Author's Note: This is a non-character story, and is mostly intended to give more history on Arhyn and establish a bit more of the realms of Senoth *in particular, the far harbor*. Enjoy!

Her Past

Becky Farris

The sea had never looked so beautiful, the deep aqua waves tinged with turquoise and white sea foam, punctuated with a deeper indigo and green. The beach itself was a shining copper, polished and smoothed by the waves until it looked like fine silk.

Arhyn stood upon the cliffs, her gaze half on the sea and half on the harbor below and away from her. The day was fairly warm, but she held her crimson cloak about her as if the breeze held promises of winter.

Cliffs was rather a loose term. She was at the highest point of them, and was no more than a hundred or so feet from the sand and waves below. From where she was, the ground sloped gently down to the road that led from town to the harbor, which was almost a small town in itself. Clusters of brown, salted buildings started several hundred yards along the road before actually reaching what could be termed the shore, formed of many stores, inns, and businesses that relied on the daily intake and outflow of fishing vessels and merchanter ships in the harbor.

Senoth, like any other kingdom and city, had its share of crime, and here was where most of it was located. Drunken brawls broke out daily in the harbor taverns and inns. Men disputing over the price or freshness of fish may come to blows, if temperatures heated enough. Men from other lands might enter the harbor with chips on their shoulders or ideas in their heads; attempting, perhaps, to run from authorities in other kingdoms and hoping to blend in here where they wouldn't be expected. They rarely counted on the harbor master; or rather, that he would be so efficient at his job.

He had a way of calming those firing tempers over the fish stall with but a few words. He had a way of making even the most drunk and staggering man straighten and do his best to walk straight when he passed, for fear of spending a night in the harbor's small prison. He had a way of scenting those on the run, those who came into town with the idea of establishing less than proprietous business or with the idea of taking advantage the poorer man's purse. More often than not a fugitive thinking himself lost in the crowds of the harbor would find the dock master standing in his path, two of the harbor guards nearby fingering swords, and find himself on a ship right back home.

He was an incredible man. He was a firm and much respected man. After a single conversation with him most people tended to forget that he was not quite five feet tall.

"I shouldn't be here."

The voice turned Arhyn's head slightly, shifting her focus from the contemplation of harbor and sea to the master himself. He approached her along the cliff from the road, his old dull mail and dark clothing almost a sin in light of the sun and warmth. As much of a sin as Arhyn's cloak, perhaps. He approached her alone, casually. Neither of them had anything to fear from the other. Both were long acquaintances. Both were firmly loyal to the crown. Both deeply respected the other.

"I shouldn't be here." He repeated, drawing to a halt and looking himself out over the sea, rubbing a rough hand over the gray stubble on his chin. "I should be down there, breaking up fights and keeping the drunkards in line."

"I know your time is valuable, Wedge." She said with a small smile, knowing his complaining was just his way of saying hello. "Thank you for this meeting."

He grunted, then finally deigned her with a look. His eyes sparkled with good humor. "What's all this about then, that the grand sorceress would stoop herself to visiting old salts like me?"

"Keep that up, and the old salt will find himself in the big salt." She teased right back. The humor did not last long; her eyes almost immediately turned serious. "Have you heard yet of the new policies decided by Her Majesty and the nobility?"

He hemmed with a half-hearted shrug. "Don't follow the goings of politics, normally. Got my own politics to deal with. I did well hearing that Her Majesty was back from the grave, truth be told. Good to hear; I always liked the little scrapper. She did nearly as well putting the fear of God into the brawlers at harbor as I did."

Arhyn told him of the appearance of the Elves at the coronation, and from the look in his eyes she suspected he knew more about it than he was letting on. He would have to be almost dead, not to. The news had been buzzed from one end of the kingdom to the other; the harbor would not have been missed. She told him anyway, including the proposed and accepted alliance with the Elven sovereignty and their allies to Senoth.

"Fanciful stuff." He replied, just as casual. He looked almost like he was going to fall asleep. Another might have been angered or put off by his attitude, but Arhyn well knew that the duller and more sleepy the master appeared, the more keenly he was considering what was being said. "Alliances with Immortals that have never even been seen by nearly every soul in Senoth. What has this to do with me?"

"You know as well as I that the harbor is Senoth's weakest spot." She replied. "Her Majesty is very concerned about the repercussions of her alliance with the Elves. She fears the angry retaliation by their ancient enemies, as well as those pompous leaders wishing to carve a name for themselves out of this treaty's hide. She fears it, and so do I. Attack by sea is a very probable concern, and one that needs to be addressed."

Wedge nodded gravely. "What does she wish done?"

"For the moment, she wishes a tighter rein on the comings and goings of those in the harbor. She and the Lord Marshall will dispatch more men to complement your harbor guard. And, of course, any arrival of any Immortal...of any race...must be immediately reported to the castle, and the arrivee treated with every courtesy."

"'Course." He replied. "As long as they obey the rules, I grant everyone courtesy. Anything else?"

"Not for now. Things are being discussed even as we speak for further measures. Her Majesty also requests any and all suggestions from her most trusted harbor master. She understands that your duties are such you cannot spare the time for a prolonged meeting with the nobility, but your opinions are greatly needed and appreciated."

"I will draw up an outline of any suggestions and send them to her by messenger." He agreed instantly. Arhyn smiled again, then looked out over the water.

"Why, do you suppose," She asked idly, "is it called the 'far harbor' of Senoth? There is no near harbor for it to be far harbor to."

"I'm not too sure myself," Wedge said, scratching his stubble again, every inch of his not quite five foot frame as straight and square as a man could make it. "Might as well ask why a bird is called a bird, and not something else."

It was her turn to hem, before she pulled her cloak close again, bowed her head slightly in his direction. "Thank you for your time, Wedge. I'll take my leave and let you back to your duties."

He placed his fist on his chest and bowed. "It was my honor, Arhyn. Tell Her Majesty it's good to have her back, and ask her when she plans on coming down to harbor whipping some shape into my lazy men."

"If all men were as lazy as yours, Wedge," Arhyn smiled, heading away. "The sin of sloth would no longer exist on God's record book."

She did not walk back along the road, but rather took the more direct route through the small wood to the castle. The coronation, only three days past now, was still heavy on her mind, as it was on nearly everyone's...even those who hadn't understood all the implications of what had been decided that day.

A very difficult decision had been placed before Bethany, and she had handled it the only way she really could have. Arhyn was proud of her for that, but the decision itself had been a no-win situation. There was a reason no mortal political body had allied with any Immortal body, or vice versa. The reason, no matter how colored, approached, addressed, or considered, boiled down to one simple fact.

Mortals could not survive an Immortal war.

Any group of mortals allying with any group of Immortals would gain their enemies as well, would be torn in the middle of conflict that made mundane wars look like a brawl between a pair of Wedge's worst drunks. Immortals knew this, which is why they kept their business to themselves; the good because they did not want to destroy the mortals in affairs they had no way of properly addressing, the evil because they did not want to lower themselves to working with such smelly, imperfect, blundering beings.

Things should have remained like that for the rest of eternity, but for one factor, one wild card, one kink in the fabric that no one had counted on.

That kink was Dugan.

Here was a threat to both kinds; a mortal man strong enough to threaten Immortals to the point even the High King of Elven had to sit up and pay attention. Arhyn understood Somer's dilemma as well as Bethany's; here he was faced with a mortal man who had hidden the people of his allies away from even the most powerful Immortal seers. Here was a mortal man who had not only captured two of his own people, but had drained them of their magic and had threatened them with a death no mortal should have been able to dish. Here was a man, mortal or not, that Somer literally had no conceivable power to do anything about.

Add into that, then, Desen's tale of how another mortal had thwarted Dugan enough to free those in his holding. What choice did Somer have? How else could he protect his people, to whom this man was a clear and present threat, than to ally with the only person who seemed capable of doing anything about it? He surely knew that he had put Bethany and Senoth in a tight and awkward spot, but it was no tighter or more awkward than his own. The alliance had not been comfortably given, nor comfortably received, but it was the only course possible at this point. Somer and his allies would do their best to protect Senoth and hers against their ancient foes, and in return Bethany would do her best to remove the threat that was Dugan...or at least understand him well enough that the Elves could formulate their own removal.

It should work...provided both parties involved survived the matter.

Dugan. Dugan. Dugan. Why did things always seem to come back to him?

She shook her head, pausing a moment against a tree and looking upward. The sunlight played on the leaves and fired the air emerald. The breeze here was cool and crisp, heady with the scent of soil and growing things.

She had not met Dugan until she was seventeen years old, but truly the events that had led her life to this spot had started when she was far, far younger than that. When she was but five years of age, and uncomprehending that such things as evil, as Dugan, could exist.

Her father's favorite riding horse had just foaled. Kann had been a bit shocked, in fact, to discover that she was to give birth. He had come into the house when her pregnancy had become undeniable and had spoken to his wife about it, while his five year old daughter played idly on the floor nearby.

"I don't understand it." He said. "I put her to stud with old Zip like I always do, but she fought the dickens out of him. Wouldn't even let him within ten feet of her. I figured she'd finally got too old for such things, had lost her temper for it."

"Could Zip have served her when you weren't paying attention?" Her mother asked. He shook his head.

"Wasn't just me there; Blake and Tommy as well were watching. I could have looked away, I suppose, but not all three of us at once. And not for as long as it would have taken."

"What about a loose horse?" Her mother asked, never once taking her mind off her cooking. "Could a free stallion have jumped the fence?"

"Possible, I suppose, but unlikely. Ain't no wilds around here, and I know all the local men who own ungelded stallions. If one had broke free, even for a night, I would have heard about it."

"Well, obviously something happened." Her mother pointed out unfailingly. "She didn't make herself pregnant, after all. Wait until she throws the colt; chances are it'll look like Zip; trust me. I'll bet you boys got to jawing and more time passed than you thought. Salt's never refused Zip."

Kann hmmed and said nothing more on it. Arhyn only ever remembered the conversation because he had mentioned Salt throwing a colt, and Arhyn loved it when one of her father's horses birthed.

The night that Salt threw, her father spent the night in the barn, the light of his lantern visible through the poorly moored slats. Arhyn stood up and watched the light until her mother found her up and firmly ordered her to bed. She lay for hours after that, praying that the foal would be a boy. Her father had too many stallions as it was, and he had promised her that if Salt's next was male he would geld it and give it over to his daughter as a riding horse. She was lost in daydreams about riding her very own horse like a princess when she finally slept, and the daydreams turned into real dreams.

