"Ready?" he repeats, eyebrows shooting up. "'Tis duty, witch, not a choice. Their alliance will secure a more lasting peace than either kingdom is accustomed to."

"Sorry. I have no idea how this works," I reply. "It's a shame they can't choose who they wish to bond with." I'm more disappointed than warranted, my thoughts on how incredible it would be to be the woman the Shadow Knight's world revolved around.

"My elder sister thinks as you do," he admits. "There was a time when she was betrothed to the son of the Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake. It took some . . . convincing to break off their betrothal and promise her to the Shadow Knight instead. The two Knights are mortal enemies and I fear I made their brittle relationship worse."

I could listen to him talk forever. He's got a beautiful, cultured, upper class British accent. "Was your sister upset about it?"

"They both were. 'Tis why the younger left with her, to escape their manipulative brother."

"Maybe you should let her choose who she wants to be with," I say again.

"'Tis not our way," he says and straightens. "Now, you had questions. I'm listening."

Thoughts on the two princesses following the Shadow Knight's army, I can't help feeling bad for both of them this time, even the Disney Princess. "You weren't surprised I was from some other world," I start. "Why not?"

"You aren't the first to come here. There are records at my palace that document the appearance of men and women from places that do not exist."

"Seriously? Where are they?" I ask anxiously. "I need to find them!"

"You are the first in this era. The others are long dead."

Disappointed, I absently sip my wine and then stretch forward to pour a second cup. It's strong enough that I already feel like I'm starting to buzz. Or maybe, I need food to soak it up. I haven't eaten since this morning.

I copy his movement and pinch at the herbs to drop into my goblet. I gaze into it for a bit too long, fascinated by the reflection of the stars.

"If you know this much, do you have any idea about the way back?" I ask.

"There is no way back."

"You see, I just can't believe that," I say with some impatience. "If I got here, I can get back."

"If you could get back, I could find who sent you here and stop this nonsense."

"That's just . . ." insane. It almost makes sense that I'm here, but I can't fathom the idea of a book character seeking out its author. Maybe because he's not real. I draw a deep breath and try to figure out where to start to unravel this mess.

"You have no memory of who sent you here or how?" the Red Knight asks.

"None. I mean, nothing but what I told you. I don't know LF and can't really remember how I got here." I nibble my lower lip, realizing for the first time I really don't know what happened. The last thing I recall was watching the ending of Labyrinth where the heroine realized the power had been in her hands all along, not the bad guy's. I sort of blacked out towards the last part of that scene, only to wake up in Black Moon Draw. "Do you think I'm missing something?"

"I believe it to be possible. You arrived here by some means. As you pointed out, if you could return, would it not be by the same means? Mayhap you need to remember it."

"That doesn't usually happen when you've drunk that much," I say with a frown. I shake my head. I'm tipsy. Before I lose my ability to focus, I change the subject. "The Shadow Knight. Why is he obsessed with reclaiming his lands? What happened?"

"To discuss a past era is to invite tragedy," the Red Knight warns, a note of discomfort entering his voice.

"So you won't tell me?"

"I am an ally to all. Do not turn to me for such knowledge."

"That reminds me. I found the Brown Lake coins in your carriage and he found them on me. He doesn't really consider you an ally right now." The words come out before I can stop them, the side effect of buzzing.

The Red Knight stiffens. I study him with effort, the world fuzzy and unsteady. He says nothing in what feels like forever. I know it's because I'm no longer sober that time seems to slow, but I quickly grow tired of waiting for him to respond and pour more wine for both of us.

"'Tis not so simple," he replies finally. "Your arrival complicated our alliance."

"I mess up everything. There has to be a reason I'm here." I sigh.

"To become the last great battle-witch."

I roll my eyes. "You're right. I am a terrible battle-witch." Whoa. I should not have said that.

But it gets worse. I have the urge to tell him everything, from the time my parents divorced to the way the Shadow Knight makes me feel when he's close enough for me to smell brownies. The compulsion isn't natural; that much I know. I've been drunk enough times to know what it should feel like.

