Twilight Memories (Wings in the Night #2)

Twilight Memories (Wings in the Night #2) Page 5

Roland closed his eyes as her lips moved against his throat. The blood lust came alive at her touch. The sexual desire pummeled him until he felt too weak to fight it. God, but he wanted her. And what she was doing now only trebled the already powerful longing. Slowly the restraint he'd been struggling to hold in place shuddered beneath the assault of desire. Roland drew a strangled breath.

"Enough!"

He hadn't meant the single command to sound so harsh. She immediately lifted her head, blinking. Roland saw the passion in her eyes, even through the pain clouding them.

"Any more and I'll not have the strength to carry you home, Rhiannon,"he lied in a much softer tone. He still feared for her well-being, but in truth if she didn't stop right then, he'dhave dropped her into the tangy scented leaves at their feet, and made frantic love to her, pain or no pain.

"Put me down, then. I can walk."

He only shook his head and began again, in the direction of the castle.

"I said put me down. I've never needed any man to help me, and I never will.

I can manage on my own."

"You needed the help of a man tonight, Rhiannon. No doubt if you continue in your reckless life-style, you'll need it again. And you need it now, whether you'll admit it or not, so rest in my arms and be quiet."

She did settle more comfortably against him, but the set of her lips told him the argument was far from over."I will, but only because I know the truth. You're carrying me because you like it. You like the way my body feels so close to yours. As for my needing the help of a male, you are completely wrong. I was only waiting for the right moment to rip that fool's head from his shoulders. I'm as capable as any male, mortal or immortal, young or old, and you-ought not forget it."

Roland rolled his eyes.

"I thought at least to get a word of thanks for saving your life. Instead, t get scolded for daring to assume you were in need of assistance?"

She was silent for a moment, considering his words, he thought.

"All right, I suppose I owe you my thanks, then.

Only don't dare think of me as inferior."

"I never have, Rhiannon."

"That is purely a lie."

Roland frowned, searching her upturned face as he continued carrying her through the thickening forest. Crisp leaves and fallen twigs crackled beneath his hurried steps.

"Why do you say so?"

"Foolish question."

Roland focused on the bite in her tone, rather than on the weight of her hip, or the way it slid over his abdomen with his every step. He forcibly ignored the feel of her head nestled upon his shoulder, and the softness of the rounded breast that pressed to his chest.

"I believe being assaulted by DPI operatives makes you decidedly cranky."

He saw her part her lips to reply, then she stopped herself, frowning.

"I'm not sure he was DPI. At least, if he was, he was more concerned with his own interests than theirs."

"What do you mean?"

"Roland, the man was uncommonly knowledgeable about our kind. He listed our weaknesses. He called me by name."

Roland stopped walking, glancing ahead to the dark stone wall that completely surrounded the Castle Courte-manche. He could hear the violence of the River Tordu to his left as it splashed and roiled its way to fuse with the older, calmer waters of the River Loire. To his right, past the edge of the woods, a cool, green meadow rolled like a carpet from the outer wall to the winding dirt road. But the aromas of the grasses, of the rivers, of the very night, faded beside the scent of Rhiannon's hair and skin.

Roland shook himself and honed his senses, searching for the presence of others. They'd made excellent time, but he feared DPI forces would be on their way.

"Roland, you aren't listening. I scanned, and found no sign of this man, though he was lying in ambush. He can mask his presence, block us out."

Roland nodded.

"It was only a matter of time before they learned that simple trick, Rhiannon. It shouldn't alarm you."

"He ordered me to transform him."

Roland froze, a chill of precognition tiptoeing up his spine.

"That's ridiculous. He couldn't be transformed unless he was one of The Chosen. Anyone working for DPI would know that"-- "Which can only mean he is one of The Chosen. Roland, we should have felt his presence. He has somehow sharpened his psychic abilities.

The man is dangerous."

Roland recalled again the shock of pain that had lanced through him when he'd felt Rhiannon's mind reaching out to him back at the stadium. He recalled the rage he'd felt when he'd seen the bastard holding her, that knife piercing her sensitive skin, the blade twisting as she gasped in pain, the tears shimmering over her eyes.

