"I suppose he discovered your brother's talent for magic and sent John to Elfhame after his testing. But the chosen ones aren't sent to Elfhame, are they, Giles?" He heard the shift of her skirts. "It is true what Thomas says, then. That those gifted with enough magic to threaten the elven lords' rule are murdered. And your father must have known this. But what of your father? How did he die?"

It became harder and harder to speak. Giles swallowed against his dry throat. "At the hand of Lan'dor of Bladehame. This devilish sword had been crafted to murder the elven lord."

Cecily gasped, and Giles dropped the arm from his face, met her gaze across the fire. "John forged it with his own blood. To withstand not only any blade of steel, but magical a.s.saults as well. When they hauled John away after his testing, my father challenged Lan'dor. But the devil-blade could not withstand the power of an Imperial Lord and his scepter."

Shadows played across her lovely face, and he saw but flashes of the sad curve to her lips, the welling of tears in her eyes. "And so you joined the Rebellion."

"Aye. It will take the might of many to defeat an elven lord. Or..."

She finished the thought for him. "Or perhaps the powerful daughter of but one."

Four.

Cecily woke the next morning surrounded by the spicy scent of the blacksmith's skin. Her eyelids flew open with a start. She took in a deep breath before she realized the scent came from the cloak around her, then hastily threw off the covering.

He still slept, with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other resting upon his sword. His broad chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, his mouth slightly parted and his white-blond hair spread about him like a halo. His face looked a bit pale and Cecily wondered if his injury still pained him.

She frowned at the thought, and quickly scurried out of the cavern, avoiding the mosaics on the wall. Beautiful, yes, but their movement made her dizzy.

The crisp morning air erased any lingering drowsiness. Seabirds swooped above the waves and scolded each other with harsh cries. She skirted clumps of green and purple seaweed and scuttling crabs. A boulder with a slight overhang provided an outdoor dressing room for her to strip, a protrusion of stone a dry shelf to store her clothing.

What use had she for fine palaces when her beach provided her with all she needed?

The thought made her think of Mother, and the way she had always seemed to be a great lady, even in their humble cottage, and tears burned Cecily's eyes. How she wished she could talk to Mother about her confused feelings for Giles.

Cecily ran into the waves, sucking in a breath when they reached past her hips, but she soon became accustomed to the coldness of the water and dove into the next high wave. It didn't take her long to find what she sought.

Lobster. Giles loved it.

With a skill from many years of capturing them, Cecily avoided the snapping claws and managed to carry several of the large sh.e.l.lfish back to dry sand. She set them in a small tide pool while she dressed, humming a tune beneath her breath. And caught herself.

She bowed her head, staring down at her hands, the skin only slightly puckered from her long swim. How could she feel so content after all that had happened?

Because she had been thinking only of Giles, and the look on his face when she brought his morning meal.

She carried her shoes in one hand and lobster in the other, the fine sand softly padding her footsteps as she returned to the cave.

No, 'twas more than Giles. Despite losing the life she'd worked so hard to achieve, she was no longer hiding. She'd made a decision, and would confront the Rebellion on her own terms. She would find her father. She had to believe she hadn't lost everything.

She did believe it.

Her footsteps felt light as she walked along the tunnel-like rock that led to the hidden cavern. Belle nickered at the sight of her, Apollo deigning to give her a snort, and suddenly Giles flew to his feet with sword in hand.

Cecily froze.

"I overslept," he said with a scowl.

"Nay, you but slept longer than I."

"Where have you been?"

She held out her catch with a proud grin. "There's no need to eat dried fish when the ocean is so near."

Giles sheathed his sword but not the stern look upon his face. "Never do that again."

"What?"

"Leave my side. Don't you realize I'm supposed to protect you?"

She could argue with him. But it would serve no purpose. "Alas, I had forgotten, brave knight. This weak and defenseless maiden will never leave your sight again."

Her sarcasm was not lost on him. His handsome face turned an alarming shade of red and he strode toward the back of the cave, watering the horses while Cecily proceeded to build up the fire and cook her catch. When she judged it done, she broke open the sh.e.l.l with a rock and dug out the sweet white meat.

Boiled and b.u.t.tered, it could not have tasted better.

The smell drew him back to the fire, as she knew it would, and he took what she offered without a word. He sat and ate, occasionally closing his eyes as he chewed, the irritation on his face slowly fading.

"I love lobster."

"I know." Ah, it felt good to say that back to him. "You are not the only one who is observant."

His brow rose. "Are you saying you spied upon me?"

"Certainly not." She would not admit that her gaze had always been drawn to him. Not ever again. One such humiliation in her lifetime would be sufficient. "Everyone saw the stack of sh.e.l.ls you left upon the table at the last harvest gathering. Faith, the men were wagering on how high it would get."

