtered through her eyes—confronted him. He murmured sweet words to her, soothing Regana through the odious thing he was doing to her, unable to stop even as he realized that it had no purpose. She embraced the darkness he offered and even tipped her head to give Jörg better purchase. Her body shuddered in the ongoing release he was providing to her. Her body‘s reaction was very real despite the fact that she was experiencing no actual sexual contact with him. The very thought of such a thing while he killed her was odious and foul, though Regana would be whatever he wanted of her now with no regrets. Despite his promise to her, he resisted taking the last of her blood. Instead, Jörg dropped to the grass with her in his arms. He left the wound open and controlled her pain. Regana looked at him and smiled sweetly. ―Thank you, Jörg.‖ Her breath warmed his face. ―Don‘t thank me. I have done far too many things wrong where you are concerned. This is the only thing I can do right for you.‖ She started to speak, but he stilled her with a gentle kiss that she didn‘t protest. ―Please, don‘t. I would give anything to change them all. I caused all my own pain. I know that now. Once, I wanted nothing more than to live with you. Now, I wish I could die with you. Without you, I am already dead, but I fear I will not follow you to wherever we are all bound for a very long time.‖ Regana‘s eyes fluttered shut. ―I lied to you. If you had not gone to the Stone, I would have been yours alone.‖

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―I know. I have seen it in Pauwel‘s mind and in yours. It was better for you this way. He was better for you. I am sorry I took him from you. I would likely never have been the husband you deserved or the father Andris deserved, and I took that from him too.‖ Regana murmured something as consciousness deserted her at last. Jörg held her for hours, feeling her weak heart stutter and stop. Still, he held Regana to him, shedding bitter tears at her loss. When, at last, his own blood loss became dire, he slid into the earth beneath him, screaming his protest as she left his arms. He had hoped the Warriors would find him there and end him. The young Jäger, Ditrich‘s son, had first nighted eight months earlier and turned in his amulet to a chosen at his first kill more than two months later. Jörg could die now that there was a Jäger Warrior to kill him. Jörg wondered that they hadn‘t sensed his kill. Perhaps, the gods had been kind to their chosen mother, a fact he‘d learned from feeding on Pauwel. Even now, Jörg prayed that he hadn‘t upset that plan by taking away the other man‘s ability to give her children. Surely, Pauwel had been her true mate, not a beast that could not do better by her. Or perhaps, the gods were simply punishing Jörg with life yet again. **** Gawen sat on the hill where Regana had died as he had the three previous nights. Veriel was here. He had no doubts of it. Whether he was hiding from the hunters or he was honestly injured made no difference to Gawen. He would be here every night, until that damned beast showed himself and answered for what he had done. His stomach clenched as he remembered Andris‘s face as he‘d stood at the door that morning. “What’s wrong?” Gawen asked. “Is it Berna?” “No, it’s Mother. She’s gone. She left during the night while I hunted. Is she here?” he asked, frantic and out of breath.

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“No, but I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s with Anabilia or Emecin and Landric,” he suggested. “Her weapons belt is gone,” he imparted. Gawen cursed solidly and pushed past his nephew. “Where are you going?” he asked, grasping at his uncle’s arm. He wrenched free. “Where she would have,” he commented as he shot onto the path to the great tree with his nephew falling behind in the strange surroundings. Regana had never allowed Andris to play here as she had, so this section of the wood was foreign to him. Gawen knew what he would find before he burst into the clearing and rushed to her side. Still, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Regana’s amulet had been sliced from her neck, much as Andris’s belt had been sliced from his body. Her blades were both fouled to the hilt with beast blood, and dark stains marred the white skin of her hands, eating away at her flesh like a wasting death. One weapon lay near her feet and the other was still clasped in her hand. It clattered to the ground as he raised Regana to his chest. Her head tipped back, and the evidence of Veriel’s feeding was revealed to him. Gawen cried out in pain as he realized that the beast had not even drained her dry but had fed and left the open wound so that she bled out slowly. Her clothing and the grass beneath her attested to that fact. “Mother,” Andris cried out from the edge of the trees. Gawen ignored his coming, cradling Regana’s head and shoulders to him while he rocked and smoothed her hair. Always, he had given her comfort this way—and comfort to himself as well. His scream of anger and frustration scattered birds from the treetops. “Uncle, what should we do?” Andris asked in shock and dismay. “Sheathe her weapons. She will have a Warrior’s burial. Take my horse. Gather the lords and Warriors. Tell them I am taking Regana to bury her next to her husband.” “Where?” he asked.