The next morning, however, her father was oddly silent, his face curiously drawn. He came in for breakfast and hardly noticed when Arhyn squealed with joy and bounded over to hug his legs. "Is it a boy, Daddy?" She asked. "Is it my very own ridin' horse?"

He didn't answer her, which was not like Daddy at all. Her mother set down a plate, ordered her over to eat. "Your father is tired, Arhyn, don't pester him." She scolded.

Arhyn ate, burning up with questions but subdued by her father's odd mood. After she was finished she was shooed out, but she didn't go far. She crept back to the door to listen, knowing if her Daddy was going to tell anyone what the matter was, it would be Mommy.

"Did you lose it?" Her mother asked kindly, pouring her father a second cup of strong coffee.

"No," He replied after a moment. "No, the colt's fine."

Colt! He said colt! It was a boy! It was all Arhyn could do to keep from squealing her joy. She bit her fingers to keep silent.

"So what's the problem?" She asked.

"It's a bay." He replied. "Darndest thing. There aren't any bay stallions around. And Salt; she's got a temper on her but I've never known her to be so sassy about a foal, not to me. It was all I could do to see he was okay and that it was a he, before she was snapping at me."

"Salt snapped at YOU?" her mother was startled, and so was Arhyn. Salt hated nearly everyone, but she had never, ever snapped at Kann.

"She sure did. Mean too. If she'd caught me she'd have given me more than just a nip. I don't understand any of it."

"Well, finish up your coffee and then go lay up for a while. I'll make sure Arhyn knows not to go peeking and poking around Salt for a while. Last thing we need is a little girl bit or knocked senseless."

Her parents talking about how Salt had been mean to her father scared her, but not enough. She was eaten up with curiosity about the colt; it just wouldn't leave her alone. Her father had promised if it was male it was hers, and it was male. She wanted to see it, and the obsession with seeing it would not leave her.

That night, after her parents had retired, she made her decision. As quiet as a little girl could be she snuck out of the house, and padded out to the barn.

The straw was dry, and scratched her tender feet as she slunk into the dark building, running one hand along the rough wooden stalls as she counted them to Salt's dwelling. She got a splinter, and cried out in involuntary pain for an instant before popping the wounded finger into her mouth to suck on.

With the finger still resting on her tongue, she poked her head above the door to Salt's stall, standing on her well-scratched tiptoes as she peered in.

Salt had her back to the little girl, her speckled white and black rump a great moon rising over the hay. Her head was down and she made no noise; probably still fast asleep, although Arhyn had been less than quiet. Her gray tail twitched once, flicking away a dream fly. The little girl smiled.

The new colt was hard to see at first. After several moments of straining herself to see further over the door she finally grew brave enough to open it a crack. It squeaked, but only ever so slightly. Still, Salt's head came up and her ears perked as her wide nostrils dilated. Arhyn froze, in the complete manner only young children who were doing what they should not could manage. Finally, after many long moments, Salt drooped her head again, and was still.

Slowly, slowly, her curly brown hair dangling into her eyes, she edged her head around the opening she had made. She almost squealed again as her nose bumped something soft. Tiny, almond eyes looked at her softly in the dark.

She had found the colt.

Although he was small, so was Arhyn, and to her he looked enormous. Not so much as the impossible giant of Salt, but big enough to be daunting.

The moonlight fell through the stable window and lit his hide, shining the dull chestnut so that it appeared white. She stared at the little thing in awe, wondering that she had never seen something more beautiful in her life, and he was HERS.

His face was so delicate it seemed made of glass, the thin fur thereon as shiny as the newest silk. She'd only seen silk once. Her mother had worn a silk dress on the night the royal family had proceeded through town, and she imagined that this colt would feel much like that had. His color, without the moonlight, was a dark chestnut bay, his stiff little mane smoked with tan. He looked at her without fear, and she could not resist. She did not care that the monster Salt was standing not three feet away, her hooves as heavy as a black smith's hammers. She reached out a hand to the little thing.

The silk of his hide was even finer than she had imagined. It was rather like touching water, only her fingers didn't get wet. She stuck them in her mouth to make sure, but they were quite dry. She touched him again.

Arhyn ran her hand lightly up his nose, feeling him blow warm breath onto her palm, enjoying the way the fine hairs spread backwards as her touch ran against the grain. Then her hand stopped, resting on the wide space of forehead between his gemstone eyes.

A strange, waxy sort of surface was under her fingers. It felt like someone had melted a candle into a patch on his forehead, and she knit her eyebrows in confusion. Exploring, her finger found the edge of it and she idly plucked at it. A tiny portion of it peeled back.

She pulled her finger back, a touch of the wax clinging to her finger. She rubbed it over her thumb, then sniffed it. There was a faint odor, much like fresh strawberries. Wondering if it tasted like strawberries as well, she smeared her finger on her tongue. There was a faint taste, more of the hint of honey rather than fruit, but for the most part it was as bland and waxy as it felt. She reached out yet again, plucking at the patch still adhered to his head.

This time, she managed to peel the whole deal away, and regarded it in her palm. It wasn't much larger than a copper coin, thin and frail. She soon crumpled it into dust in her youthful carelessness, then wiped her hands off on her hips. She felt his forehead again, to see if any was left, when her fingers came into contact with a cold, smooth bump where the wax had been. It startled her, and she jerked her hand back. Salt, still woozey, began to stir, sensing something amiss. Arhyn swiftly closed the stall door and ran for the barn entrance, not stopping until she was tucking her wet, scratched, grass adorned feet back under her covers, drawing the doublet to her chin as her breath calmed.

The next morning she woke to a fury outside. Before she could even get out from under the blankets her mother was there, hauling her to her ample bosom and racing down the stairs, all the while praying and blessing herself. At first Arhyn thought she was frightened, but soon it became evident that, while there was fear, most of it was excitement. It so filled her, in fact, that it caused tears to course down the wears in her cheeks, and her face to flush as red as blood. Arhyn was still mostly asleep, and her mother's behavior was frightening to her. Little wonder that as they emerged on the porch that her face was just as wet and flushed.

There were three men she did not recognize standing outside the barn, talking fervently with her father, raising their arms in elaborate gestures and signs as they chattered. Despite the fact that they were men, they sounded to her like a bunch of barnyard hens who are settling down after catching sight of a dog or fox. Kann stood in their midst, looking pale as he glanced from the men to the barn door and back again. His hands were shaking.

"Mama, what's wrong?" she asked, still frightened. Maybe they had found out that she was in the barn last night. Maybe father was so angry with her that he wanted to give her promised colt to these men.

"The colt! The colt!" Was all her mother could say, and then she collapsed into her prayers again.

Had the colt died? He had seemed fine the previous night. Besides, Kann had lost a lot of colts. Surely if it had died, he would not be so worked up. It had to be something else.

Determined to find out, she squirmed to be put down, which her mother did, without thinking. Before she could stop her, Arhyn had raced off for the barn, to see what these men were so excited about. Kann made a snatch at her, but nothing was so fast on this green earth as a young child who does not wish to be caught.

The barn door was slightly open, enough for her to squeeze in without too much trouble. In this Arhyn was fortunate; if she had taken the time to open that heavy door, Kann would have surely caught her.

They did not pursue her past the door, which should have warned her that something strange was happening. Instead, as she ran for Salt's stall, Kann called to her from the door.

"Arhyn! Get back here! Arhyn!" His voice was a strange mix of fear and anger. She ignored him, something she had never done before in her life. Kann's voice was law, and now she was breaking that law.

Salt was no longer in her regular stall. She'd been moved across the barn to another, smaller stall, and was tied. In Arhyn's memory Kann had never tied Salt. The mare bellowed at her as she reached the door of the old stall, smacking a forehoof against the door, her ears flat back.

The colt, despite being only days old, was alone where she had left him last night. She swung the door open, full open for she didn't have the mare to fear, and he rose to his long, ungainly legs. In the daylight, he was even more beautiful, a drop of amber water that rippled with every movement. He blinked at Arhyn with his huge, sorrowful eyes and nudged her.

The bump that she had felt on his forehead after removing the wax the night before had grown. Now it was fully two inches long, from where it joined his skull to the very tip, a tip that looked a bit rounded, but still sharp. The bump had no fur upon it, and seemed twisted. Its color was that of polished gold, and she could see her little face in its reflection, distorted and bent as the light refracted.

His tiny nose touched her cheek, blowing soft wind against her skin. Arhyn reached up, on a moment of impulse, and stroked the shining bump.

From the door: "Arhyn! Arhyn, get out of there!" His voice was becoming less a mix of anger and fear, and more simply fear. Salt bellowed again, as close to a snarl as ever a horse had come to.

Arhyn couldn't have answered him even had she wanted to. The light shining off the golden bump twinkled in her eyes, and it was all she could see. She was hypnotized by it, so much so that even when the twinkle disappeared, and the colt brushed past her she did not move. She did not move when Kann finally arrived, swinging her up into his arms as he ran out of the barn, past the strange men with their odd clothing, and into the house, her sobbing mother close at his heels. She did not move when her mother plucked at her clothing, wanting to hold her but too frightened to, sobbing her name over and over.

As a matter of fact, she did not move for three days after, but lay still in her bed, eyes wide and shining with the memory of the twinkle.

Arhyn was aware of none of this, but heard of it later, when she was older. Whenever she tried to think back on that time all she could remember was a fuzzy warm feeling, and rainbow traces on her eyelids.

After the three days, she came back to herself from where ever she had been, and asked for water. She never really asked her father about those days, or what had happened with the colt. That the little animal had vanished was plain. Kann disappeared shortly after she woke, with those same strange men that had been there on the day she ran into the barn. He returned nearly two days later, covered with dirt and scrub grass, and shaking his head with exhaustion. Although life seemed to return to normal, there were still occasional sideways glances in her direction, and whispered conversations between her parents that seemed to cut off the instant they thought she might hear. After a few years, she just ignored it.

When she was seventeen, a troupe of wandering performers decided to camp just outside of town. For the entire week they were there, the nights were filled with laughter.

Arhyn had finished her chores like a whirlwind that day, ensuring that she would be free in the evening to visit the troupe. She had only seen a carnival once in her life, and that had been even before the incident with Salt's colt. Many of her friends had already been, and their tales of color and fascination seemed to have no end. She was determined to see for herself.

