Gemini Moon
***
Elysa Hendricks


Had her dream lover really come to life? 
Cathy protested as a harsh, intrusive glare tore away her 
dream lover. Tears seeped from beneath her tightly closed 
eyelids. She’d worked so hard to draw him to her side, pulling 
him from the depths of a chilling gray mist. Now she’d lost 
him. 
She groaned and blinked. Instead of the dark of night, 
bright studio lights filled the room. The power was back on. 
Sitting up, she swung her legs to the floor and, without 
looking, reached for her cane. Instead of the cool, satiny feel 
of well-polished wood, her fingers grazed something hard yet 
pliable, smooth and warm. Fuzzy with sleep, she turned to see 
what she’d touched. 
“Oh, my!” she breathed. 
An expanse of bronzed skin covering a ripple of 
well-defined stomach muscles filled her view. She gulped and 
looked lower, then jerked her gaze upward. She felt the heat 
coloring her cheeks before it drained away as her gaze focused 
on the face of her dream lover. 
He rose before her in all his naked glory, her Mystic Warrior. 
At least six feet four inches tall, he towered over her as she 
cowered on the couch. Golden hair fell around massive 
shoulders. She refused to let her eyes travel lower again. 
Instead, she concentrated on his face. 
“At what do you stare, woman? Have you never before 
seen a man?” 

To Mom and Dad for giving me the wings to fly.
To Vern for giving me the courage to fly high.
To Anita, Barb, Jan, Jean, Laura, Liz and Windy City RWA 
for encouraging me to try.
And to Linda for opening up the sky.
Other Books by Elysa Hendricks
Crystal Moon (coming in December 2001)

Gemini Moon
***
Elysa Hendricks



ONE
Though a prince, Ash de Gar found himself a prisoner of 
political necessity. 
He rubbed his temples to relieve his growing unease. 
Impatience and tension kept him from relaxing and enjoying 
his joining feast and festivities: the singers, jugglers and mimes. 
As dictated by his county’s rigid traditions, he sat at a separate 
table from his new bride. Nor had he been allowed contact 
with her in the two tendays preceding their marriage. What did 
the heavy layers of crystal silk she wore hide? 
What did it matter? They were now wed. 
The joining feast dragged on into the night. Memories of 
the ceremony lingered in his mind—the cloying scent of incense 
filling the cathedral as richly garbed zards droned the words of 
the ancient ceremony and chanted the lengthy prayers. They 
stood and knelt on command. When Princess Katrina del Lancer 
did nothing to acknowledge his presence, he had fought the 
urge to rip away her veils. 
Now one course of food followed another, until the table 
groaned beneath the weight of the elaborate meal. The aroma 
of food—mingled with the smell of warm, perfumed bodies— 
made him long for the clean air of the Aretian mountains. 
He sighed and took a deep draught of wine. To reunite 
Arete and Mardelan as one country, he was committed to joining 
with the princess. And the Blood Bonding to follow. 
After the women excused themselves to prepare the 
princess for his arrival in the bridal chamber, the mood in the 
hall shifted from restrained celebration to something 
approaching a drunken brawl. Wine and ale flowed freely. More 
than a few would nurse sore heads come the morrow. 

During the last two tendays he had found most Mardelans 
eager for the joining of their country with his. Few harbored 
animosity toward him or Arete. 
One who did sat in a dim corner of the hall. Throughout 
the ceremony, Ash had been aware of Tanik Kersin’s hostile 
stare. 
Raf del Jakar, Ash’s Master at Arms and friend, leaned 
close and whispered, “Be careful of King Ruthor’s bastard. 
He would have the throne.” 
Ash answered softly, “What Kersin would have and what 
he will be allowed are not the same. Only a legitimate heir 
may rule.” 
“That may be, but do not discount his threat.” 
“I do not. Kersin’s hunger for power is known to me, but 
now is not the time to confront him. Until the Blood Bonding 
ceremony, my position here is unsure. King Ruthor is old. His 
rule weak. Mardelan needs Arete’s strength to protect her 
borders, as Arete needs the treasures contained within those 
borders.” 
A frown creased Raf’s brow. His jaw clenched around his 
words as he said, “Kersin strikes me as a man who will stop at 
nothing to gain his ends.” 
“War?” 
“Perhaps. But Arete’s warriors would make short work of 
Mardelan’s army. Naught but poorly trained farmers, merchants 
and woolie herders, the whole lot.” Raf snorted in disgust. 
“Peace and prosperity have made them soft and lax.” 
“True, but then who would plant the crops? Tend the beasts? 
Buy our crystal and silk?” Ash shook his head. “Such a war 
could have no victor.” 
“I doubt Kersin would care. Then, he may not need war to 
gain his desire. If anything bad befell the princess, King Ruthor 
might well legitimize Kersin. I have heard rumors of attempts 
against the princess’ life.” 
The warmth of the hall suddenly chilled against Ash’s skin. 
“Kersin?” 
Raf shrugged. “None will confirm that attempts were made. 
These Mardelans are as close with information as they are with 

their women.” 
That any might harm his bride angered Ash. 
Raf stood and swayed. His appearance of inebriation didn’t 
fool Ash. The warrior’s eyes were sharp and clear as he thrust 
out his glass. “To my friend Prince del...de Gar,” he stumbled 
over Ash’s married address, “and his new bride. Long may 
they rule. Good life. Many sons.” 
The crowd erupted in a cheer. 
“To bed, my Prince!” Raf roared in his ear. “Your bride 
awaits.” 
Ash’s men surged around him. Hands grabbed his arms 
and lifted him from his chair. En masse they escorted him from 
the hall and through the castle. 
With some trepidation, he approached the door to the 
joining chamber. The noisy entourage crowding close behind 
increased his irritation. At his side, Raf sang a bawdy ditty in 
an off-key baritone. The words told the story of a shy, virginal 
groom overcome by lust for his more experienced and buxom 
bride. Though he said nothing, Ash found himself wishing his 
friend, along with the others, to oblivion. 
He stopped. The group stumbled to a halt behind him. With 
a whisper of sound, the door opened. He surveyed the chamber 
that would be his world for the three tendays of the Moon Cycle 
Retreat. 
The soft yellow glow of a crystal lamp reflected off the 
polished wooden floor and creamy walls. Like wispy white 
clouds, filmy curtains fluttered in the night breeze. Through 
the window, Tareth’s twin moons dominated the night sky. 
Nearly as warm and bright as Sol’s daylight, Kala’s reflected 
light bathed the sea in spangles of gold; while weak and cool— 
as fragile as a wisp of silver smoke—Dema, Kala’s twin, 
hovered in her shadow. 
A large bed, draped in yards of silver and gold crystal-silk, 
dominated one corner of the chamber. Faint and delicate, the 
smell of exotic blooms scented the air. In the hearth a fire blazed, 
easing the chill of the early harvest eve. Two comfortable chairs 
of brocade and aronwood sat before the fire, inviting one to sit 
down to intimate dinners or conversations. 

Behind him the men fell silent, their gazes drawn to the 
slim form of the princess standing motionless in a pool of 
moonlight. Dressed in a nearly translucent robe, she possessed 
a stillness, a serenity Ash found unnerving. It stirred something 
within him. 
His fingers clenched into fists against his thighs. He stepped 
into the room and closed the door. After a brief chorus of 
disappointment, the noise from beyond the portal quieted as 
the men dispersed. 
Just inside the door, Ash waited. He forced himself to 
calmness, refusing to admit to the excitement his bride created 
in him. 
A silken waterfall of golden hair cascaded down her slender 
back, brushing the curve of her hips. Her skin captured the 
warm glow of both the lamps and Kala’s light. Tall for a 
woman—the top of her head would just touch his lips—she 
was slender, with smooth, elegant limbs. She turned toward 
him. The classical beauty of her face made his heart ache. 
“Good Evetide, Lady Wife.” 
Not by a flicker of an eyelid did the princess acknowledge 
his polite greeting. He frowned at her strange composure. As 
heir to her father’s throne, she must have known she would 
join politically. Royalty could not follow their hearts. Trained 
from birth to disregard their own needs, they always put the 
welfare of the land and its people first. 
Most learned to tolerate, if not to care for, their forced life-
mates. With Ilka, his first wife, he had been fortunate and 
discovered love. Though he had no wish to again bestow his 
heart on another, he’d thought to find companionship and 
perhaps affection with his new life-mate. 
The cool, expressionless mask of the princess’s face 
perplexed him. “Princess?” 
“My Lord.” 
He spun toward a voice from the shadows. Anger banished 
all trace of his irrational hurt. “Who dares invade the bridal 
chamber?” 
A matronly woman stepped into view, her hands clutched 
protectively over her ample bosom. “Oh my,” she gasped and 

moved quickly to the princess’s side. “You mustn’t bark so, 
My Lord,” she scolded. “You’ll frighten her.” 
He listened in amazement as the woman soothed the 
motionless princess. 
“There now, my lambie. Don’t upset yourself. Come sit 
down. That’s right, rest. All that noise, those rowdy men, must 
surely have tired you.” 
The woman bustled around, arranging the princess’s robes 
and absently patting her arm. While her tone was soft and gentle, 
she took command of the silent bride and settled her in the 
bed. “Sleep now, Katy,” she crooned and smoothed the covers 
over the slim mound of the princess’s prone body. 
“Cease your babble, woman. Who are you?” he demanded 
The woman looked startled. “Me?” She stepped around 
the bed and halted his advance. “I’m Marta, Princess Katrina’s 
personal servant.” 
He gritted his teeth and stared down at the diminutive 
woman facing him. He breathed deep to control his growing 
anger. “You may retire now, Madam. The princess has no further 
need of your services this eve.” 
Marta shook her head. “Oh, no, My Lord. I cannot leave 
my lambie alone with you. Oh, no, that I cannot.” 
Only Marta’s sex and age kept him from throwing her 
bodily from the room, but old woman or not, she could not 
stay while he bedded his bride. 
“You will leave. Now. Princess Katrina is my life-mate. 
Whatever assistance she requires, I will see to.” 
Color crept under the woman’s skin, but she didn’t give 
way. “No, no, My Lord. You don’t understand. I cannot leave. 
I never leave the princess’s side.” 
The note of panic in Marta’s voice stayed his hand when 
he would have grabbed her arm. 
Encouraged by his hesitation, she continued. “My lambie 
cannot be alone. Never. Not even for a moment.” 
“She will not be alone, woman,” he all but roared. “I will 
be with her.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck, 
rubbing absently at the tension centered there. “What mad 
conspiracy is this?” He stared hard at the woman. “Would you 

stay and watch while the princess and I consummate our 
union?” 
For a moment the woman seemed confused, then 
understanding dawned in her eyes, followed quickly by 
horrified disbelief. “No. You cannot mean to...it’s not 
possible...it’s not right...you couldn’t be such a beast...Oh, no, 
I never thought...” she sputtered. 
“Enough. Explain yourself.” 
The woman fell silent at his quiet command. She bowed 
her head and twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands. She 
peeked up at him as if testing his restraint. A fine sheen of 
moisture glistened on her forehead, despite the cool night air 
wafting through the chamber. 
“They didn’t tell you?” 
“Tell me what, old woman?” 
“Oh dear, oh dear,” the woman repeated beneath her breath. 
“Woman, you try my patience.” He tried to keep his tone 
soft. Obviously the woman considered him a threat to her 
precious charge. For her protectiveness he found he could not 
fault her. He glanced toward the bed. The princess hadn’t 
moved. Why didn’t she react to the argument? 
Apprehension rippled through him. Every whisper, every 
odd glance he’d experienced since his arrival returned to haunt 
him. Was there a reason other than tradition that he’d been 
secluded from her before the ceremony? What ailed the 
princess? Physically she appeared perfect.... 
“Sit down,” he told the old woman. 
She collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the room’s 
large hearth. 
He seated himself opposite her. “Tell me.” 
The woman shook her head and bit her lower lip. Her plump 
cheeks lost their rosy color. 
“Be at ease.” He reached out and captured her hand, prying 
her fingers from the twisted folds of her skirt. “I have no 
intention of harming the princess.” 
Her head snapped up, and she snatched back her hand. 
“You’ll not touch her!” 
“She is my life-mate. Mere hours ago I vowed to protect 

her. Her life is now mine, as mine is hers.” 
When the woman settled back in her chair, he continued. 
“Tell me what it is I should know.” 
For a minute Marta hesitated, then straightened. She shook 
her head. “It’s not right. You should have been told.” 
He held on to his temper and waited. 
She lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. 
Suddenly, he knew the answer would change his life in 
ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. He braced himself. 
“Princess Katrina is Raaka.” 
Raaka. A soulless one. 
The world around him ground to a halt. A person without 
ka was worse than one dead, a walking corpse, its soul trapped 
somewhere between its physical body and its eternal existence, 
in limbo. What horror had chased Katrina’s ka from her body? 
“No,” he whispered. “It can’t be. When? How?” 
“When her mother was killed. The king found her huddled 
beneath the queen’s lifeless body.” 
Ash jumped to his feet. “Impossible. Queen de Lancer died 
over eight annum ago. No one survives as Raaka for that long. 
I warn you, woman, do not lie to me.” 
“The woman doesn’t lie.” 
Ash whirled at the sound of another voice and reached for 
the sword which no longer hung at his side. Other than those 
carried by the king’s guard, no weapons were allowed in the 
castle. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” 
An elderly man stepped out of the shadows near the 
window. His simple gray robes whispered in the quiet as he 
moved in front of Ash. “Akester, zard to King Ruthor’s royal 
court.” 
Though age stooped the zard’s shoulders, his dark, 
fathomless eyes held Ash’s. They were the only part of the 
man Ash could not crush with one hand. He felt himself bound 
by the force of those eyes, suspended between the known and 
the unknown, the possible and the impossible. 
“Kala smiles on your union, Prince del Gar.” 
Like warmed honey, the zard’s words flowed over Ash. 
Tension eased from his body. This gnarled, ancient zard posed 

no physical threat. 
“As Kala fades in the night sky, Dema will grow full and 
absorb the light until Kala becomes the shadow. Then both 
will merge for a brief span. In doing so, they will glow like red 
crystal in the sky. Only every three hundred annum does this 
alignment of Tareth’s moons occur.” He stared into Ash’s eyes. 
“Some consider it an omen of war.” 
Ash snorted his disbelief. “Do you interrupt our Moon 
Cycle Retreat to give us a lesson in astronomy, old man? I 
have little use for omens and signs. War is made by men for 
their own purposes, not decreed by the movement of rocks in 
the sky.” 
The zard chuckled, the sound raspy, as if not often voiced. 
“True, yet untrue, my young friend. Men make war, but do not 
discount what is beyond your understanding. The powers 
controlling the universe are greater than you know.” 
The curtains swirled around the zard until he appeared to 
float among them. His robe shimmered in the firelight as he 
stepped forward. He smiled. 
Leaving the old woman seated by the fire, Ash strode over 
to the window and stopped. Sheer stone walls stretched beyond 
each side, above and below. A hundred feet down, the sea 
crashed relentlessly against the cliffs. Wings would be needed 
to enter through this window. 
Across the room the door remained firmly shut, guarded 
by at least two of his men. No other access to the room existed. 
The fire at his back did little to ease his chill. 
Three strides carried him to the side of the bed. Only the 
slight rise and fall of Katrina’s chest betrayed her life force. 
Hair the colors of ripening wheat and rich, dark honey 
surrounded a beautiful yet characterless face. Her pale blue 
eyes stared through him. 
Raaka. A fate too cruel for one so perfectly formed for a 
man’s caress. Kneeling next to the bed, he leaned over the 
princess. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple. Grief 
for what might have been clogged his throat. “What dark path 
do you wander?” 
As if in response, moisture glistened at the corner of her 

eye. 
Akester touched his shoulder. “Her ka has not moved into 
the afterlife. That is why her body continues to live. If you 
would restore your life-mate, her ka must return.” 
Ash rose and stepped away from the bed, drawing the zard 
with him. “What nonsense do you spout, old man?” 
“Listen well and understand, young prince. Our world does 
not exist alone. There are other worlds. Unseen worlds, in other 
realms. Princess Katrina’s ka found passage to one of these 
worlds and now resides in another’s body. I have seen this world 
and the one whose body Princess Katrina’s ka now inhabits. 
Time grows short. As the princess’s ka embraces its new 
existence, her physical body gives up its hold on life.” 
“I do not understand your riddles. What is it you expect 
me to do? Where are these worlds you speak of? How do I find 
my way there? And once there, how do I take back Katrina’s 
ka?” He paced the room in long, angry strides, his voice rising 
with each question. He halted. “You have seen this other world? 
How?” 
Akester smiled and nodded. “Come, sit and I will tell you 
of my travels.” 
Exhaustion drained Ash of energy. The old woman rose 
and moved over to the bed. Ash let himself sink into a chair 
before the glowing hearth. 
“Years ago, a strange rock was brought to me. I learned its 
secrets, and this is what I found within its center.” From inside 
his robe Akester pulled a crystal amulet and placed it in Ash’s 
hand. 
The amulet hung on a cord braided of flaxen human hair. 
The crystal felt smooth and warm. Ash’s hand tingled for a 
moment before the stone settled in the cup of his palm. No 
thicker than the blade of his sword, the clear disk showed every 
pore of his skin. 
With an expert’s touch, he judged the crystal’s weight and 
value. The amulet’s clarity showed him it had been sliced from 
a thick vein rather than fused together, as were most larger 
pieces of crystal. He held it to the light. The facets inside, though 
invisible to the naked eye, caught and threw back the light in a 

shimmering rainbow of color. He closed his fingers possessively 
around the disk. Its polished edges bit into his skin. 
“I’ve never seen such quality crystal, a vein so thick and 
pure,” he admitted in awe. “How does such a transparent crystal 
reflect so? Only crystals with obvious flaws refract the light in 
such a way.” He looked at Akester. “Which mine did it come 
from?” 
The zard merely smiled. “Where it came from matters not.” 
“Matters not? Men kill for crystal one-tenth this size and 
quality. If the wrong people knew you had knowledge of such 
a mine, they would not hesitate to force it from you.” 
The zard waved his hand in dismissal. “It is unimportant.” 
Ash felt a strange need to protect this frail, naive zard, a 
need far beyond the learned respect he held for all holy men. 
“Deluded old man,” he muttered. 
“Do not spend your worry on me, young prince. I gift you 
with the moon crystal.” Akester took the amulet from Ash’s 
hand and hung it around the latter’s neck. “Wear it close to 
your heart. Trust its power and let it serve you well.” 
Ash stared down at the crystal resting against his 
breastbone, then back at the ancient zard. 
“After studying and experimenting with the moon crystal, 
I made a curious discovery,” Akester continued. “When I hold 
it in my hand, my ka is able to float free of my body. Once 
freed, my ka can travel amid a myriad of worlds. 
“Usually these worlds float like leaves upon the water, 
drifting together and apart randomly. However, with Princess 
Katrina’s body in this world and her ka in another, the two 
worlds are held in alignment. When I travel, Princess Katrina’s 
ka draws me. I have tried to contact her, but she cannot or will 
not accept my presence. I can but observe. I cannot interact. 
To retrieve Princess Katrina’s ka, you must travel to this other 
realm and convince the woman who holds it to return here.” 
The soft crackle of the fire sounded loud in the silence as 
Akester ceased to speak. A cool, salt breeze swirled into the 
room, making the flames dance. 
An ache throbbed behind Ash’s eyes. Akester might be 
insane, yet he spoke with a surety that swayed Ash despite his 

doubts. “Are you mad? You speak of things beyond easy 
acceptance. You have found a way to do this?” 
“I believe so.” Akester looked away for a moment, then 
his gaze locked with Ash’s. “To do so involves risk. As Princess 
Katrina’s ka accepts its new home within this other woman, 
the bond between the two worlds loosens. Soon the princess’s 
body will die, and the link between the worlds will dissolve.” 
Ash glanced over at the bed where Marta sat quietly. 
Though she’d said nothing while he and Akester spoke, she 
now gazed at him in mute appeal. He went to stand before the 
elderly woman. 
Tears swam in her eyes. “I’ve been with Katy since the 
day of her birth. A beautiful baby and an adorable child, her 
outward appearance is a mere fraction of her inner beauty. In 
the annum since her ka fled her body, I’ve watched her grow to 
adulthood. As a child she had eyes the rich brown color of 
polished aronwood. The color fled along with her ka. It breaks 
my heart to see her so...” Her voice broke on a sob. 
For Arete and Mardelan to become one again a child must 
be born of his and Katrina’s union, a child who would one day 
rule over both lands. Could he bring himself to sow his seed in 
the body of a soulless one? His flesh shriveled at the obscene 
thought. 
Even if Katrina were not his sworn life-mate and their 
bonding the only hope of a lasting peace between Arete and 
Mardelan, Ash knew he could not stand idly by and watch her 
life-force fade away. If this tale of traveling kas and other realms 
were naught but the ravings of one slightly mad zard, nothing 
would be lost. If true, he stood to gain much. He laid a 
comforting hand on Marta’s shaking shoulder. 
Marta clasped his hand between her plump ones. “Help 
her,” she pleaded. 
“I will do all I can.” He wondered if it would be enough. 
Over the sea, as if summoned by magic, a storm brewed. 
He watched as dark clouds rolled across the night sky, 
swallowing the stars. 
Lightning streaked from cloud to cloud, illuminating the 
towering waves below. Through the window, wind whipped 