"You ought to have let me kill him."

She stilled utterly, searching his face.

"You very nearly did, Roland. I've never seen you like that."

"With good reason."He glanced down at her. He wished to God she hadn't witnessed the ugliness inside him. But now that she had, there was little use in denying it.

"I'm a man capable of great violence, Rhiannon. There lurks within me a demon, one who thrives on bloodshed."

She frowned, sable eyebrows bunching over her small, narrow nose.

"I've known you from the first moment of your preternatural existence, Roland. I've never seen a sign of this demon."

"I keep it in check, or I have, until now."He gazed at her beautiful, flawless face. Why was control so much more difficult when she was near?

She was like a magnet, drawing the beast from its hidden lair, stirring it to life by her very presence.

"It was in me before, Rhiannon, when I was yet a mortal."

"You were a knight! One known far and wide for courage and valor and"-- "All pretty words for bloodlust. I was talented in the art of battle.

A skillful killer. No more."

She stiffened in his arms.

"You're wrong about your-sell This demon you claim possesses you is no more than the will to live. Those times were violent, and only the violent survive In battle, a man must kill or be killed. You did what was necessary..."She winced all at once, and clung more tightly to his neck.

His knowledge of her discomfort was as acute as if the pain were his own.

"Press the handkerchief more tightly, Rhiannon. The bleeding is beginning again."He strengthened his hold on her and ran the last few steps to the wall, leaping easily over it. Now was no time for recriminations or confessions. Not while her very life was slowly seeping from her body.

Oddly enough, Roland felt as if his vitality were draining away, as well, keeping perfect pace with hers.

He carried her over the barren courtyard, past the crumbling fountain that marked its center and through the huge, groaning door. He set her on her feet to pull the door closed.

The cat lunged gracefully from the lowest stair, stopped in front of her mistress and seemed almost to study her, eyes intent and intelligent.

Pandora lifted her head, and sniffed delicately at Rhiannon's blood-soaked blouse, and the sound she emitted from deep in her throat could have been a snort of alarm.

"There, kitty. It's not the end of me."Rhiannon stroked the cat's head with one hand, still holding the hanky to her waist with the other.

Jamey came bounding down the stairs with Frederick on his heels. The boy stopped a yard from Rhiannon, his face setting into a granite mask no child of his age had any business wearing.

Frederick came forward, dropped to one knee in front of her and moved the handkerchief aside briefly before pressing it tight again.

"It's bad. You need stitches."

"Not necessary,"Roland stated, hoping to hide the effect of those words on his equilibrium. Stitches. It brought to mind the image of a sharp object piercing her sensitive skin, an object held by his hand.

The pain would be incredible.

Frederick looked again and shook his head.

"It isn't gonna stop bleeding."

Roland swallowed hard. Frederick had been a medic in the army before he'd succumbed to the mental illness that kept him so childlike. The man knew a bit about injuries. Still, the thought of the pain."She needs only rest."

"Nonsense,"Rhiannon said softly.

"I can rest, but the regenerative sleep will only come with the dawn. I doubt I can keep from bleeding to death until then."

At her words, Roland felt a fist in his stomach. Reckless and irritating though she was, he could not see her die. Even the thought was too much to bear. He glanced once more at Frederick.

"Can you do it?"

Frederick's blue eyes widened and he shook his head. It was obvious the very idea scared him to death.

"You'll have to stitch it up, Roland."Rhiannon's voice was steady and firm, but he heard the underlying weakness."There must be a needle somewhere in this place. You can use the silk thread from my blouse. It's ruined, anyway."

He met her slowly clouding gaze and knew she was right. The specter like image of the needle, wielded by his own hands, inflicting what would be agonizing pain on her sickened him. He stiffened his resolve. He would do what must be done.

"I'll bring a needle,"Frederick said softly. He turned and lumbered up the curving stone stairs, hugging the wall as if afraid of falling should he walk too near the open side.

