and bailey site."

"Motte and bailey?" Adrian asked.

"A motte is the great hill our castle sits upon," answered Tempest. "Of course you know the bailey is the courtyard and the wall surrounding it."

"The first bailey was made of wood, as was the great tower," Tristan explained. "It had been burned to the ground in an earlier siege and, years later, our castle was built upon the ruins. This time the castle was built of stone so it could not be so easily destroyed."

"But why build here?" Adrian was very interested in this bit of human history, and listening to Tristan's tale helped keep his mind off his pain.. "Why not some other place?"

"Because this motte is stone," Tempest replied. "They knew it would hold the weight of the great tower and outer walls and could not easily be undermined."

"Darrin of Kondray had laid siege to many castles," Tristan continued. "He knew early on that his siege was having little effect on the solid stones of our castle. Even the trebuchet and other smaller catapult weapons did no more than irritate Lord Alexander. So he decided to dig a mine tunnel."

"Through solid stone?" Adrian exclaimed in disbelief.

"That must have taken years."

"They worked on the mine tunnel for a year without detection," Tristan answered. "But Alexander was wise to the ways of war and soon discovered their work. He had his men start a counter mine from the dungeon, hoping to intercept Darrin's men before they could get into his castle.

"They met, but Alexander's shaft was six feet above Darrin's. His men dug straight down, and the first rubble fell onto the men below, burying them. From then on it was easy to station a bowman at the drop, and he could kill any man who tried to scale the wall of the mine."

"Why did they not close off the mine shaft after the siege?"

Adrian asked.

"They did," answered Tempest. "But Tristan and I discovered it by accident and dug it out. We just kept it well hidden and never told anyone about it. Father would have been

very angry had he known we were playing in such a dangerous place."

"We must go," said Tristan. "Adrian, can you climb down the ladder?"

"Aye," he answered gruffly. "I will not need to waste time again."

The final leg of their journey, down the cold mine shaft, went quickly after their short rest and they were all relieved to see that dawn was some time off. Tristan gave a short, sharp, whistle, and a horse trotted into view.

"He's a trustworthy mount," he said looking at Adrian.

"You will have no trouble with him. Just release him when you are far enough away and he will return home."

"Aye, my thanks to you Tristan," said Adrian, clasping the smaller man's hand in friendship. "I will see him returned to you."

"We will see him returned to you," Tempest corrected firmly.

"Tempest," Tristan said. "You cannot..."

"Adrian is hurt, Tris," she reminded him before he could voice his objections. "He cannot travel alone. I must go with him."

"Think, Sister!" Tristan exclaimed. "When Father finds you gone he will be livid. He will have the whole castle up in arms and out searching for you. Adrian will be safer on his own."

"Nay."

Tristan recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. He knew from past experience that it would be almost impossible to sway her but he had to try. He looked helplessly at Adrian.

"Tell her to stay," he pleaded.

Adrian smiled. "I need her, Tris," he said simply.

Tristan knew when he was defeated. He kissed Tempest's cheek and whispered, "I love you, little sister." He watched as she mounted the horse and Adrian climbed into the saddle behind her, wrapping his long arms around her waist.

"Tell Marisa," Tempest said softly. "Tell her, Tris..."

"If I see her," he answered with a blush.

She smiled, bent down and ran her fingers over his cheek.

"You will see her, big brother. Of that I have no doubt."

Adrian turned the horse toward the woods.

"Herne protect you both," Tristan whispered, watching until they were lost to his sight. "I shall miss you."

"Finally!" the man exclaimed. "We have regained control of the game."

"Aye," the woman said thoughtfully. "But for how long this time?"

"'Tis my game. Things will progress just as we decided in the beginning. I will not let outside forces meddle again."

"You cannot control Lysira or Sardon," the woman reminded him. "They have taken control from you before, and you were unable to stop them."

The man settled back in his golden chair and templed his fingers thoughtfully. "'Twill not happen again."

"We shall see," she said with a small smile. "We shall see."

TWENTY-FIVE.

They had only gone a short distance when they heard hoofbeats, coming fast and headed in their direction.

"They cannot have missed you yet," said Tempest, worry and fear making her voice sound harsh in the stillness of the forest. If her father's men were coming after them, she knew Adrian would not be able to fend them off. He needed time to heal.

Adrian guided the horse deeper into the woods and stopped under a tall pine tree. They waited, deep in its shadows as the horseman came nearer. Their mount nickered softly and the rider drew up. Tempest held her breath, hoping, praying they would not be discovered.

"Tempest?" Tristan spoke so softly she could barely hear him.

"Tris?" They left their meager shelter. "What are you doing here?"

"You forgot something." He grinned.

"I forgot nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye," Adrian agreed. "We have each other, 'tis all we need."

