Alexandra laughed. "Oh, now it's not fast enough?"

"Give me two injections. You said there was nothing in the formula that could hurt me. Doubling the dose should double the effect, should it not?" She would simply keep busy and have someone else attend to Byrne for the day.

"It might." The doctor hesitated. "But that much hormone in your system could really throw your body into overdrive."

"I must go into town tonight. Two of our people have left the Realm and... It is complicated. In any event, I will be too busy to do anything foolish." She held out her arm.

"I want you to come back here before dawn so I can check you over," Alexandra said as she administered the shot. When Jayr stood, she added, "Wait; I need to talk you about something else. You told me that Byrne was the one who changed you from human to Darkyn, right?"

"He was."

"I don't think so." She discarded the syringe. "Last night I ran a test to compare your blood sample with one I took from Byrne.

They don't match. As a matter of fact, your blood doesn't match any other sample that I have in the database."

"Why would my blood match anyone's?" Jayr shifted her weight. "I am an orphan. My parents abandoned me. I had no blood kin among our kind."

"That's not what I mean. If Byrne infected you, the pathogen in your blood should be identical to his. It isn't." Alexandra picked up some small strips of glass and brought them to the microscope, then arranged them beneath the lenses before she stood back. "Come here and look."

Jayr peered into the lenses of the device and saw two squares filled with moving dots. "This is what our blood really looks like?"

"Yep. The red things with the black centers are your blood cells," she told her. "The red things with no centers are the human blood you ingest."

Jayr watched the dots collide with one another. "My blood cells are attacking the human cells." Ferociously, in fact.

"They're absorbing them. It's their food." Alexandra touched something on the scope, and the lenses switched, making the images grow larger. "See those three little dots in the center of the black nuclei?"

"Barely."

"They're the troublemakers," Alex said. "They're present in every cell of your body: blood, bones, tissues, nerves, everything.

They've mutated them. They're what make you, me, and all the other people at the party Kyn."

Jayr saw the differences between the two images. "They are not the same."

"No. Which means your mutation is different from Byrne's. Which means he didn't infect you."

"He must have," Jayr said, lifted her head to look at the doctor, "for he was the only one there that day. I gave myself to him.

There was no one else."

Alexandra thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. Perhaps." Jayr felt confused. "My memories of that day stop at the moment my human life did. I lay dreaming until I woke up, changed to Kyn."

Alexandra nodded. "Who was with you when you regained consciousness?"

"My lord Byrne. He had brought me back to his encampment and cared for me until I awoke. I took so long to change he thought I might die of it." Jayr recalled how confusing that time had been, and how gentle Byrne had been with her. "He explained that it had been an accident, that he had not meant to change me."

"Yeah, I bet." Alex tapped her finger against her lips. "When he took your blood, did he share you with anyone else?" When Jayr shook her head, Alex added, "So he drained you dry himself?""I think he must have. It was the only way to change a human to Kyn." She saw Alex's expression. "You know what it was like.

The seigneur did the same to you."

"My change took a lot longer and was way more complicated," the doctor said wryly. "There's just one big fat problem with how Byrne changed you. He couldn't have done it."

"I am Kyn, Doctor," Jayr said.

"Are you sure that you were unconscious for more than three days?" Alex asked.

"I cannot say." Jayr frowned. "That is what my lord told me at the time. We were both unconscious for some days. Then he awoke and called out until his men found us in the pit."

"Even if Byrne and you were unconscious for a couple of days, he couldn't have woken up first, taken you back to his encampment, or cared for you while you were changing," Alex stated emphatically. "Draining you dry would have put you in rapture and him in thrall. According to what I've been told, thrall would have kept him unconscious for three to seven days.

He's have been out cold for at least as long as you were."

"If what you say is true, then another did make me Kyn." Jayr said. "But if it was not Byrne, then who did?"

Alexandra gave her a sympathetic smile. "I think we need to ask your boss that question."