Roland swept Rhiannon up once again. He turned toward the vaulted corridor to the west wing. Jamey's voice, low and trembling, stopped him.

"It was Rogers, wasn't it?"

Rhiannon's head rose from his shoulder as Roland turned to face the angry boy.

"No, Jamison,"she told him.

"It was not. It was a man I've never seen before.""Was he DPI?"

She sighed.

"I can't be certain."

Jamey's gaze met Roland's then.

"Did you kill him?""No."

"He would have, though,"Rhiannon put in quickly, as if defending him.

"I had to insist he drop the man and leave before the others discovered us there."

"Killing him would have solved nothing, Jamison. It would only have brought more trouble."

Jamey shook his head slowly.

"Not good enough."His gaze again met Roland's and there was an intensity burning in the young eyes that gave him cause to shudder. Like looking into a mirror and seeing his own youth."Doesn't matter,"Jamey said. He glanced back at Pandora, and simply tilted his head. Then he walked ahead of them down the corridor, with the cat leaping to keep up with him.

Roland frowned.

"Did you see that?"

Rhiannon, still staring down the dim corridor after the two, shook her head.

"He is communicating with my kitten."

She sounded as if she disliked the idea.

Rhiannon grated her teeth and squeezed her eyes tightly. Roland's hands trembled as he poked the needle into her skirt, and pulled another tight knot in the thread. He snipped the thread with tiny scissors, and bent over her to begin again.

She wore a cream-colored camisole, stained with her own blood. Roland had deftly removed her ruined blouse and her skirt. She lay on her back on Roland's bed. Of course, it wasn't really his bed. He only kept one in his chamber for appearance's sake. She'd had a brief moment to be grateful he kept it made up with fresh linens and a fluffy down comforter, before this torture had begun.

Roland sat upon the bed's edge, grim-faced. Jamey stood at the opposite side. After the first stitch and Rhiannon's breathless reaction to it, the boy had gripped her hand. She squeezed it harder with each jolt of pain, then reminded herself not to crush his mortal bones to dust.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have made you take me to that game."

Rhiannon shook her head quickly.

"I was the one who insisted you go, and I don't regret it a bit."Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as the needle was plied once more. She felt' beads of icy sweat upon her forehead."You played wonderfully, Jamey. I thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"You could have been killed."

"No danger of that with Roland around."Again a jab, and again she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course, protecting helpless women is old hat to him."

"You are hardly helpless, Rhiannon,"Roland stated, but his lips were set in a thin line as he worked.

"He was a knight. Did you know that?"She had to say something, anything to distract Jamey from the bitter fury she sensed overwhelming him, and to distract herself from her own suffering. It was unfair for one to be so strong and yet so weak. And though she tried to disguise her agony from both of them, she knew she was failing utterly. Roland's face grew more pale and the hatred in Jamison's eyes increased with every gasp she drew.

Her effort to distract the boy seemed to work, for Jamey's eyes widened. For once, he lost the look of a haunted young man, and looked like a boy, filled with wonder.

"A knight? With armor and swords, and all that?"

"Yes. He was knighted by King Louis VII, for heroism. But he's never told me the entire story."She squeezed her eyes tightly against hot tears as the needle poked again. She wanted to hear the tale, she realized. It would alleviate some of the pain. More over, she sensed Roland needed to tell it.

He shot her a look meant to quell her, but she responded with a quick shake of her head."Will you tell us now, Roland?"

Roland glanced quickly at Jamey.

"Yes, I wish you would,"a deep voice boomed from beyond the open door.

Rhiannon looked up quickly to see a large, handsome man, and a petite woman with a head of long, dark curls and perfectly round, doe's eyes. Immortals, both of them.

"Eric."Roland stood at once, dropping his implement of torture to the bedside stand. The two men met in the center of the room and embraced as if they were brothers. Jamey ran to the woman, who wrapped her arms around him and began sniffling like some simpering human.

From the corner of her eye, Rhiannon saw Pandora crouch. The cat's teeth became visible as her lip curled away from them in a menacing snarl. Her claws extended to a dangerous length, and her haunches tensed as she prepared to spring upon the woman holding Jamey.