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“They will show you, the older ones who were there when we buried him.” “Can I help you?” he asked. “Regana was my responsibility. I should have stopped this. Now all I can do is give her peace with her lord.” He closed his eyes and kissed her hair. “Go,” he ordered. “I will meet you there.” By the time the others arrived, Gawen was tearing up the sod with his hands and his blade, oblivious to all else. The grave seemed to appear before his eyes as if by magic, and he stared at the six other lords and sixteen young Warriors—the youngest only seven years old—in surprise. Gawen pushed Andris from Regana and held her to his chest one last time. “My one duty was to protect you,” he whispered. “I failed you, and I am sorry.” “It wasn’t your fault,” Andris assured him. “Quiet,” Gawen barked at him. “I’ve failed her over and over, but not again.” “Uncle—” “Don’t talk about things you have no knowledge of,” he stormed, then his heart melted at the sight of Regana and his voice dropped as she would have wanted it to. “I’m sorry, Andris. Truly, I am, but there are so many things you will never know.” “About my mother?” he asked. “About us all!” He sighed raggedly and carried Regana to her grave. As the dirt covered her over, his course became clear. He had to find Veriel. The beast came so suddenly and quietly, that his hand was on Gawen‘s shoulder before the master trainer scanned anything. His weapon came up and caught Veriel on the shoulder as the beast backed away. ―Taking my life will not be so easy,‖ Gawen growled. Veriel hung his head sadly. ―Taking hers wasn‘t easy either. I wanted to die with her, Gawen.‖ ―Why?‖ he thundered. ―Why did you take her from me?‖ ―She wanted to join Pauwel. She begged me. She demanded it of me. Regana tried to kill me to force me to take her life.

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Finally, she threatened to find another beast if I refused her, one that would not be so kind,‖ he whispered. ―You fed! You let her bleed to death. That‘s kind?‖ ―No pain. I assure you that she felt no pain. It was the only way I could guarantee that. Regana didn‘t care, but I made her that promise anyway.‖ Gawen looked at him in horror. How could Veriel so calmly describe taking the light of his days from him? ―It‘s over,‖ he warned. ―Whatever strange truce Pauwel struck with you before he died that made you leave us in peace for so many years—whatever deal he struck is over. Any hopes you had of hunting with us as Pauwel did to end this are gone. You will be the most hunted beast of all time.‖ Veriel nodded. ―Living with what I‘ve done damns me. Death is my only wish now.‖ ―Then I hope you live forever with your guilt,‖ he spat. ―Not forever. Only until a Warrior Jäger born comes for me, the Warrior who is to free me, to kill me.‖ ―Then I hope he isn‘t born for a very long time. For centuries!‖ ―After the things I‘ve done, I deserve no better,‖ he whispered.

To Be Continued in Veriel’s Tales II: Losing Regana

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Warrior’s Poetry Two Hearts Beat as One Pauwel of Regana Third Place for Poetry in the P&E Polling 2004! The dark earth enfolds me in healing sleep While my love lays apart in daily rest. My heartbeat with hers steady pace shall keep. Her absence, as always, leaves me bereft And fear for her safety my patience tests, ‗Til darkness comes and she lay in my arms, Bringing peace to my soul and far from harm.

Veriel of Regana’s soul Time and time again, I find you my love. I rush to your side when I hear your call. Your need flies to me on wings of a dove, And at your feet to serve, I gladly fall. To protect you, I always join the brawl, But, ne‘er are you mine to hold in the end, Though to every whim of yours I would bend.

Corwyn of Anna My love, before I leave, grant me your kiss. I go to hunt the beasts that stalk the night. Your body next to mine in sleep I‘ll miss

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‗Til the morning brings peace again and light. Protecting you drives me forth to the fight. A single moment in your loving arms, And I‘d welcome death to keep you from harm.

Regana As the mother of all, proudly she stands. The Stone knows her secrets as no man can. Happiness and love she holds in her hands. Heedless of laws that control every man, The flames of passion her loveliness fans, Drawing her lovers to deepest desire. Silken hair dark as night and heart of pure fire.

Talon of Jayde Your guardian, I have chosen to be As the Stone asks, though I hear not its voice. I have my orders. I know my duty, But my heart screams to make its lifelong choice. Call me your own, and my heart will rejoice. Until that day, in torment I will live… Until yourself to me you ever give.

Pauwel of Regana My soul cries out as the earth holds me tight Far from my love and the peace of her hand, ‗Til freed am I to walk one more dark night To meet with my lady as we had planned… Her first touch a salve on this burning brand. Every moment apart, she fills my dreams And cold earth muffles my tortured screams.

Regana of Pauwel

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Foul sun, may the clouds hide thy face from me. No longer your visage sweet comfort brings. My love lays trapped ‗til darkness sets him free Then flies to my side on the night mist‘s wings, And my sun-hardened heart relearns to sing. My heart hides as I scurry ‗neath your eye, ‗Til my love‘s moon rises to draw him nigh.

