"It would help," he said, putting his robe on, letting the blanket fall to his feet and stepping over it he walked back to the fireplace. He picked up the silver serving tray and placed it on the table by the window, pouring them each another cup of tea and brandy.

"Now will you tell me your age?" he asked, handing the cup to her.

She walked over to him and accepted the tea, wishing the cup held only the brandy. She hoped her answer would appease him, though she doubted it would. "I am older than you think."

He realized she intended to skirt the truth and attempted to at least pinpoint her age. "Are you older than I?"

She nodded and sipped her tea.

"Listening to your wise words of late, I had the feeling you might be."

He did not seem upset, and she hoped he would stop there. He didn't.

"Are you older than Sydney?"

"Dagon, please don't pursue this," she urged, her voice filled with concern.

"You are, aren't you?" he persisted, placing his cup on the table and approaching her. "Why do you fear telling me your age?" She reached past him and placed her cup beside his, then she ran trembling fingers through her damp hair. "The answer will only bring more questions."

He took her by the arms and held her firm. "Questions you don't wish to answer?"

Her dark eyes turned soft, and he once again caught a glimpse of her wisdom and it startled him as did her response. "Questions I have no answers for."

He felt the need to offer her solace. "Perhaps I can help."

She eased out of his arms and stepped in closer to him, her hands going to cup his face. "You don't know what you ask and I fear-"

She grew silent and with a shake of her head she stepped away from him. How did she tell him she feared losing him? How did she tell him she could not bear to live life without him? How did she tell him that she loved him from the deepest depths of her heart and soul, and still that might not be enough? He refused to let her go, and he reached out, pulling her back into the circle of his arms. "Let me help you with your fear."

"You don't know what you ask, Dagon."

He pursued regardless of her warnings. "The wise witch dressed in black that haunted my grounds recently was you, wasn't it?" He attempted a guess at her age. "Eight hundred years old?"

Her lips remained locked.

He slowly released her and stepped back away from her. "You're over a thousand years old, aren't you?"

She confirmed his suspicion with a simple nod.

He was stunned by her admission. And asked the next logical question. "A spell stole your powers?"

She answered with another nod.

He closed his eyes, shook his head, and rubbed at his temples. Her powers far surpa.s.sed his, and that meant that it took a witch of equal or greater powers to have cast a spell on her. His meager skills could not hope to compare to her opponent's, and yet there had to be a way of helping her. He loved her much too much to lose her.

An idea hit him. "I will speak to the Ancient One on this matter when she arrives, perhaps she can offer help."

Pleased with his decision, he opened his eyes.

Sarina was gone.

Twenty-five.

Dagon left the castle without a word to anyone. Dressed all in black, his long overcoat left open, his long dark hair free and blowing in the gusty wind, he walked with a determined gait into the woods that surrounded his property.

He had first thought to go after Sarina when he saw that she had hastily vacated his room, but after only a few steps he realized that she required time alone as did he. Their relationship had begun on a chaotic note with twists and turns he had never expected, and even now he still did not know the truth about the woman he loved.

He had gathered a number of new pieces to the puzzle, but he was having difficulty linking them together and making them fit. The one positive about the whole troublesome situation was that he loved Sarina. That was not in question. How he could help her was. Cold, brisk air stung his face, and he cursed himself for not bringing along his gloves, for his hands were beginning to feel the cold. He stuck them deep into the pockets of his wool overcoat and continued his trek along the narrow path that wound deeper into the woods. He didn't know why he chose to lose himself in the woods. Perhaps it was the silence he sought, perhaps the closeness of Mother Earth, or perhaps it was because Sarina had mentioned her love of the forest and being here he felt close to her.

He stopped abruptly, threw his head back, and roared at the heavens, releasing what he could of his pent-up anguish and confusion. With that done his thoughts turned to Sarina, and he felt the urge to go to her, be with her, hold her to him, and convince her that all would go well. He turned, intending to return to the castle, when a gentle voice stopped him.

"She's needs time. Let her come to you." Dagon smiled and looked to his right shoulder. There stood a plump little fairy with a beautiful face and one crooked wing. A wreath of wildflowers sprinkled with gold dust sat lopsided on her head, and she wore a soft white wool dress with a hooded cloak that was trimmed in gold braid. "Beatrice, I'm pleased to see you." "Thought you might be," she said, walking along his shoulder to kiss his cheek. She then flew off to flitter in front of his face, her crooked wing tilting her to the right. "What's troubling you?" Dagon offered his hand as a seat, and Beatrice accepted, plopping down into his cupped hand and fluttering off it just as fast. "You never did remember your gloves even as a child," she scolded gently, and with a soft yet hardy blow of her breath over his chilled hand she warmed it. She then comfortably nestled in his palm. "Now talk with me." "I'm in love," he said, walking to sit on a large smooth rock. Beatrice clapped her hands. "How delightful. I am so happy for you." Dagon's expression grew grime. "There's a problem." "There's always a problem where love is concerned." "But can problems always be solved, especially when love is involved?" "That depends," she said. "On what?" "On the strength of the couple's love." "Love solves all problems, is that it?"

She shook a tiny finger at him. "Don't go doubting what you know is the truth. You know the power of love, its potential to heal, to create, to join."