After the humiliation of spending himself in his pants while he slept outside Jayr's door, Byrne had returned to his bed to lie alone and watch a shaft of sunlight crawl across the ceiling. Sometime near sunset he fell asleep, only to be awakened by Beaumaris's attempts to start the fire.

Byrne put a hand to his head. "Where is Jayr?"

"She is attending to the guests, I believe, my lord." He rose and stepped back, beaming as the kindling flared, and then frowning as the small flame extinguished. "Are there birds nesting in your chimney, my lord?"

Byrne sat on the edge of the bed, trying to shake off the sluggishness left from his wretched night. "What?"

"The fire does not breathe, my lord. I should summon the sweep-"

"Forget the fire," Byrne said. "Summon my seneschal." She never let the fire smoke.

"Jayr is greatly busy, but I am happy to attend you, my lord." Beaumaris's eyes darted to the wine rack. "May I prepare some refreshment for you? I think the new merlot from California is exceptionally good. Farlae says-"

"Beau."

"My lord?"

"Get out."

"Yes, my lord." The man bowed quickly and backed out of the room.

Byrne rubbed his pounding temples before starting the fire himself. Thirty minutes later he was still alone, the room hazy with smoke. He tossed a bucket of water on the wood to put out the fire, which only resulted in more smoke. At last he went to the intercom at his bedside and smacked it with his fist. "Jayr?"Harlech answered. "She is not available, my lord. May I be of service?"

Not available? She was his seneschal, not a parking spot. "Find Jayr and send her to me."

"Yes, my lord."

As he waited, Byrne prepared and drank two goblets of bloodwine, one after the other, to clear his head. When Jayr did not arrive, he washed and dressed. He would show her how little he needed her or anyone to dance attendance on him. What he needed her for-what he wanted her for-would be far more pleasant. For both of them. If nothing else, last night's interlude had proven that.

Still she did not come to him.

By God, would he have to go and track her himself?

A knock on the door made Byrne look up. Finally she had come. When she didn't enter, he crossed the room and yanked it open.

"Why do you not-" He stopped and looked down. It was not Jayr, but Nottingham's seneschal. "What do you want?"

Skald bobbed a bow and addressed the turned-up tips of his lurid green court shoes. "I am to deliver a message to you, my lord."

"Well?"

"Lord Cyprien expressed a wish to ride with you. He has taken his mount to the grove of trees on the north side of the lake. He asks that you meet him there." Skald tucked his hands behind his back and gave him a timid glance. "Shall I accompany you as your groom, my lord? You know I am the finest horseman in Florence."

"No. You can go tell the stable master to saddle my horse." Byrne slammed the door in his face and went to the intercom.

"Harlech."

"My lord?"

"Have you found my seneschal?"

"I regret to say that I have not, my lord."

Byrne did not issue any further orders. The intercom lay in pieces, thanks to his fist.

As Byrne made his way to the stables, he stopped every man of the Realm who crossed his path and demanded to know if they had seen Jayr. All of them claimed they had not and offered to look for her. The innocence of their expressions aroused Byrne's suspicions, and he made a detour to stop at the wardrobe keeper's chambers.

Farlae came to the door in his shirtsleeves, an open bottle of bloodwine in his hand. "May I be of service, my lord?"

"You can tell me where Jayr is," Byrne said. "Dinnae bother to deny that you know. Nothing happens under my roof that you or your spies cannae see or hear."

"I know that Jayr went into the city early this afternoon. Just as I know that you spent most of the morning sitting outside her bedchamber door." Farlae propped himself against the door frame, his one black eye glinting. "As does, I daresay, the entire jardin. Doesn't seem like a very comfortable spot. Is there something amiss with your own bed?"

Byrne's lips peeled back from his teeth. "What business is it of yours what I do? I am master here. I will take my rest naked, on the battlements, among a herd of goats if it pleases me."

Farlae shrugged. "Goats are overrated, or so I have heard. Sheep, now, they are said to be quite another matter. I may have to investigate that myself." He drank from the bottle.

