"About the blond? I suppose." She didn't look at him. "You really didn't feel anything for her, did you? Or for the others over the years."

"No."

"I almost wish you had."

"I know."

Serena looked at him finally, finding his firelit face drawn and grim. She could feel his tension, and he still had that braced stiffness of a man awaiting a blow of some kind. Hesitantly but truthfully she said, "Sometimes I had the sense there was something lacking in you, something missing, but I didn't want to believe it."

"Now you know it's true." Merlin's brief smile didn't touch his eyes. "God forgive me, I never felt very much about anyone in my life until you came along. I even treated both my parents with the distant courtesy of strangers. Perhaps I can one day make amends with my father-if he permits it, of course, and he probably won't-but I'll never have the chance to tell my mother how sorry I am that I wasn't a better son."

Serena got to her feet and went around the fire to kneel beside him. She felt a bit diffident, but since he seemed willing to talk, she had to take advantage of the opportunity. The only way she could get close to him was to make the attempt. "This isolation you're describing-it's more than a taboo against women, isn't it?"

Recalling his discussion with Tremayne, Merlin nodded. He turned slightly to face Serena, wishing she didn't look so alluring in the firelight. Just the sight of her caught at his breathing and made his heart beat faster. It was difficult to think, especially when he remembered so vividly how her erotic lips felt under his, but he wasn't willing to do anything to risk disturbing this interlude of honesty.

"Wizards have always been solitary creatures, holding others at a distance emotionally. In our time it's especially true; all the other wizards I know are nearly emotionless, and I… I'm not much better." He shrugged. "Perhaps it's because power is such a dangerous thing and ours can escape us if we aren't careful, or because so much of what we are is inside us and has to be controlled so strictly. Whatever the reason, our inward gaze makes it all but impossible to reach out to others. And when we do, the contact tends to be very shallow, casual, and more than a little dispassionate."

Frowning, she said, "We never see ourselves dearly, but I don't think I'm like that. Am I?"

"No, you aren't. You reach out to others easily and often, Serena; that's obvious from the number of friends you have in Seattle."

"Then why am I different? I'm a wizard, too."

"Judging by what we've observed here, being a woman may have something to do with it. The female wizards here seem more able to accept friendships and are less wary with each other than the males I've encountered." He remembered Varian's seemingly endless number of sons, all of whom had displayed loyalty to, and fear of, their father but had clearly viewed one another with a strong suspicion despite being related by blood. There was a revolt just waiting for the right moment, Merlin thought, then brushed the memory aside to concentrate on answering Serena's question.

"But I believe there's another reason, as well. The first sixteen years of your life weren't influenced by the formal, rigid training that I and most other wizards of our time were expected to endure. By the time you came to me, much of your personality was already set, unaffected by ancient laws or beliefs and restrained by nothing except your innate self-control."

He smiled slightly. "You were like a breath of fresh air in my life, Serena. You were willing to work hard and wanted with every fiber of your being to be a wizard-yet at the same time you had no intention of being only a wizard. You questioned the rules and turned many of the ancient customs upside down, and generally maddened me. However emotionless I'd been trained to be, my composure was attacked on all sides by your intensity and enthusiasm."

She couldn't help smiling back at him. "Should I apologize for that?"

"No." Seriously he added, "It will no doubt take you longer to reach your full potential as a wizard than it would have if you had begun the training as a child, but in the end you'll be a much better wizard than I am in many ways. You have the gift of humanity, Serena, and that's something no amount of learning or training can produce."

She wanted to cry suddenly, but managed to sniff back the tendency. Seeing Merlin in this new and definitely more vulnerable light was both unnerving and moving; he knew there was something lacking in him, something she possessed in abundance, and he was willing to be honest about that with her. She hadn't dared to hope he would let her in like this. Before she could speak, he went on quietly.

"If you hadn't come into my life, I would probably never have noticed anything missing. But you did. And while I tried to teach you how to be a wizard, you taught me about things I hadn't even realized I needed to know."

What could she say to that? A bit unsteadily she murmured, "I usually felt terribly ignorant and frustrated when I couldn't do the things that seemed to come so easy to you."

"I know." He reached over and touched her cheek lightly, just a fleeting contact, and the hard, firelit planes and angles of his face seemed to soften. "But if you only knew how astonishing you've always seemed to me. Serena, you're impatient and emotional and sometimes wildly erratic, and you haven't been in training even half your life-yet your accomplishments are nothing short of incredible. You're going to be a Master wizard, probably seventh degree, and if it takes you a little longer to achieve that level, the difference will be that when you get there, you'll be complete. Whole. With nothing lacking."

Serena drew a breath, surprised by the tribute. "I never knew what you thought about my abilities."

"No. I kept my beliefs to myself. If you had known, you would have tried to use them against me."

She started to object, but her indignation was shortlived. "I probably would have at that," she admitted somewhat ruefully. "It always was hell trying to get my way when you were opposed to something I wanted to do."

"If it's any comfort, your attempts were always charming rather than petulant, and I consider it a character-building exercise that I was able to withstand you."

His dry tone made her laugh, but it was a brief sound of amusement. All during the conversation she had been trying to figure out what was wrong. He was being astonishingly open and honest with her, which definitely gave her hope, and yet he was still restrained-not guarded exactly, but as if he was waiting for something unpleasant to happen. Serena was almost sure it wasn't because he had to fight to make himself drop his guard with her. This was something else.

"Richard, what's the matter? I mean, I'm glad we can be so honest with each other finally, but… what is it you aren't telling me? Why are you so tense?"

He turned his head to gaze into the fire, avoiding her eyes, and countered her question with careful words of his own. "Down in the ruins I felt you pull back, and I could see the restraint in your eyes. The reluctance. Then you asked about the blond as if she'd been on your mind all along, and it seemed to me you were horrified by what you heard when I answered your questions. So I can't help wondering if… anything… has changed for you."

"Did you think it would?"

"It crossed my mind." His lips twisted slightly, and he continued to gaze into the fire.

Serena stared at his profile, aware that his tension was greater now. But he had surprised her, and it took her a moment or so to find her voice. "Do you really believe love is so fragile? Richard, if finding out you have the ability to take away my powers wasn't enough to change how I feel about you, how could anything else do it?"