I nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

"Clunderry remains yours in name," Drustan said. "Will you keep it?"

I hesitated, then shook my head. "No. Let the deed revert to Lady Breidaia if she will have it; and if she will not, I ask you to hold it until you may bestow it on someone who loves this place as it deserves." I touched the torc around my neck. "I will always be honored to have been Imriel of Clunderry. But that was another life, my lord. Tonight it ended."

Drustan nodded. "Good night, then."

With that, I was dismissed. I made my way to the chamber I'd shared with Dorelei all those long months, our child growing inside her, me bound with Alban charms. By the dim light of a guttering lamp, I could see that everything had been preserved as it had been. Still, it felt very different; not least of all because I'd agreed to share it with Hugues and Ti-Philippe. They were asleep; Hugues on a straw pallet on the floor, Ti-Philippe sprawled on half the bed.

I was glad they were there, even if Hugues snored. There were too many memories in that room. It would have felt empty and lonely without them. Even with them there, I felt the ache of Dorelei's loss.

Still, my quest was over.

I crawled into bed and slept.

We stayed another day at Clunderry to bid farewell to those guests who had come to take part in the ceremony. In the wake of yesterday's strong emotion, everyone seemed purged and calm, like the world after a storm has passed. I did my part, thanking all of them for their kindness. I found myself acutely aware of Sidonie's presence. My wrists and ankles itched with the memory of my old bindings.

The Dalriada lingered the longest, for which I was grateful. I'd scarce had a chance to talk with Eamonn.

"Can you not stay another night?" I asked him.

Eamonn shook his head with regret. "I've got to supervise the building of the library. I shouldn't have taken the time as it was, but I needed to see with my own eyes that you were alive and well."

"And to express your mother's sorrow," Brigitta reminded him.

"Aye," he said. "That, too."

I embraced them both. "Come visit when your library's built."

They smiled at one another. "We'll try," Eamonn said. "Seems we might be busy. Quite a few prospective pupils have expressed an interest."

"You could come visit us," Brigitta suggested. I glanced at Sidonie without thinking. She was talking with young Conor and her aunt Breidaia, but she turned her head to meet my gaze. A spark leapt between us.

"Seems you might be busy yourself," Eamonn said. "Just...try to stay out of trouble for once, will you?"

I smiled ruefully. "I'll try."

Our last night at Clunderry was a quiet one. With most of the guests and their entourages gone, there was more space. I did sleep alone that night in the chamber Dorelei and I had shared, and it was empty and lonely, but the memories weren't as painful as they would have been the previous night, on the heels of all those tales. The ache of guilt and sorrow was still there. It would always be there. It was the nature of loss.

We left on the morrow, another bright spring day. I turned in the saddle many times as we rode away, glancing back at Clunderry, until it had vanished wholly from sight. Sidonie fell in beside me, her personal guard trailing us.

"Do you think you'll come back one day?" she asked me.

"I'd like to," I said. "Mayhap for the Feast of the Dead."

She nodded. "In the hope of seeing her?"

"Yes," I said. "But not soon."

"No," she murmured. "I imagine it would hurt too much."

We didn't speak much for a long time afterward, although there was a great deal to be said. All of our conversation since I'd arrived in Alba had been constrained by propriety. We had a world of talking to do. I had told her about Maslin's role in saving me, but not about the many conversations we'd had, the friendship we'd managed to forge. A thousand thoughts that had crossed my mind during my travels. And I wanted to hear every blessed thing that had befallen her since I left.

But it could wait. Right now, the silence felt good.

For once-for always, I prayed-we had time ahead of us. Whatever his thoughts on the matter, Drustan didn't seem inclined to interfere between us, at least not here and now. No one did. Throughout the day, a tacit acknowledgment of our relationship seemed to emerge.

And at night...

We made camp in a meadow alongside the narrow road we were following, although camp was a poor term for it. It was a procession of state with the Cruarch of Alba and the Dauphine of Terre d'Ange, and whenever we halted for the night, what sprang up was less a campsite than a small city of tents, dominated by two larger pavilions. Drustan's was wrought of crimson silk, flying the Black Boar from its center pole, and he shared it with the immediate members of his household. Sidonie's was Courcel blue, flying the silver swan of our house and the lily and stars of Elua and his Companions.