She dressed in her best dress for that evening, a dress she normally saved for church. Her mother let her borrow her soft, silken blue cloak, the only piece of finery she had. Arhyn felt almost like a queen as she walked in the early evening, kicking up the dust with her sandals and enjoying the soft calls of the spring peepers in the forest.

Men on horseback gathered off to one side of the road, before the carnival was even in view. Arhyn lowered her head as she walked by on the opposite side of the road, but stole a look, knowing it would be hidden by the deepening shadows of the night.

She knew they were soldiers. They didn't seem to be on duty, or if they were, they were going to catch it from their officer if he ever found out. They had formed a loose knot and were talking loudly. Several of them laughed at something, and their voices sounded drunk. They never glanced her way, and she left them to the final dim vestiges of the sun.

The carnival troupe had settled on the edge of a neighbor's field, throwing up it's tents without seeming order or logic, haphazardly dotting the scrubby grass. Hardly had she walked into view of this blaze of activity then she was enthralled by a clown, juggling empty tumblers as a dwarf on a stool attempted to fill the flashing goblets with his wineskin. The tumblers remained empty, but the clown was getting increasingly soaked.

Such food! Such glamour! Such revelry she had never seen. She had scarce been there an hour when she felt she must explode simply from the overwhelming bombardment of input to her senses. Somehow she found herself outside a darkened tent at the edge of the gathering. A sign clipped to the heavy tarpaulin declared:

There was no line outside the small doorway, and no trouper guarding the entrance to make sure no one snuck a peak at the exhibit without paying. Almost as if pulled by some controlling force she pushed back the door flap and entered into the quiet interior of the tent.

She saw the Fairie right away, although he was not what she expected. Their eyes met as she entered into the torch lit chamber, and held. He had been sitting on a rough bench near the far cloth wall, one foot resting on the other knee as he rested his head on his hand in a marvelously thoughtful pose. As the door flap fell back behind her, he slowly straightened, putting his foot down and raising his head.

She had never seen a Fairie, although Father had told her many times that they still haunted the woods. But he had described them as tiny, humanlike pixies with rainbow wings and clothes sewn from maple leafs. This Fairie was nothing like the myths.

He stood slightly taller than she, which she could see even with him sitting. He was human in body shape, with graceful arms, lithe legs, and almost delicate fingers. Yet his body was covered in a short, white fur, stripped with black on his shoulders and thighs. His face resembled a cat's, with a mane of longer hair surrounding it. His eyes were a shocking green, and his cheeks bore flares of brown over the white, topped by black stripes. They stared at each other for the longest eternity, and then he spoke.

"The exhibit is closed." He said, showing flashes of a pink tongue and fangs as he formed the words.

"I'm sorry." She replied, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. He shook his head, causing his mane to shimmer, and rose. He came close, so close that had she leaned forward even the tiniest amount, her lips would have bumped his. He peered at her intently.

"Where do you live?" He asked, almost urgently. She didn't like the tone of fear in his voice, nor the way his eyes kept flicking to the exit.

"Down the road." She answered, more firmly maybe than she should have. He nodded, then turned his full attention to the door, although he still spoke to her.

"You must leave as quickly as you can." He ordered. Arhyn frowned.

"I'm sorry I came in while the exhibit was closed, but..." He waved his hand to cut her off.

"You are in danger for your life here. It may even be too late for you to return to your home. You must go where you will be safe."

"In danger from what? Go where?" Did all Fairie speak like this? Was this part of the exhibit?

"There is a man. The leader of this troupe. If he catches your scent, or even a glimmer of you as you leave, he will be upon you, and there will be no escape. He will know you have been here the instant he steps within this tent, and he will track you down."

The Fairie looked down at her, thoughtful. She said nothing, firmly believing that he was crazy. Then he said something crazier still.

"You must go to the king. The royal family might be able to protect you."

"You're insane." She said simply. "I can't go walking about the royal highway at this hour! And if I made it to the castle, what then? Am I supposed to knock upon the gates and expect to be ushered immediately into the royal chambers?"

"Hush! He is coming." The Fairie grabbed her arm with a startling firmness and before she knew it, she was shoved out some back flap and into the dark night. She stared for a long moment at the rough canvas of the tent, still startled and confused about the actions of the sprite. Had she not remained for that moment, she would have missed what came next, and surely would have been dead by morning.

"Why are you just sitting in here, Lion?" A angry, bitter man's voice cried from the inside of the enclosure. "Do you realize that I'm losing nearly a hundred quid because this exhibit is closed?"

"I am sorry, Dugan." Replied the Fairie. "My stomach was bothering me, and Tasha said..."

"Damn that girl to the devil anyway! Who is she to give orders over mine? What..." The voice broke of in a sudden half growl, and the silence was even more frightening then the voices had been. Outside the tent, Arhyn felt as if she'd been turned to stone, and the next words spoken froze her heart.

"Who has been in here, Lion?" Came a snarl so vehement she was surprised the tone did not stop her breath.

"No one has come in this evening, Dugan." Was the soft reply, followed by a loud smack of a fist hitting flesh.

"Do not lie to me, sprite!" roared Dugan. "There was a magic here. Oy! Ramfus!" The sound of the flap being drawn, and his voice burst out louder from the front of the tent. "Ramfus, you lazy oaf! Bring the dogs 'round. We've got a magic to run down!"

Her legs grew weak as she realized she was the 'magic' he was speaking of. She had seen the dogs she believed he was calling for, earlier when she had arrived at the fair. As she recalled their fevered eyes and inch long teeth, she shuddered. That movement seemed to lend strength to her legs.

The next thing she knew she was running as swiftly as she ever had down the dirt lane past her warm house, her feet bare and covered with dust. She had kicked off her shoes to improve her grip on the sod. Although she neither heard nor saw any signs of pursuit, she had no doubt the thunderous voiced Dugan and his hounds were close behind, ferreting out her scent. At any moment she expected to hear their cries as they closed in on her. She knew she had no chance to outrun them.

Why were they chasing her? The thoughts ran as crazily as she did. What had Dugan meant by a 'magic?' Why had the Fairie warned her in the tent of her coming doom? Why, why, why?

The woods closed in even tighter, and the road narrowed, crossing a small, wooden bridge over a stream. She thumped over it, and it was at that moment that she heard the faint howlings in the background. The hounds had finally sounded. The sudden burst of fright at that second lent her feet even more speed, but the howls grew closer. They would be upon her before she could hope to escape.

A flash of auburn in front of her, and she crashed into something large and warm. She stumbled back, barely able to see the outline of the creature she'd run into in the dark. It was a horse! Her heart leaped as her fingers found it's mane. On a horse, she would be able to just outrun the crying hounds. She gave no thought as to how the horse had gotten there, or if it would even carry her. She simply swung up to its back, tightening her legs around its barrel. The instant her weight settled, the horse was away, whisking through trees and underbrush as if it knew her predicament. The sounds of the dogs began to fade, replaced by the breath soft whisper of hooves on the soft moss.

Time passed, but whether it was moments or hours she did not know. Some part of her mind seemed to note that the mane tangled in her fingers felt like silk, that the hide beneath her legs was far smoother than even the best groomed horse, but this part was subdued by the blind fear and confusion that she fought with. The ride could not have been all that long, however, for the bridge had not been all that far from town, and when the horse stopped, puffing, she looked up to see the bright lights and turrets of the castle in the distance, the nearest buildings of town not a hundred yards from her. She slid down, almost collapsing as her numb legs caught her weight, staring at the sight with awe. She did not even notice when the horse slipped away into the trees, leaving her alone.

The castle loomed from its place on the far side, where the last buildings of town stopped. Five turrets and ten towers stretched above the peak of the inner keep, lit with torches that sparkled like stars. The wall that surrounded the castle was nearly fifty feet high, draped here and there with Senoth's standard.

She stared at the edifice past the lower cluster of buildings until the voices of the dogs once again floated to her on the wind. She jerked, startled, looking fearfully about. The horse was gone, and she was once again alone in the night.

She took to her feet once more, running towards the city streets, her poor mother's cloak threatening to slip from her shoulders as her feet kicked at the tattered, stained hem.

Several men stood in the street, their garments too dark to be discerned well in the shadows. They were talking together, and their voices were solemn and carried no trace of alcohol. They saw her coming almost before she saw them, and one stepped in her path, his arms suddenly about her. She struggled.

"Stop!" He ordered, gripping my shoulders firmly, then repeated more soothing, "Stop, we won't hurt you. Why are you running? Who is after you?" His voice was concerned and comforting, but her breath was short and she could not speak. She poked a shaky finger backwards just as the first of the hounds, whose howls had filled the night, barrelled down the road from the trees and leaped at her. She twisted, falling backward into the man who had stopped her, her hands crossed over her face as she made a voiceless cry, but the strike never came. She opened her eyes to see the hound laying dead at the feet of another man, and he was pulling his sword from the still form.

Other hounds had appeared in the road, about twenty in all, their heads lowered as they snarled, foam dripping into the dust. They did not attack, but instead gathered in a semicircle, eyeing the men with their swords and the body of their fallen comrade. Two forms rode out of the trees, pulling their mounts up short.

"What is the meaning of this?" The first bellowed. She recognized his voice from the tent. It was Dugan.

He was smaller, and a bit more portly than she had imagined. His hair was thick and black, his face red with heat and anger. He jabbed a sausage finger at the dead hound. "That was one of my best hunting dogs!" He fumed. "How dare you..."

"I dare in the Kings' name!" The man who had slain the dog replied. The group cast aside their dark cloaks, revealing the soldier's insignia on their breasts. "What cause have you to pursue this girl, and to set your hounds on her heels in the very city streets?"

"She is mine." Dugan leaned back on his saddle, his eyes shining. "She is a servant of mine who stole from me, and fled. I am well within my rights."

"That's not true." Arhyn whispered, staring fearfully at the soldier. She was still pressing against the first man as if trying to melt right through him and hide behind him instead. He kept his arm protectively around her shoulders. "I don't know this man."

"I know not what country you are from, sir." The man holding her replied, tones firm. "But here, we do not pursue helpless women with hunting dogs, despite their alleged crimes. Nor do we accuse and convict them without evidence or a trial. I see no reason to charge her with anything. You, however....I could have you both arrested for malicious mischief and attacking the king's men. And I will, if you are not gone in exactly five seconds from this street!"