the curtains to and fro, while the casings clattered against the 
castle’s stone walls. The turmoil outside did little more than 
reflect the storm raging within him. “Madness,” he whispered. 
But whose madness? Akester’s or his own? 
A brief glance at his motionless mate left him no choice 
but to believe. Without this life-mating and the Blood Bonding 
to follow, he knew the relationship between Arete and Mardelan 
would change. At the very least, the vital trade agreement they 
held would crumble. At worst, war would erupt. 
Reality or bizarre fantasy, Akester’s story held out the only 
hope Ash could see. Still, he sought to avoid his fate. “What 
language is spoken in this other world? How will I make myself 
understood?” 
“Do not concern yourself. The transfer gives you the ability 
to communicate.” 
Ash turned to the zard. “I am ready.” 
Akester moved to Ash’s side. “The woman who holds 
Princess Katrina’s ka must come willingly. If you force her, 
the trauma may cause the princess’s ka to flee yet again.” 
Ash felt a moment of unease. What would be this strange 
woman’s fate once she crossed with him to Tareth? He pushed 
the thought away. The future of Arete and Mardelan must be 
his first and only concern. “Is that all?” 
“There is one thing more,” Akester replied to Ash’s 
sarcasm. 
The zard’s tone warned Ash he would not like what he was 
about to hear. 
“Princess Katrina’s ka will draw you to her, but on your 
return...” he hesitated. “You may not return directly to this 
chamber.” 
“Why not? Won’t her body draw her ka?” 
“No. Her ka fled her body to avoid a great pain. It might 
do so again when you try to bring it back.” 
“Where will we end up?” 
Akester shook his head. “Someplace the princess knows 
where she was once happy, so it cannot be far from here. Come, 
time grows short. While kas may travel at will throughout the 
universes, to transport bodies takes energy—energy which the 

coming storm will provide.” 
As if in response to Akester’s summons, the storm broke 
over the castle. Windblown sheets of rain poured in through 
the open window, soaking the curtains and floor. Ash strained 
to hear the zard’s instructions. 
“...the moon crystal, hold it tightly to your chest over your 
heart,” Akester shouted. 
The wind pushed at Ash. Icy rain pelted his face and body, 
while ragged bolts of lightning streaked from sea to sky. 
Beneath his feet, the castle seemed to rock with the force of 
the thunder. He braced himself against the elements and stared 
out into the raging storm. For a brief moment he felt at one 
with nature. 
As if from a great distance he heard Akester. “May Kala’s 
light protect and guide you, Warrior Prince.” 
At his chest the moon crystal grew warm, its heat seeping 
into his flesh, its edges biting into his palm. 
“Now!” screamed Akester. “Hold the crystal to the sky!” 
Ash pulled the glowing crystal away from his body. As if 
he had torn out his heart, pain stabbed his chest. A flash of 
dazzling light blinded him, and a shower of silver white 
sparks—each one needle sharp and icy cold—fell over him. 
He gasped for breath against the agony radiating throughout 
his body. 
A swirling fog of charcoal gray obscured his vision. No 
longer did he feel the floor beneath his feet. He heard no sound 
other than the erratic whoosh of his blood through his veins. 
Something warm trickled down his wrist, and he realized he 
gripped the moon crystal so tightly its edges pierced his palm. 
Like thick mud, the mist coalesced around him. He couldn’t 
budge. Couldn’t breathe. The more he struggled the tighter the 
mist gripped him. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. 
Think of Princess Katrina. Call upon her ka. Let it guide 
you. Remembering Akester’s instructions, he shoved aside his 
terror and brought the image of Katrina to his mind. Arms 
outstretched, brown eyes alight with welcome, soft lips curved 
upward, she drew him forward. The mist fell behind him, 
forgotten, as the warmth of Katrina’s ka touched his. He reached 

for her. 
She was gone. 
He spun around. Behind him the mist snaked closer, 
tentacles slithering toward him. He fought to outdistance it. To 
let it touch him meant to be forever lost. 
Numbed by the bone-deep cold, he stumbled, tumbling 
forward into the unknown. 

TWO
Ash gasped for breath as the world solidified around him. 
His stomach lurched in protest. His head whirled and his skin 
tingled. Against the soles of his feet the floor felt cool and 
smooth. He leaned forward, bracing his palms on his thighs, 
and let warmth seep into his chilled bones. 
A cool draft swirled around his legs. His bare legs. No 
longer did he wear his joining finery, not a scrap of cloth covered 
his nakedness. Apparently, clothing didn’t transition from one 
world to another. The thought amused him. 
It appeared he had reached his destination. He pushed away 
the wonder he felt at finding Akester’s vision true. There was 
no time. He had a mission to accomplish and little time to do 
so. Where was this woman who held Katrina’s ka? 
Moonlight streamed over his shoulder, bathing the room 
in an eerie glow and revealing a panorama of Mardelan. But 
seen as if from above, the whole of it condensed and laid out in 
a curious, unrealistic way. He stared. No such view of Mardelan 
could truly exist. 
He realized he stood in a room facing a painted mural. In 
the moonlight he studied the details of the amazing picture. 
Intrigued, he stepped forward for a better look. 
Something grabbed his foot. With a muffled oath, he 
crashed to the floor. One knee landed hard against wooden 
boards, something soft cushioned the other. Instinctively, he 
grabbed the creature, ready to crush out its life. Discovering 
he clutched naught but a pillow, he grimaced in chagrin. Pillows 
littered the floor. 
His knee throbbing, he looked around the room. To one 
side stood a slanted table with a stool in front of it. Cups and 

bins holding a variety of writing implements lined the edges. A 
stack of large paper tablets leaned haphazardly against a wall. 
Across from the mural stretched a wide expanse of windows. 
Outside, cloud-filtered moonlight shone down on a river and a 
forest of bare-branched trees. He noted this evidence of his 
transfer to another world for a moment before he continued to 
search the chamber. 
A drawing tablet lay near his foot. He reached down and 
picked it up. Breath hissed out between his clenched teeth. 
Drawn with bold, rough strokes, his face stared up at him. 
He flipped through the tablet. Picture after picture of him, 
in various poses and stages of dress, filled the pages. Whoever 
drew them seemed to know him well. They’d even included 
several small, rarely visible scars. 
Though flattering and well done, Ash felt violated by the 
intimacy the pictures implied. He tossed the tablet away, anger 
heating his blood. 
At the sound of a whimper, he dropped into a half crouch 
and scanned the room. 
He heard it again, the sound of a person in distress. In a 
dark corner of the room, Ash could just make out a bulky piece 
of furniture. He crept closer and knelt next to it. 
Outside, the last of the storm clouds dissipated, exposing 
the light of a full moon, illuminating the corner. 
Nearly lost in the embrace of the divan, a woman lay curled 
in upon herself. How he could tell it was a woman Ash was 
unsure. Clothing covered her from neck to ankle, and hair as 
short and sleek as a boy’s hugged her head. Small, pale feet 
peeked from beneath the edge of loose fitting trousers. A baggy, 
long-sleeved shirt rode up her back, uncovering a handspan of 
smooth skin washed white by the moonlight. He could see none 
of her face, which was buried within the circle of her arms. 
She moaned softly, turning onto her back. One arm fell to 
her side, the other arched gracefully over her head. Like her 
back, the moon drained the color from her face, leaving only 
light and shadow. Though seemingly unremarkable in form, 
the simple purity of her features caught and held Ash’s gaze. 
A strand of hair, as dark and shiny as a ravelle bird’s wing, 

crossed her cheek and touched the corner of her mouth. Her 
lips parted on a sigh as she settled deeper into slumber. 
Whatever bad dreams she’d been having had faded. 
The column of her throat stretched downward into the deep 
V of the ill-fitting shirt she wore. Pale and vulnerable, the 
rounded shape of her breasts rose and fell with each breath. 
Though lacking Princess Katrina’s elegant, breathtaking 
beauty, this unknown woman radiated, even in sleep, a warmth 
of being. The fullness of her breasts, the indentation of her 
waist, before the flare of her hips, promised a haven of comfort. 
Deep inside Ash something twisted. How long had it been 
since he’d found solace in a woman’s arms? Physical release, 
yes. Satisfaction, occasionally, but never the surety of 
contentment. 
Why now, with this unknown woman, in this strange world, 
did he find himself longing for such an elusive prize? 
He knew it foolish to want what she silently promised. 
Naught but a receptacle for Katrina’s ka, this woman could 
mean less than nothing to him. Still, almost against his will, he 
raised a hand to stroke her face. His fingers hovered above her 
skin. Her heat urged him closer. 
Though outside night still held sway, without a warning or 
sound, daylight flooded the room. Ash blinked against the 
sudden illumination and jerked his hand back. Overbalanced, 
he landed hard on his backside. 
*** 
Cathy protested as a harsh, intrusive glare tore away her 
dream lover. Tears seeped from beneath her tightly closed 
eyelids. She’d worked so hard to draw him to her side, pulling 
him from the depths of a chilling gray mist. Now she’d lost 
him. 
She groaned and blinked. Instead of the dark of night, bright 
studio lights filled the room. The power was back on. 
How long had she slept? The small digital clock sitting 
next to the couch blinked a neon green 12:00. 
Sitting up, she swung her legs to the floor and, without 
looking, reached for her cane. Instead of the cool, satiny feel 
of well-polished wood, her fingers grazed something hard yet 

pliable, smooth and warm. Fuzzy with sleep, she turned to see 
what she’d touched. 
“Oh, my!” she breathed. 
An expanse of bronzed skin covering a ripple of well-
defined stomach muscles filled her view. She gulped and looked 
lower, then jerked her gaze upward. She felt the heat coloring 
her cheeks before it drained away as her gaze focused on the 
face of her dream lover. 
He rose before her in all his naked glory, her Mystic Warrior. 
At least six feet four inches tall, he towered over her as she 
cowered on the couch. Golden hair fell around massive 
shoulders. She refused to let her eyes travel lower again. Instead, 
she concentrated on his face. 
“At what do you stare, woman? Have you never before 
seen a man?” 
His voice, filled with mockery and, Cathy decided, a touch 
of reluctant embarrassment, shook her from her study. Was 
she still asleep? Dreaming? 
“Well?” His husky tones brought back erotic images from 
her dream, but he sounded real and solid. 
“Nothing,” she managed to stammer. 
Dream or reality, Cathy felt the first stirring of panic. Had 
she finally crossed the line between sanity and madness? 
Or was she alone and unarmed in an isolated house with a 
strange man? A naked one at that. Sleep fell away in a wash of 
awareness. His uncanny resemblance to her creation, the Mystic 
Warrior, didn’t change the fact he probably posed a threat to 
her. 
Probably. She was being optimistic. Normal men didn’t 
break into people’s homes in the altogether and confront them. 
She glanced wildly around the studio for a weapon. Why 
had she insisted on not installing a phone in here? All her logical 
reasons—not being disturbed while she worked, peace and 
quiet—seemed to fade away in these present circumstances. 
“Wh-what do you want?” 
He didn’t answer, merely continued to stare down at her. 
Stupid question. What did a naked man usually want? The 
idea that this Greek god of a man would want that of her made 

Cathy want to giggle. 
Incipient hysteria, she thought. He most likely beat women 
back with a stick—no, make that a tree trunk. Even she, though 
scared, felt an unwelcome attraction for the man. 
“I don’t have much money in the house, but it’s yours. My 
car keys are on the hall table downstairs. Take them and go.” 
She tried to make her voice firm, but it came out high-pitched 
and squeaky. 
He straightened, his body going rigid. “I am Prince Ash de 
Gar of Arete. I have no need of your coin.” He sounded insulted. 
“What are carkeys?” 
“Car keys, the keys to my…” She stopped. Prince Ash de 
Gar of Arete. Oh no! Not only was the man naked, he was 
psychotic as well. I’ve got to get out of here! 
He crouched until his head was level with hers and leaned 
toward her. His body blocked much of the light and most of 
the air. Heat radiated off him, flowing over her like a warm 
ocean breeze. 
The lively curiosity twinkling in his blue-green eyes stole 
away some of her terror, just as his nearness snatched her breath. 
For a moment she forgot his nakedness and her fear. All that 
remained were the two of them—a man and a woman—their 
faces, lips, inches apart. The lines of reality blurred in Cathy’s 
mind. Her heavy eyelids closed. She paused, wishing he would 
disappear, yet dreading he would. 
“You have no need to fear. I mean you no harm.” Warm 
and moist, his breath bathed her cheek. 
She opened her eyes and stared up into his. “Who are you?” 
Her question came out in a husky whisper. She needed more 
than his name, for on his left inner arm was the same odd, 
pitted scar she’d included in her sketches of the Mystic Warrior. 
How could that be? Was she still dreaming? Or had she 
somehow brought her dream to life? 
“Ash. By what name do I call you?” 
He smiled, and the remainder of her fright evaporated like 
the gray mist she’d called him forth from in her dream. 
“Cathy...Cathy Lawrence.” 
“Cathy.” He pronounced it Cat-Tee, with the accent equal 

on both syllables. He stroked her cheek with slightly callused 
fingertips. 
Surely he could see and feel the rapid pounding of her pulse. 
Like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake, she could no more 
move away than she could hope to win a fifty yard sprint. Until 
he chose to break the connection between them, she was 
trapped. 
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” 
Beautiful. Ash’s spell over her snapped. Though charming, 
the man was either blind or a straight-faced liar. His words 
sounded sincere, but the one thing Cathy knew she’d never be 
was beautiful. 
In a spurt of anger, she pushed his hand away and stood 
up. “Beautiful! You’re either drunk or you need glasses.” The 
second he no longer touched her, she felt bereft. 
Now she towered over him as he knelt at her feet. She 
found she rather liked him there, at least right at this moment. 
“What do you want here?” Anger at his appealing lie gave heat 
to her question. She didn’t wait for an answer while she stalked, 
or rather limped, over to where her cane lay abandoned on the 
floor. Leaning heavily on it, she turned back to face him. 
“You are lame.” 
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “I noticed. You have 
about sixty seconds to explain yourself, before I phone the 
police.” 
“The police?” 
“Yes, the police. You know, those people with badges and 
guns, who put the bad guys in jail. I have lots of friends in the 
Council Falls Police Department. If I call them, they won’t 
take kindly to someone who’s bothering me. Start talking.” 
Bemused, Ash contemplated her. The woman sounded 
fierce and determined, when only minutes before she’d cowered 
in fear, then nearly melted at his touch. Like the tiny shecal 
living wild in the Aretian Mountains, this Cathy, though of a 
gentle nature, would fight if necessary to protect herself. 
He had no idea what a phone might be, but he could guess 
what the police and a jail were. 
What should he tell her? The truth? Would she believe it? 

He’d lived through the experience of transferring from one 
world into another, and he doubted. 
It surprised Ash she did not consider herself attractive. 
“Most women, even those of less than comely appearance, enjoy 
compliments and choose to believe them when offered.” 
She took a step back. “I’m not most women. I know what 
I am, and I hate liars.” 
“I do not lie.” He let his gaze travel over her. Her color 
heightened, but she held her ground. “But perhaps I exaggerate 
a bit. You are not traditionally beautiful, but you hold an appeal 
a man would find hard to resist.” 
“Tell me another,” she muttered, still glaring at him. 
“Do you think your lameness renders you undesirable?” 
He smiled. “Foolish little woman.” 
“Stop it! You’re not answering my questions.” 
Ash could hear a waver of uncertainty in her tone. “Your 
threats are as empty as your fears are groundless. I could easily 
stop you from summoning help, but I’ll not harm you.” He 
started to rise. 
“Don’t get up! Stay where you are!” Holding her cane 
before her like a lance, she limped backward. 
He hesitated, then remembered his lack of attire. He ducked 
his head to hide his grin from her. His little shecal was shy. If 
not yet a maiden, she was as close to one as a woman of her 
age could be. Why that pleased him, he didn’t know, but it did. 
“I will tell you all, but first I need to clothe myself. Have 
you something I might wear?” 
“Yes...of course. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She 
lowered her cane and hurried from the room. 
She walked with a hitch in her gait. Each step caused her 
body to sway in a strangely enticing way. 
Ash could hear the rapid click of her cane striking the floor. 
A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he eased his body down 
onto the divan. Its softness embraced his aching muscles. 
Warmth from Cathy’s body lingered, as did her sweet scent. 
The tension that had ridden him since he first looked into his 
new life-mate’s empty eyes dissolved. His eyes drifted shut. In 
seconds, he slept. 

*** 
Outside her studio, Cathy locked the door and pocketed 
the key. The flimsy interior door wouldn’t hold long if the man 
was determined to get out, but locking it gave her a small sense 
of being in control. 
In her room, silence greeted her when she lifted the phone 
to call for help. The storm must have downed the phone lines. 
Just as well, she thought. Who would she call? Not the police. 
Though she’d always maintained a cool distance from most 
people, her foster father’s friends on the police force tended to 
look after her the same way they did his natural daughter, Dale. 
If she called them, Ash would certainly get short shrift, maybe 
even end up behind bars. 
Dale? No, more protective than the men on the force, Dale 
played the role of big sister as if she’d been born first, rather 
than being five years Cathy’s junior. 
Who else was there? Sadly, Cathy realized she could turn 
to no one else in the friendly little town of Council Falls. She 
knew people considered her cold and aloof, and she did nothing 
to change their perceptions. Most of the time she preferred 
their disapproval to their pity. 
She moved down the hall to the spare bedroom. 
Once there, she rummaged through the closet. Somewhere 
among the boxes filled with odds and ends collected over the 
years, she knew she had a box of her foster father’s old clothing. 
Yes, there it was, buried in a corner. She pulled it out. 
The box open at her feet, she stopped and sank back on 
her heels. Was she mad? A strange...a strange naked man waited 
in her studio. She should be running away as far and fast as 
she could. So why am I searching frantically for clothing to 
cover that magnificent body of his instead? 
With her first flash of fear gone, try as she would, she 
couldn’t resurrect it. If he’d meant to harm her he could have 
done so while she slept, or easily stopped her from leaving the 
studio, but he hadn’t. As foolish as it seemed, she doubted Prince 
Ash de Gar, or whoever the hell he was, would hurt her. 
Pushing aside her concern about her reasoning, she 
burrowed into the box. Max, her foster father, had been a big 

bear of a man, so something of his would surely fit Ash. Finally 
she dug out a pair of faded jeans and a soft flannel shirt. The 
pants would be too large in the waist and a bit short in the legs, 
but they would cover Ash adequately. She tucked the clothing 
under her arm and headed back to the studio. 
When she stepped back into the studio, she didn’t see him. 
She couldn’t explain the pang she felt thinking he’d left. Then 
she saw him sprawled out on her couch, his large body making 
it appear small by comparison. 
Long of limb, muscles well-defined and covered with sleek 
bronzed skin, he lay at ease. His broad, hairless chest rose and 
fell in an easy cadence. In sleep his features seemed younger, 
the lines bracketing his mouth less deep, his mouth softer, fuller. 
As if drawn, Cathy moved to stand next to him. This time 
she let her gaze travel down his length, not stopping even when 
the heat inside threatened to consume her. Despite the numerous 
scars marring his flesh, he was perfect—all of him. 
What, she wondered, would it be like to have this man 
want her? To feel his body press against hers, his hands caress 
her skin, his lips touch hers.... 
With a muffled gasp, she tossed the clothing at his feet and 
fled the room. 

