Storm often ran to the hidden garden gate in the morning to see if Jacob had left a note for her. Many times, she would find not only a note, but a single rosebud or some other trinket as well. But it was with a terrible foreboding on that fateful day after the fight in the village that she went to the gate. It was then that she found the note that had started her on the path that she now followed.

And to think - this all started with a single piece of paper.

"It didn't have to be that way," Jacob replied. "It could have been different, your Jacob could have responded differently..."

"But he didn't." Storm stared at him through the flickering flames of the campfire.

"I guess I just don't see how a single incident could change your life so completely - "

"Then you've obviously never had a beloved throw you over before," Storm stated.

"No, I haven't," he said with a rueful, self-mocking smile. "I always swore that I'd never fall in love and give anyone a chance to do that to me. I guess there are some things that you just can't stop from happening."

With that, he leaned over, pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

Storm started awake in her bedroll, the rising sun shining in her eyes.

Wonderful. Bring him along to calm your disturbing dreams, and start having dreams that are disturbing in an entirely different way. You are a piece of work, Storm.

She sighed and sat up, turning to gaze at where her traveling partner was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the fire.

I must admit, these past three weeks I have seen a lot more pleasant dreams. I can thank you for that, at least. But somehow I don't think you'd appreciate the compliment.

She shook her heavy hair out of her eyes and climbed out of the bedroll, pausing a moment to stretch, standing in the morning light and arching her back, her arms raised over her head. She dropped her arms back to her sides and straightened to meet his appreciative gaze. Suddenly remembering her dream and thoughts of a few moments before, she flushed and glanced away, hoping he would attribute her blush to the dawn light.

"What a sight to wake up to," he chuckled, "I wish I could every day."

"What, a woman with messy hair and in desperate need of a bath? Whatever for?"

He shook his head and answered "No, a woman with beautifully mussed hair making herself comfortable. Now, as for the bath, I agree. Here's your towel," he tossed her one from her pack, "and the stream is thataway."

She laughed at his shooing motion and moved down the path toward the stream. Just before their campsite disappeared over the hill, she called back, "Alright, just for that crack, you get to make breakfast!"

Storm heard him cursing her good-naturedly all the way to the stream.

When she returned, she found Jacob finishing off a plate of bacon and travelbread that had been toasted over the fire. She stood behind him a moment then stepped forward.

"Hey, didn't you leave any for me?"

He jumped, then spun around in surprise. "Goddess, Storm, don't do that to me!" he exclaimed.

She smiled and moved forward to where she now saw her own plate warming by the fire. "Being quiet comes in handy occasionally."

"I guess so. But not when it gives your friends heart attacks!" he grinned.

"It's useful for sneaking up behind men who have egos so big that they think they can hear anything coming."

"Hey now, it was only that once... and besides, she wasn't dangerous!" Jacob protested.

Storm flashed him a grin. "Maybe not, but that little flower-girl could have been an armed and armored warrior for all the attention you were showing to your surroundings, even if it was in town. By the way, thanks for breakfast."

"You are welcome - and it was in town. I didn't think I needed to be alert! Besides, didn't you promise not to bring it up?" He asked plaintively.

She grinned even wider at the faint note of embarrassment in his voice. "Well, if you hadn't been paying so much attention to that dancing-girl, I wouldn't have anything to tease you about, now would I?"

"Gypsy. She was a gypsy. And I'm sure that you'd find something else," Jacob reported with a put-upon sigh. "Oh, the trials I face..."

"Yes, you've lived a hard life," she said while cleaning the plates, "growing up in a close, loving family. Never had to worry about a roof over your head, or food on your table. Quite a hardship." Despite her best efforts to keep it lighthearted, Storm couldn't keep a note of bitterness out of her voice.

"Maybe I did," he responded, his voice betraying his hurt, "but I had them for such a short time. You never really notice how much you lean on family until they're gone."

Storm stopped dead in the act of replacing the dishes in the saddlebags. Moving to where he sat on the other side of the fire, she sat beside him and attempted to apologize. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just..."

"That you've been around and seen what the average person has to deal with. The ones that didn't have my small protections of wealth and rank. I know. I've been there too." He shook his head and met her eyes. "I'm a minstrel. I've seen the poor ones in the streets, the dirty, hungry children, the sickly elderly... I understand what you meant. It's just that... what you said reminded me of my loss. Most of the time I can deal with it, but," Jacob smiled, feebly, "I just woke up. I'm not a morning person."

Storm smiled back. "Neither am I. Really, though, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you..."

"No, I'm sorry. For all I know, you may have grown up on the streets. You may be speaking from personal experience, and I have no right to sound so condescending." He shook his head.