Dugan curled his lip, his eyes all fire and hatred as they looked at Arhyn. She tried again to shrink behind the soldier, anything to avoid that terrible gaze. Then he turned his horse and whistled to his dogs, and the entire lot vanished. The soldier released her when he'd gone, and smiled gently as she managed to look up at him.

"I hope, young lady, that the accusations he levied at you are false?"

"Of course they are!" She was still deeply afraid and confused about all that had happened. "That man was a trouper, from the carnival. A Fairie told me..."

"A Fairie?" The soldier's tone sounded suddenly dangerous, and she snapped her mouth shut so swiftly she bit her tongue. "A Fairie told you what?"

"He...he told me that man would be after me. He told me to come here, and seek refuge at the castle. I don't know why. I didn't do anything."

"A Fairie." This time the man's voice was a little less threatening, and more thoughtful. "Are you telling me a little winged sprite spoke to you?"

"No." She replied. "He wasn't little, or winged. He looked like a cat, and was as tall as you."

"Hmm." The soldier sheathed glanced at his companions for a moment as they resheathed their swords, then placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. "Come with me."

He led her through the streets, his men silent behind him, then through the very gates of the castle into the quiet courtyard, and from there into the keep itself. She dared not speak, for his face looked stern, and his eyes cold. His hand never moved from my shoulder.

The change in him seemed dramatic. When speaking to Dugan he had seemed warm and protective toward her; now he looked, at the very least, like he'd rather be leading her to the dungeons. He might, in fact, be doing just that. He may have decided that she was insane, and that the man Dugan really did have claim on her. She started to tremble.

The stones of the halls were cold on her barefeet, and the soft slap of her steps were muffled by the sharp clicks of his bootheels as they progressed. His men had remained in the courtyard, allowing him to go on with her alone. The only thing that seemed in her favor was that he was leading her upward, and not down, so the dungeons did not seem to be his destination. Still, there was always a tower...

He stopped at a door, then turned to her.

"I warn you, child. If you are lying to me..." He started firmly, in half a whisper.

"I am not." She barely managed to reply, swallowing the blood in her mouth compulsively. Her tongue ached miserably.

He nodded once, then lifted a hand to rap smartly on the door.

"Yes, what is it?" A man's voice called out. Then, before the soldier could answer, "Come in at once."

The room beyond the door was spacious, and warm. A blazing fireplace lit all the dark corners, reflecting off of the soft maroon and gold carpets. A man of some size sat in a stuffed chair, with long dark hair and a beard. His shoulders were thick, and so was his belly. It had started to spill over his belt, which looked almost painfully tight. Across from him, seperated by a small table laden with goblets, a pitcher, and some cheese, a woman was perched. Her eyes were hollow and dark in the fire's flicker, and her stomach was almost as ponderous as the gentleman's. Not from fatness; she was very pregnant. Days away from delivery if Arhyn's less than educated guess was correct. Her only thickness was in her middle. The rest of her was tiny and delicate, and seemed drawn very fine.

The soldier bowed to these two people, crossing his hand to his sword as he did so. "I did not mean to disturb Your Majesties..."

The thick man waved a massive hand. "You are not disturbing us, lad. What is this all about?"

The soldier swiftly explained the events in the street, and her mention of a Fairie. Almost before he had finished the king was waving him out of the room. The soldier gave Arhyn a look...not an angry or mean look, just simply uncertain...and shut the door behind him. The king turned his eyes to her, and she suddenly felt very small and stupid.

"Well, my lass, I do not believe you are a thief." He stated. She shook her head, not daring to speak.

"Do forgive us," The queen smiled warmly. "My husband has a tendency to be a little...overwhelming...at first. What is your name?"

"Arhyn." She replied, and was further confused when Their Majesties exchanged knowing looks.

"Your father was the one who had the unicorn." The king nodded, leaning back and tearing off a hunk of the cheese.

"A unicorn." She knit her eyebrows, thinking back on the tiny colt so many years before. She had heard of unicorns, of course, but had never equated the two.

"Yes. His favorite horse birthed it I believe. Rather unusual for a unicorn to breed with a common mare, I would think, but obviously possible. Perhaps that is why the Fairie is so interested in you."

"What has father's unicorn to do with what happened tonight?" She asked, feeling a bit bolder. Her fear was growing into anger; she hated having things she did not understand. "I could have been killed by that man, and for what reason?"

"This man hunts you for reasons only known to himself, and the Fairie, I suppose." The king frowned a bit. "I, of course, cannot in good conscious turn you away. You may remain here, and here you will be protected."

"I'm very grateful, Your Majesty..."

"Gareth, please." He smiled.

"Gareth." It felt odd calling the king by his given name, but she was not about to refute his orders. "I'm very grateful to you, but I'm a simple girl, daughter of a horse breeder. Why this man wishes me ill I do not know, but I can hardly expect you to take me in simply on my word of the situation. What I tell you is truth, but you cannot possibly know that for certain. And if this man is dangerous, might'nt he bring his threat down on this castle?"

The king looked at her solemnly for a moment, then burst into such bellowing laughter she was sure the very ground under her feet vibrated. The queen smiled tolerantly at her husband.

She stood awkwardly, unclear if the laughter was meant in mere frivolity, or if he thought her mad, and was humoring her.

"My dear child, you are an innocent one!" He managed, settling into chuckles. "I appreciate your gracious candor, Arhyn, but not to worry. I doubt this fellow could storm the castle, no matter how large a troupe he commands. Besides," Here he exchanged a look with his wife. "I have spoken to your father on many occasions. I do not know if he mentioned anything about it to you, but you were to be sent here soon anyway, as an apprentice to our seer."

"I knew nothing about it." She replied, shocked. Why would father have arranged for her to come to the royal castle? She had never shown an affinity for the types of talents required to be a seer. And why had he not mentioned it to her?

"Odd, that he wouldn't tell you." The king replied, but he didn't seem overly concerned about it. "Well, we'll send a message to your father right away, so he knows where you are and that you're safe. Someone will have your things brought, and we'll also have this troupe investigated, rest assured about THAT."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She said, still numb. The queen reached out and took her husband's hand affectionately a moment, then stood carefully.

"I will show Arhyn to her rooms, love." She said.

"Oh, no, Your Majesty..." Arhyn started, forgetting that she was a queen and that she was refuting her wishes. Fortunately, her unthinking protest was hidden beneath the king's own.

"Lauren, sit down. One of the guard can easily do that! You need to rest."

"Nonsense." The queen said, making no move to return to her seat. "Why bother a guard when I'm capable to do it? Besides," She drew near to Arhyn, took the girl's arm almost affectionately. "I want to speak with our wayward girl and future seer."

Gareth protested again but Lauren was already leading Arhyn out, and shut the door mid-sentence. "There are advantages to being a queen." She said with a smile at her companion.

"I'm sure I have no idea, Your Majesty." Arhyn managed.

"Our seer is a man named David Amherst." Lauren spoke as they went. "Seems to know his stuff well enough, but not much of a personality if you ask me. Then, I've hardly had occasion to speak with the man, so that may be an entirely wrong surmise. You'll meet him tomorrow, I'm sure. I'll make sure maids are sent up with hot water for baths, and a change of clothes; you must be absolutely exhausted, my dear."

"Yes," Arhyn said, head reeling. "More confused than exhausted."

"I can understand that. Don't worry; if anyone can find this Dugan before he takes to his feet, Gareth can."

"Why did..."

"Hush, child. I know you want answers, but right now they would only bring up more questions and your mind needs to rest. You're safe here, you can trust us on that." She stopped outside a door, then led Arhyn into rooms that were probably larger alone than the area of her father's house. She stayed with her - pausing only to order a guard to fetch a maid - until that maid returned and lit the fires to warm the room, and set about making the bed.

"I must say," Lauren said, easing herself carefully into a chair and waving the seventeen year old into another. "I'm grateful that you'll be here. I've been dying for another female to speak to, one that doesn't bob like a loon and spout 'yes Your Majesty' at every turn." One hand stroked her stomach idly.

Arhyn blushed slightly, unsure of what to say. So instead, she said the first thing she thought of. "Is it your first?"

Lauren smiled. "Oh, yes. And probably only, at that. We've been married ten years, after all; I was convinced one or the other of us was sterile. David assured me many times that children would be forthcoming, but I must say I started to doubt him after the first five years. I can't see any others following after this; not if it takes ten years for every conception."

"How long?"

"Another two months. Though you would think I was ready to explode at any instant, as large as I've gotten. Gareth is sure it's going to be a boy, born half-grown and already swinging a sword." She chuckled.

"Do you want a boy?" Arhyn asked, grateful that her end of the conversation could be limited to short questions. Her mind ached too much for more effort on her part.

"Whichever it is, I will be happy." The queen replied. "Gareth will as well. This is all we've ever wanted, and he will be pleased to be able to leave Senoth in the Duncan line, whether the heir is female or male."

They talked for a bit more, until the room was ready, and Lauren took her leave. Arhyn remained numb as she took off her dirty, tattered clothes and took advantage of the heated bath, and the nightgown that had been brought. Despite her bewilderment and fear, despite the sheer size of the rooms and that she was sleeping in a castle rather than in her warm, familiar small home, Arhyn was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

In truth it was two days before she met David Amherst, Senoth's royal seer. The morning after her arrival her parents showed up, her mother simultaneously frantic and relieved. Her things were brought and taken up to her new rooms, and she all but accosted her father, demanding to know why she had been told nothing of the arrangement with the king.

He looked sheepish. "I was going to speak with you about it. There was still a good deal of time until you would have gone, and I wanted to make sure that things were settled before the decision was put to you. But you're right, I should have mentioned it long before now. I suppose I was holding off because I didn't want you to go."

"Then why make the arrangement to begin with?" Arhyn asked, and to that she got no real satisfactory answer. Her father simply did not seem to want to talk about it.

The guard from the night previous found her after her parents had gone and had apologized to her for his sudden curt attitude. "I was not angry or displeased with you, nor did I want to make you feel uncomfortable." He told her. "Rather, I was upset at the man who had chased you. You see, when I was a boy my life was saved by a Fairie woman, and to think that this man Dugan...who obviously was not against treating you roughly...was even associated with a Fairie..." He shrugged. "I asked you what the Fairie looked like, to be sure you had actually seen him, rather than having concocted the story merely to escape his service, as he was claiming. For even doubting you, I'm terribly sorry."

"It's all right." She said, glad at last that something had a plausible explanation. "You couldn't have known on faith alone that I was innocent. I'm glad that you stopped him, regardless."