THREE
Ash opened his eyes and groaned. He’d drunk too much 
Trinka wine at his joining feast and dreamed a most unusual 
dream. 
Dream! 
Memory of the night flooded over him. It had been no 
dream. He had clasped the moon crystal and somehow 
transferred from Tareth to this other world. 
He jumped to his feet. 
The warmth of the sun, pouring through the room’s large 
expanse of windows, drew his attention. Any other time he 
would have appreciated the view—the sky above a deep, 
cloudless blue; below, the river’s surface sparkling as if 
sprinkled with silver and gold rea-crystals. Now, he wanted to 
rage in frustration. Without the power of the storm, he was 
trapped on this world. To effect a transfer back to Tareth, he 
needed the lightning. 
Although Akester had told him time moved differently in 
the two worlds, Ash had no way of knowing how much time 
had elapsed on Tareth. He must find the woman, the one called 
Cathy, and convince her to return to Tareth with him. 
Was she the one for whom he searched? What had Akester 
told him? 
“The core of the moon crystal will glow like the joined 
moons when in the presence of the woman who holds Princess 
Katrina’s ka.” 
Ash grabbed the crystal, but it did not glow. Had it the 
previous night? He could not recall. Taken with the woman, 
he’d not thought to look. 
Something about the crystal caught his attention. Holding 

it to the light, he studied it. Instead of the flawless disk he 
remembered, now a myriad of small internal fractures 
crisscrossed its center. The tiny lines did nothing to mar its 
beauty. 
A muffled sound brought him back from his enchantment. 
Where was the woman? Had she fled while he slept? When he 
headed toward the door, his foot caught on a piece of cloth. He 
started to toss the trousers aside, then remembered the woman’s 
response to his nudity. On the divan behind him lay a shirt. 
Though the shirt fit adequately across his shoulders, the 
sleeves fell short of his wrists, and only one button remained. 
To solve the problem, he left the shirt unbuttoned and rolled 
the sleeves up past his elbows. 
The trousers gave him a bit more difficulty. They too were 
short, but his biggest problem was keeping them up. Whoever 
owned them was obviously larger around the waist and hips. 
Even after he figured out the odd button fastening the waistband, 
they kept sliding down his hips. Finally he just gathered the 
material in his fist. Below the waistband the fabric gaped. A 
row of cold, shiny objects lined the gap. He pulled at a small 
tab and was rewarded when the objects meshed and closed the 
opening. A most intriguing invention. 
Another sound from without the room distracted him from 
his discovery. Before he could reach the door, it swung open. 
The woman backed into the room. Again, her loose-fitting 
clothing almost hid her femininity. Almost. Nothing could 
disguise the delicate nape of her neck or the gentle curve of 
her hips. 
She turned. In her hands she carried a food-laden tray. Her 
cane hung useless over her arm as she awkwardly maneuvered 
her way into the room. 
Forgetting the precarious state of his attire, Ash hurried 
forward to assist her. 
Cathy gulped back her cry of surprise as he relieved her of 
the heavy tray. “You’re up. Do the clothes fit?” 
Stupid question. She could see how well the clothes didn’t 
fit. The well-worn flannel hugged his shoulders and biceps, 
hanging open in the front, revealing a broad expanse of sun

bronzed skin. Against his flesh rested the same strange 
medallion she had noticed the night before; a reddish glow 
emanated from its center. The pants...Cathy held back a laugh. 
He looked like he wore clown pants, only without the 
suspenders. Instead, they drooped so low on his hips she could 
see the beginning of a nest of crisp hair. 
Heat flamed in her cheeks. She jerked her gaze away, only 
to meet his. Laughter lurked in his eyes, but a hint of pink 
touched his cheeks also. His embarrassment eased some of her 
own. He placed the tray carefully on the couch and gathered 
the waistband once again in his fist. 
“The clothes will do, for now. You did not flee while I 
slept. You no longer fear me.” It was a statement, not a question. 
“Why?” 
Cathy shook her head. “I’m not sure.” Normally she tried 
to use common sense in her life, always doing what was 
expected, never stepping out of the ordinary. After years of 
therapy, she had struck a shaky balance between her real life 
and the life of freedom she allowed herself in her art. But this 
man’s appearance threatened to tumble her from her perch. 
His resemblance to her Mystic Warrior went far beyond any 
possibility of coincidence. No one but her sister had seen those 
drawings, so how could this man be the flesh-and-blood 
embodiment of her creation? For sanity’s sake she needed the 
answer before she cast him out of her life. 
“I asked myself the same question more than once last night 
and this morning. So far, despite your unannounced arrival, 
you haven’t really threatened me.” In addition, her choices were 
limited. The phone remained dead—a result of the storm— 
and when she’d tried to drive away she discovered her car 
wouldn’t start. She considered hiking into town, but knowing 
she’d never make it, decided she would rather take her chances 
with Ash than attempt the five-mile trek. 
“I’ll not harm you.” 
Despite her misgivings, Cathy found herself believing him. 
Abandoning his hold on his pants, he sat cross-legged, his 
back against the couch. “Come, sit, and break the fast with 
me.” He patted the floor next to him. 

Awkwardly, Cathy eased herself down and sat across the 
tray from him. She watched as he examined the food. 
He ate the fruit, cereal and toast with apparent enjoyment, 
but he merely sipped the coffee, grimaced, then set it aside. 
Her stomach fluttering in nervous excitement, Cathy only 
nibbled a piece of toast. Sitting on the floor eating breakfast 
with a man she didn’t know felt strangely intimate. Yet 
somehow she did know him. Hadn’t he been in her dreams? 
She knew she should ask him questions, find out who he really 
was and what he wanted, but for this minute she wanted him to 
be her Mystic Warrior, not some off-kilter burglar. Perhaps 
she was still dreaming? If so, she would enjoy every second. 
Still, she had fought too long and hard for her sanity and 
her place in this world to let any man undermine it. Whether 
he was lost and misguided or escaped and dangerous, she 
needed to know. 
She straightened and looked into his face. “Okay, I’ve been 
patient long enough. Now, you’re going to tell me who you 
are, where you came from, what you want here and how you 
managed to look just like my drawings.” When he hesitated, 
she added a small lie. “I called the police. If I don’t have some 
answers by the time they arrive, I’ll just let them haul you away.” 
“You will not believe me.” 
“Try me. You might be surprised.” 
“I am not from your world,” he started. 
“What? Don’t tell me you’re some kind of alien.” 
“Do not interrupt. My story is difficult enough to tell.” 
“Story indeed,” she mumbled. 
“My world is a place called Tareth. As I told you last night, 
I am Prince Ash de Gar of the kingdom of Arete. Long ago, 
Arete and Mardelan were one kingdom...” 
“What does that have to do with why you’re here?” Cathy 
demanded. 
“Have patience,” he chided her with a frown and continued. 
“Both the king’s sons wanted to rule, so rather than let his sons 
divide the country with bloodshed, he split it into two, one half 
to each son. For generations, peace reigned. Through the 
centuries, whenever something threatened to destroy the peace, 

a Blood Bonding was called for.” 
Cathy listened, enthralled while Ash spun his tale. She 
fought her instinctive belief. To believe would make a mockery 
of her life and the sanity she fought to maintain. 
“Then the sons of Arete travel to join with the daughters of 
Mardelan, while the sons of Mardelan travel to Arete to join 
with the daughters there. Their blood mingles, renewing the 
pledge of peace between the two kingdoms. Such is happening 
as I speak. 
“To further solidify this bond, I have joined with the 
Princess Katrina del Lancer. Some day, our first born will rule 
a joined Arete and Mardelan.” 
“This is a pretty fairy tale,” Cathy broke in. “But what 
does it have to do with your being here?” 
An explanation occurred to her. 
“Are you here to pitch a story idea for the animated movie? 
Do you want me to recommend you to the studio? If so, you’ve 
got it and my blessings. You have a great imagination. You’ve 
captured the essence of Remal, only you’ve got the names 
wrong.” Then why did they sound right as he spoke them? 
“Why use such a bizarre method of approaching me? Why not 
go through my agent? I’m not that much of a hermit.” 
Or am I? 
“I know naught of this movie of which you speak. I tell no 
story, only truth. I warned you, you would not believe.” He 
sounded weary. “On my joining night I discovered my life-
mate is Raaka.” 
“Raaka?” The word sounded familiar? 
“Raaka is one whose ka—or as you call it soul—has fled, 
leaving behind naught but their body, an empty shell.” He 
looked at her, pinning her with his intense stare. “It is Katrina’s 
ka I come for. You hold it within you.” 
Cathy eyed Ash warily. “My soul? Are you crazy? And 
just how do you intend to get it?” 
“I am unsure. Zard Akester didn’t explain how the transfer 
will be accomplished. I know only that you must return with 
me to my world.” 
It dawned on Cathy he truly believed what he said. What a 

waste, this beautiful male specimen, with a mind gone—how 
did he put it—Raaka? 
“I think I’ve heard enough.” She started to rise. 
Ash grabbed her wrist in one hand and gripped his 
medallion in the other. “No. You are the one. See.” He thrust 
the medallion under her nose. “The moon crystal glows for 
you, just as the zard said.” 
His fingers on her wrist sent a jolt through her like a charge 
of electricity. She jerked her hand free. 
The medallion did glow, as if a miniature red moon shone 
at its heart. Doubt wavered inside her. Elusive bits of memory, 
like half-remembered dreams, tugged at her. Why did his words, 
so wild and improbable, demand her belief, when logic 
demanded otherwise? 
She scrambled to her feet and backed away. “This is insane. 
I’m me, Cathy Lawrence. There’s no princess hiding inside 
me. I think it’s time you leave.” 
She stood above him, chest heaving, face pale. Her hands 
curled into white-knuckled fists at her sides. 
“Can you dismiss me so easily?” How much, he wondered, 
of this person was Cathy and how much Katrina? Were they 
separate entities within her, or had the two merged as one? He 
hoped the fire and spirit she displayed belonged to Katrina. 
“Where shall I go then? I know naught of your world. I am 
a stranger here, alone and unprepared.” He appealed to her 
softer sentiments. 
Emotions flickered across her face—anger, fear, 
compassion, indecision. Her shoulders slumped. She might not 
believe, but neither did she disbelieve. 
She looked down at him. “All right,” her words came 
reluctantly. “You can stay here. But only until I can figure out 
where you belong.” 
Only until I can convince you. Or time runs out, Ash 
thought. 
*** 
All day Cathy kept close watch on Ash. Other than being 
overtly male, nothing he did threatened her. Except that, one 
look in his direction and her blood ran hot. Knowing her body 

reacted so violently to this peculiar stranger made her jumpy. 
When the phone came back on line, common sense dictated 
she make some discreet inquires with her contacts in the police 
force about escaped mental patients and convicts. There were 
none. That didn’t mean Ash was normal. Not all mental cases 
and criminals were locked up. A quick look at the nightly news 
confirmed that. But the action satisfied the irritating little voice 
in her head that told her she was being foolish. 
Quiet, polite, even picking up after himself, Ash made the 
perfect houseguest. After Cathy found among Max’s old clothes 
some pants that fit Ash and a shirt with buttons, her blood 
pressure settled back to somewhere near normal. Most of the 
time. 
Ash never varied in his story, continuing to claim he came 
from another dimension and she held the key to peace on his 
world. Katrina’s ka. At times, part of Cathy almost bought into 
his delusion. Watching him puzzling over the simplest modern 
appliance convinced her of his sincerity, if not his sanity. 
Later in the afternoon, she retreated to her favorite spot 
along the river. She loved the river in all its moods. When it 
flowed smooth and calm as satin, crystal blue in the summer 
sun. When it swelled with the spring rains, overflowing its 
banks, running brown with mud and debris. When its edges 
froze milky white, only a narrow stream of icy water continuing 
its journey. Or when a storm turned it gray and dangerous, its 
surface ragged shards of silver-tipped steel. 
Along with Max, she’d spent many hours sitting on the 
flat rock jutting out over the river’s bank. Watching the flow 
of water usually soothed the torment inside her, but this time 
she barely saw it. Her thoughts remained centered on Ash. 
The sun sank slowly, painting the cloud-dappled sky like 
an artist’s palette. The day’s warmth radiated off the rock, 
keeping the night’s chill air from chasing her inside. She should 
go in. Her sister might stop by on her way home from camping. 
It wouldn’t do for her to encounter Ash. Knowing Dale, she’d 
assume the worst, and Ash would end up in traction. 
The muffled roar of an engine broke her contemplation of 
the river. Too late. Cathy recognized the sound of Dale’s Jeep. 

Cathy’s leg protested as she stood and hurried up the path. 
Out of breath from the steep climb, she paused at the edge of 
the drive. Just yards away, Dale’s dusty black Jeep idled 
motionless. Inside, both Dale and Thea sat open-mouthed, while 
Ash stood straddle-legged blocking the Jeep’s way. He gripped 
an ancient, rusty sword he must have found among her props. 
Bare chested and bare footed, his borrowed jeans fitting him 
like a second skin, he confronted the Jeep, a warrior ready for 
battle. His muscles bunched as he prepared to attack. 
“Ash! No!” Cathy stumbled onto the drive. 
Three heads whipped in her direction. In her haste, she 
missed a step. Her cane slid on a patch of mud, pitching her 
forward. Unable to catch her balance on her bad leg, she started 
to fall. Before her outstretched hands made contact with the 
gravel drive, strong arms caught and held her. 
Dazed by her near fall, she stared up into Ash’s concerned 
face. 
“Be you hurt, woman?” he asked softly. 
“Cathy! Are you all right?” 
At the sound of Dale’s voice, Ash’s arms tightened around 
Cathy. Her breath caught in her throat as he rose effortlessly, 
cradling her in his arms. Her cheek rested against his bare chest. 
The smell of soap and sunshine, mingled with his own musky 
aroma, teased her nose. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms 
around his neck. 
“Cathy?” Dale questioned, her tone wary and slightly 
hostile. 
“I’m fine. Everything is okay,” Cathy answered. 
Her niece Thea peered at them from behind Dale. “Who is 
that man, Aunt Cathy?” 
Embarrassment held Cathy motionless for a moment, then 
she smiled at the little girl. “A friend, Pixie.” She twisted in 
Ash’s grip. “You can put me down now.” 
He looked at the Jeep, still rumbling in the drive, and 
hesitated. Without saying a word, he strode into the house, 
Cathy still in his arms. She could hear Dale and Thea hurrying 
after them. 
Once in the house, Ash set her gently down in a chair. He 

knelt at her feet and started to check her arms and legs for 
injury. Ignoring her sharp protest and attempts to squirm away, 
he ran his hands over her limbs. He paid no attention to Dale 
and Thea. 
Ash sensed no threat from the slight woman and tiny child. 
The monster waiting outside was another matter, but since the 
others seemed unconcerned, he said nothing. 
“Ash, that’s enough.” Cathy’s querulous tone penetrated 
the horror Ash had felt when he thought her in danger from the 
beast. 
He sank back on his heels and looked up at her flushed 
face. 
She reached out a trembling hand and trailed her fingers 
lightly across his cheek to touch his lips. They tingled from the 
faint caress. 
“I’m fine. Smile, and meet my family.” 
When she started to rise, the child rushed forward. 
Kneeling, Ash found himself eye level with what could only 
be a fairy. Waist-length hair the color of moonlight, caught in 
an untidy braid, hung down her back. Wisps escaped and curled 
around a triangular face dominated by huge green eyes. She 
lacked only gossamer wings and crystal silk robes. Instead, 
she wore a grubby, short-sleeved top, on which the words, 
ANOTHER BRILYUNT MIND DIZTROYED BY THE PUBLIK 
EDUKASHUN SISTUM, were printed in bold, garish colors. 
He puzzled briefly over the strange, meaningless phrase. 
Trousers of the same material as the ones he wore covered her 
legs, and a pair of unusual shoes, that at one time might have 
been white, covered her feet. 
After a moment, she grinned at him. Despite his 
apprehension at confronting a possibly magical creature, he 
smiled back. 
She turned toward the woman. “It’s him! Aunt Cathy’s 
Mystic Warrior!” she cried. 
The lithe blonde woman studied him. Ash returned the 
scrutiny. Though not much taller than the child, and dressed in 
the same outrageous manner—only her shirt read, BEEN 
THERE, DONE THAT—he didn’t doubt her femininity. The 

soft cloth of her shirt and trousers hugged her curves, leaving 
little to a man’s imagination. He frowned at her short cap of 
hair, only a shade darker than the child’s. Why did women of 
this world insist on wearing their hair cropped short like 
unproven boys? 
At his inspection, color rose in her pale cheeks. She dropped 
her gaze and spoke to Cathy, her voice slightly husky. “I thought 
you said you didn’t have a model for Mystic Warrior.” 
Who was this Mystic Warrior they all referred to? Even 
Cathy had whispered his name. Was there a man in Cathy’s 
life? One whom he’d have to fight? 
“You’ll have to forgive my sister’s suspicious nature. She’s 
not used to finding men here. Ash, I’d like you to meet Dale 
Stuart-Taylor, my foster sister, and her daughter, Theadora 
Stuart-Taylor. This is Ash Degar.” 
She ran his marital address and surname together in an 
appealing way. He didn’t bother to correct her. 
“I didn’t actually have him as a model,” she babbled 
breathlessly. “Just photos my agent sent me. When Ash saw 
some of my work, he thought he’d come by while he was in the 
area. So as long as he was here, I invited him to stay for a few 
days. I’ve never worked from a live model before, and I thought 
it might be interesting to try.” 
Though half of what Cathy said made little sense to Ash, 
the woman, Dale, seemed to accept it. Some of the concern 
faded from her features. 
She smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you in 
person. Maybe when you’re finished with Cathy, you’d be 
willing to pose for me. I plan on doing some sculptures based 
on Cathy’s Mystic Warrior.” 
Ash looked at her hand in confusion until her smile 
wavered, and she pulled it back. He knew he’d made a mistake, 
but what, he was unsure. “Perhaps,” he muttered, wondering 
what he had agreed to. 
“Thea, would you go get Aunt Cathy’s cane?” Dale asked 
the child. 
“Sure.” Thea skipped away, seemingly unaware of the 
tension filling the room. 

Ash kept himself from pulling Cathy into the safety of his 
arms again. The black monster waited outside. Still, neither 
Dale nor Cathy seemed worried. They allowed the child to 
approach it. Mayhap the beast was tame. 
“We can’t stay long. Thea has school tomorrow, and I 
promised Scott I’d be back bright and early Monday morning.” 
“It was nice of him to handle the academy for the whole 
weekend, so you could get away with Thea,” Cathy said. “Dale 
and her partner, Scott, own and run a martial arts academy in 
Council Falls,” she told Ash. 
“Yeah, I owe him one. Thea and I just wanted to check on 
you after the storm last night. Did you have any trouble?” 
Cathy’s gaze flickered to Ash, then she shook her head. 
“The power went out for a bit, but nothing major. Quit playing 
mother hen. I’m a big girl now.” 
Dale glanced at Ash, gave a small smile, then turned back 
to Cathy. “Guess you are.” 
Like a small whirlwind, Thea charged into the room. 
“Here’s your cane, Aunt Cathy.” 
“Thanks, Pixie. Do you want to stay for dinner?” 
Ash could hear the reluctance in Cathy’s voice. She really 
didn’t want them to stay. 
Apparently, Dale also heard the hesitation in her sister’s 
voice. Her sharp gaze flickered between him and Cathy. A 
thoughtful expression settled over Dale’s features. “Have you 
been shopping since Friday?” 
“No.” 
“Then we’ll pass.” 
“But...” 
“Cathy, last time I looked, all you had in your fridge was 
rabbit food. Thea and I need meat. We’ve been out roughing it 
for two days now. A couple of carrots and a lettuce leaf just 
won’t cut it,” Dale said. “Besides, we’re pretty grungy. I think 
we’ll just grab a burger and head on home.” She turned toward 
Ash, the affection dying out of her voice. “It was nice to meet 
you.” Her tone implied anything but. To Cathy she said, “Walk 
us out.” 
Cathy gripped her cane and stood. She gave Ash a grateful 

glance, then the two women headed toward the door. Thea 
dashed outside. Ash didn’t follow, but when they stopped at 
the door across the room, their voices, though low, carried to 
him. 
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Dale 
questioned. “Mr. Degar may look like your Mystic Warrior, 
but what do you know about him? That’s a lot of man there.” 
“Dale.” Cathy’s voice carried a warning. “I know enough. 
Bruce Herrick is his agent as well as mine. You know Bruce 
would never send anyone here he didn’t trust.” 
Ash could hear the lie in Cathy’s voice. Did Dale? 
She looked unconvinced, then finally shrugged her 
shoulders. “Oh, all right. You’re old enough to make your own 
mistakes. Call me if you need any help. I’ll check back with 
you tomorrow.” She leaned forward and kissed Cathy’s cheek. 
“Now, be good and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” With 
that she left. 
Cathy breathed a sigh of relief as Dale’s Jeep disappeared 
down the drive. One more obstacle overcome. Why had she 
battled so hard to protect Ash? She just knew she didn’t want 
to eject him from her life—yet. He raised too many questions 
and emotions in her. If Dale got the idea Ash was anything but 
what Cathy told her...well, her reactions didn’t bear thinking 
about. Dale took her role as protector seriously. 
Dusk settled in, chilling the air. Reluctantly, Cathy closed 
the door and turned to face Ash. 
“What was the black beast?” 
Ash’s question caught her off guard. Black beast? “You 
mean Dale’s Jeep?” 
“Is that what the creature is called? When it first 
approached, I thought it wild and dangerous. Then I saw the 
woman and child rode it with impunity. It is a very large and 
powerful animal to be controlled by ones so small. It moves at 
great speed.” 
Irritation warred with amusement in Cathy. Either Ash was 
the best actor she’d ever encountered, or he really was lost in 
his fantasy world, far more than she’d ever been. She 
wouldn’t...couldn’t consider he spoke the truth. 