There was no time to shout a warning. Rhiannon lunged from the bed, landing awkwardly upon the cat, clinging tightly to her neck. The stitches Roland had painstakingly administered tore free, and she cried out in excruciating pain.

The soft-looking female flung herself away from Jamey, and fell to her knees beside Rhiannon. Pandora struggled free of Rhiannon's weakened grasp, but was firmly caught again by Jamey. Then Roland was scooping her back into the bed, swearing under his breath.

"Mind telling us what the hell is going on, old friend?"

Roland didn't look at Eric. His tortured gaze remained on Rhiannon's face.

He swept her hair out of her eyes and smoothed it back.

"We had a little run-in with DPI. I'll fill you in later."Roland searched for his needle, and tried to thread it without success. Through the burning tears, Rhiannon saw the violence with which his hands trembled.

The small woman touched his shoulder.

"Let me."Sighing in unmistakable relief, Roland surrendered the implements, and got to his feet. The woman took his place on the bed at her side.

"I'm Tamara."

"Rhiannon,"she said through grated teeth.

"And I'll have no more of that needle."

Tamara frowned and glanced down at the wound, bending to push the camisole up, out of the way.

"Doesn't look like you have a choice."

Her head swung around sharply when the cat stepped up and sniffed at her hand. Jamey still held the panther by the diamond-studded collar.

"Pandora, my cat,"Rhiannon supplied, her voice weakening by the second.

"What are you doing here?"Roland's voice was clipped as he addressed Eric.

"The village is swarming with DPI agents."

"Yes, that's why we've come. We thought you might need reinforcements."

"But how did you know?"

Tamara bit her lip as she applied the needle.

"I have a friend, Hilary Garner, who still works for them. She's kept us informed. DPI knows you're in the area, but not about the castle. Not yet, anyway."

Rhiannon shook her head. The woman worked swiftly, and steadily. It would soon be over, at least she could be certain of that much.

"Curtis Rogers knows. He was at the front gate only last night."

"Curt is here?"Tamara's skin paled, and her hand stilled briefly.

"Not at the moment. I sent him on a wild-goose chase."' "If Rogers knows, he's keeping it to himself,"Eric said, his voice low and dangerous.

"No doubt he wants to exact his revenge singlehandedly Tamara looked up suddenly, her gaze meeting Jamey's across the room.

Her eyes took on a troubled expression."Enough talk about Curt and DPI. I, for one, am dying to hear this medieval tale. Roland, a knight? No wonder you ooze such chivalrous charm."

Rhiannon shot a narrow look toward Tamara. She disliked this fledgling's open flirting.

"I was a knight. There is little else to tell."Roland's expression was guarded.

"I doubt that is the case, Roland,"Eric said.

"Doubt all you like. There is little else I care to tell, then. Leave it."

His clipped tone left no question as to his stand on the topic.

Eric's brows rose, but he nodded.

"If that's what you bish."

Tamara put one final stitch into Rhiannon's side, tied the knot and set the needle aside. Rhiannon sighed loudly."Thank God that is over."

"Lie still until dawn, Rhiannon. If you tear them out before then, I'll have to do it all over again."

Rhiannon was stunned. Was this mere fledgling threatening her? Her?

Rhiannon? Princess of Egypt?

Then the slip of a thing glanced down at her and winked.

"It's late.

Jamey, you ought to be getting to bed."

To Rhiannon's surprise, Jamey didn't argue with Ta mara. He nodded, and glanced toward a chair in a corner, where Freddy already slumped, snoring.

Eric had a crackling fire blazing in the hearth, behind the protective screen. Rhiannon lay still in the oversize bed, and Roland thought even she looked small in its billowing folds and covers. He hadn't seen Tamara since the death of Jamey's mother, eight months ago. Tamara and Kathryn Bryant had been friends before Tamara's transformation, so the young one had taken it hard. He still saw that pain lingering in her eyes. Along with it, he saw her worry for Jamey.