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Excerpt from Early Histories Section One By Gawen first Lord Schwertträger, Stone lord and master trainer Know you now that I set ink to paper in the year 535. The Stone, as always, amuses itself at our expense. When I took my place as Stone lord, I believed this war would be short as the last beast war was short. I thought that stories could be held as knowledge only to those few first cursed and taken to our graves with us. With the passage of time, I find that I will soon pass from this realm into the Warrior‘s rest, and there are things I would tell before the gods take me. Some are those tales known only to those first cursed, but with the deaths of many of the first lords and more importantly of my beloved nephew Andris, they are truths I would have future generations know for the protection of all. Those most affected, my dear sister and her family, no longer live to be harmed by these truths. The Warriors are strong, but the end hinges not on the strength of men but rather on the strength of a woman. Born to my household and given to me as my own in the Stone‘s trust, Regana was strong and bold as any Warrior ever was. Known for her importance only to Sibold, she was raised in battle play with the young Warriors and educated as a lady by Kethe, sister of Pauwel. Though her coloring was that of the Stone-Chosen, the gods hid her blood mark well. Not even I saw it as I cared for her as she grew. Not even Pauwel saw it as he took her to his bed as wife. Beneath her hair lay the symbol of Ani, and Regana was granted protection of the Stone as befits a mother. It was not

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until long after Sibold‘s death and my succession as Stone lord that this was made clear to me. In retrospect, such a thing should have been clear even to the blind! Her coloring aside, Regana could have been naught but the Stone-Chosen mother. From her earliest days, she was never one to follow commands, as much to my dismay as Sibold‘s. A Warrior‘s heart beat in her chest, but untamed as any woman‘s soul. Raised with the young Warriors, she knew them all well; but she knew myself, Pauwel and Jörg best of all. Jörg was as her brother. Only half a year separated them in age, and to my great shame, the young pup was raised by me in place of his dead father. Many a year, I have been tortured by how I might have done different by him, but in the end, ‗twas his curse that undid him. When Jörg began his training, our number was complete. Sibold partnered us for battle: Wilhelmus with Olbrecht, Cunczel with Dado, Ditrich with Geldric, Gerhardus with Bertolf, Tilbrand with Redulf, and Pauwel with Jörg. I, as leader, partnered no one. Sibold matched the Warriors to complement each other in battle. Pauwel and Jörg were our strongest, named by the Stone as such and proven in trial with the others. Marked by the symbols of Ori and Reg, they burned bright as their symbols foretold. Pauwel with his cool grace and Jörg as a fiery berserker complemented each other well, as if born to fight side by side instead of head to head. Closer than brothers in many ways, they knew each other‘s fighting styles like no other could. But the stronger the Warrior, the stronger the curse. While the other elders went to the Stone in greed or fear, spurred on by Marclef‘s promises, Jörg was lost to madness. It was the only likely way for him to circumnavigate the Stone‘s protection and deliver up the ancient beasts, earning his title of the Mad Deceiver. NOTE: In the original text, there is a section here scratched into unreadability, presumably by Gawen‘s own hand. Pauwel succumbed to his own form of madness, reaching Endspiel and pursuing Regana for his own. Whether he fell

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because of his stronger curse or because the object of his printing was Regana was never clear. Either way, Raga went to the lord elder slayer as was right. That transgression might have cost Pauwel his life, not by Sibold‘s hand but by my own and the hands of our cursed brothers. Safe from my hand by virtue of Regana‘s love for him, his need and love for her, and the fact that Andris slept in her womb; it fell to me to keep peace as master trainer. Pauwel was the lord elder slayer. While none of our brethren had any more knowledge of what Pauwel and Regana represented together than I did, still none matched him in battle and this they knew well. It was better to have him fallen but fighting than dead by a blade, whether that blade be my own or Sibold‘s. Those Warriors who remained after the beasts were released chose their mates as the Stone intended for them, none interfering with another. The elders, now beast, knew only one drive. Drawn to Regana by some unnamed force, they sought to possess or to destroy her, each in his own way. Veriel came for her the first time the night after he went beast, but he was driven off by her amulet and my blades. I thought at the time that it was strange that the beasts were granted this knowledge denied the Warriors themselves. Or perhaps, they knew not why they pursued, as Pauwel knew not why he burned for her so. Still, they pursued. The beasts fought the battle on the basis of Marclef‘s lies, lies that ultimately cost the leader his life for his treachery. Veriel turned the leader and left him to me to kill. Thus, I became the first beast killer of the new war. The fact that Marclef faced the same fate he enticed others to embrace seemed to amuse the Mad Deceiver. In this case, I could almost agree that the Destroyer of Lives had only obliged one who sought to destroy his own life with his underhanded ways. Veriel and Resten left immediately from the battlefield to accomplish this task once they learned they had been lied to—and to try for Regana as their prize. Resten tried for her first, killing Sibold in his bid to gain access to her within the Stone‘s keep. Veriel sent him to ground