“A Jeep is not a beast. It’s a machine used for transportation. 
It’s built out of metal, rubber...” His look of confusion snapped 
her patience. “Why am I humoring you like this? For some 
reason, you want to be here. Well, I’m letting you stay, so you 
can drop your stranger-in-a-strange-land routine. And starting 
tomorrow, as long as you’re going to be here, you can make 
yourself useful. A live model might be an interesting change 
for my work. Now, let’s see about some dinner. I’m starved.” 
She stalked into the kitchen. Actually, food was the furthest 
thing from her mind. A vegetarian, she usually ate sparingly, 
and when in the midst of her art, she often forgot to eat. Still, 
she set herself to preparing a meal, ignoring Ash when he 
wandered in. 
Or at least she tried to ignore him. Everywhere she turned 
he was right behind or beside her. Like a curious child he 
questioned everything, from the refrigerator to the garbage 
disposal. Apparently, he chose to ignore her request to drop 
his act. Surprisingly, she found she didn’t mind his questions. 
They were ingenuous. She answered them much as she did 
Thea’s. 
However, his physical presence wreaked havoc with her 
senses. Dressed only in jeans, his body presented her with 
expanses of smooth, sun-bronzed skin stretched temptingly over 
hard muscles. His scent dominated the room, making her weak 
with a longing she couldn’t put a name to. 
He sniffed the pasta as she poured the hot pesto sauce over 
it. The smell of herbs and garlic lingered in the air, stirring her 
reluctant appetite. 
When she set the plate in front of him, he looked up at her. 
“You serve no meat?” 
“You heard what Dale said. I’m fresh out of the stuff.” 
He dug into the noodles. “Tomorrow I will hunt for you.” 
The fork dropped from her hand with a clatter. “You’ll 
what?” 
“I will hunt for you. There must be game in the surrounding 
woods.” 
“You will do no such thing!” Ash stared at her like she 
was a child throwing a tantrum. Taking a deep breath, she 

continued in a calmer vein. “The woods around here are part 
of a national forest. Hunting is prohibited. Even if it wasn’t, I 
wouldn’t let you. I feed a lot of those animals. They come here 
with trust. Besides, I don’t eat meat. If you’re desperate, I’ll 
drive into town tomorrow to the store.” 
Damn! With everything happening she had forgotten about 
her car not starting. The local mechanic would have to come 
and check it out. One more person who’d be aware the haughty, 
reclusive Ms Lawrence had a man at her house. While her own 
reputation didn’t matter much, she didn’t want Dale or Thea to 
be hurt by any gossip. 
Oh well, maybe this time Ash would keep out of sight. 
And, maybe she’d start believing in Tareth. With that happy 
thought, her appetite vanished. 
*** 
The next morning the mechanic came, reconnected a loose 
wire on her car, chided her about regular service, and went— 
all without ever catching a glimpse of Ash. 
Cathy hurried off to the store, quickly stocked up on steaks, 
roasts and chops, worrying about what Ash was up to the whole 
time. 
When she returned, shock held her rigid. Comfortably 
ensconced in her living room, a pile of books on the table next 
to him, the TV blaring, the remote control resting in his lap, 
Ash appeared to have little difficulty reading and channel 
surfing at the same time. How could he know about television? 
She hadn’t turned it on since his arrival. 
When had she started to believe his wild story? Of course, 
he wasn’t what he claimed. It was all merely his delusion. One 
he used when convenient and discarded when not. Whether he 
did it deliberately or not, she had yet to determine. 
He caught sight of her standing in the doorway. With a 
click, the TV shut off. He grinned and got to his feet. 
“A most marvelous apparatus. I have learned much of your 
world from it. Is it an educational tool? Do the short plays 
depict your history? Legends?” He began to sing in a low, husky, 
slightly off-key baritone the theme song to Gilligan’s Island. 
“Well, um...sometimes. But most are just made up for 

enjoyment.” Cathy felt lost. How did you explain the 
Americans’ hunger for entertainment, no matter how trivial? 
Ash just nodded in understanding. “It is much the same on 
my world. Though we have nothing to compare with this device, 
people attend plays and games. I am confused, though, by the 
brief stories interrupting each tale. What are these?” 
“Commercials. People trying to sell their products, buy 
time in the middle of shows and...” 
“Ah, I see, peddlers. How clever. Your world is an 
extraordinary one.” Some of the excitement died out of Ash’s 
voice. 
Cathy almost thought him disappointed. “I bought steaks 
for supper.” Even that didn’t generate any enthusiasm. 
Defeat washed over Ash as Cathy made her way into the 
kitchen. With all the wonders this world offered, how could he 
convince her to return with him to Tareth? Why, in his delight 
of discovery, did it not occur to him that she might not choose 
to leave? In comparison, his world, with all its wild beauty, 
seemed primitive and raw. 
Already two Earth days had passed. How much time had 
elapsed on Tareth? Worry stiffened Ash’s resolve. He could 
not return to Tareth without Cathy. No matter the cost, she 
must come with him. For peace between Arete and Mardelan, 
Katrina’s ka must be restored to her. 
He straightened his shoulders and followed Cathy. Despite 
Akester’s warning, if gentle words did not sway the woman, 
when the elements permitted, Ash would take her by force. 
*** 
Lost in her thoughts, Cathy merely picked at her vegetable 
lasagna. The hunger she felt could not be appeased by what 
lay on her plate. 
The fork dropped from her suddenly numb fingers. Was 
she completely mad? Obviously nothing more than a drifter, 
Ash used his good looks and charm to play on the sympathies 
of lonesome women. Though deep inside she knew better, 
Cathy’s logical mind insisted he confused women with his wild 
stories, then seduced them with his calendar model body. The 
mere sight of him made her heart beat faster and her breath 

catch in her throat. Still, common sense dictated she call the 
police and have done with him. So, why didn’t she? 
Because I like being charmed and seduced by my Mystic 
Warrior. 
For as long as she could remember, Cathy had held herself 
apart from the world, living through her art. She always thought 
herself immune to the attraction between the sexes. The few 
men who tried to break through her barriers had done nothing 
but confirm her fears. They called her frigid and heartless, 
incapable of passion. And, based on her feelings when they 
left her, she agreed. Only with Max and his family did she feel 
capable of expressing love. 
Why now, with this strange man, did she discover how 
wrong she had been? 
What little remained of her appetite fled as she admitted 
her desire for Ash. Giving up on her meal, she studied him 
surreptitiously. He wore Max’s castoffs—worn jeans and a 
ragged, short-sleeved sweatshirt—with an inbred dignity, and 
conducted himself with a grace few modern men ever attained. 
His oddly accented speech and old-world courtesy would make 
him stand apart in any crowd, even if he hadn’t been built like 
a Greek god. 
Ash ate the perfectly grilled steak without apparent interest. 
Though he looked at her, Cathy didn’t think he really saw her. 
His gaze seemed to be focused inward. 
Before she could stop herself, she said, “A penny for you 
thoughts.” 
“What does that mean?” 
“It’s an old expression. Surely you’ve heard it. It’s a way 
of asking what you’re thinking about.” Heat crept up Cathy’s 
face at Ash’s intense look. 
“My thoughts...” He stood and walked over to the sliding 
glass doors that led out onto the deck. 
In the reflection, she watched a variety of expressions— 
doubt, apprehension, worry—flicker across his face. 
“You are a most unusual woman. I am naught but a stranger 
who appeared uninvited and unclothed in your home. You 
should fear me. Seek to have me removed. Instead you take me 

in, feed and clothe me.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Protect me 
from your dangerous relatives.” His grin faded. He turned 
abruptly toward her. “Just who are you, Cathy Lawrence?” 
Cathy nearly gasped at the anguish in his voice. 
“Am I dead?” he asked. “Am I truly here, or did the 
lightning that pierced the moon crystal and my body, steal my 
ka and send it beyond life? I almost wish that I am dead. Then 
I could stay in your astonishing world...with you.” 
Cathy hurried to his side. “Of course you’re alive. Feel.” 
She squeezed his arm. “You breathe, talk, eat.” 
With one hand Ash covered hers, his other reached up and 
cupped her face, tilting it up to his. The heat scorched her. She 
longed to lean into his touch. 
“You are right, Little Shecal. I am alive.” He sighed and 
dropped his hand from her face. “And so, I must complete my 
task.” 
She shivered at Ash’s desolate tone. Lost in concern for 
him, she forgot her doubts. What did he have to do that disturbed 
him so? Beneath her chilled fingers his skin felt warm and 
sleek, the muscles hard and firm. The urge to stroke his flesh 
caused another shiver to course through her. 
“The hour grows late, and your moon is near to setting.” 
Ash dislodged her hand from his arm, almost as if he could no 
longer bear her touch. 
The ache in her chest told Cathy she was far from heartless. 
“Yes, it’s late. Is your bed okay? Do you have everything you 
need?” Cathy prattled, unable to stop. 
“The bed is fine. I have need of nothing else.” 
A cold breeze swirled into the room as he opened the sliding 
glass door and stepped out onto the deck. Cathy followed. 
The moon, still nearly full, shone down, washing everything 
colorless, yet bringing the river to life with sparkles of reflected 
light. The faint odor of wood smoke drifted on the night air. 
Leaning against the rail, Ash gazed up into the sky. “My 
world has two moons, Kala and Dema. They circle Tareth 
together, sharing the night. There is an old legend that tells of 
how they came to be.” 

Cathy stood close to Ash’s side, absorbing the heat radiating 
from his body. “Tell me,” she whispered, not wanting to break 
the intimate mood. 
Ash nodded and began, “Kala and Dema were twin sisters, 
daughters of a great king.” 
When Cathy shivered, Ash laid his arm around her 
shoulders and pulled her to his side. With a sigh of contentment, 
she gave herself over to his tale. 
“Though Kala was fair and Dema dark, both were called 
beautiful. In all things they were as one, steadfast in their 
devotion to one another. Preferring each other’s company to 
any man’s, they turned away every suitor. Their father the king 
despaired of ever finding them life-mates. Finally, he called 
upon Sol, the great sun god, for help. 
“One day a handsome stranger entered the kingdom. As if 
suddenly bewitched, each sister claimed the man as her own. 
They fought bitterly, each knowing the exact words to wound 
the other most. Soon envy, spite and hatred separated the two. 
“The man remained aloof, refusing to choose one over the 
other, saying they should decide, and he would accept 
whichever was chosen. Neither sister would relinquish her 
claim. 
“The battle between them raged on. Finally, Dema could 
wait no longer. Speaking sweet words of forgiveness and sisterly 
love, she lured Kala to a high cliff. With evil thoughts in her 
heart, Dema forced Kala to the edge and insisted Kala release 
the man and allow Dema to have him. Stubbornly, Kala refused, 
and the two fought. Who struck the first blow is not told, but 
the legend says at the first touch the spell broke, and they fell 
crying into each other’s arms, swearing their eternal love and 
devotion. 
“Then the ground beneath Kala’s feet shifted, and she fell. 
Dema reached out and caught her sister’s hand, but she hadn’t 
the strength to pull her to safety. At Kala’s cries for help, the 
man, who was Sol in disguise, appeared. 
“When petitioned by the king for help with his daughters, 
Sol was taken by their beauty. The sisters’ love for each other 
piqued the vain god. He came to them in human form to split 

them apart. 
“Let Kala go, and I will be yours,’” Sol tempted Dema. 
“Kala begged Dema to let go and save herself, but Dema 
turned away from Sol, clinging tightly to Kala. Each recognized 
her sister’s true love as opposed to Sol’s false, destructive 
passion. 
“As the cliff crumbled, and the sisters tumbled into the 
abyss, Sol admitted his defeat. Overcome by remorse for his 
part in their deaths, he transformed them into the moons circling 
our world. There they share the light of Sol, each in her turn.” 
“What a lovely story.” Cathy turned in Ash’s arms. 
He shrugged. “It is naught but a tale told to fractious 
children to ease them into slumber.” 
They stood face to face, bodies pressed together. Cathy 
could feel their heartbeats synchronize. She stared up into his 
face, sure her eyes reflected the passion blazing in his. Her 
lips parted and her eyelids dropped as she awaited his kiss. 
“Go to bed!” 
His fingers dug painfully into her arms as he thrust her 
away from him. The damp air quickly erased the sweet heat 
infusing her body. Her eyes flew open and with a muffled cry 
she fled. 
*** 
Ash watched her go, then turned back to the river. His 
muscles clenched in frustration. So easy. It would have been 
so easy to seduce her. To stroke her satiny skin and taste the 
nectar beckoning from her lips. From the first he’d sensed if 
he bound her to him physically she would come willingly 
wherever he led. But his heart balked at such a method. She 
could come with him by choice, or he could take her by force, 
but somehow he found he could not use guile to gain her 
acceptance. 
This strange attack of conscience left him confused. Back 
on Tareth he hadn’t considered the fate of the woman who held 
Katrina’s ka. His only intent had been to find her and make her 
return with him. Now he wondered: after Katrina’s ka left 
Cathy’s body, what would remain? How would she return to 
her own world? Could she return? Would there be anything 

left of her to return? Why had he not thought to question Akester 
on these things? 
His head ached. Against his chest the moon crystal throbbed 
in unison with his heartbeat. The fractures beneath its polished 
surface caught and held the cool, pale light of the moon. 

FOUR
Mind and body in turmoil, Cathy lay awake for hours. 
Finally she rose and made her way to her studio to seek solace 
in her art as she’d done many times before. 
She found none. Each sketch turned into Ash’s face. His 
look of wonder at the marvels of the 20th century. Puzzlement 
when confronted with a piece of technology he didn’t 
understand. Fierce determination as he challenged Dale’s Jeep. 
The dawning of passion in his blue eyes. The images flowed 
from her fingers to the paper almost without conscious thought, 
as if by drawing all aspects of Ash she could somehow know 
him. 
Around her, paper littered the floor. Images of Ash stared 
up at her, but no answers. 
Who was he? Why did he come to her? And what did he 
want? 
Not her body. He’d made that clear enough when he pushed 
her away. 
Remembering how she’d blatantly offered herself to him, 
Cathy’s cheeks grew hot. For a brief moment she’d gazed up 
at him and seen desire blazing in his sea-blue eyes. Then it 
disappeared, and she’d felt abandoned and adrift. 
His rejection hurt. Never had she opened so quickly to a 
man. Never had she wanted a man the way she wanted Ash. 
He claimed he needed her ka, her soul...no, not hers, 
someone named Katrina, his wife. 
Did she even have a soul of her own, nonetheless another 
person’s? Cathy didn’t know, but a short while ago she would 
have willingly given it to him along with anything else he asked 
for. A shudder went through her. 

His tale of the sister moons of Tareth made her uneasy. 
The story fit into to the world she’d created with her art. As he 
told the tale, she could visualize a series of drawings. Perhaps, 
she reassured herself, she’d unconsciously stored away an old 
legend and Ash, having seen her work, noticed Remal’s two 
moons and made the connection. Maybe he was using her art 
to get close to her? But why? 
Though comfortably situated with a small but faithful 
following, she was far from wealthy or famous. What could 
anyone gain by coming into her life claiming to be a resident 
of her fictional world? 
Other than Dale, the only living person who knew the truth 
about the creation of Cathy’s imaginary world of Remal was 
her therapist. Cathy knew neither would ever reveal anything 
to a stranger. Could Ash have somehow obtained access to her 
confidential records? Could he have discovered the secret she 
kept buried? It was conceivable, though in the end she always 
came back to the question of why was he here? 
Exhaustion crept over her as the sky grew light outside. 
She leaned against the table and rested her head on her folded 
arms. 
The answer trying to steal into her mind she rejected as 
impossible. Years of therapy wiped the possibility from her 
head, forced her to face reality, and relegate her fantasies to 
her art. 
Still, the idea niggled at the edge of her consciousness 
before sleep claimed her: Remal existed, and Ash had come to 
take her home. 
*** 
The ringing went on for a long time before Ash located the 
source of the annoying sound. He studied the object for a while, 
unsure of what action to take. Cautiously he touched it. 
Nothing happened. It continued to ring. 
Bolder now, he gripped it, surprised when it came apart 
into two pieces and the ringing ceased. Confused he stared at 
the piece in his hand. 
“Well, it sure took you long enough.” A voice came out of 
one end of the thing. 

Curiosity overcame Ash’s impulse to throw the cursed thing 
from him. 
“Cathy?” Pause. Louder, “Cathy!” 
Ash recognized the voice of the woman Dale. 
“Cathy, are you all right? Answer me!” 
“Cathy is still abed,” Ash ventured cautiously. 
“What did you say?” Dale asked. 
Ash could hear the panic in her tone. He spoke louder, 
“Cathy is asleep.” 
“Is that you, Mr. Degar? Speak into the phone.” 
This was a phone? With some misgiving, Ash held it closer 
to his head. 
“Mr. Degar?” It sounded like the woman stood right next 
to him. 
He looked around the room warily. “Where are you?” 
“I’m at the Academy, where else?” She seemed perplexed 
by his question. “Can I speak to Cathy?” 
Ash did not know where this academy might be, but he 
knew it was not close. He’d spent most of the early morning 
scouting the area. What a useful tool, this phone. To be able to 
converse with people at a distance without the aid of messengers 
and long delays amazed him. The more he beheld of this world, 
the more he doubted his ability to convince Cathy to return 
with him to Tareth. 
“Cathy has not yet risen,” he told Dale. 
Dale gave a small laugh. “What a slug. It’s almost noon. 
Well, when she gets up, have her give me a call. Okay?” 
“Certainly.” 
“Well, Mr. Degar, I hope you’re enjoying your visit with 
Cathy.” 
“Of course. Your sister is a gracious hostess. She has made 
me feel most welcome.” After she threatened me with her cane, 
he added silently. 
“I’m glad.” 
Ash thought the woman sounded guarded. Suspicion of 
him triggered her protective instincts. Dale shared much in 
common with Katrina’s maid. 
“Cathy doesn’t entertain much. It will do her good. Have 

her take you around. Council Falls has a lot to offer to a visitor 
from...I don’t recall where you said you were from.” 
Ash almost smiled at Dale’s not so subtle attempts to extract 
information from him. Almost. What could he tell her? 
The phone made a low beep. 
“Damn! I’ve got another call. Goodbye, Mr. Degar. Don’t 
forget to have Cathy call.” 
Before he could respond, the phone made a loud click, and 
then a continuous hum. He laid the phone back in its cradle. A 
noise from the stairs made him turn. 
Cathy came toward him, rubbing her eyes with the knuckles 
of one hand like a sleepy child. “Who was that?” she asked 
with a yawn. 
She yawned again and stretched. The material of her loose 
shirt pulled taut across her full chest, outlining the rounded 
shape of her breasts and displaying the pointed nubs of her 
nipples. Ash’s mouth went suddenly dry. 
“Ash?” She looked at him and ran a hand through already 
tousled hair. 
The short, dark strands stood up from her head and clung 
to her sleep-damp cheeks. When he didn’t answer, she stepped 
closer. The top of her head came level with his shoulder. She 
tilted her head back to see his face. “Are you okay?” 
Color bloomed under her skin as he gazed down intently. 
She dropped her gaze. He wanted to wrap his arms around her 
and pull her close. Part of him wanted to beg her forgiveness 
for what he’d done - for what he would do - to keep her safe 
and protected. Another more primitive part wanted to grasp 
her even closer, slant his mouth over hers and take what she’d 
offered so freely the night before. 
With effort Ash shook himself free of his thoughts. He had 
only until the next storm to convince her to leave Earth with 
him. His personal needs could not be allowed to intrude. “Of 
course I’m fine. Your sister called.” Inclining his head toward 
the phone, he turned and stalked away. 
“Thank you,” Cathy said. 
He opened the front door, then let it slam behind him. 
*** 

In the afternoon Cathy put Ash to work. Even without his 
bizarre story, Ash Degar presented a complex mystery she was 
determined to solve. 
Up in her studio he reluctantly agreed to pose for her. She 
had a few awkward moments when, in order to get him in the 
position she wanted, she needed to touch him. Once situated, 
Ash proved to be a natural model. He held the stance she put 
him in without complaints, signs of boredom, or fatigue. His 
patience delighted her. 
While she worked, Ash spoke of Tareth and his home in 
Arete, about its vast mountain range, which held the country’s 
rea-crystal mines. He described the wild beauty of the land. 
The mountain peaks covered year ’round in snow. The rivers 
tumbling through the deep emerald valleys, and the high grassy 
plains filled with game. He told her of the twelve-legged 
spinners who lived deep within abandoned crystal mines and 
spun crystal silk. And he talked of Mardelan, Katrina’s 
kingdom: of its broad, fertile farmlands, immense forests of 
Aronwood, and of its people—farmers, woolie herders, 
merchants and seamen. From the mural on the wall, he named 
the rivers and cities, telling her a little of each place, of the 
renowned wines of Trinka Valley, and the mysterious, 
unexplored vastness of the Ardath Plains. 
The sun sank low in the sky as Cathy sketched and listened. 
He drew a vivid verbal portrait of another world. Fantasy, surely, 
yet as real and solid as the floor beneath her feet. Memories 
and images—part dream, part reality—flickered through her 
mind. She pushed them away, refusing to allow them to find 
form. 
As the shadows lengthened, he grew quiet. She missed 
the soothing melody his words provided, yet was relieved they 
no longer teased and tormented her. His gaze focused with 
longing on the distant peaks of Arete’s mountain range. In his 
eyes Cathy could see his love of his home. 
His home? 
She stiffened in denial. She couldn’t seriously be 
considering he spoke the truth? That Remal existed? 
God help her, she was. 