"In truth," Storm said slowly, "I grew up in a Manor house, the daughter of a very successful merchant. But that is neither here nor there, and we have to get moving if we're going to make SilverSprings before sunset." She rose and drew a towel from his pack. "Here," she handed it to him, "it's your turn to bathe. I'll finish breaking camp."

He nodded, and accepted the towel. She smiled at him as he started off down the trail. He hesitated just before disappearing over the hill and called back, "Thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome," Storm answered and heard him continue on his way. "And thank you," she whispered to the pack she held, "For everything." she finished, dashing the tears from her eyes. Gazing at her wet fingertips, Storm wondered why she was crying.

Both of them were silent except for necessary conversation for the next several hours, each wrestling with their own thoughts and memories. Jacob was the first to break the silence, in an effort to lighten the somber mood that overshadowed the morning.

"Well, if you are highborn," he asked her soon after the noon meal, "why are you doing this? Why aren't you playing court mage to some Duke or Sire instead of wandering the roads?"

Storm paused a moment for thought before answering.

"For a lot of reasons, in truth. I am a mage, but by the time that I learned about my Gift, I was already too old to be enrolled in a mage-school. I still might have been accepted because of the strength of my Gift, if it weren't for my father - but that's another story. As for the Sire or Duke - my father would have forbidden all the Sires to house me, none of my father's friends would have me, and I didn't dare go to his enemies." She rose in her stirrups to peer down the road ahead.

"Wait a minute... your 'father's friends'? I thought he was a merchant - are you telling me that you father was a Duke?" Jacob gazed at her in shock. "Milady, forgive me for being so bold - "

"And I'm a Duchess, and your reaction is exactly the reason nobody knows that little tidbit of information." Storm said with a grin. "As for being so bold - regretting some comments now that you know I could ride up to anyone in the next town and order you beheaded?"

"Comments and thoughts," he replied, smiling, "I guess I deserved that."

"You most certainly did." she laughed. "Before this, all you just had to worry about was dodging my blade!"

"A nearly impossible task, I assure you, milady." He bowed to her from his saddle. "A blade so sharp and fast never has been seen before - "

"Oh, stop before you compose a ballad on the spot," Storm swung playfully at him.

"Just thought I'd remind you of all the court dandies you left behind," Jacob replied with his ever-present grin.

"Please, don't," she said with a smile, attempting to remain lighthearted.

He saw shadows enter her eyes, and concerned, asked, "What's wrong?"

"One of the major reasons I'm not a reliable mage was one of those courtiers you so casually imitate," Storm answered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."

"Don't worry about it, Jacob." she smiled at him. "It was a long time ago."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

She sighed. "It might help you understand why I was so adamant at first about not helping you, and partially explain my quick change of mind afterward. I guess that I feel that I have to atone for past actions."

"I was wondering why you changed your mind," he responded.

"Well, it all fell apart, I guess you might say, one fall morning," Storm began.

It had been a long summer, and longer autumn, and everyone had been frantically preparing for the winter they knew was coming. However, as the fall planting was finished, the extra workers (who would usually be assisting with snow-clearing, wood-cutting and other winter duties), had nothing to do but await the coming snow. This made for good business with alehouses, but made for bad news for the town as tempers wore thin. Not surprisingly, several fights broke out, but none as serious as the one that commenced the day Storm and her father made their formal visit from the Manor.

Storm had been seeing Jacob regularly for several months, and they had decided, based on her father's expected reaction, to pretend nothing had changed until he found a job earning enough money to take them so far away from the Manor that the Duke would never find them. Since her mother had died before bearing a son and her father refused to remarry, for myriad reasons that he refused to share, Storm was the Duke's sole heir. That was the reason she was with him now, as he was instructing her in her duties as Duchess. Storm, assuming she would be long gone and married to Jacob before then, wasn't paying much attention. As such, she was the first to notice the disagreement as it spilled onto the street in front of the Duke's raised dais.

"Milord Father," she said, not taking her eyes from the action, "something's happening."

He turned in the direction of her gaze and stated dryly, "You always did have a knack for understatement. You inherited that from your mother." He gestured at the guards surrounding the dais to investigate.

A contingent spread out and moved toward the Block and Kettle tavern purposely, while the remaining troops tightened their formation. The Duke lost interest almost immediately and returned to his majordomo, who continued with his recitation as if there had been no interruption. Storm was about to turn back to her father when she suddenly noticed a familiar face in the crowd. There, in the middle of the fight, was Jacob, arguing furiously with another man.

He was gesturing wildly, his voice raised so that Storm could almost hear it. The other man was yelling just as loudly, shaking his head in negation with whatever Jacob was saying while at the same time leaning forward menacingly. She watched with shock as Jacob, his face distorted in anger, punched the other man. He fell back in the crowd, disappearing for a moment, then surged forward, something in his hand flashing in the sun. A knife.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Peripherally, Storm heard the angry roar of her father as he shouted orders to his guards, who were surging forward to prevent the inevitable. She saw the knife descending toward her beloved's heart as he stumbled back. And she did the only thing she could - she threw her hand forward as if to stop the blade. With it, she flung the power that she felt swell with her fear.