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and returned to claim Regana for himself. But, Regana was never one to accept a man‘s rule. While the elders had been gone in their battle, she had left the protection of the Stone to save Sibold. Veriel came for her before she had the master trainer inside the stronghold, but Regana did not accept his claim on her lightly. Taking Sibold‘s blades from his dying hands, she threatened to plant them in the beast if he remained in her sight. The idea seemed laughable. Regana played at battle with wooden weapons and even found herself in her share of barehanded matches with the older and much larger boys, but she was not a trained Warrior. She was half the size of the beast she faced and human with only my amulet and blessing to protect her from his wrath. Moreover, unknown to any of us but herself, Regana was with child. Still, she refused to yield Sibold to the beast. She placed herself between Veriel and his prey, oblivious to the fact that she was the beast‘s true prey. In truth, Veriel laughed at her attempt, but he left her regardless. Whether he left to play another night—admitting some time later that she amused him with her threats and her stubborn spirit—or something about her unnerved him was unclear even to the end. He left her without incident, and she brought Sibold into the safety of the Stone to wait for daybreak. In the end, her valiant efforts could only delay Sibold‘s death long enough for me to reach them and take my place as Stone lord properly. In the intervening hours, the master trainer gifted Regana with his blades for her own protection and the protection of the innocents in their midst. The fact that she nearly took Pauwel‘s head as he entered the stronghold in the weak pre-dawn light was simply the final blow for us all in a very trying night. Perhaps, the fact that Regana was to be trained should have been apparent to us then, but without Sibold‘s word or the Stone‘s comment, we could not know such a thing was in store for her. Still, I had no idea of the secret vows that lay between Pauwel and Regana. As the choosing night approached, Regana became withdrawn and unsettled—volatile on a scale that disturbed me, but I had no clue of the origin of this strange upset

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save the beasts‘ interest in her. In reality, she became afraid, realizing that Pauwel could face death when her baby‘s arrival proved their crimes. In a panic, Regana refused her place in the choosing, hoping to take dishonor alone and spare his life. Pauwel was a printed man and could not choose another. In desperation, he confided his indiscretions to me and begged my mercy in judgment of Regana, begged for the one woman who eased his pain. My shock was overcome by my anger, but I was calmed by my choosing of Bavin and that she would have me as her own. In truth, had his confession—or my discovery by other means— come at any other time, I might have taken a deathblow without letting my mind rule my curse. Reserving my judgment until they could face me together, we returned to my lands to find Resten and Veriel vying for Regana yet again. NOTE: Again, there is a section destroyed by Gawen, as he wrote. Pauwel killed Resten in her defense, and Veriel fled our combined strength. That in itself nearly sealed my decision to take my single blow and give Regana to him. Surely, I could not kill the first lord elder slayer nor lose him to the madness of losing one he was printed to. The announcement of Regana‘s gravid state shocked me, but it was even more of a shock to Pauwel. Regana had not told him of her condition out of concern of his reaction to their inattention to the details of checking her cycle of late, fear that Pauwel would come to me with a confession at a time when I would not be capable of showing mercy to either of them. Still, Pauwel held his ground, waiting patiently for my judgment before accepting his blow gracefully and scooping his wife to him in joy for his son in her womb. Thorald joined them formally the very next day, though my Stone‘s duty to protect her meant she retained my personal protection even in her married life. Pauwel did not question why he could not give her his amulet. It was a small boon to ask of him in return for Regana, his son, and his life. Even with this new information about her, there was a

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puzzle about Regana that the Stone intended us to solve. In the end, Regana solved it herself. Rumors abounded about Regana—dangerous rumors because of her coloring and unladylike actions in the face of Veriel. Complicating matters were the jealous streak Riberta bore Regana for capturing the love of the Warrior she wanted for herself and the half-mad stories Eberhard told which proclaimed Regana an evil omen. With Sibold dead and Eberhard a madman, Regana went to the last remaining person with memories of her birth, Emecin, the midwife. Breaking her oath to Sibold at last, Emecin confirmed for Regana that she was Raga, the mother. That fact was not enough to sway the villagers. Bermer, the oldest son in the family of blacksmiths, tried to kill her in the belief that her death would send the beasts away. Regana felled him, though Bermer was almost the size of a Warrior and she large with Pauwel‘s son. She ran from him, but he gained on her quickly and attacked her bodily and with intent to slit her throat. Bermer would have killed her were it not for the boy healer, Landric, who took the man‘s life in her defense and brought her back to her lord for comfort and care. Finding his game with Regana threatened and never one to blithely accept an interruption to his play even before he went mad, Veriel used and killed the fair Riberta, Wil‘s sister, for spreading the dangerous rumors that almost cost him his prey. Then, Veriel orchestrated a full beast war on the village. Spanning days, the battle sought to destroy every villager who harbored thoughts of injuring Regana before Veriel played out his game. The people were executed in the most gruesome manners imaginable. Intent on his game, Veriel came for Regana again. His threats to her and to Pauwel stated clearly, he left her presence, amused by Kethe‘s threat to use blades on him in defense of Pauwel‘s wife and son. To protect her from villager and beast alike, Pauwel and I undertook formal training for Regana as a Stone-Chosen would. Desperate now to minimize the effects of the sons of Raga, Veriel sought to use Pauwel in his plan. He defeated the strong

