At the least, he’d consider holding her for ransom. The rest of you don’t have that kind of protection. Bannier may do you harm just to spite me. I couldn’t bear that, Erin.”

Erin stood abruptly and walked away, turning her back to him. “This may be my last chance to see you, Gaelin. I know it’s dangerous, but please don’t send me away.”

He moved over to where she stood, hugging her arms to her body, and gently turned her to face him, resting his hands on her shoulders. The rain streamed down her face and plastered her hair to her skin. It made her look pale, fragile, as if all the barriers she created between herself and the outside world had been washed away. Beneath Erin’s graceful and confident facade, Gaelin caught a glimpse of the frightened girl. His heart ached at her haunted eyes, and without thinking he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “Swear to me you’ll be careful. That no matter what happens to me, you’ll still be safe.”

She leaned against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. “Gaelin, I don’t know if I can,” she said.

“It’s the only way you can stay near me. I’ll do what I have to do. Just promise me there’s a reason for me to hope, that somewhere you’re alive and well.”

Erin didn’t reply. They held each other for a long moment, as water ran from their cloaks and ran in icy trickles beneath their clothes, and then it was time to head back and ride on.

Before they left, Gaelin kissed her again, and Erin responded with fire, locking her arms around his broad shoulders for a brief moment that seemed to last forever.

They continued for about fifteen miles more that day, p ressing on until sundown. That night, they camped in the w reckage of an old freehold in the shadow of a steep-sided hill crowned with bare rock. The place had been deserted for decades, but the signs of a bloody fight or raid could still be found – doors kicked off their hinges, stone blackened with soot from a fire, a half-dozen stone cairns marked with goblin runes in the field behind the house. It seemed an ill omen, but no one complained about sleeping with cover over their heads.

After an unappealing dinner of hardtack and a bit of cold rabbit stew, Gaelin and his companions sought their bedrolls.

The day’s hard travel had tired everyone – no one was inclined to sit up around the small fire and make small talk.

Gaelin fought off his drowsiness long enough to pull out a whetstone and sharpen his blade, just in case he might need it soon. The smooth repetition and scrape of stone on steel sometimes steadied his mind and helped him to think. When he finished, he applied a light touch of oil from a flask at his scabbard. He stood, stretched, and stepped outside for a breath of air before seeking his bedroll.

The rain had slackened to a fine mist, and the night was cool and wet on his face. He drew in a deep breath, checking over the position of the sentries. Then he noticed that Seriene and Erin were standing nearby, engaged in a quiet but forceful discussion. Against his better judgment, Gaelin took two quiet steps to draw within earshot.

“Don’t you see what you’re doing to him?” Seriene was saying. “He loves you, and it’s tearing him to pieces.” Her voice seemed to catch in the darkness. “I beg you, Erin. You know that there can’t be anything for you and Gaelin in a long romance.”

“Can I help the way he feels?” Erin answered. “Or the way I feel? I can’t walk away from him, Seriene.”

“Erin, you have to. If you care for him as much as you say you do, you can’t let him wreck Mhoried by falling in love with you.”

Erin’s voice was bitter. “It would certainly be convenient for you if I abandoned the fight.”

Gaelin knew that he should slip away before they noticed him, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

“What if you had no rival, Erin? You’re a commoner, unblooded.

Mhoried is a grand duchy, and Gaelin must someday find a queen. Would you still hold his love, knowing that someday he must find a wife and raise children to continue the Mhoried line? Have you thought that far ahead?”

“What about you, Seriene? Would you love him if he had already won his kingdom back? If you didn’t know that he may be gone in a few weeks, if things go badly?” Erin paced away, her arms crossed in front of her. “Are you just infatuated with him?”

Seriene was quiet for a long time. “I’ve never met anyone like him,” she said at last. “Erin, you’re ruining Gaelin’s chance to be happy, and mine as well. He can’t rule his own heart – no man can. You must show him you aren’t interested.”

“What if I can’t?” Erin retorted, fire in her voice. “I’m not strong enough to deny my feelings.”

“Then you must leave. Not right now, but sometime soon.

If you truly care for him, Erin, you’ll understand you can’t keep his heart. It will hurt less if you do it sooner instead of later.” Seriene settled into the logic of her argument. “You know it must be this way,” she added.

Erin paced anxiously, a dark shape against the dim sky. She did not speak, but she hugged her arms tightly around her body, as if containing a violent outburst. Gaelin strained to listen closer, but she remained silent. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she turned away. “I’ll go,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Erin. You’re doing the right – ”

“Don’t thank me, Seriene. I’m not doing it for you.” Erin squared her shoulders and wheeled toward the open fields.

Gaelin fled just in time, retreating to the campfire. He took out his whetstone and set to work on his sword, ignoring the fact that it was perfectly honed already. When Erin and Seriene came back inside about a quarter-hour later, neither even glanced at him. Gaelin abandoned the field altogether and retreated to the small chamber he’d appropriated for his own, a little way from the crowded main hall.

He found it difficult to sleep, and tossed and turned restlessly for an hour or more before falling into a fitful doze. In the middle of the night, Gaelin found himself lying awake, listening to the soft rain falling against the ruined roof. He could hear water trickling through the old beams and stones of the building. The moon had risen late, and a dim silver halo illuminated the room, barely penetrating the endless clouds overhead. Gradually, his eyes became accustomed to the light, and he lay back tracing patterns of light and shadow with his eyes.

A furtive movement by the chamber’s entrance caught his attention. Strangely, he was not alarmed; there was a dreamlike quality in his awareness, as if he still slept and only imagined that he was awake. He turned his head to look at the doorway. Erin crept into the room, moving with the silence of a falling leaf. She stopped a little distance short of his blankets, surprised to find him awake. Then, quite deliberately, she disrobed as he watched, until she stood revealed to his eyes, her long, slender body gleaming silver in the moonlight.

She kneeled beside his pallet, gazing at his face. “We’ll reach Caer Duirga tomorrow,” she whispered. “We may never have this time again.”

Gaelin sat up, leaning on one elbow. He let his eyes drink in her beauty, the soft curves and the fiery passion in her face.

She glimmered in the moonlight, like one of the fabled queens of the Sidhelien. His heart thundered in his chest.

“Erin, I – ” He swallowed and tried again. “What did you and Seriene – ”

She leaned forward, placing her fingers on his lips.

“Shhhh. There’s nothing to say.” Slipping beneath the blanket, she drew his face close to hers and kissed him with fierce abandon.

Some time later, they lay quietly with their limbs tangled together, listening to the rain without speaking. There were all sorts of reasons why he shouldn’t have made love to her.

It was cruel of him to accept her love when he knew he could be dead in a matter of days; he had nothing to offer her except struggle and risk, and even if he recovered Mhoried, it was inconceivable he could marry a half-elf with no lands or titles of her own. Yet all these objections seemed insubstantial as he listened to her heart beating, close to his own. For the first time in a long time, Gaelin felt at peace.