A lightning bolt exploded from her fingertips, surging toward the knife, shattering it into a million pieces.

Silence fell over the town square as the knife's owner collapsed, senseless but unhurt, to the ground. Jacob turned to stare at Storm, embarrassment and fear warring for control on his face. He turned and stumbled to Theri, collapsing in her arms. Storm didn't even have time to register the smugly triumphant smile the woman gave her before the Duke's deadly-cold voice came to her ears.

"Home. Now."

The Duke stayed in the village while Storm was sent home in disgrace, although she didn't yet know it. She was in a daze, induced by the amount of power that she had used. She didn't even remember most of the ride home, the bulk of her father's guards surrounding her. All she could think of was Jacob's face, and Theri's victory.

I shouldn't have done that, she thought, the memory of his face coloring her mind. He hates me now. I embarrassed him. But I had to. I couldn't just... let him die.

She looked up to find that they had arrived at the Manor. Storm dismounted from her palfrey and entered, going straight to her room. There she stayed until her father returned.

"It never occurred to me to consider how I was able to throw lightning until the Duke demanded to know where I learned that. He sounded like," Storm laughed bitterly, "like he was ready to kill someone. Which he probably would have done, if I could have given him a name."

Jacob was silent for a moment before responding.

"Why was he so angry?"

"That I don't know. And I don't suppose that I'll ever find out for sure. I have a couple of ideas, but," she shrugged, "they're malicious family rumors at best, and I don't want to give you a bad impression of me."

"Storm, you know that I'd never think badly of you because of something that someone in your family may or may not have done," he said softly.

She heard the tender note in his voice and glanced at him. He was gazing at her with a slight, almost self-mocking smile. Storm looked down quickly, an unconscious smile curving her lips in response.

"Well, if you don't mind hearing family secrets..." she said with a laugh, trying to put the conversation back on 'just friends' ground.

"Not at all, if you don't mind spilling them," he grinned, taking her cue and breaking his intense gaze. "I'm always up for some juicy gossip!"

"Well, there were a lot of rumors going around after I left the Manor, and naturally those led to rehashing of older ones. Some of those were about my mother. One of the most prevalent was she ran off with a mage that had been employed by the Duke."

Jacob laughed. "So that was why he was so upset about your Gift!"

"That's been my theory for a while now. That also would explain why he told me that she was dead, since he wouldn't want me to 'get any ideas'." Storm smiled with amusement. "She also had a touch of Mage-Gift herself, so the story goes."

"You know," he stated slowly, "that may also explain why he refused to remarry. He might not have wanted to trust another woman."

She looked at him seriously, hearing the note of truth in his voice. "I've thought the same thing myself. It would explain much about the way he acted around women, myself included." Storm shrugged. "Well, whatever the reason, he didn't trust me. Especially after that day." Taking a deep breath against the memories, she continued.

Storm was aware when the Duke arrived back at the Manor by the disturbance of the servants. She could hear them whispering to one another, warning to stay out of his way. Storm's maid, upon hearing the Duke's heavy footfalls on the stair, turned white, knowing that it boded ill for any servant caught in Milord's wrath. Storm sat up in bed, determined to meet him on equal ground. When the door to her bedchamber was flung open to slam against the wall (making even the heavy windows shudder in their frames), Storm realized just how foolish that assumption was.

WHO TAUGHT YOU TO DO THAT?" he roared. When no answer was forthcoming, he advanced on her, face red with rage. He had no need to explain what - they both knew that he was referring to the disply in the village.

Storm shrank back against the wall, bewildered. She had thought that her father would be demanding to know how she knew Jacob. "No-nobody t-t-taught me," she chattered, terrified of the advancing Duke.

"Nobody?" he shouted, stalking forward to close the distance between them. "Oh, and I supposed that nobody used Mage-powers in the square today!" he grasped her shoulders in an iron-hard grip, pulling her roughly from where she cowered on the bed. "Tell me!" he screamed into her face, shaking her violently.

Storm was peripherally aware of her maidservant giving a terrified eeep and darting from the room. "I d-didn't know I c-c-could do t-that," she said as best she could while he was shaking her.

The Duke stopped suddenly and glared into her eyes. Apparently he believed what he saw in her wide, frightened, silver ones, for he let go abruptly and stalked to the other side of the room. She sank down onto a nearby chaise lounge in shock.