"No man should set dogs on a girl, regardless of her service to him, or her crimes against him." He replied. To that Arhyn could only agree.

The rest of that day and the majority of the next were spent familiarizing herself with the personalities and halls of the castle, and speaking with both Gareth and Lauren at length. She found that she quite liked both of them, and felt they were easily worthy of the loyalties those she had met afforded them.

Then came David Amherst. He had been away from the castle; unknown to both the queen or the king though neither seemed very surprised to learn about it. He returned as silently as he had gone; the only news about it that the three got was when a guard interrupted them at their conversation and told them that the seer wished to meet Arhyn.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Lauren offered. Arhyn and Gareth both immediately protested, and the king took her place. He showed her down to the seers rooms and office, sequestered in the lower levels of the castle as if he wanted to remain hidden and forgotten.

Arhyn was expecting an old man, wizened and wrinkled, bald or white haired, with the obligatory beard and watery eyes. What she found, instead, was a young man perhaps twenty years her senior. His hair and eyes were brown, his features too blunt to be called strikingly handsome but too well put together to be called even remotely homely. His clothes were plain and brown as well, and the first word that came into her mind at seeing him for the first time was 'nondescript.'

Odd, however, that she just couldn't stop looking at him.

"Your Majesty," he greeted them at the door, bowing to Gareth and ushering them in. "And you must be the lady Arhyn." He smiled at her and her knees trembled, heat flushing through her face.

"Yes," She managed.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you," he said. His voice was heavy and gentle, like a falling night after a hard day's work. It shook her to the core, made her belly flutter. His mere speaking made her want something she had no name for.

Gareth did not stay long. He exchanged a few boisterous words with the seer, then took his leave. After he'd gone David shut the door, then turned to her with a gentle clap of his hands. "So," He smiled. "Its just you and me. Please, have a seat." He went past her and pulled out a chair, which she took dumbly. He took another across from her. "There's no need to be nervous, Arhyn." He said comfortingly. "I just want to talk. After all, if you're going to be my apprentice, we're going to have to talk."

"Yes," She replied, watching him. She seemed to clear aside some of her inexplicable stupidity. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" He asked, folding his hands on his knees and leaning forward slightly. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Her belly fluttered again and warmth tingled over her skin. She couldn't look away.

"I'm no seer." She said, grateful that some part of her mind still seemed wired up to her mouth. "I've never had any talent for augury, or scrying, or prophecy..."

"No, you are no seer." He told her, a smile flicking the edges of his lips. "What you are, Arhyn, is something much more than that."

"What do you mean?" Her eyes had managed to move down to his lips, fascinated as he spoke.

"I've spoken to your father...does that surprise you?" Her eyes had flashed back up to his when he said that, and he lifted his eyebrows.

"A little." She admitted. "I thought he had spoken to Gareth."

"I spoke to him, then I spoke to Gareth." He said. "Then HE spoke to Gareth."

"And no one spoke to me?" She demanded.

"And no one spoke to you." He said smoothly. "Listen to me."

She listened. When he spoke, it didn't seem that she could do anything BUT listen.

"I heard about your father's unicorn, from some of the men that he alerted first, and I went to speak to him. He told me about your swoon; in fact, you were still unconscious when I was there. I asked him to let me see you."

She remained silent, listening. This man had been in her rooms when she was but a child, unaware of his presence?

"He relented, hoping I could do something to arouse you, I suppose."

No, he hadn't said that. He had said 'rouse'. She knew he had said 'rouse', yet her mind insisted fervently, perhaps desperately, that the word had been 'arouse'. Her face felt warm, and she hoped she wasn't blushing. Having no idea about her inner thoughts, he continued on undaunted. "I could not, of course, but I could see something of what had happened to you. It was clear to me something very powerful, very rare, had happened between you and that unicorn, and I set about researching the matter."

"What did you find?" She asked, when she could finally trust herself to speak.

He smiled. "That, my dear, is for you to find out, and it will be the first matter of your training."

"What?" She blinked. "Why don't you just tell me?"

"Arhyn," He laughed. "If life's mysteries could be solved so easily, I'd be out a job. The first thing you need to learn is no one can expect to 'just be told'. You must learn for yourself. Information worked at and researched is far more valuable than information told. The fact I pose to you is this..." Here he stood, turning to shelf behind him and taking down several books. "A mortal mare gave birth to a unicorn."

He turned, stepped forward, and crouched, placing the books in her lap. "Your duty is to use these and find out the answer to that fact."

"With these?" She asked, putting her hand on top of the books. He was far too close; she could feel his warmth, smell his skin. She ached to reach forward and touch his face.

"With these." He replied, putting his hand on top of hers. That touch sent her whole arm tingling, and her pulse quickened. She could hardly breathe. "And you'll not speak to me again until you've found the answer."

"But..."

He removed his hand, stepped back, and smiled at her. "I have faith a clever girl like you can discover what you need in a matter of a day or two. Until then, I bid you good-bye and good luck."

She stood on legs that threatened not to support her, mumbled a good-bye, and left, barely managing to balance the books. As the door shut behind her she shook her head, her heart finally slowing.

She didn't know what that was. She didn't know what had caused her to be so...fired...by his mere presence, trapped by the glance of his eyes.

What she did know is that she had to find the answer, and the faster the better.

She had to see him again.

She retreated to her rooms and regarded the books. They seemed to be entirely about unicorns, and by the time she was three pages into the first one she was enthralled. She had known little to nothing about the race, but whomever had written these knew a very good deal, and wrote with the authority of one who was sure of what they were speaking of.

She read nearly that entire night, adding notes to some blank paper whenever they occurred to her, retiring to bed only when her eyelids threatened to droop. She woke as soon as her body would allow, and returned to the pile, diving into it as a starving man might dive into a hot meal.

The following morning she washed and changed, checking herself in the mirror several times to make sure she looked just right, before gathering the books and her notes, and finding her way back down to the seer's rooms.

She was afraid he wouldn't be there, but he opened the door on her first knock and swept her inside. "Well?"

"I found it." She said, out of breath both from her walk and burden as well as his sudden presence. He took the books from her arms, set them upon a nearby table, and bid her sit. He poured her a glass of water, made her wait until she'd drained it, then sat himself.

"And the answer is?" He asked.

"There is no answer." She responded. He watched her silently and her assurance started to collapse. Surely she was right? She had read so thoroughly, she'd been so certain...he would think her a fool if she wasn't right. Her heart wailed.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" He asked neutrally.

"It...is it right?" She asked tentatively. He waved a hand, his eyes sparking with frustration.

"Don't ask me if it's right, answer my question." He ordered. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She forced herself to compose. "Well, there are a few things that I found that brought me to it." She said, grateful her voice didn't waver. She wanted this to work, she wanted him to be pleased with her.

She had never wanted something so much in her life.

Without letting herself falter she outlined what she had learned for the man sitting opposite her, while he listened silently, no expression in his face or eyes. What she had learned was this:

Unicorns did not come into season.

Unicorns were intelligent, sentient beings that were the epitome of Light and Goodness.

Unicorns had a gestation of ten years, and reached maturity at a century.

Unicorns were enthralled by purity and innocence, and were drawn to this in any mortal.

She spoke all four reasons as if reading off a list, then paused. He waited a moment.

"Those are very interesting points." He said. "Now explain to me why these things answer...or don't answer...the fact I put before you: a mortal mare gave birth to a unicorn. Start with your first point."

She cleared her throat. "Well...unicorns do not come into season. They mate for life and do so whenever they wish...whenever both parties are in a mutual mood for it. Much like humans, I suppose. They are not limited to the female's heat and will mate for reasons other than reproduction; affection, bonding, pleasure." She could feel herself blushing again, and could not look up at him. "What I mean is...well, I don't know if you know or not, but horses DO come into season. In fact, they rely on it to excite the male into reproduction; a stallion will not mount a mare who is not in heat, or who does not smell as if she is in heat. When a stallion is around a...a mare in heat...he loses his sense. He'll bash through walls or break down stalls to get to her. It's completely carnal and only for reproduction."

Now she was most certainly blushing. She could feel the heat flashing over her face. He still listened silently. Then, when her pause became too long, he said "And?"

"Well, a unicorn would not be drawn to the scent of a mare in heat, since unicorns do not need that signal. A unicorn would have no reason to breed with a mortal mare, heat or not. He would simply ignore her."

"Hmm." He made a non-committal sound she couldn't interpret. "All right, continue to your next point."

"Actually," Her blush grew worse. "I'll need to go to my third before my second."

"Go ahead."

"My third point was that unicorns have a gestation period of ten years. If Salt gave birth to a unicorn, being a mortal mare, we have to assume that the unicorn's genetics are superior. In one of the books there were two documented accounts of mares who had bred with unicorns; both mares died after being pregnant for two years."

"Which means?"

"Which means, since the unicorn's genetics are superior, and since unicorns take ten years to gestate, a mare impregnated with a unicorn would have to gestate the offspring for ten years in order for it to mature properly. Mares, however, are normally only pregnant for eleven months; after an extended period of time her body hormones and stresses would make too much of a demand on her and she'd die. As in those two cases."

"Did Salt die?"

"No." Her jaw tensed.

"Was she pregnant for ten years?"

"No. She was pregnant only eleven months."

"Continue."

"M...my second point. Unicorns are intelligent, sentient beings of Good. I find it hard to believe that an intelligent, goodhearted being would not know of the danger posed to a mortal mare impregnated by a unicorn. Even the most youthful and naive of unicorn stallions would know that the result of joining with a mortal mare would mean her death; something he would not risk for only a few minutes of pointless pleasure."

"What if he...joined...with her while she was not in season?" He pointed out. "Then there would be no chance of pregnancy and no chance of death."

"No." She shook her head. "The season is as important to the female's urges as to the males. She needs it not only to attract stallions but also to desire to mate herself; a female out of season would not allow herself to be mounted by any stallion, mortal or not. She'd back away and fight him first. A mating between a unicorn and a mare would almost insure a pregnancy."

"Ah. And your last point?"

"Unicorns are enthralled with purity and innocence. In the two cases I found of the mares that had mated with unicorns and had died, both were young and had never been bred before. It was the scent of their purity, not their season, that drew the males, intoxicating them enough that their rationality was dimmed and they did not think of the consequences. Not to mention the mares would have been in season and eager to breed. They would not see unicorn stallions, but merely stallions, and would have done their best to pursuade the already drunk males to consummate. The mares were following their bodies, the unicorns were, in essence, drugged. Both mares died because their bodies could not handle the extended pregnancy required."