The wagons in our train even carried a table that could be cunningly disassembled, ornate stools on which to sit, and fine linens and utensils, along with a plethora of supplies. There were two skilled cooks and a number of attendants.

"It's a long way from dining on salt cod and sleeping in the bottom of a boat," Ti-Philippe had commented on our outward journey.

The mood was subdued that first night after Clunderry, a lingering sense of gravity persisting. We dined and talked quietly among ourselves. The sun slipped slowly beneath the treeline in the west, making the campfires burn brighter. Some distance away, one of Sidonie's guards began playing a lap-harp, tentatively picking out a few of the melodies Conor had played. The air was turning cooler, the world going soft around the edges once more. A few people were yawning, but no one moved.

"Shall we to bed?" Joscelin asked Phedre.

"In a moment." She was listening to the harpist, her chin propped on one fist. "It's early yet."

"Dawn comes early, too," he reminded her.

It was Sidonie, seated on a stool beside me, who rose. Our shoulders had been nearly brushing all evening. I felt the warmth of her presence leave when she stood. I glanced up to meet her dark gaze. The waiting silence between us deepened. She held out her hand to me, tilting her head imperceptibly in the direction of her pavilion.

I stood and took her hand.

There hadn't been much conversation at the table, but enough to feel the hush when it ceased. In the lull, we walked away. The grass was damp with dew, a little slippery beneath the soles of my boots. Sidonie's hand was warm in mine. There was a lamp lit in her pavilion, making the blue silk glow from within, unearthly in the lowering darkness.

Behind us, I could hear the low murmur of conversation resuming at the table.

"Good evening, your highnesses." Claude de Monluc, the captain of her guard, greeted us with a crisp bow.

"My lord captain." Sidonie inclined her head.

He drew back the a silk flap that served as the pavilion's door. "I'll see you're undisturbed."

"Thank you." My voice sounded strange to my ears.

We entered the pavilion, and he secured the flap behind us. Inside, it was luxuriously appointed, with carpets spread over the grass, trunks containing Sidonie's garments and possessions, and a thick goosedown pallet adorned with pillows and a sumptuous coverlet. A fretted lamp hung from the center pole, casting lacy shadows on the silken walls, and a portable brazier warmed the air.

Sidonie and I were alone.

It felt like a gift, somewhat rare and precious. For a long moment, neither of us moved. At last Sidonie released my hand. She withdrew the knotted gold ring on its long chain from her bodice, unclasping the chain. Fine gold links slithered and fell unheeded to the carpet as she removed the ring.

"Thank you for keeping your pledge," she said softly, taking my hand once more and sliding the ring onto my finger.

"It kept me alive," I told her. "I would have given up without it."

Her breath caught in her throat and she made a small, unexpected sound, as though my words had hurt her. The threat of tears made her eyes bright. Sidonie gave her head a familiar, impatient shake, then reached up to sink both hands into my hair, pulling my head down and kissing me with all the ferocity in her.

It was like a dam breaking. All the desire I'd suppressed-we had both suppressed-flooded over me, around me, through me. I held her hard, both arms around her waist, hands pressing her back, returning her kisses as though to devour her whole. I wanted her so badly, my knees felt weak.

I couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get close enough. We sank down onto the soft pallet together. Sidonie's mouth was on my throat, biting and sucking, her fingers working at the buttons on my shirt.

Lower, tracing my scars. I wriggled out of my shirt, pinned her, worked at her stays. Her back arched as I freed her breasts, suckling them, the grip of my fingers hard enough to leave bruises.

"Here..."

"No ...ow! Yes."

Fabric, too damned much of it between us. I almost couldn't wait. A fold of her gown, caught beneath me, tore when I tried to ease it over her head. My phallus was so hard it ached, thick and throbbing, straining the knots on my Alban breeches. Caught in a spiral of rising urgency, we struggled and laughed and kissed our way to nakedness.

"Now." Her nails dug into my buttocks, her voice raw. "Please,"

Kneeling between her thighs, I spread them wider. "Now?"

Her hips bucked. "Yes!"