Killing his wardrobe keeper, Byrne decided, would not take a great deal of effort. The hall held at least twenty objects with which he could end the man's existence. Only the prospect of Rainer's weeping held him back. "Why did Jayr go to town?"

"Deliveries held up, damaged goods, paperwork to be signed, feed deliveries rescheduled, the usual," the wardrobe keeper said casually. "I hope she remembers to pick up the parts that came in at the Singer center for my serger." He thought for a moment. "I believe a week ago Rain requested that Jayr order four gallons of latex paint from the hardware shop. It seems he tired of the colors in his rooms. Too bad he won't be here to repair them."

"These errands could be handled by anyone. These are the last days of the tournament; Jayr knows she is needed here-"

Byrne stopped and gave Farlae an incredulous look. "You did this deliberately."

"The serger failed on its own," Farlae drawled. "I will need it repaired if I am to tailor all that Lycra the humans must have for their spring season costumes. I had nothing to do with the paint order. Rain is gone off with Viviana. Good riddance." He took a drink from the bottle.

Byrne stabbed a finger in his face. "This nonsense was but an excuse to send her into the city. You did this to keep her away from me."

Farlae lowered the bottle and smiled. "Perhaps we did this to keep you away from her."

"You've gone mad," Byrne said blankly. "Every one of you. My own men, rebelling and conspiring against me. In my own keep."

"Doubtless we are." Unimpressed, Farlae studied the condition of his nails. "Will there be anything else, my lord?"

"Get stuffed." Byrne walked away. "No." He stopped and turned around. "Call Jayr on the contraption she hangs on her ear.

Tell her I command her to return to the Realm and report to me at once."

"Oh, dear." Farlae held up a familiar-looking device. "Do you mean this contraption? I fear in her haste to go it fell out of her pocket and into mine. Well, Harlech may have helped it get there."

Byrne grabbed it and threw it against the wall, where it exploded into a hundred fragments.

"That," he said, staring into Farlae's black eye, "is what happens to a man's head when I lose my temper."

"Indeed." Farlae folded his arms and looked interested. "What happens to a woman's?"

For a long time Byrne stood and said nothing, saw nothing. For his insolent wardrobe keeper's questions explained everything.

He had lived with these men, trained with them, fought beside them. They were loyal to him because he was suzerain, and they lived by Kyn rule. Some of them admired him. Most of them feared him.

They were loyal to Jayr because they loved her.

"I would never hurt the lass," Byrne said.

Farlae's mouth took on a faint sneer. "That is not what I saw last night outside the ballroom."

"I kissed her," he roared."You terrified her," Farlae shouted back, smashing the bottle of bloodwine against his doorway. "You see, my lord, you were not the only one tracking last night. So tell me, when did your seneschal become your prey?"

"I love her."

The three words rang between them, echoing down the hall until the shocking sound of them died away. Farlae crouched and began picking up pieces of the broken bottle.

"Christ." He knelt to help him. "This is a wretched bloody mess."

"It need not be." Something like kindness softened Farlae's craggy face. "Aedan, if you love Jayr, do not force her into something for which she is not ready. Give her leave to come to you, if that is what she wishes. Give her time." Sorrow filled his eyes. "God knows, you cannot hold someone you love if they do not feel the same for you."

There was no more time for this. "I'm riding out to the north side of the lake to meet with Cyprien. Tell anyone who is still interested that I will return in an hour."

Farlae took the shards of glass from him. "Yes, my lord."

"And, Farlae," he said, staring into his hellish eye. "Rain has as much interest in Viviana as I do in a herd of goats."

The wardrobe keeper inclined his head. "Thank you, my lord."

Byrne left for the stables. His favorite palfrey, a big, good-natured stock mare who had more stamina than pedigree, stood saddled and waiting for him. He refused the stable master's offer of a groom and rode out to round the lake.

Byrne took his time making his way to Cyprien's appointed meeting place. The night air cooled the heat in his blood and restored some order to his thoughts. Farlae, he realized, had provoked him only in order to accomplish the same. When Jayr returned from the city, he would settle this thing between them.