The charcoal stick slipped from her suddenly numb fingers. 
“You really believe this?” Silently Cathy begged him to 
laugh and say, “Of course not, it’s all make-believe.” She knew 
if he didn’t, nothing in her life would ever again be the same. 
Her heartbeat drummed a rapid tattoo in her chest. Her 
skin grew clammy, and her breathing shallow. 
Ash watched as Cathy prepared to bolt once more. 
Whenever confronted with a challenge, she chose to flee. Not 
this time. He reached out and captured her wrist. “You will 
stay!” Beneath his fingers her pulse raced. 
Talking of Arete triggered feelings in Ash he rarely 
admitted. In the dimming daylight he studied the painting of 
Mardelan, surprised at the strong emotions it evoked. He eased 
his grip, but didn’t release her. “Growing up, I often chafed at 
the constraints and restrictions, the duties and responsibilities 
being heir to the throne of Arete entails. Now I acknowledge 
my commitment to both Arete and Mardelan. In order to survive 
and flourish, the two countries must be reunited. For this to 
happen, Katrina must be made whole. 
“I speak the truth. I am Prince Ash de Gar of Arete.” He 
nodded at the mural. “That is a representation of my world. 
You hold within you the ka of my life-mate, Princess Katrina.” 
The fear that had faded so quickly in Cathy surged back. 
Ash could see it in her eyes, feel it in the fine trembling of her 
body. 
“No,” she moaned. She shook her head from side to side 
like an animal in a trap. Her words burst from her mouth in 
choked whispers, breathless and raw. “Remal isn’t real. I made 
it up. I’ve worked too hard to stay sane. I won’t let you steal 
that from me.” She tugged futilely at his hand, trying to pry his 
fingers loose with her free hand. 
He held her gently but firmly. She must be made to 
understand. 
Her struggles ceased, and her body went limp. “What do 
you want from me?” She spoke on a sob. 
Drawing her near, Ash wrapped his arms around her. “Be 
easy. You have nothing to fear.” 
Did he speak the truth? Ash didn’t know. He pushed his 

doubts away. “Come sit.” He drew her over to the divan, pushed 
her down, and sat next to her. She collapsed against him in 
tears, her slight weight warm and fragile. “Do not weep. A 
woman’s tears leave me helpless.” 
For a moment she rested in his embrace, her body shaking 
with her sobs, then she pulled away. 
She sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Red-
rimmed eyes stared up at him. A crooked smile quavered on 
her lips. “I’m as mad as you. Tell me again, just what it is I 
have that you need?” 
Gone was the weeping, helpless female. Cathy now faced 
him boldly, like a warrior prepared to do battle. Despite her 
small stature, the woman had spirit. Ash let himself smile. He 
much preferred this. 
Again he told her of Katrina and what he’d learned from 
Akester. This time she listened carefully, her brow wrinkled in 
concentration. Several times she stopped him and asked a 
question, then nodded as he continued. When he finished, she 
sat quietly for a few minutes, then rose and limped over to the 
windows. 
Outside, night descended. One light, over Cathy’s table, 
illuminated the studio. The rest lay in shadows. The decision 
now rested with her. As he had done earlier, Cathy either ignored 
or overlooked the question of what would happen after Katrina’s 
ka returned to her body. For this Ash found himself both grateful 
and annoyed. He had no answers, yet, perversely it angered 
him that Cathy had so little sense of self-preservation. 
He could allow her but one answer. Willing or not, she 
must return with him. “Do you come back with me?” he asked. 
She turned to face him, her body held rigid, her voice brittle. 
“Now I know what Alice felt like when she went through the 
looking glass. For so many years I’ve struggled to fit in, to be 
a part of the world, even to be comfortable inside my own 
skin. All this...” She waved her hand to encompass her mural. 
“...The doctors told me I created it because I couldn’t deal with 
my father’s abuse of my mother and me. In order to cope, I 
denied reality and retreated into a make-believe world, a place 
of magic and beauty. If it hadn’t been for Max and his family, 

I probably would have stayed there, in Never-Never Land. They 
kept me grounded, gave me a base and let me turn my delusions 
into art. 
“Now you come along and tell me my dreams are reality 
and my reality here has been a lie.” 
The thought of any man raising his hand to Cathy made 
Ash tense in anger. What had she suffered? He started to speak. 
“What did he...” 
“No. Don’t say anything. I can’t talk now. I’ve got a lot to 
think about. Maybe I’m crazy to believe your wild story. You’re 
probably some kind of con man, though what you really want 
is beyond me. But in a way I do believe you. The only question 
remaining, is what I’m going to do about it.” She sighed and 
rubbed a hand across her face. “Right now, I’m going to bed.” 
Ash said nothing as Cathy hobbled awkwardly over to her 
drawing table to retrieve her cane. After she left the studio, he 
stayed for a long time, unmoving. A heavy weight of guilt sat 
on his heart. In his quest to restore Katrina’s ka, would he 
destroy the life Cathy had built so laboriously for herself? 
His limbs felt stiff and unyielding as he rose to leave. He 
paused at the table. A half-finished picture lay there. In it a 
man danced with a woman. They seemed to float on air, 
wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies molded together as 
if one. Her dress swirled and tangled with his legs, her silky 
hair flowed freely down her back, clinging to his arm. Love 
glowing on their faces, they gazed into each other’s eyes. 
The man was he. 
The woman was Katrina. 
But the eyes were Cathy’s. 

FIVE
After another sleepless night, Cathy rose early. She 
purposely kept her thoughts blank as she showered and dressed, 
refusing to dwell on what she’d discovered. As she made her 
way to her studio, a dull, throbbing ache began in her leg. For 
the last few days she’d been lax about her therapy exercises, 
and now the payback was starting. 
Twisted and shattered so many years before, her leg would 
always trouble her, but regular exercise and massage helped 
control the pain. For now. 
The possibility of a wheelchair lay in her future. Her doctor 
warned her she faced a series of dangerous, lengthy operations 
that held the risk of paralysis, involving as it did her spine. 
Once again she felt a pang. Max had promised to be there with 
her. 
With the ease of long practice, she relegated pain and grief 
to the back of her mind and threw herself into her work. Using 
her rough sketches as a guide, she started on some pen and ink 
color wash drawings. As she had many times before, she 
allowed herself to sink into the world of Remal, letting her 
doubts and fears dissolve and flow onto paper and canvas. 
Minutes or hours could have passed—she couldn’t tell—before 
a noise broke her concentration. She turned toward the door. 
The aroma of fried eggs and bacon wafted into the studio 
seconds ahead of Ash. Barefooted, a limp, holey T-shirt 
stretched tight across his broad chest, he strode into the room 
carrying a food-laden tray. Cathy frowned at the interruption, 
then her belly rumbled, loudly. 
Ash grinned and set the tray on the couch. “Come eat. The 
morning is near spent.” 

She eyed him suspiciously. Gone was the intense warrior 
prince set on accomplishing his quest. In his place sat a man, 
an appealing smile on his somehow boyish face and a twinkle 
in his sky-blue eyes. Though wary of his sudden change, the 
smell of food awakened her stomach. She slipped from the 
stool and stood. 
White-hot agony lanced up her leg. Black splotches blurred 
her vision. Nausea churned her empty insides. A cold, clammy 
sweat broke out on her flesh. “Ash!” she cried as her leg 
crumbled. The floor rushed to meet her. 
Then he was there. Strong and sure, his arms caught and 
held her. 
Darkness beckoned her. How she longed to succumb to 
the peace it offered. Above her, concern etching his features, 
Ash’s face grew bleary. 
“Cathy?” His anxious tone pulled her back. The darkness 
receded. 
She blinked and found herself nestled in his lap, her head 
resting against his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered. The faint 
smell of soap and fabric softener mingled with the scent of 
warm male skin and tickled her nose. 
“Are you unwell?” 
“No. I just sat too long and got up too quickly. The last 
few days I’ve forgotten my therapy, and my leg is reminding 
me.” 
The feel of his hand on her thigh made Cathy tense. Heat 
soaked quickly through the thin cotton of her slacks, burning 
into her flesh. Alarms went off all over her body. 
“How did this occur?” he asked. His fingers kneaded the 
mangled skin and muscle of her leg, leaving behind licks of 
fire that made her heart race and her breath catch. “Were you 
born this way? Or is it the result of an injury?” 
His question held no pity, just a simple, direct interest. He 
might as well have asked if she preferred butter or jam on her 
toast. 
“An injury,” she managed to croak. 
“How?” 
She related the events as they’d been told to her many times 

in therapy. “When I was ten my father got drunk...again. He’d 
abused my mother for years, but this time he turned his rage on 
me. Before my mother could stop him, he beat me. He shattered 
my leg and damaged my spine.” Even though Cathy 
remembered none of this, her eyes filled with tears, in sympathy 
for the child she’d been. “He shot my mother, then himself. 
When the police came they were both dead. I nearly died as 
well.” 
As she spoke, Ash’s body grew still and tight. The gentle 
rubbing of his hand ceased. 
“Don’t stop,” Cathy pleaded. Though Ash didn’t ask for 
more, she continued. “Max, Dale’s father, was one of the 
officers who answered the domestic disturbance call. While I 
was in the hospital, he and his wife, Elizabeth, came to see me 
every day. Then, when I became a ward of the court they 
arranged to have me placed in their home as a foster child. 
Even after Elizabeth died, Max insisted on my remaining. It 
can’t have been easy for him, a single man raising two young 
girls.” 
“Why do you no longer live in his household?” 
A small tremor ran through Cathy’s body before she spoke. 
“Over a year ago, while answering another domestic 
disturbance call, he was killed. A man got drunk and decided 
to beat up his wife. When Max arrived, the man shot him before 
he even got out of his squad car. Dale’s husband, Steven, was 
riding with Max that night. He was killed, too.” She gave a 
humorless laugh. “It’s ironic. We moved here from Chicago to 
escape the violence.” 
Easing her across his lap, Ash continued to massage her 
leg. Anger vibrated inside him. He had to struggle to gentle his 
touch on her tortured flesh. Under the covering of cloth, he 
could feel the raised ridges of scar tissue dissecting her leg and 
the mangled muscle beneath. Her small gasps as he pressed, 
told him clearly of her suffering. He’d known warriors who 
did not bear their pain as stoically as this woman. 
With childlike trust, she lay in his arms. Tension drained 
out of her body. Peace settled over her as she drifted into 
slumber. 

Ash watched as she slept, his hands gently kneading. Thick 
and straight, near black hair surrounded her rounded face. Dark 
lashes lay against flushed cheeks, while bold, winged brows 
slashed her broad forehead. Wine-red lips, moist and slightly 
parted, revealed uneven white teeth. Though unremarkable 
when taken one by one, the sum total of her features touched 
something deep inside Ash. Part determined warrior, part lost 
child, yet all woman, she faced life without flinching. 
Cathy murmured in her sleep, twisting in his lap until her 
breasts brushed against his chest, her face burrowed into his 
neck, and her buttocks ground into his groin. He groaned as 
his body leaped to life, and his heart responded to her trust. 
If Katrina’s ka truly resided within this woman’s body, it 
had made a place for itself here. What right did he have to rip 
it away? To force it back. Yet, how could he not? 
The questions hammered at his conscience until his head 
began to ache. He shoved them away and cursed the clear skies 
that held him prisoner in this other world. He required the power 
of the storm to return to Tareth. Time spent here made him 
question his goal, his right to snatch Katrina’s ka from its chosen 
path. 
He could not weaken in this or consider the needs of one 
woman over those of two nations. Too many lives hung in the 
balance. 
*** 
As the days passed, they fell into an uneasy routine. During 
the day Ash posed for Cathy. In the evenings they cooked and 
ate together. Sometimes they watched TV. Other times she read 
to him, or they talked. 
Much to Cathy’s growing dismay, Ash took care to maintain 
a physical distance. Though she’d known him for mere days 
and still wasn’t one hundred percent sure of his sanity, she 
found she missed the touch of his hand and craved even more. 
As much as she wanted to move closer, to force the issue, she 
lacked the confidence and the courage. She didn’t think she’d 
survive if she offered and he refused again. 
Ash’s tension grew with each passing day. Time slipped 
away and still he was no closer to obtaining his goal. He spoke 

at length of his world and listened as Cathy told him of hers. 
Every time he tried to broach the subject of his return to Tareth, 
she skillfully turned the conversation. Ash was not sure she 
even realized what she was doing. 
On Friday morning the phone rang. 
“Get the phone,” Cathy yelled down from her studio. 
Ash approached and lifted the device with caution. Though 
he’d spoken into it once before and had seen Cathy use it 
casually during the week, he still regarded it with awe. 
“Good Day,” he said. 
“Mr. Degar?” It was Dale’s voice. 
“This is he.” 
“Hi. I’ve only got a second. Is Cathy around?” 
“She is in her studio. Shall I get her?” 
“No, no. I don’t have the time to wait. Tell her - oh, will 
you still be here over the weekend?” 
“Yes, I believe so.” 
“Great! Tell Cathy you guys should be at my house at six 
tomorrow.” Pause. “Okay? Gotta go. See ya.” 
The phone clicked, and a humming started in his ear. As 
before, his conversation with Cathy’s sister left Ash slightly 
disorientated. The woman was much like a small whirlwind. 
She blew into people’s lives and strew chaos in her wake. 
The sound of Cathy on the stairs made Ash look up from 
his bemused contemplation of the phone. 
“Who was it?” Cathy asked. 
“Dale. She tells you we must be at her house at six 
tomorrow evening.” 
Distressed panic flittered over Cathy’s face. “Oh, Damn! I 
forgot.” She limped across the floor and sat heavily at the 
kitchen table. She looked up at Ash. “It’s her partner Scott’s 
birthday party. I promised weeks ago I’d come. Damn!” 
“You do not wish to attend this celebration?” 
“No...yes...well, I don’t...” Her gaze met his. 
Knowledge hit him hard. “You do not want me to 
accompany you.” She did not desire to be seen with him. “Very 
well.” He turned to walk away. 
“No! I didn’t mean...” She jumped to her feet and grabbed 

his arm. Her momentum threw her off balance. Her cane 
clattered to the floor, and she pitched against him. Automatically 
he caught and held her. 
His hurt and anger evaporated at the regret in her eyes. He 
smiled down at her. “You fall into my arms quite often. Who 
will catch you when I am gone?” he asked softly. 
Color flooded her cheeks. Her body stiffened, and she 
started to pull away. “I don’t need anyone to catch me. I manage 
quite well on my own.” 
Ash wrapped his arms around her, pressing her close. She 
remained rigid in his grasp. “Yes, you are most self-sufficient. 
You need no one to catch you.” He rubbed his face against the 
top of her head. Like thick black crystal-silk, the strands of 
her hair felt soft and smooth. Odors of linseed oil and turpentine 
clung to her skin. He breathed them in, surprised at how erotic 
the smells were when combined with her own natural scent. 
“What of someone to hold at night? To lie naked with, skin to 
skin, bodies and kas merging as one?” Unbidden, the questions 
escaped him. 
She trembled, her body going lax against his. Her hands 
tightened their grip on his shoulders as if to hold herself upright. 
She did not respond to his suggestive questions. Instead, 
she said, “Ash, it’s not that I don’t want you to come. It’s just 
that so far, no one but Dale and Thea know you’re here. The 
whole town will probably be there. If you go to Scott’s party, 
what will people think? Council Falls is a small town. Gossip’s 
its lifeblood.” 
“They would impugn your character?” 
She nodded, her face rubbing against his chest at the 
motion. 
Why had he not thought of this before? It was much the 
same on Tareth. A woman’s good name was a fragile thing. If 
after Katrina’s ka was restored, Cathy was able to return to her 
life, people’s knowledge of his presence in her home could 
make it difficult for her. As much as he might like to see more 
of this world, he could not do so if it would bring harm to 
Cathy. 
“I will not attend.” 

Cathy pulled away. Ash released her reluctantly, bending 
and retrieving her cane for her. She took it with a mumbled 
thanks. A mutinous look settled over her face. “Don’t be 
ridiculous. Of course you’re going. I can’t live my life dictated 
to by other people.” She grabbed up the bag she called her 
purse from the counter, then turned to glare at him. “Come on. 
If you’re going to a party, you need some decent clothes.” With 
that she stalked out the door. 
Ash stood speechless. Women were no less confusing here 
on this world than on Tareth—irrational, emotional, thoroughly 
delightful creatures he’d never understand. With a grin he 
followed. 
*** 
All the way into town Cathy wondered if she was making 
a big mistake. In a short while all of Council Falls would be 
aware Ms. Lawrence had a male visitor. One for whom she 
bought clothing. Though not mean-spirited, gossip would 
spread like wildfire. She was something of a local celebrity 
and a recluse. If not for the damage it might do to Dale and 
Thea, Cathy would have taken perverse pleasure in the gossip. 
She nearly turned back once, but the look of boyish excitement 
in Ash’s eyes kept the car pointed toward town. 
After his barely perceptible hesitation at getting into her 
small, practical sedan, Ash seemed to enjoy the ride. He sat 
next to her, his head whipping first one way then another as he 
tried to see everything at once. Only his white-knuckled grip 
on the armrest gave any clue of his nervousness. By the time 
they pulled into Council Falls’ downtown area, even that bit of 
evidence had vanished. 
Built around a century old, three story, sandstone 
courthouse, Council Falls’ downtown was quaint and full of 
small town charm. Cathy always thought Norman Rockwell 
might have used Council Falls as a model for his work. A large 
village square fronted the courthouse. At the far end sat a 
covered bandstand, where on summer evenings the local high 
school band gave concerts. Shops lined the other three sides of 
the square. The town boasted a wide variety of businesses, 
everything from a local drug store to a well-stocked video rental 

store. Cathy had found most of her needs were cheerfully met 
by the stores’ helpful proprietors. 
At Morley’s Men’s Wear store, old man Morley came out 
of the back room to wait on them himself. 
“Hello, Mr. Morley,” Cathy said. 
He merely snorted when Cathy explained how the airline 
lost Ash’s luggage. 
A short while later, Ash came out of the dressing room 
wearing dark blue wool pants and a cream-colored, cable-knit 
fisherman’s sweater. Cathy wondered why she hadn’t thought 
to get him some clothes earlier. A tan jacket completed his 
outfit. With his long blond hair tied in a loose ponytail at the 
nape of his neck, he’d fit in anywhere. 
Blushing furiously, she threw some briefs into the pile on 
the counter and handed Mr. Morley her credit card. 
He scowled and muttered something under his breath, 
shooting a surly glare at Ash. When Ash glared back, the old 
man hurriedly rang up the purchases without another word. 
Cathy smothered a giggle. Old man Morley’s moral code had 
solidified sometime around the turn of the last century. She 
was sure in his mind good women did not buy single men 
clothing. The thought of the gossip he might spread should 
have disturbed her, but for some reason she just found it 
amusing. Dale was always telling her to lighten up. Maybe it 
was sound advice. 
As she walked out of the store, a heavy load fell away 
from her. When Ash held out his arm, she took it proudly. They 
walked down the street to the shoe store. She smiled and greeted 
people she knew, briefly introducing them to Ash. Though she 
received some curious looks, none were hostile. People seemed 
to accept Ash without question. Men responded to his confident 
air and women to his blatant sexuality. 
Even though it was still early November, Christmas 
decorations were beginning to appear in town. As daylight 
faded, the strands of miniature lights strung on the courthouse 
and the bare-branched trees lining the square came on, giving 
the town a fairy tale appearance. Mild for November, the air 
smelled more of rain than snow. 