She stopped, trying to catch her breath. She had rushed the entire last part out, speaking it reaffirming her thought that she had come to the right conclusion. She looked up at him, to see his expression, only to see he still had none. He seemed unmoved either way.

"So your conclusion?" He asked.

Her conclusion? What was her conclusion? His eyes were making her feel stupid again, her skin felt much too sensitive. Oh, yes! Her conclusion, she remembered now.

"Your fact was, a mortal mare gave birth to a unicorn. My conclusion is there is no answer to this. By all rights it should be impossible, yet it happened. Even if by some quirk Salt's genetics had proved dominant enough to limit her to a tolerable gestation, it would still be impossible."

"Because?"

"Because, the only way a unicorn stallion would lose his senses enough to join with a mortal mare would be if he was drunk on the purity of the mare. Salt was hardly pure; she's been bred for over ten years. Without that scent of purity, Salt could have been as demanding as she wanted. She could have been as deep in season as possible, bringing all mortal stallions crashing down into her paddock, but a unicorn would not so much as glance at her. He would know the folly of the joining and the danger of it to her, and wouldn't take the risk."

"So it's impossible."

"Yes."

"But it happened."

Her shoulders slumped. "Yes."

Silence. Then he grinned. Her heart instantly thundered into life, and she straightened subconsciously. "Very, VERY good Arhyn. VERY good. I'm deeply impressed with your work. You managed in two days to discover what I worked without sleep for over a week to discern. Under normal, conventional means a mare cannot give birth to a unicorn foal; at least, not your mare. She hasn't got the purity to attract the male. She didn't have the proper gestation rate, though that might have an explanation. And no sane minded male would have taken her up on her offer, no matter how fervent she was." He stood up, pacing slightly, the slammed his fist into his hand.

"Yet she DID. She DID give birth to a unicorn. Your father witnessed the event himself. I could feel the aura of it all over that barn and all over you, when you were indisposed. The only question is HOW."

He looked at her, eyes sparkling. "Now we're on the same page. And by making you research it independently I made certain that there was nothing I was overlooking, something a fresh perspective would have shown, as well as teaching you the value of learning yourself. Now, what we have to do is find out first...how exactly that unicorn foal appeared when your father's horse gave birth...and two...how deeply you were effected that day you went into the barn and fell into your swoon."

And that was precisely what they did. And they were partially successful. Over the next month David set about helping Arhyn find out exactly the extents of her powers, her talents, and her limitations. It was clear, soon, and to both of them, that her gifts greatly outweighed his. She seemed to know things instantly regarding what he tried to teach her; more often than not he merely had to place a book in front of her and in less than an hour she'd mastered it. It was more as if he was merely helping her remember things she well knew, and had only forgotten, than he was instructing her to any level.

She proved to be a competent healer, though her powers aided her remarkably little in this endeavor, considering where they had come from. Her magic was good for nothing more than helping scare away infections and increasing healing only slightly; she learned to do more good with a simple needle and thread, a proper bandage or medicines; she did more to fight infection merely by keeping her hands clean than she did with any magic.

Cleanliness in the treating of patients was not a popular concept. Besides Arhyn, only the chief surgeon seemed to have any mind about it. It was not uncommon to see a medic or midwife plunge into a wound or birthing with hands that had not been washed in months, and more often than not the patient then lost the limb or their lives to a raging fever caused by such filth.

It was amazing, to Arhyn, that she learned as swiftly as she did, in fact. Not because she was surprised by her own hidden talents...which she was...but because David instructing her was more than distracting. She could not be in the same room with the man without feeling her skin tingle; could not touch him or be touched by him in any way without the feeling burning right through her. His eyes or his speaking, his laugh or even his firm reprimand sent feelings through her that she had never experienced before; feelings that embarrassed her; feelings one should only have for the one they were wedded to. She started to find excuses to touch him; an accidental brush here, a casual touch of fingers there. She found herself even more embarrassed by her brazenness, but couldn't seem to help herself. The man was old enough to be her father, yet she thought about him every waking moment, and used any excuse to be in his company.

And he didn't seem to notice a blasted thing, that was what was so frustrating. He didn't see the blushes that flashed involuntarily over her face whenever she spoke of anything that could even be remotely construed as sexual. He didn't notice the touches, or the way she watched so intently when he spoke, or how her eyes either locked to his or avoided them completely.

Didn't notice, or didn't care.

Things changed two days before the queen gave birth. David had set to her a particularly trying problem with an ancient alphabet and after her bath she had wrapped herself in her robe and set to attacking it again. She had just determined to finally go to bed when the answer came to her; she was so thrilled at finally having solved it that she ran from her rooms and down to his, book in hand and barefeet slapping on the stone.

He had been studying as well, it seemed, when she knocked. The light was bright on his desk, and many papers and volumes had been strewn about. He smiled at her, stepping aside to let her in without a word spoken. "I figured it out!" She gushed. "The pronunciations, I mean; I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"Here, show me." He said, taking the book from her hands and taking her over to the desk. Listening to his voice she was suddenly very aware she wore nothing under her knotted robe, and blushed clear down to her shoulders. Determined not to seem flustered she bent over the book.

"I was trying to treat this alphabet as I would ours." She explained. "But you see? The clusters of letters can completely change the sound of the beginning of the word, so that these are spelled nothing like they sound at all! See? Here. T-X-I in front of R-U-O would not be pronounced 'Tshee-roo-oh', but 'KAY-roo-oh.'"

"Very good." He said. She loved it when he said that; it made her knees weak. Then again, everything he said made her knees weak. "It's a very ancient language; some words that are dangerous to speak are still written in this language, so that the uneducated reader does not accidentally spout off something he shouldn't.

He looked at her. "However..."

She groaned. What had she got wrong? "However?"

He smiled. "You should not get so excited over a discovery that you would rush about the castle in your robe."

She blushed again, furiously, and made an effort to hold the garment closer about her than it already was, though it was completely demure and held firmly by the sash at her waist. "I'm sorry, I just got so caught up..."

"It's understandable." He laughed. "I get the same way when I finally see a solution I've been fighting to find. Of course, I've never rushed naked about the halls..."

"I didn't rush naked..." She said miserably. She was so embarrassed she just wanted to sneak out and hide under her bed. Then his fingers lightly touched her shoulder and her whole being froze, from toes to soul.

"You're telling me that you're dressed under there?" He asked, his voice still amused. "I think not."

Her throat closed in a convulsive swallow, all the saliva having vanished from her mouth in an instant. Her heart was pounding, but she didn't think she'd inhaled since he'd touched her. She didn't think she COULD inhale.

Then she looked up at him, expecting him to drop his hand and laugh, dismissing her for the night so that he could continue his own studies. Instead, his hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek, and gently traced down her jaw.

She was the one who did it. She knew she did, though she couldn't believe herself afterward. She had dreamt of this, had meant it to be perfect...had imagined it always as being perfect. But truth be told she was just a seventeen year old girl who had never been kissed, so when she leaned up and pressed her lips to his she nearly smacked both their noses, their lips meeting only a moment before she pulled back from her blunder. "I'm sorry." She told him, stammering now.

Then he was kissing her, and his lips were far more experienced than hers were. His arm snaked around her waist and he pressed her against him; her hands fumbled around his shoulders, her heart moving so fast she was sure it would explode soon. Everything vanished; her learning, her identity, the fact that she was his student, the fact that he was older than she, the fact she had never done such things in her life. There was only him.

Some centuries later the kiss broke, his warm breath on her lips. Her hands moved from his shoulders to the sash of her robe. Silk fell away, pooled on the stones. He lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

On his desk, the candles burned forgotten.

During the next several months her learning seemed to progress quicker. She had long surpassed her teacher and in turn taught him; already she was being called a sorceress, and more and more of the nobility was turning to her for advice.

Lauren gave birth after a day of labor, her struggles finally resulting in a princess that looked simply bored with the proceedings. Arhyn delivered her, after hearing of the labor and going to see the queen, only to find the filthy-handed midwives were clotting the room with incense and actually preparing to birth the child without cleaning their hands. Her temper flared and she sent them out on their ears, determined that the queen would have proper treatment, before she realized the only treatment left was her.

But it proceeded quite well and the girl slipped into the world, gave one half- hearted cry, then proceeded to look at Arhyn stupidly, as if to say 'what do you think you're doing? I was warm, damn it!'

The baby was cleaned and set in her mother's arms; the afterbirth was removed and disposed of, all traces of blood were removed. Then Gareth, who had paced the front room of their quarters, was allowed in.

He cried for joy when he saw his daughter. They decided to name her Amethyst.

She all but moved in to David's quarters, following the princess's birth. She made no move to hide the relationship from any within the castle, but for some reason even thinking that her parents might find out frightened her. Still, she would not have changed it.

Truth to tell, he was an addiction, and a blind addiction at that. Whenever she was alone she was sensible and confident almost to a fault. Whenever she was with him, she swayed instantly to nearly everything he wanted. Had someone pointed it out to her she would have scoffed; surely she could not be THAT different, just because of David?

She would have scoffed, but inside, something would have whispered to her that it just might be true.

And she was deaf as well. The rumors that were whispered among the maidservants and cooks, the rumors about David's escapades with other women whenever he took a fancy, did not register enough on her to even prompt a jealous response. She simply did not hear them.

David was her motivation, her driving force. He was sun, moon, and stars to her.

It was David who suggested that perhaps Salt's colt had been switched, that the true offspring had been removed and the unicorn colt returned to its place. That in his exhaustion, Kann had not noticed the slight differences. Arhyn immediately shook her head.

"Not possible. Even if...if mind you...someone came across a female unicorn birthing and somehow managed, during a moment of distraction, to snatch the infant from her...an impossibility in and of itself...there would have been no wax. The mother would have cleaned it off with the rest of the birthmatter. However a mortal mare would not know to concentrate on that spot and work the wax free, and it would have remained. I myself pulled it off.

She smiled cleverly at him. "And...and even if they could manage to take the infant from its unwary mother before she even had a chance to clean the wax off...why? What would be the point? Why switch a priceless unicorn colt for a comparably worthless horse?"

He conceded she had a point, and so she seduced him.

It didn't take much for her to find an excuse to do so, after all.

Soon into their relationship David urged her to drink a mix of herbs whenever they were together. "Unless," He had said with that smile of his. "You are planning on becoming a mother any time soon."