"He's so different. So ... full of anger."

"Most of it aimed at DPI, and Curtis Rogers in particular,"Roland told her.

"It troubles me. And it troubles me still further to leave the boy unguarded by day. Except for Frederick, there is no one to watch over him."

"Well, we can solve that problem, for the moment at least."' Roland frowned at Eric's statement.

"What on earth do you mean.9""I've been experimenting with a new drug, a sort of a supercharged amphetamine. By using it, I can remain awake and alert by day."

"In sunlight?"Roland was amazed. True, he'd known of Eric's passion for test tubes and chemicals, but he'd never dreamed of results such as this.

"No, I need to remain shielded from the sun."Rhiannon sat up slightly only to have Tamara, ever attentive, sit beside her and help her into an upright position. As she bent to tuck more pillows behind her, the young one said, "There are side effects, Roland. Without the benefit of the regenerative sleep, he gets weak, tired, not to mention damned irritable."

"Never mind that,"Roland said quickly.

"You'll give me this drug and I'll be able to guard Jamey by day."

"I'll guard him myself, Roland. Until we think of a better solution."

Roland shook his head quickly.

"No. It is my responsibility-"

"You can both do it,"Tamara interrupted.

"Take turns, for heaven's sake."

Rhiannon sighed hard and shook her head.

"A fine solution, but a temporary one. I believe you are all overlooking the obvious."

Roland moved nearer the bedside. Her face still twisted with pain whenever she moved, but besides that, she seemed to be holding her own.

"What is it, Rhiannon?"

"Somewhere on the planet, the boy has a father, does he not?"

Her words were a blade in his heart.

"A... father?"He shot a questioning glance at Tamara.

"Kathryn's husband left her before Jamey was born. He might not even know he has a son. His name was James. James Adam Knudson."She shook her head.

"I wouldn't know where to begin searching for him."

"Not that it matters. A man who would abandon a wife and child has no right to reclaim either one of them."Roland stalked away from Rhiannon. She didn't argue the point. And no one again suggested that Jamey might be better off with his natural parent.

Roland filled his friends in on what had happened at the stadium, and Rhiannon told them of the strange man who'd attacked her, and his demands.

Toward dawn, Eric took Tamara down to the dungeons. to one of the hidden resting places Roland had at the ready. After hours of discussion, Eric had finally agreed to allow Roland to take the drug, and remain awake through the daylight hours to watch over Jamey. He'd given Roland three vials of fluid, to be taken at four-hour intervals, beginning well before the lethargy began to steal over him.

Roland swallowed the first of them, grimacing at the bitter taste. He tucked the empty vial into a pocket, and climbed the stairs to check in on Jamey and Frederick. Pandora lay at the foot of Jamey' s bed.

Jamey slept peacefully.

He returned to his chambers. There was still an hour before dawn. He found Rhiannon still in his bed, though she'd obviously been up briefly. Long enough to "borrow"one of his white shirts, and shed the bloodstained camisole, along with every other scrap of clothing she'd worn. She lay on her side, giving him an optimum view of the long, slender leg exposed beneath the shirt's hem."When dawn approaches, I'll take you below."

She rolled onto her back, wincing slightly with the action, and bending one knee.

"I've no desire to rest my bones in a dungeon."

"Rhiannon, it isn't safe here."He turned to pace away from her.

"Hasn't this incident taught you a thing about caution.""

"Posh, Roland, this is a perfectly secure place to rest. Draw those musty old drapes of yours, bolt the door, and there you are. Indulge me just this once. I promise I won't make a habit of napping here and disturbing your precious solitude."

"With everyone milling about the castle, my solitude has long since been shot to hell, as the expression goes. Here, my dear, is the only place you'll be napping in the foreseeable future. I want you where I can be sure you're safe."

She bit her lower lip as if to think it over. He knew the tone of command in his voice would rankle her. Still, he wouldn't have her in some insecure little house so near a village overrun with DPI operatives.

"It's true that my main source of security is Pandora. With her guarding Jamey, I might be vulnerable in my usual place. I might consider staying here..."