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young lord in battle and fed from him deeply until he controlled his will. His will not his own, Pauwel was forced to drink of Veriel‘s foul blood, turning him to a beast. Veriel brought Pauwel to Regana, believing that she would choose to let him kill her husband when posed the choice of accepting him as he was or death for him. To Pauwel‘s dismay as much as my own, Regana tore off her amulet to cradle her husband to the babe growing within her. Undone by his own game, Veriel learned that turning Pauwel was a mistake he would live to regret. As a printed Warrior, Pauwel was not the puppet the elder had hoped for. Rather, Pauwel retained his love and all things that made him husband and Warrior even as he was turned beast. Veriel lived to regret that night, forced to ground again and again and thwarted at almost every turn. By turning Pauwel, he did naught but create a more powerful barrier between himself and his prey. He could not hope to touch Regana while Pauwel lived as beast, and Veriel lacked the ability—perhaps because Pauwel was a Warrior beast—to kill his adversary. Still, the elder was determined enough to plague Regana at her son‘s birth with threats of ending the only son of Raga. With Pauwel as beast, there could be no more sons from him, and so he protected his son fiercely, if anonymously. Only the first cursed, Kethe and Bavin shared Regana‘s secret of her beast husband. To the rest of the world, he was dead and Regana a widow. So it came to pass that at his birth, I granted Andris the amulet of his father‘s personal protection and my own blessing, one of the many things Pauwel could no longer give his son as beast. Still, never a more doting father had I ever seen—in the early days before Andris was old enough to repeat what he saw, and Pauwel was still able to hold him and care for him as a father would. In the meantime, Pauwel became the ultimate Warrior, killing turned whenever he encountered them and sending elders to ground for up to a week at a time. The reservations the other first lords had with this strange arrangement were set aside quickly as the irony of the beasts‘ folly became ever clearer. Veriel tried to take Andris three times before he was a man

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and finally—on the young man‘s first night. NOTE: Yet again, Gawen destroys a portion of what he has written and begins again. Driven to ground by one of his many turned, one of the many who did not wish damned by him, Veriel lost his opportunity to kill Andris before he claimed the seal of Lord Kreuzträger. The young Warrior freed the injured high-level and won his seal, a most noble bit of generosity and caring that he showed the beast who had no wish for his damned life. Knowing his son was lord and Regana safely in the care of myself and her son, Pauwel came to me when next he was seriously injured and begged me to free him. With a heavy heart, I did as he bid me. Regana wept for him, as the other first lords and I gave her husband a Warrior‘s burial. It was our only chance to free Pauwel, the only chance we would likely ever have to defeat him and give him peace while Regana still lived to stabilize him and keep the Warrior in him alive and in control of the beast in himself. Pauwel knew this sad truth, and so he sought death before the time when Regana could die and leave him a danger to all. Had I known the results his death would have on Regana, I might have chanced the beast in Pauwel and denied him his respite still. My beautiful sister fell into a deep melancholy without Pauwel‘s love. Andris claiming Ger‘s daughter, Berna, as his bride cheered her but hours. News of their coming child barely touched her in her grief. Little more than a year after her husband‘s death, Regana could stand her isolation no longer. She slipped into the dark night with her weapons, and with nothing left to lose, she searched out Veriel. She fought him as a Warrior fights, without an amulet to protect her, seeking to find Pauwel in the Warrior‘s rest at her death. Skilled beyond even my comprehension, Regana sent the Mad Elder to ground for three days, but her own life was forfeit in return. Veriel fed on her and left Regana to bleed to death in the spot where once they played together as children, the ultimate show of disdain for the one he once called sister. I failed in my Stone‘s duty to Regana. She was gone. I

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should have been able to stop her—or to save her. Still, I have no concept how that beast could feed on my own lands and not have me know that he was there. Perhaps, the Stone was taking some measure of pity on Regana by letting her join her lord with no interference from me. I can only hope that is the case, though I fear it is not. Regana was given a Warrior‘s burial by her lord‘s side, together in eternity as they could never be in life. With the wrath of Andris and myself looming, Veriel wisely backed from his assault on Raga‘s family. After all, his own death would not come at the hands of a Schwertträger or Kreuzträger. Veriel turned his attention to the young Warriors of Jäger. His death was slated at the hands of that house, and so his brutality moved to them.