She had instantly acquiesced; she wanted to concentrate on her studies and just being with him; she was far too young for children. In time, perhaps...in time. David would marry her and they would have all the children they wished, but for now she drank the herbs and did not become pregnant.

Six months passed since she'd entered the castle, then a year. Amethyst learned how to walk and a few of her nonsense words turned into something that might resemble normal speech. Everyone referred to Arhyn as a sorceress now, attitudes toward her were becoming more reverent. The whisperings of the maids and cooks, which she had never heard, ceased in her presence.

She became a trusted confidante of the king and the queen, and an advisor despite her youth. In matters of magic she was consulted even before David, which was why when a Fairie appeared alone and battered at the gates, she was the one who was first told, and she was the one who first went down.

She somehow knew right away it would be Lion, and her thoughts were only confirmed when she entered the courtyard and saw him there. She went immediately too him, taking his arm kindly and firmly, and led him inside.

He looked as if he'd been beaten, crusted blood on his nose and lips, and one eye swollen nearly closed. He staggered on exhausted legs, and said nothing to her as she helped him take his weight, and guided him to the rooms she very rarely used any more. She eased him into a chair, sent a maid after strong tea, and set to cleaning his face.

She didn't need to ask who had done this to him, and he didn't tell her. He had finally escaped Dugan and this was the price of his escape. He'd gone to the only place, the only person, outside the festival that he knew and that was that. He was as lost and confused, as frightened as she had been when she'd come.

He drank the tea when his wounds were clean, and was nearly nodding off even as she guided him to her bed. He fell asleep instantly and she covered him up well.

Gareth and Lauren would not turn him away, Immortal or not. She knew they wouldn't, but she still had to inform them of his arrival. As soon as she was sure he was comfortable and would not be bothered, she went and told them.

Later that night, as she lay in David's arms, she found herself thinking about Lion. "Do you think that Dugan knows where he's gone?"

"Does it matter?" He asked sleepily, holding her closer. "What do you think he'd do about it?"

"I don't know." She replied. "I have a feeling that man is more dangerous than we think."

"Dugan?" He kissed her forehead. "He's just a man, like any other. An evil man, perhaps, but nothing more than that. Lion's safe here, and so are you."

But she wondered. And when she'd fallen asleep, for the first time since she met him, her thoughts were of someone other than David.

Arhyn did not get pregnant...but the queen did.

She and Gareth were shocked when they realized; they had not expected another after Amethyst, especially after all the effort it had taken to have her. The queen was delighted, the king ecstatic. Amethyst watched her mother's lap shrink, first with interest and then with irritation as she realized that it was getting harder and harder for her to sit on her usual perch. She did, however, delight in the feel of the baby's kicks, often resting her tiny face against her mother's stomach and giggling as her sibling moved.

Arhyn kept a very concerned eye on Lauren during this time. The winter had brought with it a mild cough that the queen suffered with for a few weeks; nothing dangerous but irritatingly persistent, and something that Arhyn was afraid might make the pregnancy more difficult. When she wasn't studying her magic she was with the queen, often with Lion in fairly silent company, and her visits with David grew less and less. As they did, the rumors of his other liaisons grew more and more, but she was still deaf to them.

However she did not neglect him altogether, and to her he seemed to understand her need to keep company with the queen. He seemed as understanding as he ever had. There was nothing at all to foreshadow what was to come.

The night the second of the royal children was born was a tense one about the castle. The weather had grown humid and though a storm threatened it had not broke; the electric weight of the air put everyone on edge. Arhyn had been studying quietly, keeping the light low in respect to David, who slept nearby. Soon she planned to close the book and join him.

The soft knock sounded from the other room, and she looked up before marking her place and rising, setting it aside on the table as she answered the door. A guard looked at her, lowering his head slightly.

"Arhyn, the king requests your presence." He said. "Her Majesty has gone into labor."

"It's early," Arhyn murmured. "Very well, I'll be up there immediately."

The guard left and she gathered her heavier houserobe, fastening it about her thinner robe and leaving a brief note for David before following up to the royal chambers.

The chambers consisted of a large common room, which was the room where Arhyn had first met the king and queen. Several couches and chairs adorned this room, paintings hung from the walls, and a large fireplace provided most of the illumination and all the warmth. On the right wall was a door leading into a small office; one Gareth rarely used, preferring to work in his study further down the hall. On the back wall was the door leading into the private bedroom.

It was in this main room where Gareth had paced while his wife delivered Amethyst in the bedroom. It was in this main room where he paced now, Amethyst dozing in his arms, her brown eyes half closed and her thumb in her mouth. She paid Arhyn no heed save to drop her eyelids another half-centimeter. Gareth, however, was not so laid back.

"Arhyn!" He exclaimed in a relieved, half-whisper, not wanting to disturb his daughter. Beyond the bedroom door she could hear the faint cries of the queen. "Hurry. I won't have her in there with them any more."

"The midwives?" She lifted her eyebrows. "Who called them?"

"I wish I knew," He growled. "I'd have their head on a pike. I'd rather have you in there with her than the whole bleeding lot of them." His eyes shone with worry. "The baby is early."

"Only a week or so." She comforted. "Things will be fine."

She should have gone straight in, but instead she paused and kissed the king on his cheek. People sometimes forgot that kings were people too, and worried when their wives were in pain. They needed comforting just the same as anyone else.

He smiled at her gratefully, and she returned it before slipping into the bedroom.

Instantly she started to cough, waving her hand in an attempt to dispel the incense that was burning as she took in the scene.

Lauren was propped up in the bed, her face pale and sweating as she strained against another contraction. Two midwives held her arms to keep her down on the bed, and another squatted between her legs, checking the babe's progress. Without hesitation, Arhyn snagged the brazier that held the incense, and cast it promptly out the window. The two younger midwives squawked, but the third was downright mortified.

"What are you doing?" She screeched, straightening up from her position and advancing to her. "Without the blessed incense to cleanse the evil spirits..."

"What good does it do besides making it difficult for Her Majesty...and me...to breathe?" Arhyn demanded. Angry, she snagged the midwife's hands and turned them palm upwards. Unsurprisingly, they were filthy. She cast them down and ordered all three out of the room. This caused another riot of indignant squawks and squabbles which she tolerated none of. She shooed them out, shutting the door, satisfied, behind them.

"Now then," She said, turning towards Lauren. The queen offered her a strained smile, having reached a relaxed moment between contractions.

"Thank you, Arhyn." She said. "I don't know who keeps calling them, but whomever it is should be strung up."

"Your husband is of a similar opinion." She found the hot bowl of water, untouched by the filthy midwives, and swiftly washed her hands, and then again, until she was certain of their sterility, then dried them on a clean rag. Taking another rag, she dipped it in cold water and went to Lauren, cooling her face and forehead. She smiled at her, and Arhyn smiled back. Only moments later her great abdomen clenched again, and her face strained. Arhyn swiftly made her way around and was startled to see a dark shadow of what she thought was the crown of the babe at the height of the contraction. "Keep your breathing up Your Majesty. Well! This one certainly isn't wasting its time, is it?"

The queen had been in labor with Amethyst for over eighteen hours before she had crowned. Here it wasn't even an hour after her first serious pains, and the loosening of her water. Another contraction, and the shadow reappeared, this time a great deal more of it. Arhyn blanched when she realized she wasn't looking at the head at all, but part of the curled back of the infant.

"Stop!" She said. "Stop pushing, Your Majesty."

"What is it?" The queen gasped, fighting the urge. "What's wrong?"

"The infant is turned wrong."

The queen groaned in pain as Arhyn slipped in a hand, grasping the baby with her other hand braced on Lauren's abdomen. Another contraction struck and she waited for it to pass, then tried to turn the baby.

Lauren fought not to cry out, did not entirely succeed as pain ripped through her. The battle lasted for hours, until both women were running with sweat. Arhyn would almost succeed in rotating the infant, only to have the tiny body move back into the improper place as another contraction hit. She started to become frightened, both that she would lose the baby as well as lose the queen. She grit her teeth against the emotion, flicked a soaked lock of hair from her eyes, and twisted the baby again. It wouldn't budge. She continued to strain, closing her eyes, trying not to hear Lauren's pained, weakening gasps.

"God, please..." She whispered through gritted teeth.

Suddenly the baby moved, sliding around so quickly that Arhyn nearly fell. A contraction seized and the baby crowned...properly this time.

"Oh, thank God," Arhyn said. "Push Lauren, hard as you can. Push!"

The queen pushed, and the head slid down further before the contraction ended and she had to gasp for breath again. Only moments later, another seized.

She urged Lauren to push again, encouraged her to breathe, and by the next contraction the head fully appeared. Arhyn grabbed it, wiping away the mucus from the nostrils and mouth and turned it gently to allow the shoulders better access. One more push, and the body almost fell out, leaving her with a dark purple, slippery bundle in her arms. Lauren slumped back, gasping, and laughing tiredly.

But something was wrong. The cord was tight around the baby's neck, and the tiny body remained still. Lauren saw it, as she tried to sit, and softly started to weep. As fast as she could Arhyn found her shears with shaking hands and cut the cord free from the thin neck, pulling it away. Even free of its noose the baby did not react. The chest did not move, and its dark color was beginning to look ominous. Turning the babe over, careful to cradle its head, she thumped it on the back. Nothing.

She turned it upside down, hanging it from its tiny heels to make certain all the fluid had drained from its lungs, and gave it another whack. Still no movement from the new, almost life.

"Oh, my baby," The queen slumped again, lacking the strength to hold herself up. "My baby, my little baby."

She turned the child once more, cradling it in her arm, and on impulse, put her own mouth over its tiny face. She exhaled strongly, and was almost startled to see the frail chest rise, and then fall when she released it. She watched for a second, to see if the movement was repeated. It was not, and so she repeated the gesture. And again. On the fourth breath, she paused once more. There was stillness, then a flicker of movement.

The child's eyes opened, and met Arhyn's. In the silence of its eyes, before its lungs had even drawn its own breath, the baby spoke to the sorceress. What she said brought tears to the young woman's eyes and she felt her arms tremble. Lowering her head again, she whispered softly back.

Only then did the baby open its mouth, jerking slightly as it sucked in a huge breath, and let out a squall so loud the very flagstones of the castle seemed to tremble in response.

"It's alive!" She cried, emotions she didn't understand bursting through her. Her face was wet. "It's okay!"