He smiled and Cecily's eyes widened. His lips curled in such a boyish manner, his head tilting to the side and a fall of his thick silky hair shadowing his high cheekbone and angled jaw. He looked slightly embarra.s.sed and proud and utterly delicious.

Heaven help her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "About raising my voice to you. I forget what you truly are, even though you showed me the proof of your powers-"

"No," she hurriedly protested. She could not bear that smile alongside an apology. It was more temptation than she could defend against. "I apologize for my saucy tongue. Mother always chided me for it."

He captured her with his gaze. Although he had the physique and grace of the elven, his eyes were entirely human. A normal-sized dusky green, like the color of the ocean on a cloudy day.

"Despite what your father kept telling me, I saw nothing but a normal girl for many years." His lips quirked. "A very pretty normal girl, mind you, who could stay submerged beneath the waves for an unusually long time, but who showed very little magical ability. But now I have seen the proof of your powers and I know you can surely defend yourself but I have not adjusted-"

"Do not," she interrupted. "Please do not treat me other than a normal girl. I could not bear the changes that have happened to me otherwise."

Silence lay between them for a moment, until Cecily could finally tear her gaze away from his.

"Well, then," he said, the jauntiness in his voice sounding only a bit forced. "You have now agreed to my full protection and I have yet found a lady who regretted it." He rose and began to gather up his things and pack them back onto the horses.

Cecily rolled her eyes, a grin on her mouth despite herself, and doused the fire and packed her belongings. She allowed herself to enjoy the mosaic on the walls for a last time, but soon they were both mounted and on their way.

Giles took paths that led them farther and farther from her ocean. It made Cecily feel an odd sort of panic, but thankfully the land still held so many lakes and streams and fountains that she comforted herself with the sight of them.

But within a few hours even those bodies of water started to dwindle.

"Where are we?"

"Dorset," he replied, sparing her no glance, for his eyes constantly surveyed their surroundings, and she would swear the tips of his pointed ears perked at every rustle of the brush. They rode through a soft land of rolling hills and yellow gorse, an occasional fiery red tree dotting the landscape. Giles must have taken a route specifically designed to avoid any more villages or towns, for nary a cottage did she see.

The landscape changed as they rode down into a valley, and soon they were surrounded by rocky mountains and tors.

"There is a spring ahead," breathed Cecily. She could smell the water.

Giles turned in the saddle and looked down at her with a worried frown. "What is wrong?"

She wiped away a trickle of sweat that seeped from beneath her straw hat. "I have discovered that I'm... uncomfortable without the presence of the ocean beside me."

"We are in the sovereignty of Firehame, and will see more flame than water. But by evening we will reach the Hants, and there are many streams within the forest and you should feel better. I should have thought-I have a map memorized in my head, but it lacks much detail. Where is the spring? We will stop there for our midday meal."

Cecily gave a crooked smile of relief and pointed to the right. Giles found it beneath an overhanging boulder, with enough shade for them to sit side by side while they ate another meal of dried fish and journey bread.

When she had finished, Cecily removed her tucker and dunked it in the cool liquid, dousing her face and neck. She did not think about the cleavage she revealed until she felt his gaze upon her.

She turned and he swallowed his last bite. Rather forcefully.

He quickly averted his gaze and Cecily frowned, pushing her soggy tucker back into the V of her bodice. She could not figure this man at all. Oh, she well understood that after living in the same village for years-despite the fact that they'd barely exchanged a few words to each other in the past few-it would be natural for them to feel some sort of familiarity with one another. Especially after Giles had revealed his secret.

And she had always felt a certain... light-headedness around him. Most of the village girls did. He could not help his handsome face or fine figure, no more than she could help her large odd eyes. But since that dreadful night when she'd made such a prodigious fool of herself, she had realized he felt no attraction for her person whatsoever.

Yet he looked at her with such hungry eyes...

Pshaw. 'Twas only her way of transferring her own desire to him. He looked at her bosom as he would any woman's. He was but a man, despite the mix of elven blood that flowed through his veins.

And she could not even think that they were friends. Temporary companions forced to journey together.

She had misread his kindness and natural charm before. This time she would not. She would not. No matter how many times she had to tell herself- A muscular arm wrapped about her shoulders and then her mouth, dragging her deeper into the hollow of the boulder. His hand m.u.f.fled her cry of surprise but she reflexively struggled anyway, gathering her magic to help free her from his hold.

"Stop," he whispered, his mouth against her ear. "Fire demon."

What?

But she didn't have to wait long to understand, for several whirling orbs of flame bounced along the valley floor, no more than a few feet from where they huddled. Following those harbingers walked a creature she could not have imagined.