I slid into her with one long, practiced thrust, sliding the length of my body up hers and bracing myself over her.

And somewhat changed between us.

It wasn't that the urgency diminished. It simply ...changed. Both of us went very still. Our bodies were joined. She held me. I filled her. The profound, staggering intimacy of the act of love struck me anew, the way it had never struck me with anyone else in the world. I laughed softly.

"Imriel..." Sidonie's eyes were open and filled with wonder.

"I know," I said. "I know."

When the gods themselves make love, I think it must be like this. All of love's glorious mortal follies, all the tangled clothes and awkward limbs, went away. For a long time, I filled her without moving. I could feel her heart beating. Our breath intermingled. When I did move within her, it was as though the hand of Blessed Elua himself impelled me. Our bodies moved together; rising and falling, rising and falling.

Why do we fit so well together?

A woman's pleasure is different from a man's. It surged like a ship atop the waves, and I drove it, furthering it, our gazes locked on one another. Each trough was deeper, each crest higher than the next, onward and onward and onward. It felt as though I could last forever. It felt like it would never end. I wished it wouldn't.

Still, we were mortal.

I held off and held off, as long as I could, making the moment last, until I could hold no longer. My entire body shuddered as I spent myself in her in one long, exquisite series of spasms.

We lay entangled together, neither wanting to move.

"That was ..." I murmured, then realized I had no words for it.

Sidonie touched my cheek. "Yes. It was."

Chapter Seventy-Three.

Waking the following morning in Sidonie's bed, with her naked and warm and tumbled in my arms, was one of the gladdest moments of my life. The sun had risen and filtered blue light filled the pavilion. I held her and watched her sleep until she awoke and smiled at me, her eyes sleepy and heavy-lidded. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I was quietly, peacefully, and utterly happy."Good morning, Sun Princess," I said.

"Mmm." Her smile deepened. "We could make it better."

I daresay we would have, but at the sound of our voices, there was a discreet cough outside the pavilion. "Your highness?" a woman's voice called. "Shall I attend you?"

I groaned. Sidonie kissed me. "Duty beckons."

Even so, it was strange and wonderful to be there with her, openly and unquestioned. Margot de Monluc, who was wed to Sidonie's Captain of the Guard, entered and greeted us both with cheerful respect. She bustled about the pavilion, bringing a ewer of fresh water and arraying Sidonie's attire for the day.

"Well, that will want mending," she observed in a good-natured tone, folding away the gown I'd torn last night. I found myself growing warm, but Sidonie was unperturbed as ever.

When Margot had departed, I donned my clothes, then sat cross-legged on the pallet and watched Sidonie comb out her hair beside me. "I'm surprised Amarante didn't accompany you," I observed. "I would have thought to see her here."

"I released her from my service before I left for Alba." She looked at my face and laughed at my shocked expression. "Elua! Released, not dismissed."

"Why?" I asked.

Sidonie concentrated on a thick tangle. "You know she lacked a year's service to Naamah in order to take her vows as a priestess?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, I would have freed her to do it a long time ago, except she wouldn't have gone. Not until we knew you were safe." She set down the comb. "Whatever lies before us, I don't want Amarante drawn into it."

"You think she would have been?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I've been working to get the support of the priesthood. Her mother is the head of Naamah's Order. Even the semblance of influence might set tongues wagging. It's not fair, since it's naught to do with Amarante."

I hadn't thought about that. "How difficult is this like to be?"

Sidonie's brows furrowed. "Well, my mother's dead set against us marrying."

I picked up the comb and began working on her tangles. "Love, I don't need to marry you to be with you. Phedre and Joscelin never wed. I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life as your consort."

"I know. Last night..." She shook her head, disturbing my handiwork. "It would be enough if I weren't my mother's heir. But I am. It's complicated."

"Politics," I said softly.

"Always." Sidonie sighed. "Let's not talk about it yet."

I eased the comb through a golden snarl. "Your wish is my command."

"Now that would be fun." Her voice was light, but there was a serious undertone. She turned her head to glance at me. "Would you do it? Give yourself over and submit to my will for a night, Imriel?"

"A whole night?" I asked.

"Just one," Sidonie said. "Every once in a while."

I raised my brows. "What would you give me in turn?"