"Poison!" exclaimed the woman. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d poisoned her! 'Twas poison in the goblet meant for Adrian!"

"Aye," the man replied, his voice filled with outrage.

"Should I kill him now?"

"Nay. 'Tis not part of the game." she answered reluctantly.

"Heal her, else the dark bishop will capture our queen and we will be checkmated. If his mate is destroyed, the line will not survive."

"She is not yet his mate, my dear," he chided. "Or have you not noticed?"

"I have noticed," she said, sulky now. "And it seems to me that you have lost control of this game."

"Never, my dear," he said, shaking his mane of pale, golden hair and smiling a secret smile. "There is a way out of every tangle if you but know where to look."

"Well?" She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Ahem," he cleared this throat noisily. "I believe 'tis my move?"

TWENTY.

Adrian paced back and forth between the stone bench and the herb garden. He watched the sun sink slowly behind the high walls of the castle, then slumped dejectedly upon the hard seat.

All day his beloved Tempest had lain near death, and he had not been allowed near her room. He had threatened and cajoled, even shed a few tears, but still had not been granted permission to see her. Adrian had never been so alone or so frightened as he lingered in the rapidly darkening garden. A light dusting of snow was beginning to cover everything, but still he did not move.

He needed to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. He quested into that part of his mind where she had always been, but there was only silence.

"Tempest," he said, his voice quivering with emotion. "I need you. Where are you, little one?"

"Adrian." His name whispered upon the breeze, burrowed into his heart.

"Tempest?" He rose to his feet, hope blossoming. "Please, little witch, tell me what to do." But there was no answer Adrian had never prayed before-so far as he could remember-but he prayed. He called upon G.o.ds. He called upon G.o.ddesses. He begged and pleaded far into the night. He offered his own life if they would only spare his beloved. There was no response. He was alone, and he sensed the futility of his prayers as he finally gave up and wandered into the castle.

Everyone was asleep. The serving people had gone to their homes in the nearby village, and the castle guards who were not on duty slept on their hard pallets in the great hall. He

stepped over and around them carefully, determined to not fail in whatever was necessary to be with Tempest. He desperately needed to do something to help her.

He met not a soul as he made his silent trip up the narrow stairs and, listening at the door to Tempest's room, he detected no sound. He hesitated a moment, then opened the door. Miriam was sitting by the bed, and she looked up as he entered.

"Please do not tell me to leave," he implored as he approached the bed. "I must be with her."

"I know, Adrian," Miriam said, her kind voice was weary.

"You love her."

"Aye. She is my heart."

"She is dying, and I can do nothing," she said flatly, hiding her gnawing pain, her eyes black with fatigue. For the first time, he saw the old woman she had become since Tempest had taken ill.

"Nay!" The word exploded from his lips. "I will not let her die!" He could not lose her. He would not lose her.

"There is nothing you can do," Miriam replied bitterly.

"She has been poisoned."

"Nay!" he exclaimed, refusing to believe anyone would do such a thing. "She was just tired. She spilled her wine, and I gave her mine. She seemed better after that and went to bed, but then I heard her call to me and, when I found her, she was...so sick," he whispered. Shock suddenly suffused his body.

"Twas meant for me!" He backed away, hands lifted as if to ward off some unspeakable evil. The truth hit him hard, deep in his belly. "The wine. 'Twas in my wine and I gave it to her."

"Nonsense. Lord Wendall has trustworthy cupbearers.

Nothing ever comes to the tables without first being tasted. No one else has taken ill."

"'Twas the wine," Adrian insisted. "We ate from the same trencher, and I was with her all day. She took no other sustenance that we did not share. Except the wine!"

"Who served you the wine?"

"I do not recall," he answered, trying to remember. "I did not see who brought it. I was too deep in my thoughts. I was

trying to remember my past," he added. "All I remember is the strong odor of mint."

"Mint?"

"Decayed mint!" The truth suddenly dawned on his face.

"The lizard!" he exclaimed.

"Lizard? Adrian have you gone daft? There are no lizards in this manor."

"Aye, there is one, and I will destroy him," he raged. "I will rend the flesh from his foul body and send his soul straight to the h.e.l.l from whence it came!"

A'dryan. The words in his mind were soft and musical.

Send the woman from the room. Tempest? he wondered. But he knew 'twas not Tempest. Her voice was higher, softer, sweeter. He looked around. But no one had entered the room.

He saw only Miriam and Tempest. Tempest lying so pale, so still, looking so small and defenseless in that huge bed.