Red fire shaped a being that had legs like a man but flowed across the ground rather than stepped. A black, dripping mess formed the semblance of a face and an emaciated body.

Cecily froze and Giles angled his body in front of hers, that sword of his appearing to jump from his scabbard into his hand.

The horses had been grazing on a patch of gra.s.s in the path of the creature. Their nostrils flared and they suddenly bolted, their flight not hampered a whit by Giles's and Cecily's belongings still strapped to their saddles.

The fire demon laughed, tossing a ball of orange flame at the beasts, hitting poor Belle squarely on her rump. The little mare squealed, her shorter legs pumping to overtake the faster gait of Apollo. Cecily gasped in sympathy, and the demon stopped, glowing eyes studying the rocky walls of the valley.

When those red orbs slowly settled on their hiding place, a flush of weakness made her muscles go limp. When the unnatural creature flowed toward them, Giles let out a curse and leaped at it. Cecily watched, still frozen with fear, as the demon threw another ball of fire straight at Giles.

He dodged, with unnatural elven swiftness, his sword slicing through the fireball and dissolving it into a shower of sparks. It appeared that the blade had enough power to disarm the magic of a fire demon, if not that of an Imperial Lord.

The flaming creature roared, making Cecily jump and finally freeing her from the terror that had held her immobile. Her hands trembled but her fingers followed her commands, coaxing the water from the spring, swirling it into small translucent tornadoes.

Giles danced around the demon, dodging more flaming spheres and occasionally getting in close enough to nick the thing with the tip of his sword. Wherever he touched it, a small hole appeared, but quickly closed up again with a lick of black fire.

The demon roared in frustration and this time gathered a blob of black sludge that dripped down its face, flung it at Giles. It hit the blacksmith on his injured shoulder, setting his coat aflame.

Cecily pelted Giles with a tornado.

It doused the flame but made him stagger in surprise, his gaze flying to hers in fury as he fell. The demon laughed, or at least, a similar imitation of one, and moving as swiftly as fire igniting dry thatch it swooped down upon the blacksmith. Giles rolled with an agility and grace that testified to the amount of elven blood flowing in his veins, but Cecily could not see past the flames to tell if he'd avoided the demon's attack.

"Fie," she breathed, and launched the full force of her swirling water at the monster. But the small spray had little effect on the demon, and the spring quickly ran dry. Cecily reached deeper into the earth, inside the very mountain itself, where an underground river flowed dark and cold. It came to her call through the narrow opening of the spring, cracking the edges of the earth and shaking the mountainside itself.

A deluge of water fell upon the fire demon and the creature turned its burning red eyes in her direction, screaming defiantly as it slowly withered to a puddle of black.

Cecily shivered from that final glare, slowly coaxing the raging water to calm. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm and her legs shook as she stood. But Giles had not moved, and she soon found herself running to reach his side.

"Giles."

He lay on his back, his eyelids shut, fist still closed about the hilt of his sword. But his chest rose and fell-surely she could see it moving! Black sludge covered him from head to toe, and Cecily called the water again, this time a bit more slowly, easing it over his body in gentle swirls.

"Giles," she whispered again, crouching over him, her shoes sinking into the mud. With an impatient flick of her fingers she sent the remaining liquid back to the spring, her trembling hands smoothing the blacksmith's hair away from his face. His skin had been scorched red, the tips of his thick black lashes and the edges of his brows burnt away. The leather of his breeches and coat had been blackened, yet his blade still shone like newly forged metal.

But she had not been mistaken. He breathed, although it had an odd, wheezing sound to it.

Tears burned the back of her lids. Perhaps she should not have interfered in the battle. Perhaps Giles wouldn't have been harmed if she hadn't distracted him with her magic.

Cecily let out an impatient grunt. Or perhaps he would have died. She would not regret her actions now.

His skin looked ready to blister. She knew as much as the next village maid did about basic healing, and she'd recognized some herbs near the spring...

She suited thought to action and quickly made a poultice of wet leaves and laid it on Giles's face and hands. But she did not know what to do if his lungs had been affected by fire and smoke. She needed to get him to a healer, and for that, she needed the horses.

Cecily stared down the rocky valley, squinting her eyes for sign of any movement. She could not wander off and leave Giles but they needed the horses. She had no idea how far the animals had gone, and she didn't know if they'd kept to the valley or found a route out of it.

She squared her shoulders and began to walk in the direction their mounts had run, every instinct within her screaming against leaving the blacksmith alone and unprotected.

But despite her elven strength, she could not carry him all the way to the nearest village.

She found Apollo just as night fell. The animal had actually been walking toward her, and nickered a greeting when she called his name.

He hung his head when she reached him, pushing his nose against her belly.

Cecily rubbed his neck in relief. "You were returning to your master, weren't you?"