"There is nothing to consider. You're staying."

"There are conditions, Roland."He lifted his brows.

"Conditions?"

"For one, I will sleep here, in the bed. If you're so worried about my well-being, you can simply climb in beside me. Should anyone attack me as I rest, I have no doubt one of us would rouse enough to summon Pandora, who would make them into catnip. Besides, if this new drug of Eric' s works, one of you will be awake, anyway."

Roland shook his head slowly.

"I will concede to that request, so long as you will give it up should there be an added threat, or reason to believe DPI can reach us here."

She nodded once.

"I'm not finished. I simply cannot rest in a place that looks like this.

So, you will allow me to spruce i up a bit."

Frowning, he moved nearer, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Your conditions are piling high. Surely you do not envision yourself a chat elaine "I envision myself comfortable, Roland. Nothing more."She lifted an arm in a sweeping gesture.

"Surely you cannot mind if I wish to remove a few cobwebs and a bit of dust."

His eyes narrowed.

"I know you too well to believe that is all you will do."

She shrugged, lowering her lashes over downcast eyes."Well, I was thinking new drapes might be of use. After all, I want to be sure the sun can't penetrate by day."

He gave her a curt nod.

"Drapes and dusting, then. i That is the extent of it. Agreed?"

"And I wish to keep the fire."

She met his gaze again, and the look in her eyes should have warned him.

"It gives me that warm, cozy feeling I had when you carded me through the forest in your arms."

"You press your advantage, Rhiannon."His voice had little force behind it. He,"too, was remembering the feel of her in his arms, and of her lips upon his throat."Oh, but I'm not finished yet."She sat up carefully, and took his hand in two of hers, tracing invisible patterns on his palm with her nails until he shuddered.

"I want you to tell me about your life before I met you. I want to know how you became a knight."

"That is not a subject I wish to discuss."She stared so intently he felt her tugging at the curtains that veiled his mind.

"Roland, you've kept your past in side you for a very long time, and a great deal of pain along with it, I believe. You've twisted events until you've branded yourself a devil. Don't you think you might benefit from an objective opinion?"He felt, oddly enough, an urge to tell her everything.

But he feared even that Rhiannon might be repulsed if she knew the entire tale. Then he asked himself if that wouldn't be a good thing. Let her see the blackness in his soul for herself, and perhaps she would finally understand why he kept himself from her. She might even decide she no longer wanted him. Some time later, he wondered how he had capitulated so easily.

What was there about her that usurped his will? Still, he found himself sitting with his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out over the mattress. Rhian- non snuggled down, her head resting on his thighs. He absently stroked her hair as he spoke.

"I was the youngest of four sons. It was my parents' fondest wish that I enter the monastery. In those times, there was little else for a younger son to do. My becoming a monk would bring prestige and influence to the family name."

Her hand stroked his thigh. Her silken fingers left a fiery path.

"You, a monk?"She said it as if it were laughable.

"I felt the same. So, at fourteen, I ran off, determined to make my own way.

I wanted nothing more in the world than to become a knight.

After two weeks of scrounging myself enough to eat, I came upon a small babe, not yet a full year of age. He sat upon a blanket on the grass, while his mother and her ladies gathered berries nearby. None of them saw the wolf.

But I did."

"A wolf?"Rhiannon's eyes widened and her hand stilled upon his thigh.

"Stalking the child? What did you do?"

"Froze with fear, at first. Then the babe looked toward me and smiled. He made this gurgling, cooing sound and waved his chubby hands in the air."

Roland shook his head.

"I don't know what possessed me, but I drew my knife, the only weapon I had, and I leapt on the wolf as it went for the child. It was a fool's errand. I was nearly torn to shreds."

She sat up slowly, facing him. It surprised him to see her blink fast against a moisture building in her eyes. Her face was so near to his he could feel the quickening of her breaths.

"Did you kill this wolf, Roland?"