"Leave us alone, Miriam." Somehow Adrian knew that voice in his mind. He could picture the face of the speaker. He was beginning to remember A'dryan. "Please? I will call you if she worsens. You look so tired. How long since you have had any rest?"

"I am tired," Miriam agreed, her shoulders sagging in weariness. "I feel as though I have not slept in a fortnight."

She rose, gently kissed his cheek and left the room. "Call me if there is any change. Promise me, Adrian."

"Aye, that I promise."

She closed the heavy oak door quietly behind her.

The room was silent.

"Mother?"

Lysira stood before him. "Your memory has returned?"

"I remember you. And Father," he answered, reaching out with wonder to touch her arm. His mother. Golden wings. Soft lullabies on a moonlit night. Flying, soaring, being.

She watched him closely. "Nothing else?"

"I know what we are...and what Father is," he replied, realization dawning in his azure eyes. "But I do not know why I have become human. I remember speaking with Tempest after I killed the red, then all is emptiness."

"'Twill return," she said as she looked toward the bed where Tempest lay, still as death. "Your mate has been poisoned."

"We are not yet mated. There has been no oath of concordance."

"Soon, my son," she a.s.sured him as she walked over to the bed. "But first we must heal her."

Lysira laid her hand upon Tempest's forehead. "Fever.

Raging fever." She pulled the heavy fur from the bed and cast it on the floor, leaving Tempest lying naked in the open air.

"She is more beautiful than I could imagine," Adrian spoke softly. "Even as ill as she has been, she has a strong, beautiful aura. So full of life."

Lysira laid her hands gently on Tempest's belly then bent to smell her breath. "Mandragora. Sweet G.o.ddess," she hissed angrily. "Twas indeed meant for you, my son. 'Tis dragon poison."

"Aye," he nodded. "The black lizard, Sardon di Mercia, gave it to me in my wine, but she drank it instead."

"S'rdonne?" Lysira drew back from the bed and looked around the huge room. "S'rdonne is here?"

"I know not his dragon name," he answered thoughtfully.

"The name he uses around humans is Sardon."

"Aye, 'twas ever so. I thought Damien had destroyed him."

"Evidently not, for he is here now." Adrian's eyes sparkled with golden lights ,and he seemed to grow in stature as he spoke. "I will kill him, Mother, just as soon as I am sure that Tempest is well and safe."

"You cannot best him, A'dryan, for he is too powerful."

"I can and I will." Adrian's jaw was set stubbornly, and his eyes appeared almost golden in the soft candlelight. "I have no fear of him."

"Are you able to change back to dragon?"

"Nay." He looked away. "I cannot."

"'Tis a rare human who can battle even a young dragon and win. You are not that person, A'dryan. Not yet. There is much you must learn and remember before you meet S'rdonne on the field of battle."

"But Mother..."

"Hush now, Son. I must tend to Tempest and I will need to use all my powers to help her. 'Tis only the healer Miriam's vow for you to be mated that keeps her alive now. If I do not help her she will soon die, and you will have no mate."

As he watched, her blue eyes, so like his own, began to glow golden. Her form shimmered, an incandescence radiated from her and flashed sun-bright. In her place stood a golden dragon.

"G.o.d's teeth and blood," the man bellowed. "Must she interfere in everything?"

"You have done nothing to help," the woman noted. "And you know 'twill take dragon magic for this healing."

"I can do dragon magic," he said, lower lip extended in a pout. "She gets to do all the good things. This is my game, and I do not want her in it."

The woman looked at him in surprise. "You are acting like a spoiled child," she chided. "Be yourself. You are an immortal, interfering in human lives. You are not a dragon and you are certainly not a human child." She turned from him to gaze into the crystal, disgust on her lovely face.

"Nay, I am neither human nor dragon." He turned to look at her. "But I have lost control of the game, and it scares the h.e.l.l out of me."

"h.e.l.l is where we may end up if we do not get control again, my dear. Let L'sira do her work."

"There are other forces at work here," he mused as he reached to a shelf under the gold table and drew out another crystal. This crystal ball glowed brightly in the starlight, small specks of onyx emptiness seemed to glow within as he gazed into it raptly.

TWENTY-ONE.

L'sira's wings whispered softly over Tempest's body as she spoke the healing spell. Her dragonspeak rebounded through Adrian's mind as the power filled the room. He closed his eyes, listening, feeling, trusting.

Tempest in this raging storm, Dragon's mate are you.

Gentle one with witch's blood, Healer pure and true, Listen closely to my words And feel my healing power.

Heed me not and you shall be Too soon laid in your bower.

Fading, gentle, mortal flower.