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Excerpts from The Kaufmann Histories The lost page As penned by Rober Lord Kaufmann in 1497

When my uncle, Etienne, was struck down, I rushed to his aid. No beast had died by his hand that night. In the midst of a scene of fierce battle where Veriel left my uncle to die in a growing pool of his own blood, a wailing servant girl tried to keep my uncle alive, but it was not for the dying house lord that she wept. Jacquine had been the lady‘s maid to Caitrina de Leon. The fair Caitrina had been betrothed to her lord Jörg de Schmeidt, a man of German descent but powerful, wealthy, and a noble gentleman who won her father‘s agreement to the match. Her tears were for Caitrina, mortally wounded in error by Etienne‘s blade as he sought to free her from the beast Veriel. The Mad Deceiver, using his forbidden human name, had enchanted the beauteous maid to him so completely that she fought my lord with a sword in hand to remain the beast‘s alone. Never had Etienne seen such dogged determination for such a thing. It unnerved him to see such devotion to so foul a creature. The young miss believed Veriel the perfect young lord, attentive and courteous, deep in his love and regard for her. He called his lady by German endearments—Geliebte and Regana, in his tender moments alone with her. The maid knew not the import of such things, but we were chilled by the implications. Had this Caitrina been chosen and we lost our chance at an end yet again? She had not the look of a

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Stone-Chosen, but Veriel had not the look of a true Warrior either, though he bore the mark. In fact, her deep brown hair and sparkling blue eyes might well be compared to the anomalous appearance of the Destroyer of Lives. The only truth was in the marking, and that was something beyond our power to check, as Veriel had stolen his lady away with him before my approach. Etienne mourned the woman‘s loss, chosen or not, for his part in her exit from her human life, though I know it to have been honest error and not negligent loss. Worse, he cursed his inability to stop Veriel from feeding the lady on his foul blood and turning her from the light and goodness of her soul. The Stone has long foretold the dangers of a female turned. In his final tortured cries to the gods, Etienne begged forgiveness for what his action and inaction hath wrought on the world. I only pray, as I bury my uncle and take my seal, that the name of Kaufmann is not forever synonymous with the heinous crimes the once virtuous Caitrina de Leon will surely commit in her altered state of being. Having seen the foul deed and what her lady has become— and her lord always was, Jacquine has accepted my personal protection. Pray Veriel knows, if he ever dares come for her, he will find my blade ready to protect the girl with my life.

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Excerpt from The First Book of Texts By Gawen first Lord Schwertträger, Stone lord and master trainer ―The Rules of Sanction‖ Part One (penned in 510 AD)

A Warrior must be mindful always of the humans around him. More than human, less than damned; the cursed have the potential to do great good. Inherent in that potential is the ability to do great harm. A Warrior will have enemies, and to protect those humans bound by the Stone‘s sacred trust, the Warrior will kill in honorable battle those enemies. A child is never truly an enemy. He may be disarmed and even rendered unable to continue the present battle, but though the child of today may grow to be the enemy tomorrow, today he is naught but a boy. A woman may be slain in battle only as a last resort. If she raises her blade against a Warrior, he will first treat her as he would a child. Remember always that a woman battles most fiercely for child and home. Whenever possible, a Warrior should seek his true enemy elsewhere and leave her to protect what is hers from less honorable men—and less dangerous. In battle, unforeseen events will occur. In battle, innocents will often die. The Warrior should never carry a battle to innocents that can be fought elsewhere. When there is no choice, the Warrior must be mindful of the innocents in his midst. An

