And when he'd kissed her back, she'd been really happy, like a girl again, ready to forget her duties, the coming war, the strange things happening in her mind and body as she gained more and more command of the powers Saint Cer had given her.

But no, he'd been surprised, and he'd remembered Austra very quickly, and so she had been wrong about their growing closer.

How foolish that must seem to him, and how intolerable to seem foolish.

And how tiring, how very tiring, to be still a virgin. Maybe she should have someone she didn't give a fig about fix that for her and then have him exiled or beheaded or something so that she could see what the fuss was about. Austra knew well enough, didn't she? Because of Cazio.

She shook that away. With all that was going on in her kingdom-in the world-didn't she have better things to worry about? If Eslen fell, if the dark forces gathering against her triumphed, it wouldn't matter who Cazio had or hadn't loved.

"Majesty?" a soft voice whispered. She turned to find Cauth regarding her.

"Yes?"

"We've found the map of the faneway."

"Excellent," she replied. "We should begin immediately. Have you picked your men?"

"I-Majesty, I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Sefry cannot walk faneways. Our constitutions forbid it."

"What does that mean?"

"No Sefry has ever survived the attempt," he replied.

"Really? Not just this faneway but any?"

"That's correct, Majesty."

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically. "Send for the Craftsmen, then."

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

Anne turned and rested her head against the windowsill.

"I'm changing, Sir Cauth," she said. "Why is that?"

"I haven't known you long," he said, "but I expect being queen changes you."

"No. That's not what I mean. How much did Mother Uun tell you?"

"Not everything, but enough. You mean your blessing."

"Is it a blessing?" she asked. "I'm stronger, yes. I can do things. But I'm changing. I think things I never thought before, feel things I've never felt…"

"You are touched by great powers," he said. "That's only natural."

Anne shivered. "Some of my visions are terrible."

"I'm sorry for your pain," he said. He sounded sincere.

She shrugged.

"It's lonely," he ventured. "No one understands you."

"That's true," she murmured, taking a sideways glance at the Sefry.

She had first seen Cauth when he and his troops had saved her from her uncle Robert's men and, much to her surprise, he had pledged his life and loyalty to her. The Sefry had enabled her to win back her throne. She owed Cauth and his men a great deal.

But the Sefry were so strange, and despite their help and constant presence, she hadn't really gotten to know any of them.

Nor had any of them spoken to her as Cauth was speaking now. It was a surprise but also something of a relief. The Sefry always had walked in that borderland between the mundane and the very strange. The unnatural was natural to them.

"People fear to speak to me," she said. "Some are calling me the witch-queen. Did you know that?"

"Yes," he said. "But your friends-"

"My friends," she repeated. "Austra has always been my friend. But even she…" She shied away from the subject. Who had really betrayed whom?

"We are less now."

"What of Casnar de Pachiomadio?"

"Cazio?" She shrugged. "He doesn't understand, either."

"But he might."

"What do you mean?"

"If he was touched by great powers, as you are. Then perhaps-and forgive my impertinence-then he might truly be worthy of you."

She felt her face go hot. "That is impertinence."

"I beg your forgiveness, then."

"And it is dangerous, I'm told."

"Not for a true swordsman," Cauth replied.

"You know this?"

Cauth bowed. "I've spoken when I should have kept silent," he said. "Please understand; it was only my concern for you speaking."

"I forgive it," she said. "When we are alone, you may speak your mind. I need that, I think, to stay honest myself." She tilted her head. "Sir Cauth, why do you serve me?"

He hesitated. "Because you are our only hope," he replied.

"You believe that?"

"Yes."

"I wish you did not. I wish no one did."

He smiled thinly. "That's why you are worthy."

And then he went. She returned to the window to think.

Cazio as a knight of Mamres, at her side. Her knight, not one on loan from her mother. Cauth was right: She needed someone more than merely mortal, someone else touched by the saints.

A knight of the dark moon for the Born Queen, a woman's voice whispered. Anne didn't bother turning. She knew she would find no one there.

STEPHEN HAD SPENT months expecting Fend to kill him. Now that the moment had arrived, he felt that he had no right to be surprised, but there he was, watching in frozen shock as the kneeling Sefry's blade came free of its ancient sheath. Stephen tried to back away, but of course he was sitting down in a chair carved of granite. He wondered if the guards behind him were rushing toward the assassin or if they were part of the plot. He wondered if Fend would kill Zemle, too, and hoped not.

The weapon darted toward him-and stopped. Stephen realized that it was the hilt end and that the one-eyed Sefry was holding the blade in his black-gloved hand.

The shock passed through him, pulling rage in its wake.

"What?" he heard himself snap. "What the sceat-" He cut himself off. "Sceat" was not a word he used. In the dialect he had grown up speaking, it wasn't even a word. No, he'd gotten that from Aspar White, and his Oostish brogue.

He swallowed, feeling the anger already replaced by relief.

"What is this, Fend?" he asked, more controlled.

Fend's eye glittered. "I understand we aren't the best of friends," he began.

Stephen coughed a mirthless laugh. "No, we're not," he affirmed.

"But you are Kauron's heir, and I am the Blood Knight. It is my duty to serve you. But since your distrust for me stops you doing what you must, I see I will serve you best by letting another bear this sword and wear my armor."

"You're the Blood Knight because you drank the blood of the waurm," Stephen said, "not because of those arms. And the waurm is dead."

"The waurm's blood is still quick in mine," Fend said. "So drive this sword into my heart, collect my blood, and feed it to a champion you like."

Stephen stared at the hilt of the weapon and, almost without thinking, took hold of it. He felt dizzy and odd and thought he smelled something sharp and dusty.

Killing Fend seemed like a good idea. The man was a murderer many times over. He nearly had killed Aspar, had treated Winna with great cruelty, and had had a hand in the slaughter of two young princesses.

Oddly, Stephen found himself reviewing those facts without much passion. The best reason to kill Fend was that he, Stephen, could rest easier at night. He shrugged and started to thrust.

What am I doing? he suddenly wondered, and stopped.

"Pathikh?" Fend gasped.

Stephen felt a little smile play on his lips. He'd frightened Fend. He had frightened Fend. He dropped the tip of the weapon.

"I don't believe you," Stephen said.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't believe you're willing to sacrifice your life for a higher purpose. I think you expect to get something out of this or, rather, more out of it, since the waurm's blood has already made you something more than you were. No, Fend, you have a goal, and it isn't to die."

"I've offered you my life," Fend said.

"What happens when I stab the Blood Knight? I don't know. I've seen a man that no blade can kill."