"Is something in this?" I ask, setting the goblet down and staring at it.

"'Tis strong wine." He sets his down as well. "I know you have some magic. I saw it."

"I do. I guess it's not what it's supposed to be. Maybe because I'm not a damn witch to start off with!"

"You are." His calm, firm assurance makes my brows furrow. "There is a legend about Black Moon Draw, that if the last great battle-witch fell into the hands of the Shadow Knight ruling the dark kingdom, he would know victory over all. Reclaim the lands of his ancestors, break the family curse, and all war would end for an era."

"That doesn't sound so bad," I say, thinking about the horrible battle I witnessed yesterday. I wish I knew more about the curse; it seems like everyone has his or her own understanding of it.

"If you are a knight of this world, it does," the Red Knight says dryly. "No one wants to lose his kingdom."

"Ah. Makes sense." I'm starting to understand a little more about what's going on in this world. "What happens if he fails?"

"The eternal fog of Black Moon Draw consumes all."

I stare at him blankly for a moment. "So you do know what happens. And you'd rather have that happen than be ruled by someone like him?"

"That is the position of many of the Knights. They want to kill him in order to stop him and his curse from spreading. 'Tis just a legend after all. No one knows if it is true. They are wagering 'tis not. He is the last Shadow Knight with no son to succeed him. If he is gone, many believe the curse will be gone with him."

I listen, soaking up the information. It's not what I expected to hear. The Shadow Knight is sounding more like an underdog, someone who needs more support than I thought. Hearing about the alternative that his death might also stop this leaves me a little more interested in his welfare than I am ready to admit. I can't escape the image of him saving my life and those of his men in battle or the instinct that there is more to him than I'm willing to consider right now. I don't want there to be some part of this place that makes me want to stay, no matter how my body responds to seeing him.

It's getting harder to concentrate. I shake my head.

"The best way to kill him is to first eliminate his battle-witch," the Red Knight continues, drinking more wine.

"That sounds smart," I agree. It takes a moment for his meaning to register. "Oh. But that's me."

"It is," he agrees with a smile. "Which is why we're talking."

"Because . . ."

"I was paid by Brown Sun Lake to ensure that happened."

I hear the words, but they're competing with some random thoughts about how strong the flowers smell here. When they click, though, a shot of adrenaline blows away everything but the idea the man before me was paid to kill me.

"But . . . why . . . I mean . . . you had a chance to do that." I stand. "You didn't. And you haven't. Or . . . maybe you did?" I lean precariously to glance into the wine once more.

"Not yet," he admits softly.

I struggle to focus on him. I'm fevered from the alcohol, my vision too blurry for me to make out the finer features of his face. "And why not?"

"You have something I need: a way back. I and the Shadow Knight are all that stand between you and the other eight knights out there that want you dead."

Swallowing hard, I say nothing, trying hard to process everything. My heart feels like it's flying, and my muscles are warmed by the alcohol but aching more with my sudden tension.

"Unhand my lady!" The squire's cry comes seconds before he stumbles from the pathway into the area around the pond. He's off balance worse than me, probably because he's carrying a sword almost his size.

"Calm yourself, squire," the Red Knight responds, amused. "I have done no harm to your mistress. Take her back to her chamber, if it pleases you."

The squire stares, slightly bewildered, and then gives a firm nod and lowers the weapon. "I will. Come, witch."

"Oh, don't you start!" I snap, facing him. I spin too far and end up facing a very large hedge. It's moving, or appears to be in my drunken stupor. "You're too young to . . . why is this bush moving?" I poke the blob.

It's solid, warm. I blink rapidly to focus and then close my eyes, hoping that helps clear my confusion.

"Naught but herbs to help calm her," the Red Knight says.

My god I'm so tired. Someone else responds, and I start to feel the sensation of floating. Tomorrow morning is gonna be rough.

Chapter Twelve.