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innocent life taken in honest error is lamentable. One taken in negligence is unforgivable. More than human, less than damned. The Warrior must never forget that humans are powerless before him. This is not a reason for pride but rather a warning. The Stone made a pact in its wisdom. One of the foundations of that pact is the Warrior‘s promise to do no harm. Those under a Warrior‘s protection and innocents all, the Warrior must protect to death. Humans are fragile things in that they are frail and unable to heal as Warriors do as much as in that they fear and attack any perceived threat. Warriors possess the power to be perceived as a threat. As the chain is only as strong as its weakest link, so the pact is only strong as the trust imparted by its weakest to its strongest. For the safety of Warrior and mate, no Warrior may threaten that trust and live. Warriors are cursed. Stone-Chosen or passed from father to son, the curse manifests in the same fashion generation after generation. Akin to the damnation of the beasts, never doubt the curse for what it is. Blutjagd, the blood lust, comes first and foremost. Where the beasts are driven only by darkness, the darkness in a Warrior‘s soul will be very strong. The urge to kill the beasts is at its heart, for dark knows dark, as the Warriors and beasts each sense the other and seek each to destroy the opposing dark. Blutjagd in its purest sense is naught but good, but that is not only how it will make itself known. The gift of Blutjagd is also the ability to protect what a Warrior holds dear to him and what he has a duty to protect, but there is a fierce streak in him that rivals his love and loyalty. When a wrong is done by a human to him and his, a Warrior must not allow darkness to rule him. Capital offenses require the ultimate price. Of that there is no doubt, but the price must be exacted on the one who has wronged him alone. Revenge is not something a Warrior indulges in. The ones who have not acted against him are innocents. The pain of their loss is more punishment than they deserve.

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If the offense is injurious but not capital, retribution should be taken in kind. If no injury is sustained, no blood may be spilled in return unless the guilty attacks in earnest. A Warrior must ever be mindful of the nature of the crime against him. He cannot allow his pain to rule him. Capital crimes involve grave harm and disregard of innocence. Murder or rape or the attempt of either, an unprovoked attack on a Warrior‘s mate or child— In such a case, the interloper must pay the ultimate price as the pact demands. The Warrior who exacts the ultimate price for a crime that is not capital or not in defense will face death himself from his true judge, having proven himself lacking in control and respect for the fragile sanctity of life. Likewise, the Warrior must gauge his punishment of Warriors who wrong him by the rules of sanction. A Warrior has the right to face the Warrior he has most wronged as judge—or his house lord as case may be when the injury is to his own house or to a human not of a Warrior‘s household. One who acts as judge in another‘s stead faces sanction by both the true judge and the Warrior he judged out of place—or the Warrior‘s lord if he is incapable of judging for himself. The drive to print can lead to madness in Endspiel. Printing can make a Warrior the most stable of men unless his mate or children are endangered, but the time of printing is the most dangerous and unstable time of all for a Warrior. Warriors are not lawless soldiers. A Warrior must rule his curse, lest the curse rule him. The sanctions in taking women are understandably rigid because of the great danger printing poses. The beasts take women brutally, without care and concern. Until a Warrior finds his mate—or after he loses his mate, he will require release with women aside from his mate. While he has a mate, she will provide the only true release he will find. She is a balm for his soul, calming his Blutjagd and appeasing his sexual appetite as no other woman can while she lives. He will have no need and no wish to perform with another as long as he has her. But, a Warrior who cannot control his curse is no better than a beast. A Warrior may not take an unwilling woman, even

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if she is the woman of an enemy or an enemy herself. Neither shall a Warrior use his whiles to sway an unwilling woman to some form of willingness to bed her. Such a move is dishonorable in that it exploits her innocence and does her injustice. A lover must always be treated kindly and with respect. It is the Warrior‘s duty to repay the peace a lover grants him with pleasure. If she gifts him with her maiden‘s blood, he must ease it from her and repay her tenfold for her sacrifice. A Warrior must never take a child to his bed. A woman shy of fifteen years, though she bleeds, is not a woman for the taking. Her body is not adequate to carry a Warrior‘s child until she matures, and her innocence is still largely intact. If the woman of a Warrior‘s desire is the freed daughter of another Warrior, she may not be taken without her father‘s consent or that of her house lord if her father is dead. The Warrior protecting his child is a dangerous man, and the interloper may be perceived as a threat to that family. For the safety of all, this rule must be adhered to. The Warrior who takes simple pleasure without permission from her keeper owes a solid blow for every instance to the one who would give his permission. Judgment of whether or not the Warrior is worthy of the woman will then be rendered by her judge. If the Warrior takes his satisfaction in her in such a case, he must submit to that same man as judge. It is within his judge‘s rights to exact one of three punishments. If he deems the Warrior without either honor or control, he may take his life for it. He may take him to trial and forbid his interaction with the woman again. Or, he may take a single blow and give his consent—with any reasonable restrictions he deems fit the situation from the question of when children are appropriate to loyalties in repayment for his trespass. In any case—satisfaction taken or no—the judge has the right to strike the woman a single open-handed blow if he feels she is without honor in her actions. A Warrior who cannot control his curse is no better than a beast. A Warrior who returns to a forbidden woman a second