"Silver," he snarled, "I should have known. Just like your mother's eyes... just like his." The Duke whirled suddenly, staring at Storm like he had seen a ghost. "You look just like him," he said under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear. She paid no attention, her mind still swirling with shock. Seeming suddenly to come to himself, Storm's father advanced on her once more. "Why did you interfere? My guards would have taken care of the fight. Or," he sneered, looming over her like Death himself, "did you do it to save one of your friends' boyfriends?"

Storm glanced up at him, eyes blank as she suddenly remembered Theri, and her triumphant smile. "Theri," she whispered, pain clawing at her.

The Duke, taking the whispered name as a confession, nodded, and with anger still clouding his face, turned smartly on one heel and stormed out of her bedchamber, slamming the door behind him. The echoes bounced like the leaden sound of a tomb door closing forever.

Theri, her confused mind whispered. Theri, who was Storm's rival. Theri, who was Jacob's other love.

Theri.... Jacob's wife.

Storm sighed, lost in the memories. Jacob glanced at her, then kneed his horse closer.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crystal-blue eyes betraying his worry. He placed a hand on her horse's reins, pulling the mare to a halt.

She smiled up at him. "I'll be all right," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "It helps to tell all this to a neutral party."

"Well," he murmured quietly, "not entirely neutral..."

She glanced at him with a warm smile, lips parted to thank him. Her words died unsaid as his eyes caught hers. She was suddenly trapped in a web of emotion, where eyes and hearts said more than words could ever express. The horses were standing very close together, and before Storm knew what was happening, Jacob had leaned over the saddlebow and took her into his arms. She closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, the feeling of his arms around her filling her with warmth. Suddenly, Storm suddenly came to her senses and jerked backwards out of the embrace.

"No," she gasped, "No, Jacob, I can't. I...." She trailed off when she saw his face. The hurt and pain of rejection were all to evident, and she instinctively reacted to soothe him. "Jacob, I didn't..."

"No, it's fine," he replied, his expression closing her out. "You have someone else. I'm not your type. Whatever. I understand. I was wrong...." he glanced away. "No. No, we both wanted that. I saw it in your eyes. I felt it. Dammit woman, you responded to me! What kind of excuse do you have?!"

He stopped dead when he caught a glimpse of her face as she turned away. "Oh, Goddess, Storm, I didn't mean that...."

"You have to hear the rest of my story," she cut him off, "if you're ever going to understand."

The morning after the fight, Storm found the letter. She had gone to the garden hoping for some word from Jacob, and her heart had leaped for joy when she saw the white square pinned to the wrought-iron gate. She had read it twice, not believing that he, her beloved Jacob, would cast her off. Storm had dropped the note, weeping, in the grip of emotions so much stronger than she had ever before experienced. At last, her grief spent, she lay on the ground and stared at the light slowly fading in the east.

"'Rest assured my future wife and I will leave town, so as not to be any inconvenience to you and your moving on with your life. Do not worry for me...' You bastard. You bloody bastard. As if I would care how you are. How dare you... How dare you leave me?!" She screamed to the uncaring sky. She pulled herself to her feet and gazed to the east, where she knew he had gone. How she knew, she wasn't sure - but she knew.

"I will hunt you down," she said through clenched teeth. "I will hunt you down, wherever you have fled - and I will make you pay. This I swear." She raised both arms to the sky in supplication. "Do you hear me? To the ends of the Earth I will hunt you - I swear before the Old Gods where they lay!" She howled to the wind. She flung her arms outward as crackling energy ran down them both and exploded from her fingertips, shearing off the foliage in a ten-foot radius on either side of her. Almost as an afterthought she turned, and with the unbridled power of her untrained magic alone, shattered the century old wrought-iron gate into a thousand pieces.

Storm slunk back into the Manor that night long after full dark had fallen. She had been making plans in the ruined garden, knowing that she would not be missed. The Duke would think she was still in her room, and the servants would be afraid to come near either of them, especially after they heard about her 'display' in the village. So she walked into her room unnoticed, gathering her clumsy skirts around her to quiet her steps. When she walked back out ten minutes later, she was dressed in riding breeches and a tunic she had stolen from one of the Duke's young pages long ago in preparation for running away with Jacob. On her back was a small pack with a change of clothing, the ring that her Jacob had given her, and a miniature of her mother in a unadorned silver frame. She walked down the stairs and out the servants' entrance, stopping only once to fill her pack with dried fruit and travel-rations from the kitchen, and to add a full canteen of water to her ensemble.

She went down the path to the nearest village, hoping to be there by full daylight and to find a jeweler to buy Jacob's ring. At the top of the rise, she stopped to look back at her father's Manor, where she had spent seventeen years of her life. Storm smiled gave the House an ironic salute as it crouched like a dark bird of prey, with the lightening sky in the background heralding false dawn.