Shopping done, Cathy headed toward Dale’s martial arts 
academy. Through the large window they could see a class in 
session. They stopped to watch as Dale put a group of boys 
and girls ranging in age from five to fifteen through a series of 
moves. 
To Ash, Dale looked like a fragile child dressed in loose 
white pajamas belted with a black sash, until she demonstrated 
a move to her class. Ash watched as a large man dressed in 
similar clothes, stepped up to Dale. They bowed from the waist 
to one another. Both dropped into fighting stance. Almost 
quicker than the eye could follow, the man lunged at Dale. Ash 
started to move, but Cathy merely shook her head and said, 
“Watch.” 
Dale went down. Her hands gripped the man’s upper arms, 
and her feet came up, catching him in his midsection. Then he 
was over her head, lying flat on his back. She crouched above 
him, one hand on his shoulder, the other pulled back and aimed 
for his throat. If she followed through with the motion, the 
man would die. Tense, Ash waited. Would she kill him? 
Dale’s body relaxed. She stood and held out her hand to 
the man on the floor. He grinned up at her and let her pull him 
to his feet. They faced each other and bowed again. The children 
clapped. 
Ash let the tension drain out of him. 
“Gets me every time, too,” Cathy said. “Poor Scott. He’s 
been trying for years to get the better of Dale. Let’s go in and 
say hi.” 
“Your sister is an amazing female. The master of my guard 
would give much to learn her secrets.” 
“Just tell him to sign up for a class. Dale will teach anyone 
-even aliens.” Cathy grinned up at him. “She gives lessons atthe nursing home. But she especially loves teaching the kids.” 
They stepped inside the building. Warm air, smelling of 
rubber mats and small, sweaty bodies, swirled around them. 
The babble of children’s voices and the sound of bodies hitting 
the mats echoed in the large room. “Look, there’s Thea.” 
The tiny girl circled a boy a head taller than she. Before 
Ash could protest, she grabbed the boy’s arm and flipped him 

onto the floor, much as Dale had the man. After helping the 
boy to his feet, the two bowed as Dale and Scott had done. 
Then the girl glanced up. 
“Aunt Cathy!” She ran over to them. 
Cathy knelt down and hugged the girl. “Hi, Pixie. How’s 
class coming?” 
“Great. Mom says I’ll be ready for competition soon.” 
“That’s wonderful.” Cathy rose awkwardly to her feet, 
accepting Ash’s arm with a smile when he held it out to her. 
“Class dismissed.” Dale’s words were greeted with groans 
of protests from the children. But the small, white-clad bodies 
quickly lined up and bowed. Dale spoke to the children, and 
then they filed quietly out of the room. As soon as the last 
child had disappeared into the locker room, Dale walked over 
to where Cathy, Ash and Thea stood. “Hi. You’re just in time. 
This was the last class of the day. I promised Thea we’d head 
over to the Pizza Palace. Want to join us?” 
Ash watched the look of dismay flash across Cathy’s face. 
Just what was a Pizza Palace, he wondered. 
“Oh, yes, please, Aunt Cathy. It’ll be so much fun,” Thea 
begged. 
Cathy looked at him. “Would you like to go?” she asked. 
He could read a clear message in her eyes, but instead of 
answering no, he found himself saying, “Yes.” Thea’s shout of 
joy made up for the roll of Cathy’s eyes. 
“Just let us get cleaned up and changed, and we’ll follow 
you over,” Dale said as she hustled Thea away. “Introduce Mr. 
Degar to Scott, will you, Cathy?” 
Whipcord lean, Scott stood a few inches taller than Ash, 
but he lacked Ash’s breadth of shoulder and muscle. With his 
sun-streaked brown hair and warm hazel eyes, Scott was 
attractive in a wholesome, country boy way. Rarely had Cathy 
seen him without a smile on his face. He wasn’t smiling now. 
Tension sizzled in the still, warm air as the two men sized 
each other up. They reminded Cathy of two strange dogs 
meeting for the first time. She could almost see Scott’s hackles 
rise when Ash stared uncomprehendingly at Scott’s outstretched 
hand. Like ozone before a thunderstorm, Cathy swore the smell 

of testosterone permeated the air. 
Gripping Scott’s hand, she tucked it under her arm. “Are 
you coming along to Pizza hell,” she asked. 
A grin broke over Scott’s face, easing his taut features. 
“Who, me? Do I look suicidal? Last time I was in that crazy 
place, two kids threw up on me, I got whiplash on the bumper 
cars, got beat on half-a-dozen video games by twerps practically 
in diapers and blew nearly fifty bucks. No way.” He laughed. 
“Coward,” Cathy teased. “Ash is coming.” 
Scott’s smile faded a bit. “Then he’s a braver man than I. 
Anyway, I’ve got a date tonight, and I had something a bit 
more romantic in mind. You guys have fun.” 
“We will.” Cathy stretched up and gave Scott a kiss on his 
cheek. “Shave first,” she said with a smile. He nodded and 
left. 
The last of the children and their parents were gone, leaving 
Cathy and Ash alone in the empty room. 
Outside, darkness had fallen. Like in most small Midwest 
towns, after five on a Friday night, the shops had closed in 
Council Falls. Only the small puddles of light cast by the street 
lamps illuminated the now deserted street. Inside, the bright 
lights of the academy seemed harsh and glaring, isolating them 
from the rest of the world. 
In the distance thunder rumbled, long and low, promising 
another night of rain. Silence stretched out between them, heavy 
with the threat of change. No, she cried mutely, don’t let it end 
yet. Suddenly unsure, Cathy found she couldn’t meet Ash’s 
gaze. 
“Cathy, I need...” 
Thea’s excited voice interrupted whatever Ash was going 
to say. Cathy welcomed the distraction. Somehow she was sure 
Ash was about to ask for something from her that she couldn’t 
give. 

SIX
Ash left the noisy enclave of the Pizza Palace carrying the 
sleeping Thea in his arms. Soft and warm, smelling of a 
combination of pizza and little girl, the child felt right cradled 
against his chest. He hesitated beneath the building’s awning. 
Rain drizzled from the dark sky. Muted behind the closed door, 
Ash could still hear the clash of sounds: the babble of high-
pitched, childish voices; the clatter of dishes; and the whistles, 
pings, and shrill shrieks of the games. 
After the heavy, food-scented atmosphere of the Pizza 
Palace, Ash breathed deeply of the moist night air. He hugged 
Thea’s small form closer, enjoying the feeling of protectiveness 
rushing through him. For a moment in time, this child was his 
to love and cherish, to hold safe from the world in the circle of 
his arms. 
Once, he’d held his first wife, Ilka, just so and gloried in 
the same emotion, only to have it torn from him. Long-buried 
sorrow rose inside him. Contentment dissolved in the rain. He 
stiffened, rejecting the comfort offered by Thea’s slight weight. 
It did not pay to grow attached. The losing proved too costly. 
When Dale’s Jeep pulled up to the curb, Ash settled Thea 
in the seat with a sense of relief. Still, he didn’t resist the urge 
to stroke the damp hair away from her face. 
Dale’s warm smile eased some of Ash’s remembered pain. 
Almost against his will, he smiled back. “Good Eve.” 
“Good night, Ash. Thanks for being so patient with Thea. 
She really enjoyed having a new opponent on those stupid 
games. You’re a good sport. It was sweet of you to let her 
win.” 
For the moment Dale granted him her approval. Soon 

enough she would discover her first instinct correct. The lights 
of her Jeep vanished into the rain. 
A tongued streak of lightning lit the sky, followed by the 
sharp crack of thunder. Sheets of wind-driven rain pelted him, 
plastering his hair to his head and soaking through his trousers 
in seconds. Water darkened the material of his jacket as he 
ducked back under the awning to await Cathy. He shivered 
from the cold and dampness. 
Another bolt of brilliance reminded him his time here grew 
short. For too long he’d lingered in Cathy’s world, seduced by 
its wonders and Cathy’s own sweetness. He must return home 
before time ran out. The situation on his own world would not 
wait while he dallied here. 
The crystal nestled against his chest burned as if in response 
to the white flames dancing in the sky. 
Headlights and the soft glow of an automobile’s interior 
light pierced the darkness. 
He stepped out into the downpour and lifted his face. Cold 
and wet, water sluiced over him. 
“Get in,” Cathy called through the storm. “You’re getting 
soaked.” 
His decision made, relief washed over him with the rain. 
Tonight. He would leave tonight. And willing or not, Cathy 
went with him 
On the ride home Ash remained quiet, though Cathy did 
her best to fill the silence. Finally, she too, grew still. 
It disturbed him, how quickly he’d come to think of Cathy’s 
house as home in a way the stone fortress of Terrile had never 
been and the elegant Castle Mar could never be. Cathy’s house 
along the river beckoned him. Or was it only its owner that 
drew him? 
“Darn, the power’s out again.” 
Cathy’s softly muttered complaint sounded loud in the quiet 
shelter of the automobile. She pulled close to the front door. 
The automobile rumbled as if in protest, its power controlled 
effortlessly by her slim, capable hands. Warmth poured from 
the belly of the beast, easing the chill from Ash’s flesh, if not 
from his soul. 

Outside, the rain continued to batter against the vehicle. 
Cocooned within, they remained dry and warm. In the lightning-
illuminated darkness, through the driving storm, the distance 
to the door stretched endlessly. 
Cathy gave a nervous laugh. “Unless you don’t mind getting 
soaked again, I think we’re stuck here for a while.” 
“My time here is at an end.” Ash kept his tone low and 
even. He gazed down at Cathy’s face, lit only by the 
automobile’s odd green lights and the flashes of lightning. How 
could he explain he was about to rip her from her life and 
world, possibly never to return? Abruptly, he turned from her 
stricken look. Hardening his heart, he forced away the guilt 
welling within him. He could not consider the welfare of one 
woman when the fate of countries rested on his actions. 
Cold and bleak, Ash’s words struck painfully at Cathy’s 
heart. He was leaving. Why should it surprise her? She’d known 
from the beginning he would be gone soon, that he was merely 
passing through her life. What here could hold him? Would he 
return? Would she ever see him again? 
She forced herself to speak calmly. “Where are you 
planning to go? If you’d like, I’d be happy to give you a 
reference to my agent in New York. I can guarantee you’ll be 
in demand as an artist’s model.” 
“You still refuse to admit I speak the truth.” Ash reached 
over and twisted the key in the ignition. The car died. “Come.” 
“What...” Cathy sputtered. 
Before she could say more, she found herself standing in 
the downpour, Ash’s fingers locked around her wrist. She 
stumbled as he pulled her forward, away from the house. 
Ragged branches of lightning tore rents in the dark night 
sky, opening the churning mass of black clouds. 
Cathy struggled to free her wrist from Ash’s grip. “Stop! 
Are you mad?” she cried, her voice barely audible against the 
continuous crash of thunder. Other than his wild stories and 
the fact her body responded blindly to his, what did she really 
know about Ash? Was she about to pay a high price for letting 
him into her life? 
Icy sheets of rain cascaded over them, plastering her 

clothing to her body in seconds. She knew if she tilted her 
head back, she’d drown. Rivulets of water ran down her cheeks. 
Cold, wet, saltless tears. 
She dug her heels into the slick gravel and pulled. No use. 
Like a reluctant dog on a leash, she was drawn along behind 
him. To where, she had no idea. Illuminated briefly by the 
lightning, his features appeared carved of stone, harsh and 
unforgiving. 
Her tennis shoes slid across the ground. Her foot twisted. 
Sharp pain shot up her leg. She stumbled and started to fall. 
Ash caught and swung her up into his arms. 
He held her safe, his body protecting her from the raging 
storm. She closed her eyes and ceased fighting. If he meant to 
do her harm, there was little she could do to stop him. Cradled 
against his broad chest, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, 
sheltering her face from the rain. She breathed in deeply. Cool 
and wet, he smelled of leather and rain combined with his own 
earthy, masculine scent. The steady thud of his heart drowned 
out the rolling drum of thunder rocking the heavens and soothed 
the fear pounding in her chest. 
Ash carried her down the path toward the river. Cathy could 
feel his body tilting backward against the angle, his feet slipping 
in the muddy stream of water running down the path. Forced 
to trust him, she didn’t open her eyes or speak. 
Once they were at the bottom, the rain ceased for a moment. 
She murmured a slight protest as Ash let her slip down to stand 
in front of him. She swayed, then her balance returned. 
Ash placed a forefinger beneath her chin and lifted her 
face to his. “I am sorry for what I must do, Little Shecal.” 
She blinked away the moisture fogging her vision. Guilt, 
along with some other emotion, played across Ash’s face. Then 
his features hardened in determination. 
“What...what are you going to do?” Fear of this foreboding 
stranger made Cathy’s voice wobble. 
She searched his face for reassurance. Finding none, she 
trembled, not from cold, but in apprehension. “Ash, please. 
Tell me what’s going on.” 
In response Ash took a step back. “I do what must be done.” 

“That’s no answer.” 
He moved onto the flat rock overlooking the river and stood 
with his back to her. Though common sense urged her to turn 
and run, instead she followed. She would have an answer. 
Below, churning with storm debris, the river heaved and 
surged, pounding against its banks. Droplets of liquid, like shiny 
black ink, sprayed upward, sluicing over their feet. Lightning 
lit the sky, reflecting off the water’s choppy surface. The rain-
laden air hung still and heavy, a calm in the midst of turmoil. 
Her foot slipped on the water-slick stone. To retain her 
balance she grabbed Ash’s arm. He swung around to face her. 
His jacket and shirt lay open, his smooth, bare chest 
glistening with moisture. In his hand he held his unusual crystal 
medallion. A glow emanated from its center, casting odd 
shadows in the dark. Its light caught and held her gaze. 
Mesmerized, she stared into its depths. The radiance grew, 
curling around them. 
Outside the circle of illumination, the world slowed to a 
halt. She blinked, bemused by the sensation of time stopping. 
Sound faded away. Only the lightning continued unabated, 
flaring across the sky. 
Ash lifted the medallion into the air. With his free hand he 
reached out to her. He smiled a sad, rueful smile. Unable to 
resist the plea in his eyes, Cathy stretched out her hand in return. 
Their fingers touched. In an instant, he pulled her close, 
her back to his chest, his arm tight around her waist, their hands 
clasped. Thunder boomed, vibrating through her. The circle of 
protection surrounding them shattered. Like shards of ice, rain 
slammed into them. A bolt of white split the sky. It arced 
downward, striking the medallion. A sparkle of light and color 
enveloped the medallion in Ash’s hand, then surged downward 
around them. 
“Ash!” Cathy screamed. 
Burning like the touch of dry ice, cold bit into her wet 
skin. Below her, the ground seemed to shift and fall away. She 
screamed again. Shocked, she twisted in Ash’s arms until he 
enfolded her shaking body close to his. She clutched at him, 
the only stable thing in a world gone suddenly mad. 

From shoulder to knee, Cathy could feel the press of Ash’s 
body to hers, his arms locked at the small of her back. Body 
bowed in a protective arch, he bent over her. Her cheek rested 
against his damp chest. 
A tempest swirled around them. Invasive fingers of wind 
tore at her clothing and probed her flesh. Beautiful and 
terrifying, a kaleidoscope of light and color danced behind 
Cathy’s closed eyelids. Inside her head, unknown music 
clamored to be heard. She couldn’t escape. It battered at her 
body and mind. 
She lifted her head to meet Ash’s gaze. “What’s 
happening?” she yelled. 
“Hold tight to me. Do not let go.” 
Fingers numb, her arms ached with the effort of clinging 
to him. “I can’t.” She felt herself slipping away. Ash, she 
pleaded silently, her lips no longer able to form the word. 
Abruptly everything went still and dark. 
Images formed in the blackness behind Ash. She watched 
as her world of Remal took shape. Wooded forests gave way to 
rolling farmland and twisting rivers. A broad roadway stretched 
across the landscape. An elegant carriage surrounded by a dozen 
mounted men moved down the road. From behind, more 
mounted men thundered toward the first group. 
Terror seized Cathy. She pressed her eyes closed, but the 
images carried on in her mind. 
Swords clashed. Screams echoed in her ears. Dust stung 
her eyes. The smell of blood burned her nose. The world tilted, 
and she fell. She struggled to rise, to flee, but a heavy, 
suffocating weight held her motionless. Warm and thick, liquid 
dripped on to her face. 
Blood. Her mother’s blood. 
She shrieked. Summoning the last of her strength, she 
pulled away from the scene—back into the storm—and sank 
gratefully into oblivion. 
Ash held Cathy’s limp body tightly against the force seeking 
to pry her from his arms. She did not respond when he yelled 
her name above the roar of the thunder. The storm raged on. It 
tumbled them through time and space, leaves upon an unnatural 

wind, tossed to and fro, without direction. 
How long it lasted he didn’t know. This transfer bore no 
resemblance to his other. What had gone wrong? Akester had 
warned him not to force the woman. Was this the punishment 
for disregarding that counsel? 
He bent his head to Cathy’s. A sweet floral scent rose on 
the heat of her body. He breathed deep, focusing his thoughts 
on the soft bundle of femininity in his arms, blocking the chaos 
from his mind. All else ceased to exist. 
Locked together, they rode the whirlwind. 
First Ash became aware of the silence, next of a soft blue 
light filtering through his closed eyelids. He lay against 
something warm, but a chill rapidly crept over him. He blinked 
and sat up. Immediately, his bare flesh puckered in the icy air. 
Naked again. Disgust rippled through him. 
Cathy lay motionless beside him, her skin pale white. Only 
the slight rise and fall of her chest told Ash she still lived. For 
a moment he let his gaze linger on the enticing swell of her 
breasts with their pebbled pink nipples, then down the curve 
of her hips to her legs. 
At the sight of her lame leg - flesh, muscle and bone twisted 
unnaturally—Ash’s admiration for Cathy grew. No one should 
suffer as she did. For all her leg’s mangled appearance, Ash 
found it did not detract from her appeal. Rather it was a badge 
of her courage, beautiful in its own way. 
As if aware of his perusal, Cathy stirred and moaned. She 
began to shiver. 
He shook his head and turned away. They would both perish 
if he didn’t find shelter. Ignoring the bite of the air, Ash surveyed 
the spot where they’d come to rest. Powdery snow, the pale 
blue-white of a winter sky covered the rocky slope. Around 
them jagged mountains soared into the heavens. Crystalline 
blue, they pierced the banks of clouds hovering above. 
By Sol! They’d landed in the Azul Mountains of Dramon, 
at least a hundred leagues away from Castle Mar. 
To the west the sun broke through the clouds. The meager 
warmth it provided would fade rapidly as it set. The sheer walls 
and rock-strewn slope seemed without possibility of shelter. 

A dark shadow on the mountain’s face caught Ash’s eye. 
He squinted against the glare of the setting sun. Did a trick of 
light create the appearance of an opening? A wisp of cloud 
obscured the sun. In the sudden gloom, the cave entrance 
became obvious, a haven only yards away. 
“Dema’s mercy,” Ash whispered, gathering the still 
unconscious Cathy into his arms. He stumbled, the cold already 
sapping his strength. His knee hit the ground, hard. 
“Ash,” she mumbled. Her eyes flickered open. Trust shone 
out of her dark eyes as they met his. She smiled, then with a 
soft sigh, she let her eyes close again. 
No longer did her body shiver in an attempt to generate its 
own heat. Her lips were blue, her skin milk white. He clutched 
her close, trying to give her what little warmth he could. 
Though it seemed an eternity, Ash covered the distance to 
the opening quickly. Once within, the temperature rose. A thin 
trickle of water ran down the center of the narrow, sloping 
cave floor. Moisture glistened like crystal on the rough surface 
of the walls, while blue-green glimmer moss grew along the 
lower edges and cast an eerie glow to light their way. The tunnel 
wound its way into the mountainside, twisting and turning, 
with some branches leading downward, while others dead-
ended. Ash held to the main tunnel, hoping it would lead 
somewhere. 
Just when he despaired of ever finding a dry opening he 
came upon a solid aronwood door set deep in the wall. Hope 
flared to life. He pounded the wood with his fist. Like thunder 
the sound echoed down the tunnel. 
No response. He could not wait. Lifting the simple latch, 
he shoved the door open and found a spin master’s cave. Only 
the glimmer moss at the base of the walls illuminated the dim 
space. He grimaced at the unpleasant odor of dormant spinners 
that greeted him and scanned the interior. Fortune smiled on 
him—no irate spin master waited inside. 
Quickly he located the spin master’s bed. Though dusty, 
the bedding looked free of vermin. He settled Cathy’s limp 
body under the fur bed robe and then went about lighting the 
crystal lamps, firing up the stove and putting on some water to 

boil. Silently he thanked the fates for leading him to this well-
provisioned lair. When warmth finally started to fill the room, 
he climbed beneath the bed robe and gathered Cathy into his 
arms. 
Against his work-warmed frame, her skin felt like ice. Guilt 
tugged at him. To spare her this ordeal and the long trek to 
Castle Mar, could he have waited until she willingly agreed to 
come? 
He’d had no choice. The elements were too unpredictable. 
Without the power of the storm, he would have been trapped 
in her world. 
She gave a convulsive shiver, and her teeth began to chatter. 
To stir her blood, Ash rubbed his hands over her. The feel of 
her slender body next to his, her skin soft and satiny in contrast 
to his callused fingers, set him aflame. Never before, not even 
with Ilka, had his passion kindled so quickly. 
When her shuddering had subsided, he forced himself to 
turn her in his arms, her back to his chest. 
With a small sigh she snuggled her hips tighter to his groin 
and fell into a more natural slumber. 
He groaned in discomfort. For him, sleep would be a long 
time in coming. 
*** 
Cathy stretched. Her body protested, every muscle 
screaming in agony. Even her skin ached. Her fingers and toes 
tingled oddly, as if they’d been numb and only now were 
regaining feeling. She bit back a cry of pain and tried to slip 
back into the warm, dark cocoon of sleep. 
“You are awake.” 
Ash’s voice in her ear banished her urge to escape. She 
blinked and opened her eyes. 
He leaned over her, a look of concern in his eyes. Fatigue 
etched his features. 
Slowly Cathy became aware of the world around her. She 
lay in bed with Ash propped up on one elbow beside her. His 
sleek skin radiated warmth. Instinctively she moved closer, and 
her hand brushed over crisp hair. 
She gasped and jerked away. Neither of them wore 