"Then I guess I will just have to leave this here and hope it survives," Tristan said, pulling a small wiggling bundle from his tunic. "I found him waiting by the stable door."

"Monster!" Tempest exclaimed as she reached for the kitten. He began purring as she took him into her arms, and she crooned soft love words to him.

"Thank you, Tris. He would not have survived without my protection."

"I did not have time to search out any clothing for you, Adrian," Tristan said. "My others are at the castle laundry. But you can take the horse I am riding for Tempest. It would be more comfortable."

"We can ride together," Adrian answered, shaking his head.

"It will keep us from getting separated in the dark."

"I will not ask where you are headed," said Tristan. "'Tis better that I do not know." He wheeled his steed and struck out for the castle without a backward glance. Behind him he dragged a pine branch to mask his tracks-and theirs.

"He is a good man," Adrian said, "and a true friend."

"Aye," Tempest agreed with a sad smile. "He has ever been a good brother. I shall miss him. Will I never see him again, Adrian? I do not think I could bear that." She rested her head against Adrian's broad chest and sighed. She fervently hoped her brother would not suffer for this night's deeds.

"You will see him again, my love. I promise."

Tempest was weary. They had traveled nonstop throughout the night and most of the day. She was worried about Adrian.

Several times during the last few hours he had almost fallen from the horse. They were both near the point of exhaustion and she knew they must stop soon to rest. Her whole body ached from the long ride, and her bottom felt like she had been beaten. She knew Adrian must feel far worse than she.

"Adrian?" Her voice in the stillness of the forest made him start. "We must stop. I am so tired."

"I know, little one, but we will be there soon."

"There? Do you have a destination in mind? How can you know where we are?" She looked around, expecting to see a cottage or a village but saw only the tall evergreens, their branches heavy with snow.

"I just know."

"Have you remembered something?"

"Aye."

"Well then, tell me what you have remembered. Tell me where we are headed."

"We are going to my mother's cottage." Adrian was

thankful that his mother preferred to use her human form most of the time. He would not have been able to explain to Tempest why they were going to a dragon's cave since his mother had told him specifically not to tell Tempest anything.

"You are driving me mad. You must tell me what you have recalled."

Tell her what he recalled? Nay, he could not tell her how he had grown up with a mother who insisted he use his human form when he much preferred being a dragon. Lysira had told him often that if they were to live among humans, then they must look and act like humans; and his father had insisted upon it. He could not tell her how her remembered soaring the heavens as a mighty dragon but had to become human whenever his mother and father were around. His mother had good reasons why he must not tell Tempest the truth of it all, he supposed, but Lysira surely had made his life difficult with her edict, and he really did wish he could tell his beloved Tempest everything.

"Forgive me, little witch," he sighed. "I can tell you no more." Nay, he could not tell her the truth. Lysira had warned him. She must not know who-or what-he was. His mother must be obeyed. If Lysira had said nay, 'twas for a good reason.

"And why not?" Now she was even more frustrated with his mysterious answers. "Do you not trust me?"

"With all my heart, Tempest," he declared. "I just cannot tell you more at this time. Please be patient. Trust me in this, my love. As I trust you."

Tempest was silent. She trusted Adrian as much as she loved him but knew she could never tell him that. She was still betrothed to William. Morality demanded she be released from that betrothal before she could declare her love for him. She sighed wearily and snuggled deeper into his arms. Would they never reach a safe place? Her head nodded as she drifted into sleep.

"A'dryan."

The voice registered in Tempest's mind, but she could not open her eyes. She was so tired! All she wanted to do was sleep. But the voices went on.

"Mother."

Adrian's voice this time. She knew she should be awake, listening, learning, but she just could not seem to open her eyes. "'Tis but a dream," she mumbled as she drifted into deeper sleep.

She dreamed. She dreamed she was in the strong arms of the man she loved more than life itself-a man she could not have. She cried out in her dream, but there was no answer.

Adrian carried Tempest into the cottage. Memories flooded over him as he laid her gently on the bed; his mother's bed, covered with soft furs, a place of warmth and safety, a place where he had played as a small child and listened to his father's stories. He looked around the cottage as those memories returned in a rush.

He walked over to the huge fireplace. The warmth felt so good. The cauldron full of savory- smelling food bubbled merrily, making his mouth water. His father's chair sat near the hearth, and he ran his hands over the smooth wood, remembering, seeing Damien once again, smiling, watching Lysira as she busied herself with her herbs.

"Has she been injured?" Lysira asked, drawing him quickly back to the present.

"Nay," he answered. "She is simply exhausted. She is grieving the woman who was more than friend. I do not believe she has had much rest since it happened. I was in the dungeon and she helped me. It has been too much for her."

As he turned to face his mother, she could read the exhaustion and pain written clearly on his pale face. "You have grown taller in the past fortnight, my son," she said as she looked closely at him. "You have been beaten?"