"Yes, apparently so. I don't remember much after the first few bites."She closed her eyes and shuddered visibly. Her hair fell over one eye, and without thinking, Roland reached out, and moved it aside. His fingers lingered on her face, so soft. He thought he might be absorbed in her eyes, those huge, exotically slanted, jet orbs.

"When next I woke, I was in a fine bed, being tended by servants. The child was the grandson of a great baron, and the son of a knight. Sir Gareth of Le Blanc. He took me as his squire when I was healed. For two years, he treated me almost as a son. He taught me all he knew, and allowed me to train with the knights in his outer bailey."

"And you, with your stubborn determination, which I know so well, took to that training with a vengeance. You grew stronger and more skilled with each passing day."He shrugged.

"I did pick up some basic skills."

"Tell me the rest."She was like a child asking for a story, he thought idly, his fingers still stroking her hair.

"I was traveling with Sir Gareth one day. There was a tournament he was to attend. Of course, there were others along, knights and their squires who rode with us. A band of knights loyal to a sworn enemy of Gareth's father were waiting in ambush."

She said nothing. But she lifted her hand to touch his face, almost as if she could see the pain of the memory there.

"Gareth and the others fought fiercely, and killed several of them, but they were outnumbered."He shook his head slowly, and the past resurfaced as if it were yesterday. The clang of steel upon steel. The shouts and groans of the fallen men. The frantic shrieks of the horses. The pounding hooves.

"When Gareth fell ... something happened to me. I don't know what. I found myself dragging him off the battlefield, into the brush, and pulling the helmet and mail coif from his head. With his last breath, he pushed his sword into my hands, and bade me fight on."

"But you were just a boy!"

He shook his head.

"Sixteen was near enough to manhood in those times, Rhiannon. You know that.

I demanded the other squires assist me as I removed Gareth's breastplate and hauberk, and put them on. It seemed to take forever, but we accomplished the task in minutes. I donned his coif and helmet, and pulled Gareth's gauntlets onto my hands. With his sword in my grip, and a layer of ice coating my heart, I marched straight into the melee. I was driven by a force I didn't know. It was the demon I've since discovered in my soul.

"I found my master's horse, a massive destrier with a taste for battle, and mounted him."

"And you fought in his place,"she breathed.

"More than fought. I was enraged. I remember little, other than the endless swinging of the broadsword, and the shattering impact of it when it hit home.

I remember the sounds, the screams of the fallen, and my own battle cry. I was a man possessed, Rhiannon. When the battle ended, I alone remained.

Dead men surrounded me."

He shook himself of the memory, and gazed into Rhiannon's eyes. He was shocked to see a single tear roll slowly over her face. He leaned forward, for some inexplicable reason, and pressed his lips to it, absorbing its salty taste.

"I've never told this story to another living soul, Rhian-non."His lips moved against her dampened cheek as he whispered the words, and her fingers threaded in his hair.

"Nor will I,"she promised.

"Not on pain of death."She lowered her head to his shoulder.

"What happened next?"

"The squires had scattered, but not far enough that they hadn't witnessed the battle. When we returned to the castle of Gareth's father, they told of what they'd seen. I was treated as some sort of hero. It wasn't long before I was summoned to the court of King Louis, who was a second cousin to Gareth's father, the baron. I was knighted as a reward for what they called valor. I had my wish. But I no longer wanted it. I wanted only to return to my family, and never experience such violence again."

"And did you?"

He forced a smile for her. Her eyelids were drooping. Apparently, Eric's potion was working, for he felt no hint of tiredness.

"I'll save the rest of the tale for another night, Rhiannon. You need to sleep now. And heal."

She shook her head as she lifted it from his shoulder."You loved this Gareth. It is no wonder you fought as you did. Your grief gave you this rage, not some demon."

He closed his eyes, and wished he could believe it were the truth.

"Rest, Rhiannon. We'll talk more when you wake."' She lowered herself into the bed until her head again lay in his lap, and her arms encircled his waist. It was exceedingly strange, he thought, that he felt comfortable with her there so close, rather than disturbed. Moreover, the weight on his heart seemed somehow lighter than it had before.