"But what if something more powerful stands in the way?"

"What could be more powerful than love?"

He answered quickly. "A spell."

She shook her finger and her head at him. "Do you forget your lessons?"

"Remind me,"

he said with a smile, feeling warm and loved in her tiny yet immense presence.

"Why do witches cast spells?" His answer was the same as it was when he was a young boy and she first had asked it of him. "To help."

The lesson continued. "Why would a witch want to help?"

"Because she or he cares and wishes no harm to befall anyone."

"And why would she or he care?"

He gave her question thought, though he answered quickly. "Because witches know the strongest power is that of love."

"Think on this wisely, Dagon, and you will have your answer to your problem."

He was about to speak when Beatrice held her small hand up. "More questions will do you no good.

You have all the pieces you need to solve this puzzle."

Dagon looked surprised. "You've spoken to Sebastian."

"We visited recently. He is a good friend to you."

"He asked you to help me, didn't he?"

"He is returning the favor. You requested I help him and he was grateful. Now he requests that I help you."

"And I am grateful. I miss talking with you."

Her usual brilliant smile faded. "I have been very busy. There is one who soon will need my help, and I fear I may not be strong enough to help her. She will come up against great magic, and no one knows the outcome."

"I will cast a spell to the heavens for her safety."

"This is kind of you and I thank you for your thoughtfulness." She stood, her tiny feet resting in his warm hand. "You must remember of what we spoke. It is vital to your situation."

"One more question," he said as she floated slowly up to flitter lopsidedly in front of his face.

She shook her head. "There is only one answer, Dagon."

"To all my questions?"

"To all your questions," she confirmed.

"Will you be close by if I should need help?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes, it is imperative this situation is resolved."

"Why?"

"You will understand," she said and gave his cheek a gentle pat. "And remember, always remember what I've told you. One day you will need to know the answer."

"The answer to all my questions?"

She nodded. "Yes, know it and know the secret." She waved to him as she flew up and away, disappearing in a shaft of sparkling light.

He had much to think about as he walked back slowly to the castle.

Sarina sat alone in the kitchen. The castle was quiet when she finally made her way downstairs from her room. She had sat for over an hour in thought and could come to no easy solution. Silence was her only option at the moment, and while she had always learned from the silence, she presently felt trapped by it.

Tired of sulking in her room, she had slipped on an offwhite free-flowing knit dress and white knit socks. She wore white bikini panties beneath and nothing else. She needed to feel free of any restrictions and this garment provided her with that sense of freedom. She had felt confined much too long, and she wished for her own home, the small cottage that opened onto woods and meadows where she could run free whenever she chose.

She sighed, tired of this constant worry, and stood abruptly. Action was better than inaction. She needed to divert her thoughts and what better way than to bake something, keeping her hands and mind busy.

Margaret, Sydney, and Bernard had gone off to the market and would not return for several hours. Sebastian was busy with business in Dagon's study, and Ali was busy packing. She did not know Dagon's whereabouts, but if he wished to speak with her, he would certainly have no problem finding her.

This time was hers, and she intended to bake away her troubled thoughts. She took a cookbook from the pantry where Margaret kept a stack of them and decided on baking a batch of sugar cookies. She covered her dress with a large white ap.r.o.n and began gathering all the ingredients.

"What are you doing?" Ali asked, entering the kitchen.

"Baking cookies," she said, measuring the flour into the large mixing bowl.

"Can I help?" Ali asked, excited at the prospect.

Ali's lack of skill in the kitchen did not disturb Sarina, and besides, she was a patient teacher. "Only if

you promise to do as I tell you."

Ali nodded enthusiastically. "I promise."

"Get an ap.r.o.n from the pantry for yourself."

"I don't need one," she said, but changed her mind fast enough when she saw Sarina raise a brow at

her. "I'll get one."

They were soon mixing, rolling, and cutting out stars, moons, and angel-shaped cookies, chattering and laughing the whole time. They were decorating the last batch of cookies with Ali carefully spreading a creamy white icing on the angels and adding a touch of gold sprinkles.

"Sebastian is never going to believe I baked these cookies," she said with excitement. "I'm so pleased with myself, and you are such a patient teacher, Sarina." Sarina smiled and dusted a star with silver sprinkles. "You're very old, aren't you?" Ali asked in a whisper, almost in reverence. "Yes, I am," Sarina admitted with pride. "I know there is much more to your magic problem than we all realize, and I am concerned for you and Dagon. He is wise but he cannot match your wisdom, and I worry for him."

"I do as well, but I also believe in him and have faith in our love."

"He's told you he loves you?" Ali asked with surprise.

Sarina shook her head, though she smiled. "He has not spoken the words, but I feel his love every time

he holds me, touches me, kisses me, makes love to me. It is there for me to see if only I look."

"I understand," Ali said on a sigh. "I see Sebastian's love all the time and it thrills me, especially when

he gets that sensual sparkle in his eyes. There's just no hiding the fact that he wants to make love with me. Of course I tease him on occasion, but it makes our joining all the more fun and satisfying."

"You have found a magical love."

"Yes, and I am grateful every day for having him in my life." Ali grinned, a purely wicked grin, and

scooped up several cookies to place on a plate. "I think I'll go offer my husband some fresh-baked