The Shadow Knight quelled every instinct of his body that wanted to behead the Red Knight where he stood. Carrying the unconscious battle-witch back to his chamber, he mentally tore the Red Knight to shreds. He began to realize his battle-witch could not be left alone. Ever. She did not know the danger that lurked in the hold and elsewhere in this world. It was pure chance that she was alive. The Red Knight, as lethal as he was gentlemanly, never hesitated to carry out a task for which he was hired.

It meant the Red Knight had an interest in the battle-witch, one the Shadow Knight knew nothing about, one he was unable to imagine. What was more important to his enemies than disabling his battle-witch?

Reaching the chamber, he nudged the door open with his hip and crossed to the bed. She was lucky she was not awake, or she'd receive a severe lecture about how foolish she was. How did she not know better? He was not in the habit of hauling vulnerable witches or warriors around, and he did not care for the way it slowed him down.

"Sire."

"Out!"

The squire scrambled out of the chamber, closing the door before the Shadow Knight's temper fell to him. The boy deserved a beating for leaving the battle-witch alone, even to fetch her food.

Setting her down, the Shadow Knight forced himself away. He had half a mind to shake her awake to tell her how foolish she was. Instead, he shook out his shoulders and removed the boar's head, cloak, and weapons. Barring the door, he tugged off his boots then stood before the hearth, staring into it without seeing the dancing flames.

He knew why he was invited to this place. It was not for a meeting, another failed attempt to convince him to cease declaring war on the world, but to corner and disable his strongest weapon: the battle-witch.

They might be doing me a favor. Darkly, he dwelled on how much trouble she was, how much her perfect body distracted him, and, worst of all, how inconsistently she performed in battle. If anyone was to dispatch her, it was going to be him.

He glanced towards the bed and his gaze lingered. The strange instinct was back, the sense that there was more to her. Aught he was missing. An unsettled turn of his stomach and the quickening of his heart.

He strode towards the bed, not liking any of the sensations going through him. In battle, he was accustomed to trusting his instincts. They kept him alive and several steps ahead of his enemies.

But the intuition that did him so well in battle was . . . addled. Unclear. Hesitant to judge the woman who was supposed to be something she was not. He had to protect her despite her foolishness. The possessive, protective instinct was new, one he never experienced towards a woman.

Turning away, he planted his hands on his hips and stared at the fire. By all rights, he should leave the hold.

He heard her stir and prepared to give her a tongue-lashing she would never forget.

"You die in the battle with Brown Sun Lake."

His words stuck in his throat. The Shadow Knight faced her.

The battle-witch was sitting up, seated with her legs crossed beneath her. Her drunken gaze was on him, or rather, in his direction. She didn't seem able to focus clearly and was rocking.

"What say you?" he demanded.

Her brow furrowed. "N. . . nothing." The answer was slurred, unlike her previous words. "You can read my . . . mind."

"Nonsense."

"What did you think I was . . . said?" she asked.

"You said I died in the battle with Brown Sun Lake."

"Exactly!" Excited, the battle-witch climbed off the bed. She took two steps then tripped and landed on her knees.

He watched her suspiciously.

Climbing to her feet, she took a deep breath and focused on his chin. Or maybe his neck. She was weaving. He doubted she knew where she looked. She clearly was not sure on her feet.

"Battle of Brown Sun Lake." She pronounced the words carefully. "You die."

"Your mind is not right."

"Righter than yours!" she retorted. "You know what else? The Red Knight threatened to kill me, and if he decides not to, it's because he wants me to take him back to my home world so he can find the person who sent me here. Like that's even possible. He's not real!"

"Not this again. Woman, if you-"

"No! You listen! I am so sick of being ignored or put down when I know I'm right! I am from a different world and in that world, you aren't real and you die in battle!" She started forward and tripped.

The Shadow Knight caught her this time, and she leaned into him, her soft body melting against his despite her anger. He wrapped both arms around her, plagued by the compulsion to do more than hold her steady. It took great will to keep his hands from roaming her body. "You make no sense," he snapped.

"I make perfect sense." She tossed her head back to glare at him. "You wear a boar head and refuse to marry your betrothed!"

Failing to see how that was an insult or sign of his nonsense, the Shadow Knight pulled the necklace from her bodice with his other hand.