anything. Grabbing the thick fur robe covering them, she tucked 
it around her. 
“What is going on?” she sputtered. 
“We are safe on Tareth. Do you not recall?” 
“Tareth?” The last thing she remembered was following or 
rather being dragged then carried by Ash - down to the river. 
After that, only a vague impression of the storm and Ash 
keeping her sheltered in his arms, remained. A flicker of 
memory made her stiffen. Confused, she shoved the memory 
aside and focused on her growing anger. Whatever had 
happened, Ash was at the bottom of it. 
She sat up and scooted across the bed, taking the fur with 
her. He didn’t move as the robe pulled away, exposing more of 
his body. 
“I want to know...” She looked around, anywhere but at 
him. The words died in her mouth. 
Rough-hewn rock walls, glittering with tiny bits of crystal, 
surrounded them. Glowing lanterns lined the walls, providing 
a soft, yellow-white light. On one wall a table and two chairs 
sat in front of a stone sink with an old-fashioned pump. Crude 
wooden cabinets flanked the sink. Flames danced in the cooking 
hearth set into the wall. 
The bed occupied the other side of the room, along with a 
wardrobe and a small nightstand. A charred, potbellied stove 
in the middle of the room gave off a comforting warmth. Animal 
skins covered the uneven stone floor. 
Large burlap sacks were stacked against another wall, next 
to a wooden door. At first glance, Cathy thought the sacks held 
grain. Then she noticed the sparkling dust spilling from a rip 
in one of them. 
The smell of cooking covered a heavier, less pleasant scent. 
At first glance, the objects in the cavern appeared familiar 
and mundane. Cathy knew they were not. A shiver of unease 
went through her. 
“Are you hungry?” Ash asked. “The selection is limited, 
but the quantity is adequate.” 
Ash slipped off the bed. Lamplight reflected off the strange 
medallion around his neck. A memory stirred briefly in Cathy’s 

mind, but vanished at the sight of Ash’s nakedness. 
Despite the chill his departure left, Cathy felt heat flood 
her face. Questions forgotten, she couldn’t stop herself from 
watching the sway of his backside as he strode to the wardrobe. 
Paler than the rest of his body, his buttocks were firm and tight. 
Her fingers itched to cup his smooth flesh. She swallowed and 
squeezed her eyes shut. Why, when confronted by Ash, did all 
her reason desert her? 
When she opened her eyes again, Ash had pulled on a pair 
of trousers and a shirt from the wardrobe. The garments fit 
him snugly, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. The soft 
skin trousers molded his hard thighs like a second skin and 
cupped his male attributes, leaving little to her imagination. 
He turned and caught her staring. One corner of his mouth 
lifted slightly. 
“Is there anything in there for me to wear?” she managed 
to ask. 
In answer he handed her a pair of trousers and a shirt. With 
a mumbled thanks she grabbed them and dived under the fur 
robe. Her ears burned, as did the rest of her, when he chuckled. 
A few minutes later, she emerged clothed. The shirt sleeves 
hung over her fingers, and even though she had fastened the 
ties holding the shirt closed in front, the fabric still gaped and 
hung loosely off one shoulder. She rose and padded over to the 
kitchen area, her toes curling into the silky pelts on the floor. 
By rolling up the trouser legs, she managed to keep from 
tripping. She limped to Ash’s side. 
“Okay, now you can tell me exactly where we are and 
what’s going on.” Her growing anxiety made her tone harsh 
and irritable, but she stomped on her urge to succumb to panic. 
He turned to her. “You know where we are. This is Tareth. 
My world. I have never lied to you. From the first, I told you of 
my intentions. That you chose not to believe, I can not help. It 
is done now. There is no going back.” 
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered under her breath. Half 
of her wanted to believe him. The other half feared he was 
telling the truth. Somehow what he said made sense. They’d 
jumped to another world, and she couldn’t return home. 

The stiff set of his broad shoulders told her he wasn’t going 
to answer her questions. For a moment, her view of Ash merged 
with her memory of her foster father, Max. Her fear slipped 
away. No matter how bizarre the circumstances, Ash had yet 
to hurt her. 
Max and Ash both had a stubborn streak wider than the 
Grand Canyon. She’d learned early that what you couldn’t cross 
you went around. Distraction had worked with Max. Maybe it 
would work as well with Ash. 
She changed the subject. “What is this place?” 
Ash’s shoulders relaxed. “A spin master’s cave.” 
Cathy didn’t miss his small shudder of distaste. She got up 
and walked around in front of him. She wouldn’t let him off so 
easily. She sensed his discomfort with his actions. She’d use it 
to her advantage. He would face her with what he’d done even 
if he wouldn’t answer her questions. “What’s a spin master?” 
Some of the tension eased from his face at her change of 
subject. “I forget how little you remember of this world. A 
spin master controls the production of crystal silk by the 
spinners.” 
“Where is this spin master?” 
Ash shrugged. “I do not know. For some reason, this claim 
has been abandoned.” 
“Maybe he’s just on vacation?” 
“No, that is unlikely. A spin master rarely leaves his claim 
unattended. There is a fortune in crystal dust here.” He pointed 
at the sacks along the wall. “It appears this spin master was 
foolish. He did not have an assistant. I would guess the man 
lies dead somewhere in the spinner cave.” 
“Dead? Of what?” Cathy shivered, her goal of obtaining 
information forgotten. 
“Of a spinner bite.” Ash held out his arm, wrist up and 
pointed to the pitted scar just below his elbow, the same odd 
scar she’d included in her original sketches of him. “When a 
spinner bites, he injects a powerful poison. In order to survive, 
the surrounding flesh must be cut away quickly, before the 
poison enters the bloodstream. If not, the victim dies a most 
painful death as the poison slowly breaks down the very fiber 

of his body.” 
Cathy stroked the scar. His skin felt like warm velvet. The 
thought of his body being destroyed by poison made her heart 
jump. “You were bitten?” 
She jumped when Ash yanked his arm away. 
“As heir to the throne of Arete, it is my duty to know how 
my people make their living. When young, I studied not only 
with tutors and arms masters, but I went out and learned the 
skills of farming, mining and spinning as well. 
“While I have great respect for spin masters, I have no 
love of their spinners. Be grateful the spinners lie dormant. If 
not, the smell would no doubt overwhelm you. The creatures 
have voracious appetites and few redeeming qualities beyond 
the silk they produce. 
“Come, we must eat and prepare for our journey.” 
Slightly bemused, Cathy allowed him to push her back 
into the chair. Could this possibly be real? Her dreams had 
often seemed solid, but this one far surpassed them. Perhaps 
she’d finally slipped out of reality and was as crazy as he. 
“Where are we going?” 
He handed her a mug filled with a dark, steaming liquid. 
She sniffed it cautiously. At the sweet, rich aroma, her 
stomach growled. Still she hesitated. “What’s this?” 
“Gana. Go ahead, it will not harm you. Gana is the 
traditional drink of spin masters. It is agreeable and nutritious.” 
He pulled out the chair for her. “Sit.” He perched himself on 
the edge of the counter and sipped from his own mug. 
The drink tasted of cinnamon and honey, yet tart. Thick 
and creamy, it slid easily down her parched throat and eased 
her pangs of hunger. Its warmth seeped into her, banishing the 
last of her chill and relieving her aches. She quickly finished it 
and held out the mug for more. 
He refilled it then set a bowl containing a thick vegetable 
stew and a piece of hard bread in front of her. 
After her first tentative taste, hunger overcame caution. 
She wolfed down the remainder, using the stale bread to soak 
up the last of the broth. The flavors, while strange, were 
delicious. With a contented sigh, she pushed away the empty 

bowl and sipped from her mug. Though now cool, the gana 
still tasted good. 
Her eyelids began to droop. She fought to keep them up. 
There were still questions she needed to ask. Answers to be 
plucked from her abductor. 
He leaned over her, his hand smoothing away the hair from 
her face. His fingers felt blessedly cool against her heated flesh. 
“Rest now, Little Shecal. Conserve your strength for the 
coming journey. Seaport Harbor and the Castle Mar lie nearly 
a hundred leagues from the Azul Mountains.” 
“We’re in the mountains?” She struggled to form the words 
through the lassitude creeping over her. Maybe the altitude left 
her feeling dizzy and disorientated. Or maybe it’s from being 
so close to Ash, she admitted in a flash of honesty. “How far’s 
a league?” 
“About three of your miles.” 
Alarm bells went off in her head. “Three hundred miles. 
How will we get to this Seaport Harbor?” 
“We will walk until I can obtain transportation.” 
Fatigue fell away. She jerked upright and slapped her bad 
leg. “Walk! Are you nuts? I can’t walk three miles, never mind 
three hundred. I don’t even have my cane.” 
She restrained from squirming as Ash’s knowing gaze 
moved over her and settled on her thigh. He’d seen her stark, 
ugly scars. 
“You would have great difficulty managing the steep 
mountain trails, so until I obtain mounts, I will carry you.” 
A hysterical giggle slipped from Cathy at the image his 
words invoked. She could see herself strapped like an unwanted 
pack to Ash’s back. 
At the sound of her laughter, Ash’s brows drew together. 
Apparently he didn’t see the humor. 
“Do you doubt my ability? In training, I often carried your 
weight and more.” 
“No, no. I’m sure you’re more than capable. It’s just my 
relief at knowing I won’t have to walk.” Her words ended in 
another strangled giggle. 
“Perhaps.” He looked unconvinced then pointed at the bed. 

“Sleep now.” 
Her laughter died as he moved toward the door. “Where 
are you going?” She should welcome his departure. Once he 
was gone, she could better assess the situation and decide what 
to do, but the thought of being left alone made her nervous. 
“The sun will set soon. When we arrived last eve my first 
concern was for shelter. I wish now to take a better look at our 
location.” 
“Be careful.” 
“As always,” he answered softly and left. 
Later Cathy woke and pushed aside the constricting bed 
robes. Her skin felt hot and damp, her throat dry. The cave’s 
odd lamps burnt low, casting faint, eerie shadows. Despite the 
heat in her body, she shivered. How long had she slept? 
Where was Ash? 
She swung her legs off the bed and stood up. The cave 
tilted around her. She blinked away the haze and stumbled 
across the floor. 
Ash. She had to find him. He had the answers she needed. 
She pulled open the door and peered out into the gray-
green gloom. Cold air swirled into the cave. It felt crisp and 
cool against her overheated flesh. Goose bumps rose on her 
skin. 
“Ash.” His name came out as a croaked whisper. 
A trickle of icy water washed over her feet as she stepped 
into the tunnel. No longer warm, she shivered. Behind her the 
cozy cave beckoned, ahead lay only cold and dark—and Ash. 
One hesitant step followed another. With a hand braced 
against the weeping rock wall she made her way down the 
tunnel. Light from the cave disappeared, leaving her to fumble, 
lost in the darkness. 
Awareness of her folly began to seep into her 
consciousness, but it came too late. Numbed by cold, her bad 
leg gave way. She fell forward, her head striking the rock. A 
flash of light, then blackness swallowed her. 

SEVEN
After a quick appraisal of the continuing storm, a sense of 
urgency made Ash return to the cave. He refused to admit his 
eagerness to return to Cathy’s side, telling himself only the 
chill air made him forget caution and nearly run down the slick 
tunnel. 
Ahead yellow light spilled out of the open cave. Ash 
stopped and frowned. Why did she leave the door open and let 
the heat escape? 
He approached the doorway with caution. Warmth flowed 
into the tunnel. Something was wrong. 
He stood in the doorway. She no longer occupied the small 
cave. “Cathy!” His call echoed down the tunnel. 
He grabbed a crystal lamp from the wall and began to 
search. Why had she run? Was she so foolish as to attempt to 
leave the safety of the cave? Did she fear he would do her 
harm? How could she? 
How could she not? The thought made him pause. What 
reason had he given her to trust him? Hadn’t he snatched her 
from her familiar world, without regard for her needs or wants? 
Why shouldn’t she seize the opportunity to flee? 
A treacherous place, the tunnel twisted and turned, maze-
like. The slippery rock floor rose and dipped, ready to trip the 
unwary or less sure-footed. His heart raced. Sweat beaded on 
his face despite the frigid air. 
“Cathy,” he called every few minutes. 
The yellow rea-crystal lamp illuminated only a few feet in 
front of him, forcing him to move slowly, swinging the light 
from side to side so as not to miss the shallow indentations in 
the wall. He searched each side tunnel and dead end. Like the 

snarled roots of the nika plant choked out other greenery, 
tendrils of fear twisted around his heart, strangling hope. 
Did she lie dead or dying just out of sight? He couldn’t 
abandon his search. 
With a shock, he realized he no longer thought of Cathy as 
merely a means to an end. She was important in her own right. 
If he didn’t find her alive his life would cease to have meaning. 
Not since Ilka’s death had he let himself care for another 
woman, believing his ability to love had died along with her. 
He had even dismissed his attraction to Princess Katrina as 
only a physical response. 
How then had Cathy managed to crawl so deeply inside of 
him that her loss would destroy him more completely than 
Ilka’s? 
*** 
Cathy floated above the clouds. Stirred by the breeze, the 
billowing white mass shifted and changed endlessly. Fascinated, 
she watched. Time lost meaning as she drifted with the wind, 
content to let it carry her where it would. Cold and pain did not 
exist here. 
The clouds parted, thinned, then dissolved, until only 
gossamer wisps remained. Below, the land stretched out, green 
and rolling, a patchwork of fields, towns and woods. 
Unconcerned, she let it pass beneath her. 
In the distance the land gave way to an aqua sea. Perched 
on a bluff at the edge of the water sat a stone castle. With each 
passing moment it grew closer, and unease rippled through 
her. She tried to halt her movement as unease gave way to fear. 
No longer did she drift. Compelled forward, she rushed through 
the air. 
The castle rose before her, both familiar and disturbingly 
strange. It pulled her yet repelled her. She fought to free herself, 
yet longed to discover what lay at the end of this journey. 
Inside the castle, she moved down the corridors. Frightened, 
she reached out to the people she saw. She could see and hear 
them, but she remained unseen and unheard. They went about 
their business ignorant of her presence. 
Caught in some invisible current, Cathy moved deeper into 

the castle. 
“Cathy.” 
Full of anguish, the whispered sound of her name slowed 
her headlong rush. She paused, straining to hear. 
Other voices drowned out her name. Motionless now, she 
turned her attention to those voices. 
Two men stood before a partially opened door, one outside 
and one inside. Somehow she knew her destination lay beyond 
that door. 
“It has been nearly a tenday, and still he has not returned. 
When will he arrive? What do you now? Must we merely sit 
helplessly and wait?” 
The older man did not seem intimidated by the increasingly 
belligerent tone of the warrior who towered over him. “Be easy, 
del Jakar. I have studied much on this. I believe they will return 
soon.” 
The old man smiled and stepped forward, his frail shoulder 
brushing Jakar’s arm. He looked up and down the hall, then 
opened the door wider and allowed Jakar to enter. 
Jakar moved cautiously through the doorway. Cathy slipped 
in behind him. They both waited just inside the chamber. Fear 
and urgency left her. Only an overwhelming need to know what 
lay in this room remained. 
“But where, old man, where?” 
“Ah, that is the question.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. 
“The princess’s ka will probably avoid the castle and its 
surrounds, but it must return to an area it is familiar with. 
Someplace she knew before the trauma that tore her ka from 
her body, a place holding pleasant memories. You must learn 
of the princess’s habits and travels before her mother’s death. 
Then we will have a clue as to the location of their arrival.” 
Jakar frowned. Like a dark wave, anger emanated from 
the man. Cathy took a step back and looked around the room. 
Draped in yards of shimmering silk, a bed dominated the 
far side of the room. 
There. Her answers lay there. 
The two men forgotten, and their cryptic conversation 
fading into the background, Cathy moved to the side of the 

bed. 
Like a fairy-tale princess, a woman lay sleeping beneath 
silken sheets. With finely sculpted features and honey-colored 
hair, she appeared hauntingly familiar. Her beauty made Cathy’s 
heart ache. Still, the woman appeared unreal, like a wax figure, 
without life. 
Cathy wanted to touch the woman, to feel her warmth. She 
reached out. Her fingers tingled, the very air around her charged 
with electricity. The nearer she came to the woman, the more 
painful the sensation became. Sharp and biting, invisible 
needles pierced her skin. Pictures flashed in her mind, bits of 
memories too terrible to contemplate. Terror-filled screams 
echoed in her ears. 
She wanted to pull away, but needed to be closer. She 
couldn’t resist the compulsion to touch the still figure on the 
bed. Seeming to melt and flow, her hand hovered over the 
woman. Her will dissolved. Lethargy stole over her. What would 
be would be. She could fight no more. 
“CATHY!” Ash’s voice thundered in her mind. 
She jerked her hand back. The connection between her and 
the woman snapped. 
The old man turned toward the bed. “Did you hear 
something?” 
“I heard nothing.” Jakar looked over at the bed. 
Though invisible to his gaze, Cathy fought the urge to hide 
from those dark, probing eyes. 
Jakar returned his gaze to the old man. 
Cathy breathed a sigh of relief. While the old man might 
feel her presence, she didn’t fear him. Jakar was another 
proposition. She sensed his strength and determination. 
“Do not leave me.” Ash’s silent plea wound its way around 
her heart, tugging at her. Eager to leave this place, she didn’t 
fight its call. She let it pull her up and away. 
*** 
“Do not leave me,” Ash whispered brokenly. 
Since he’d found her lying cold and still on the tunnel floor, 
he’d cared for Cathy. He warmed her flesh and cleansed the 
cut on her forehead. Through the night and day he held her 

close, stroking her skin and hair, rocking her as he would a 
babe. Breath lifted her chest, and a pulse beat beneath her skin, 
but not by a flicker of an eyelash did she respond to his touch 
or voice. Like the princess, Cathy’s ka no longer occupied her 
body. 
Had the shock of crossing from her world to his driven her 
ka into limbo? Did it now wander lost and alone, waiting for 
her body to give up its hold on life, so it could find its way to 
the afterlife? 
Ash prayed silently. She could not leave him. He forgot 
the reason he’d brought her to Tareth. He wished her eyes to 
open, to flash again with disbelief. For her to bombard him 
with angry questions. 
As the minutes and hours passed, her skin grew paler, her 
color and life draining away as he watched. Boneless, she lay 
limp in his grasp. He gripped her tightly, feeling as if she 
dissolved beneath his hands. 
Hot tears coursed down his cheeks. They fell unheeded, a 
salty river of unacknowledged grief. 
Her breathing grew faint, her pulse weak. 
“Do not leave me,” he murmured, as he lowered his head 
to hers. In a sudden surge of angry denial he slanted his lips 
over her cool ones. With his kiss he offered her life. 
She accepted it. 
Her mouth moved under his. Sweet and moist, her breath 
mingled with his. Beneath his hands, her skin grew warm, her 
pulse fluttered, then fell into a strong, steady rhythm. She 
blinked once, and her eyes opened, her gaze colliding with his. 
“Hello,” she whispered. 
“Welcome back.” 
“I had the oddest dream.” Like a fog bathed in sunshine, 
her dream dissolved into a hazy memory. Only faint images 
and emotions remained to tantalize her. Then the solid reality 
of Ash’s arms locked around her, his lips inches from hers, 
banished even those. 
“You have been ill, but you are safe now.” 
She looked up at him and frowned. “Ill? I feel fine, just a 
bit tired.” 