Quickly she clipped the cord in the proper place with her shears, trying to keep her hands from shaking, finally taking the time to note the sex of the child. It was a girl.

Her crying had softened after that first bellow, and by the time she was clean and wrapped she was still again, her wide, grey eyes blinking as they took in the world. There was a swirl of hair on her head the color of polished mahogany. Arhyn could hardly stand to hand her over to her mother, so entranced was she by the new princess.

"A girl, as beautiful as morning." She said, her throat thick with emotion. Lauren's was no better.

"A girl. Her father will be enchanted by her, as he was Amethyst."

In minutes the room and the queen were clean and fresh again, with nary a sign that a birthing had just taken place. Only then did Arhyn open the door and allow the king entrance.

He practically burst past her, his frantic face betraying the fact that he had heard the commotion when the newborn wasn't breathing. But when he saw his smiling, exhausted wife and the little bundle in her arms his face collapsed into a tearful grin. He handed the now awake Amethyst to Arhyn, and knelt by Lauren's bed.

"It's a girl." She told him as she approached the other side. He kissed his wife on the forehead, and ran a finger down the baby's cheek.

"A girl." He grinned. "Another perfect little girl."

Amethyst leaned over in her arms, squinting at this strange thing her mother held with a toddler's rapt interest.

"What are we going to name her?" Lauren asked.

"After my mother, if it pleases you, my love." He replied. She looked down at the grey eyes which still studied them in silence, forming the name on her lips.

"Bethany. Yes, I like that. Little Bethany."

Arhyn held Amethyst tight, allowing her own eyes to grow blurry with tears. Little Bethany. Yes, she liked that too.

After she was certain that there would be no immediate difficulties with either Lauren or the baby, Arhyn dragged herself back to David's rooms. She was nearly limping with exhaustion, her hair hanging in rags down her back, corded by the sweat which had soaked it and now dried. She would bathe in the morning, but right now all she wanted to do was slide into bed, put her arms around him, and go into sleep for a good ten hours.

Entering the first room did not alert her. It wasn't until she got to the bedroom she realized something was wrong.

David was not in the bed. The blankets were still mussed, half tangled, but he was not there.

"David?" She stepped forward a bit, until she could look through the semi-opened privy door. He was not there, either. She turned, wondering where he could have gone, when she realized several drawers were open. Closer examination showed they were also empty; his clothes were gone.

She returned to the main room, confused, to find that several of his parchments, scrolls, and favorite books were gone as well. She stood dumbly in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, and it took her several minutes to get around it.

He was gone. He'd packed and left.

Still nearly dead on her feet she ran drunkenly down the corridor, stumbling down a set of stairs, and out into the courtyard. She made her way to the gate guards.

"Where's David?" She asked before they could even acknowledge her. "Did he leave?"

"Yes, my lady." One said. "Several hours ago. He looked ready for a long journey."

Long journey. Several hours ago. He had left; he was gone. Her mind and her heart simply could not comprehend it.

She tried to get back to her rooms, but her own exhaustion and confusion sent her hard to her knees halfway up the second flight of stairs. She wanted to sob, but she didn't have the energy for it.

Why would he leave? Why would he go like that, without a word, without warning? Without saying good-bye?

She didn't know how long she knelt like that before a gentle touch came to her shoulder. She leapt up, spinning, ready to both embrace him and berate him at the same time...but it was not David. Lion looked at her with his deep green eyes, then gently took her arm.

"Come on." He said softly. "You need sleep."

She followed him dumbly up the stairs and he supported her, much as she had him when he'd arrived. He brought her to her own rooms, not David's, and settled her into bed.

"Why?" She asked, even as she fell to sleep. "Why did he leave?"

Lion just looked at her, then closed his eyes until she had slipped off. He opened them again, the torch revealing they were shiny with tears, before he settled into a chair to watch her for the night.

David's inexplicable departure left Arhyn in turmoil. He had obviously gone of his own will but for there to be no explanation, no note, hurt her more than she had thought she could be hurt. He had left nothing of his behind, no sign that he ever indicated to come back.

Lion became her shadow during this, though she hardly noticed him. David had been her addiction and now she was crashing from lack of him...and crashing hard. She didn't sleep or eat, didn't even go to see little Bethany, the infant she had felt so drawn to.

Yet she did not cry. She did not and had not since the baby's birth. Perhaps it would have gone better if she had; it would have released some of the pressure that boiled and burned inside her.

She woke from nightmares almost constantly, yearning for him, wishing he would hold her, kiss her, make it all better. During one of these she jolted from sleep to her half- shadowed room, realized that Lion was asleep in his chair.

Asleep. He'd not been asleep before, when she'd awakened.

Asleep.

It was easy to leave the castle; the guard had no reason to stop her. She didn't halt her running until she was deep in the woods north of the castle, the only sounds about her the crying of insects and the lonely call of an owl. Her hands shook as she fell to her knees, drawing a dagger from one pocket of her robe. Her chest heaving with unshed sobs she turned the blade toward her heart, and plunged it home.

It was stopped before the tip could even touch her garment.

She did not comprehend the halt at first, opening her eyes. The glint of moonstruck gold filled her sight, and for an instant she flashed back to her childhood, and the memory of rainbows on her eyelids.

Her gaze followed the gold along its three foot length and ended rested on the almond eyes of the unicorn. The sad almond eyes.

Her fingers weakened and she dropped the weapon. The unicorn lifted his head slightly, still holding her gaze.

She recognized him instantly of course. This powerful, mature beast in front of her was the same as the finely constructed, silky little colt that had blew on her cheek from the straw of his mother's stall.

That's impossible, She thought. He could not be grown yet; unicorns do not mature for a century.

He's half mortal, Another reminded her. Salt's genetics already proved somewhat dominant by the gestation; perhaps he shares her mortal growth rate as well.

Her eyes burned with unshed, demanding tears, and it was hard to breathe. He watched her a moment more, then eased his bulk down until he was lounging. His nose touched her cheek gently for a moment, and she hugged his neck. Hugged him fiercely. Hugged him fiercely and sobbed at last, wailing her grief and her hurt unabashedly until her head ached and her lungs hurt and her heart felt queerly empty.

The fur on his neck was wet with her tears when she'd finished, but he made no move to pull away. Emptied out of the pain and the heartache she'd been holding in, she whispered to the wondrous being she held.

"Why?" Her voice was faint and rough. "Why did he leave me?"

The unicorn sighed softly, the sound rumbling through his massive chest, and she turned her face into his jaw, and kissed it.

"I love you." She murmured to him. A moment later he murmured back, a word so soft she wasn't sure at all that she had actually heard him speak.

"Chain." Was what he said. She pulled back, staring at him numbly for a long while, before he straightened his legs and rose. Nuzzling her shoulder, he invited her to cast an arm around his neck and support herself. She did so, and he headed slowly back toward the castle.

He left her near the gates, retreating softly and silently back to his home. Still feeling empty, she went into the gates, only to feel another set of arms around her. Lion had woken.

She held him and wept; she had no energy left for any real crying. These tears felt cleansing, however, and when she returned to bed she had the first, peaceful sleep she'd experienced since David had gone.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"M...Ma'am?" The girl stammered, taking a frightened step back.

"David," She gritted out. "Did you sleep with him? Don't lie to me. I'll know if you lie."

She had swallowed, looking nervously from side to side for help a moment before lowering her head. "Yes, ma'am." She eked out.

"While he was with me?"

"Yes, ma'am." This response was even quieter than the first.

For some reason, this answer lifted a tremendous weight off of Arhyn, and her shoulders slumped. She nodded, dismissing the girl back to her duties, then stood in the empty hall and laughed quietly, sadly, at her own naive stupidity.

During the following four years, she delved even more deeply into her relationship with the unicorn. She finally understood the bond she and he shared, created that moment when the rainbows had danced on her eyes. She understood the powers they had separately, and the even greater powers they had together. She understood him like a brother, like an intricate part of herself, and he understood her the same.

The meaning of the word he'd whispered to her the night she had grieved for David was finally revealed to her; it was his name. A thing unicorns only told to their closest loved ones. A very powerful thing that, to be spoken out loud save to the owner of that name invited great bad luck and evil upon the speaker.

Chain.

She wrote it once, using the ancient alphabet that she had finally understood the night she and David had first come together, and realized at last exactly what the seer had meant by saying powerful words were written safely using this method. Using the alphabet, the name Chain was spelled Zhahn, a word any laymen would assuredly mispronounce.

Lion remained her shadow, and soon became a very valued friend. She found herself speaking to him on many things, sharing secret dreams and thoughts with him, listening to his in turn. He became very important to her, a companion she not only learned to rely on but began to be unable to imagine herself without.

Slowly, she realized that she must be falling in love with him, and this understanding sent her to thinking again. Love, she realized, was nothing like what she'd had with David. She had known little to nothing of his mind, she now realized, and had revealed little to nothing of hers to him. Whereas before she had yearned for David's return, she now feared it. He had a powerful hold on her, she realized, some sort of draw for her that she would find very difficult to deny. She had no idea what would happen if he came back.

But he never did.

Four years after he had gone, she invited Lion to her bed. Four years and two weeks after, Lion got up enough nerve to go.

Arhyn realized she'd been standing for a very long time, lost in her memories of the past. No one had ever mentioned David to her after that. She doubted any of Gareth's children had heard his name, or even knew there was a seer at the castle before she came, and that was just fine with her. She doubted that any of them, even Bethany, truly understood Arhyn's age; they knew she had come to the castle as a child, but Arhyn hardly looked over twenty though she was closing forty rapidly, and somehow that apparent youth added to the illusion of agelessness.

Arhyn wasn't ageless, she knew, but she was joined to the unicorn, after all. He had aged at a mortal rate until maturity and then slowed to something nearing his Immortal inheritance. Arhyn had done the same. She may well be advising Bethany's great - great grandchildren and still look only a quarter century.

Provided Dugan didn't kill her first. Or Zhahn.

Dugan had driven her to the castle as a young woman, and she had thought him gone until that dark had threatened to pull her down during her vision with Zhahn during the battle. Now the threat that she had only dimly perceived in her youth, inexperience, and naiveté was all too solid and real. Now the very thing that had given her her life and her family, ironic as it was, threatened to take them all away again.

Dugan. All circles turned to him. All things started and ended with him. He had to be stopped.

Her shoulders heavy with the weight of her memories and past years, she finally completed the journey home.

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Story by Becky Farris(c) 2000