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time faces the certainty of death. A Warrior must always submit absolutely to his judge. If he raises a hand in his own defense to any Warrior—judge or no— or does not meet and live by his punishment gracefully—even unto a sentence of death, he will face death, as he has shown himself without control. If the Warrior lies to his judge to hide his misdeeds when asked for the truth, he will face any penalty up to and including death as his judge wishes, for he has shown himself lacking in honor. If the woman wronged is human not of a Warrior house, the house lord of the Warrior who wronged her will sit as his judge. If the accused is a house lord, the Stone lord will stand as judge. If he is Stone lord, a council of the lords will stand as judge. In the case of the house lord, he will no longer be deemed worthy of his position and shall forfeit his place as house lord to the next in line to hold the seal. The Stone will take care of its own succession as it always has. Taking any woman—human or of a household—unwilling, automatically warrants a sentence of death, as would attempting her murder or the murder of a child. The body of the Warrior would then be presented to the woman and her family and personal protection be granted them in repayment by the house lord. If the Warrior is come upon in the act, the woman‘s safety is paramount. If he can be restrained and presented to his true judge, it should be done despite the fury driving the Warrior who comes upon the scene. If such a thing cannot be accomplished without the threat of further violence to his victim, he should be executed as he is. She should then be tended to medically and returned to her family with proof of the attacker‘s state. If a human family wishes to exact their own punishment on a Warrior, they will be permitted the right of inflicting their own beating with the protection of the Warrior guard before the judge passes his own sentence. Remember always that when a Warrior breaks the pact, the safety of all depends on restoring the peace with the humans injured. Only in a challenge of trial is the Warrior to defend himself

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physically. Only to his true judge at the appropriate time is the Warrior to defend himself in words—if such is the case that there is any excuse for his actions—or to plead mercy for the woman involved. A Warrior should never plead mercy for himself, as his actions are his own, dishonorable or honorable, and honor demands he take responsibility for them. The Warrior may demand his right of his true judge and no more of the Warrior who places him in custody. If he raises a hand to that Warrior he will be restrained or killed as the situation unfolds. Should he survive his punishment of his true judge for his first crime, he still faces death at the hands of the Warrior holding custody for his lack of control. If the Warrior taken into custody attempts violence to an innocent— In such a case, no move will be made to restrain him. His life is forfeit.

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Ani (birth/the mother)- Regana first Lady Kreuzträger, Jayde Marie Albright Baroo (thunder)- Olbrecht first Lord Kaufmann Dobler (twin peace-bringer)- Ditrich first Lord Jäger Fih (twin war)- Geldric/the beast Cerran, Cody KönigArmen Geil (iron)- Bryon König-Kaufmann Hir (the cool wood)- Gerhardus first Lord Landwirt Iol (immovable ice)- Redulf/the beast Carstol Jee (justice)- Mikel of Crossbearer-König and all descendants thereof Kor (the bear)- Corwyn of König-Maher Len (mountain)- Wilhelmus first Lord Maher Mul (flowing water)- Mitchell König-Farmer Nul (stealth of the night)- Bertolf/the beast Draden Ori (the sun)- Pauwel first Lord Kreuzträger, Hunter Lord Crossbearer-König

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Pol (the horse)- Dado/the beast Lorian Reg (intensity of the fire)- Jörg/the beast Veriel Syth (the Stone lord)- Master Trainer Sibold, Gawen first Lord Schwertträger, Etienne Lord Kaufmann, Joseph Lord Armen, Carrick Lord Armen, Corwyn Lord Hunter, Lewis of Maher Tes (stars and moon)- Kevin König-Smith Vin (wind)- Cunczel first Lord Schmied Wul (the wolf)- Tilbrand/the beast Resten Zel (ending/death)- Erin of Crossbearer-König, Kaitlyn ―Katie‖ of König-Maher, Skye of König-Armen, Victorious Ellen ―Vick/Vicky‖ of König-Smith, Margaret Elizabeth ―Maggie‖ König-Farmer, Colette ―Lettie‖ König-Kaufmann

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About the Author Brenna Lyons wears many hats, sometimes all on the same day: president of EPIC, author of more than 75 published works, columnist, special needs teacher, wife, mother... In addition, she‘s a member in good standing of ERWA, TELL, MWW, RWU, IWOFA, and Broad Universe. In her first five years published in novel-length, Brenna has finaled for seven EPPIES (in six separate categories), three PEARLS (taking Honorable Mention second to NY Times Bestseller Angela Knight), two CAPAS, a Dream Realm Award, and has taken Spintetingler‘s Book of the Year for 2007. Brenna has been termed ‗one of the most deviant erotic minds in the publishing world...not for the weak.‘ [Rachelle for Fallen Angels Reviews] She writes milieu-heavy dark fiction, mainly science fiction, fantasy and horror (in 20 established worlds plus stand-alones), poetry, articles and essays. She teaches classes in everything from POV studies to advanced editing, networking to marketing. Brenna loves talking to readers and can be reached via her site at http://www.brennalyons.com.

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