Dark shadows circled his eyes, his skin was pale and drawn 
tight across his bones. Lank and lifeless, his hair lay plastered 
to his head. She lifted a hand to touch his lips. They felt dry. 
His tongue stroked liquid fire across her fingertips. A shiver 
coursed through her at the sensual hunger shining out of his 
eyes, bathing her in a wave of heat. Hard evidence of his desire 
pressed against her hip. 
“Do not frighten me so again.” He whispered the words 
against her cheek. A shudder ran through his powerful frame. 
She stroked his head, her fingers threading through his hair. 
“Never, I prom...” 
His mouth closed over hers, silencing her words. Coherent 
thought deserted her. Shyness forgotten, she answered his 
passion with her own. Impatiently she arched her back, molding 
her body to his. Her softness to his hardness, her feminine to 
his masculine, a perfect fit. 
He stroked her bare skin. His palms cupped the heavy 
weight of her breasts. With thumb and forefinger, he gently 
massaged her already aroused nipples. A moan slipped past 
her lips. The sound of her pleasure made him hungry for more. 
When he put his mouth to her breast, she cried out and threw 
back her head. Suckling like a babe, he continued to search 
out her secrets. He caressed the sensitive skin of her belly, 
trailing downward toward the curls guarding her femininity. 
Like heated honey, moisture flowed over his fingers. Would 
she taste as sweet? He trailed kisses downward until, where 
moments before his hands had been, he pressed kisses. 
She jerked convulsively. Her fingers tangled in his hair as 
she tried to close her thighs. He held them apart, lifting his 
head to meet her startled gaze. 
“Open for me.” 
Deep and soothing, his words eased her fears. She relaxed. 
Why she trusted him not to hurt her, she didn’t know. 
The warmth of his breath on her most intimate feminine 
place drove the doubts and questions from her mind. All her 
energy centered on the feelings generated by his mouth against 
her flesh. Her breathing grew shallow, her muscles taut. As the 
world tilted around her she clung to Ash. A waterfall of sound 

roared in her ears. Light and color exploded behind her eyelids, 
leaving her dazzled yet oddly empty. 
Caught in a whirlwind of sensation, she responded with 
abandon, whimpering her need for more. Her fingers dug into 
Ash’s arms, pulling him upward. He answered her unspoken 
demand, moving over and into her, filling a void she hadn’t 
known existed. 
Once more the tension spiraled upward, building. She 
strained to match the pace Ash set as he rocked against her. 
Effervescent, her blood rushed through her veins, until with a 
cry she came apart in his arms. 
*** 
The musky scent of their lovemaking lingered in the air. 
Cathy breathed it in, enjoying the memories the smell evoked. 
She’d never realized how much pleasure could be found in a 
man’s arms. Or that the salty, slightly sour smell of sweat and 
sex could be as heady as perfume. 
Her one previous experience with sex had left her 
disappointed and insecure in her ability to please a man. Always 
a bit shy and uncomfortable around strangers, Cathy never 
attracted much attention from the opposite sex. So when her 
art instructor in college showed an interest in her, she’d been 
easy prey. Thinking herself in love with her older, sophisticated 
teacher she didn’t voice her misgivings when he made love to 
her. 
The experience had proven both painful and humiliating. 
Though knowledgeable of the facts of life, the actual act of 
sex shocked and scared her. With little preparation the man 
penetrated her. When she struggled and cried out in pain, he’d 
finished quickly then pulled away in disgust. He scorned her 
tears and called her a cripple, frigid, and a failure as a woman. 
Only many years later did she realize she’d been a victim of 
date rape. 
After that she had never allowed another man close enough 
to discover how inadequate she was...until Ash. Somehow he 
found a way to sneak past her defenses. 
He lay next to her, his body lax in sleep. She rose on her 
elbow to contemplate him. 

As an artist Cathy had studied the human form, but outside 
of male pinup calendars, she’d never seen a male body quite 
so beautiful. Broad shoulders and a wide chest narrowed to a 
trim waist and hips, down to long, nicely-shaped legs and feet. 
Though well-honed and firm, his muscles did not bulge 
grotesquely. Aside from several pale and puckered scars on 
his arms and torso, his skin stretched sleek and golden. 
She ran her palm over his chest. No hair marred the surface. 
Her gaze moved to his face. Puzzled, she lifted her fingers to 
his face. His cheek felt smooth, without a hint of stubble. When 
had he shaved? She ran her fingertips down his throat, searching 
for his nonexistent beard. 
So intent was she on this strange discovery, she didn’t notice 
as Ash’s eyes opened. She squeaked in surprise when his arms 
wrapped around her, and he rolled her beneath him. 
“For what do you look, Little Shecal?” Ash stared down at 
her, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “A tender place to sink 
your sharp little teeth?” 
His body covered hers completely, her arms caught between 
them, but he held his full weight from crushing her. She wiggled, 
then, unable to dislodge him, went still. Spreading her fingers 
wide, she scraped her nails lightly across his chest and smiled 
up at him. 
“You play with fire, woman.” Rekindled desire replaced 
the amusement in Ash’s eyes. His head dipped toward hers. 
She raised her lips to meet his, her eyes drifting shut as she 
waited. 
And waited. Cool air flowed over her when Ash lifted 
himself away from her. Her eyes flew open in question. “What’s 
wrong?” The words died on her lips. 
Ash stood next to the bed, scowling down at her. Realizing 
where he stared, Cathy cringed in horror. How could she have 
forgotten? She scrambled for the bed robe, hastily covering 
her nudity and hiding her mangled leg. She felt cold despite 
the warmth of the fur against her skin. Her only other lover 
had called her leg ugly, telling her how it repelled him. Why 
had she expected different from Ash? Whereas her professor’s 
words had struck a blow to her pride and self-esteem, Ash’s 

silent rejection tore at her heart. 
“I am a fool.” Ash muttered the words softly, but she heard. 
Embarrassment kept her silent. She was the fool. A fool to 
believe even for one moment a man like Ash could want her. 
Strong and whole, he could have any woman he wanted. He 
had no need for damaged goods. Once more she felt humiliated, 
not by Ash’s actions but by her own. Still, she couldn’t regret 
their lovemaking. Her body still thrummed with satisfaction. 
Whatever else happened between them, she’d always have the 
memory of this one night. 
“A fool,” Ash repeated. “This can not be. I am joined to 
another.” Looking at Cathy, huddled pale and shivering on the 
bed, he wondered how he could have used her so callously, so 
soon after she’d almost died? In his own impatient need of her, 
he’d risked her well being. His body throbbed hard and heavy 
with need. He probably would make love to her again, he 
reluctantly admitted, given the slightest encouragement. He 
damned himself for it. 
He drew a deep breath and immediately regretted it. Cathy’s 
sweet scent lingered on his skin and in the air. To keep himself 
from reaching for her, he grabbed up his clothes and threw 
them on. Heading toward the door, he told her, “I will return 
shortly. Do not leave the cave.” Before she could answer, the 
door swung shut behind him. 
She shifted on the bed. “Fat chance,” she groaned. Every 
muscle ached, whether from her illness or her activities with 
Ash, she couldn’t be sure. 
Not one to dwell on mistakes, she rose, determined to 
survive. She would dismiss her hopeless attraction to Ash and 
find a way to return home, with or without his help. Moving 
gingerly she pulled on her clothes. Within a short while, as she 
moved around the cave, the stiffness, aside from a few twinges, 
eased. If she’d been ill, as Ash claimed, she felt remarkably 
well now. Briefly she pondered the meaning of the bits of the 
strange dream she’d had, then dismissed them as a result of 
her supposed illness. 
She stoked the stove with the dull yellow coal Ash had 
pointed out to her, put a kettle of water on to boil, and mouthing 

a silent apology to the absent owner, set about investigating 
the cave. 

EIGHT
It didn’t take her long to conclude this spin master lived 
comfortably if not lavishly. The simple furnishings, while not 
elegant, were functional and well kept. 
Each item she uncovered lent credibility to Ash’s bizarre 
tale. The lantern-type lamps lining the walls gave off a yellowish 
glow but radiated no heat. She studied them, but couldn’t 
determine how they turned on and off. Only by slipping thin 
wooden panels over the open sides of the lanterns was the light 
extinguished. When the panels were removed, the light flared 
back. 
The cupboard held the usual implements for cooking and 
eating, but the food made Cathy question her sanity. Though 
she’d often seen Dale and Thea’s weird dehydrated camping 
supplies, none of it compared to the odd variety of dried 
foodstuffs filling this pantry. Still, it smelled good, and she 
already knew that at least some of it tasted delicious. 
If Ash’s story wasn’t true, then he’d managed to create a 
truly believable alternate world. 
In a far corner she discovered what looked like a wool 
carder. Long strands of a raw silk-like material shimmered 
between the carder’s teeth. Next to it, a mass of the material 
lay tangled in a wooden box. She lifted a handful, pulling the 
delicate fibers through her fingers. It changed from powder 
blue to white in her hand as she turned it to and fro in the light. 
No fiber she knew of felt as soft or glimmered the way this 
fiber did. 
A yawn caught her off guard. The bed beckoned as 
exhaustion took its toll. Unsteadily she limped across the floor, 
shivering when her feet touched the hard rock surface. She 

sank onto the mattress. After she rested, she’d be more capable 
of thinking about her situation and making decisions. 
The sound of Ash returning roused Cathy from sleep. 
Cheeks flushed, he shook from cold. Moisture beaded on 
his hair and skin. He moved to the stove, stirred the fire and 
rubbed his arms and hands. 
She lifted up on one elbow and watched him. “What did 
you find?” 
He turned his gaze on her. “As I suspected, we are in the 
Azul Mountains. I believe we are on a lower slope of the 
Dramon side of the range. Before the storm intensified I watched 
the sun set. There is a village below, and I located the trail 
down the mountain.” 
Suddenly eager to exit this weird waking dream and return 
to her own normal if dull life, Cathy threw back the covers and 
swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “What are we waiting 
for? Let’s go.” 
Ash shook his head. “It would be foolish to attempt it at 
night during a storm. You need to recuperate from your illness. 
We will have to wait until the storm blows itself out. Go back 
to sleep. I will check again in the morning.” 
She started to argue that she felt fine, then slid back into 
the bed. She could use a few more hours of sleep. 
Shoulders slumped and head bowed in fatigue, Ash sat at 
the table. 
Cathy looked around the cave. She frowned. Other than 
the two chairs, the table and the bed, the cave boasted no 
furniture. The floor, though covered with scattered furs, was 
too cold and too hard to provide a bed for Ash. 
“Ash.” His name came out as a strangled whisper, unheard. 
She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ash.” 
Much better. She wasn’t inviting the man to sleep with 
her, she reassured herself. Though the thought made a tremor 
of longing race through her, she forced aside the temptation to 
beg. All she was doing was offering him a place to sleep. God 
knew the man needed his rest. 
Then why did heat race up her throat and face when he 
turned to look at her? 

“You’ll have to share the bed with me.” Dropping her gaze, 
she didn’t see his reaction as she blurted out the words. “Just 
to sleep, you know,” she continued hastily, unable to meet his 
eyes. 
“Of course.” He sounded unbearably weary. 
Turning away from him, she scooted to the far side of the 
suddenly narrow bed and lay on her side. She could hear the 
soft rustle of cloth as he stripped off his sodden clothing. Burned 
on her retina, the image of his naked body formed behind her 
tightly shut eyelids. 
She bit back a small moan. 
The bed dipped beneath his weight. She clung to the 
mattress to keep from rolling toward him. A chill emanated 
from him. How she longed to turn and offer him her warmth. 
She held herself rigid. He’d already rejected her once. She 
refused to throw herself at any man, especially a married one. 
Even if he wanted her, Ash belonged to another woman. 
*** 
Ash woke to the feel of a soft, warm weight draped over 
him. As was his wont, awareness came instantly. Snuggled 
against him, Cathy’s head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, 
an arm and a leg thrown across his chest and thighs. Her breath 
tickled his skin. Silky hair brushed his chin. She stirred, 
moaning, lost in the midst of a dream. Her leg rubbed across 
his groin. Hard and hot, he responded to her unconscious 
invitation. 
He groaned. How he wanted to answer her sweet 
temptation, to roll over her and sear himself in her cleansing 
flame. He longed to give her the release he knew she craved, 
the release he needed. But he could not. He would not. Honor 
demanded he take nothing more from this woman. Already he’d 
stolen her from her world, her home and her family, most likely 
never to return. Bound to another, he could offer Cathy nothing. 
Not even life. 
Gently he disengaged himself and rose. Mewing once, like 
an abandon shecal kit, she curled into a ball. Ash forced himself 
not to return to the bed and gather her close. He dressed and 
began to prepare food to break the fast. When all was under 

way, he left the cave. 
*** 
Despite her earlier eagerness to leave the shelter of the 
cave, as the storm raged, Cathy found herself oddly content to 
remain. Though she didn’t fear Ash, she wasn’t in a hurry to 
find out the truth. If only an elaborate hoax, she didn’t want to 
challenge Ash’s fantasy and force him to possible violence. If 
real, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly what waited 
for her once they reached the end of this journey. 
Ash paced. Every few hours he ventured out, only to return 
cold and irritable. 
By the afternoon of the first day Cathy had had enough. 
His anxiety started to seep into her, and she was already nervous 
enough. 
Ash headed for the door. Cathy beat him there, barring his 
way. 
“Nothing will have changed in the last thirty minutes.” 
Ash glared down at her. For a moment she thought he might 
push her aside, then he sighed and smiled. 
“You are right. As always I am impatient. My father tells 
me it is one of my greatest faults.” 
She titled her head and studied him. “You have faults? The 
great Prince Ash? I don’t believe it. No way.” 
Ash’s laughter boomed around the cave, dissipating the 
thick atmosphere of tension. 
In order to make the time pass quicker, Cathy pulled out 
some of the objects she couldn’t decipher a use for. 
“What’s this?” she asked. 
Ash looked at the wooden board she showed him. About 
three feet long, eighteen inches wide and an inch thick, the 
wood had a dozen wells of various depths and widths ground 
into it. The entire surface of the board was polished to a high, 
smooth gloss. At one end was a trough an inch wide and nearly 
as deep as the board was thick. Another piece of wood, two 
inches high ran the width of the board behind the trough. 
“And these?” She held out a handful of crystal pebbles, 
some white, others black, each the size of a dime, oval in shape, 
nearly flat, and silky smooth. 

“This is a Taram game board. The pebbles are called crils.” 
Ash ran his fingers over the grain of the wood. 
Cathy shivered, wishing it were her skin he stroked so 
lovingly. 
“This is a nicely crafted board, though smaller than those 
in the gaming halls. A professional Taram table is over seven 
feet long.” He lifted the heavy board and set it on the table. He 
took several of the pebbles from her hand and laid them beneath 
his palm at the end of the board. Then with a quick motion he 
sent them spinning down the board toward the trough. Two 
pebbles flew over the wells and came to rest neatly in the trough, 
while one hit the backboard and bounced off the table and 
another settled into one of the wells. 
“It has been a long time since I played Taram. Two out of 
five would not win me much at the game tables.” 
“So the object of the game is to get your pebbles into the 
trough?” Cathy asked. “Looks easy enough.” 
“Looks can be deceiving. Taram takes patience and skill.” 
“Patience, huh. No wonder you’re rusty.” She grinned at 
him. “Looks more like luck to me.” 
Ash merely smiled. “Try it.” He explained the simple rules. 
“The more crils you shoot at one time the greater your score 
can be. But you also lose more points for each cril that does 
not reach the trough. If you shoot one cril at a time you gain or 
lose one point. It goes one point per cril for each cril up to five. 
From five to ten cril you gain two points for each cril sunk, but 
you lose three points for each not sunk. From ten to fifteen 
crils, you gain three and lose five. Over fifteen crils you gain 
five and lose ten. Hold the crils beneath your palm and slide 
them across the board.” 
Cathy took five white pebbles and placed them on the board 
as she’d seen Ash do. She tried to imitate Ash’s move. Three 
pebbles slid wildly across and off the board, one hit the 
backboard and joined Ash’s on the floor, and the last stuck to 
the palm of her hand. 
“Easy, hmmm,” Ash teased. 
Cathy smiled sheepishly. “Well, maybe it does take a bit 
more skill than I thought. People actually gamble on this game?” 

“More than one man has lost his fortune at the Taram table.” 
“And women?” 
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Women are not allowed in the 
gaming halls.” 
Cathy stiffened. “What kind of chauvinistic place is this?” 
A shadow crossed Ash’s face. “Ilka, too, ofttimes chafed 
at the laws which would not allow her to test her mettle against 
the best. She did greatly love games of skill and chance.” A 
faraway look entered his eyes, softening the color to a misty 
blue. 
“Ilka is your wife?” Cathy asked. 
“She was my first wife. She is dead. I do not wish to speak 
of her now.” His gaze hardened. “Come practice, and then we 
will play a game,” he added on a gentler note. 
Though curious to hear more about the woman who could 
bring such a look of longing to this man’s eyes, Cathy didn’t 
argue. 
For the rest of the afternoon they played. Laughter rang in 
the cave. Though Cathy improved as time went on, Ash won 
every round. The final score, Ash 712, Cathy 307. 
Grudgingly, she admitted defeat. Max had instilled in her 
a sharp, competitive spirit. She liked to win, but she’d also 
learned sportsmanship. “I concede. You are the champ. As your 
prize I’ll fix our meal.” 
“This is not fair. We did not gamble on our games. Also, 
you have no knowledge of cooking on a wood stove. It is far 
different from the magic of your microwave. And because you 
are unfamiliar with Tareth food, you are like as not to mix racti 
root with megal.” He grimaced. “No, for the sake of our 
stomachs, I will prepare our meal. However, you may assist if 
you wish to learn this skill.” 
Though probably right, Ash’s assumption of her uselessness 
rubbed Cathy the wrong way. Along with losing, it soured some 
of her pleasure in playing Taram. Still, since she didn’t know 
how to use the wood stove, or what either racti root or megal 
were, she bowed to his dictate. 
“Okay, you cook. I’ll clean up.” 
While they ate, she plotted her revenge. It wouldn’t take 

much work to fashion a deck of playing cards from the heavy 
parchment paper she’d found in the cupboard. Tomorrow, she’d 
introduce Ash to the fine art of poker playing. 
She watched him from under lowered lids. It had been years 
since she’d played strip poker. Actually, she’d never played 
strip poker, but all of a sudden the idea had merit. 
The spin master’s shirt stretched taut over Ash’s chest when 
he reached across the table for the bowl of stew. Through the 
thin fabric she could see the play of his muscles. The column 
of his throat worked as he swallowed. Food stuck in her throat. 
She coughed and turned her eyes to her plate before she 
managed to choke to death. 
Later, while hugging her side of the bed, sleep eluded her. 
She realized she’d never asked Ash her questions. Somehow 
when he was near, the whys and wherefores seemed 
unimportant. He lay beside her, his breathing low and even, 
his body lax in slumber. 
Now the unreality of the situation hit her with the force of 
a blow. How could she forget everything and play silly games 
with her kidnapper? After all, that’s what he was, a kidnapper. 
Sweet, charming, sexy, but still a kidnapper. 
Was she a victim of the - what was it called - syndrome? 
Helsinki? Stockholm? Moscow? Denmark? The name escaped 
her, but she knew it had to do with the abductee coming to 
identify with the abductor. Some sort of self-brainwashing a 
person did to overcome the terror of being abducted. 
No, it didn’t feel like that. Aside from the fear she had felt 
during the storm—a fear never directed at Ash—she hadn’t 
been afraid at all. Despite the fact he’d brought her here— 
wherever here might be—he wouldn’t hurt her, Cathy was sure. 
Of course, that was the only thing she was sure of. 
In this last week she’d come to a crystal clear understanding 
of Alice’s feelings when she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole. 
Being here with Ash was much like being stranded on a 
desert island, a fantasy she was loath to examine too closely, 
for fear it might vanish. She dozed off holding her pillow, 
wishing she had the courage to turn and hug Ash. 
At first, in her dream she drifted in a peaceful void, 

surrounded by tranquility. Nothing could touch her or hurt her. 
She was safe. 
Then everything shifted. Color, sound, light and sensation 
exploded over her. She jerked back, but something drew her 
inexorably forward. Tumbling into a chaos of pure terror, she 
felt herself dissolving, becoming nothing. Her last clear thought 
was Ash’s name. 
Minutes or hours later, Cathy woke with a choked scream. 
The too vivid dream made her heart thump in her chest and her 
breath come in gasps. As she tried to recall what had frightened 
her, the details of the dream faded. Only the intense emotion 
remained. 
How long had she slept? She had no way of telling. The 
lamps still cast their warm yellow light. In the stove the fire 
burned low. She looked around the cave. Ash sprawled across 
the bed, snoring softly. Her scream had been a silent one. 
Limbs trembling, she inched to Ash’s side, leaving only a 
hairsbreadth between them. His solid warmth lured her, much 
as the force in her dream had compelled her. She could not 
resist. In a world gone mad, only he was familiar and secure. 
She jumped when his arm came around her and drew her 
close, but she didn’t pull away. 
“Shh, Little Shecal,” he whispered. “Sleep now. You are 
safe.” 
With a shuddering sigh, Cathy relaxed against him and 
slept. 
*** 
Ash eyed the oddly decorated scraps of parchment warily. 
Something about the glint in Cathy’s eyes gave him pause. “I 
do not think...” 
“Are you chicken?” 
“Am I what?” 
“Chicken. Afraid to try my game?” 
“No, of course...” 
“Then let’s play poker. You’ve already been outside three 
times this morning. You said yourself, even though the storm’s 
ended, there’s no way we can leave until tomorrow, so relax. 
Poker’s not that hard.” Cathy grinned at him from across the 

table. 
He settled back into the chair. “Very well. What are the 
rules of this game?” 
He listened carefully as she explained. “It does not seem 
difficult, merely a matter of gaining the right pieces of 
parchment as they are dealt out.” 
“Sounds familiar.” A wicked glint appeared in her eyes. 
“We’ll play a few practice hands. Then I’m going to clean your 
clock.” 
“Your speech is most colorful; however, the meaning 
escapes me.” 
Cathy laughed and dealt out what she called the cards. “We 
need something to bet with. We can use the crils from the Taram 
board. I’ll take white.” She dumped a handful of black crils in 
front of him. 
After a few games, Ash felt confident enough to attempt to 
play in earnest. 
Hours later he glared at the mismatched hand of cards he 
held. As Cathy had with Taram, he’d underestimated the skill 
involved in this seemingly simple game. 
With a flourish she showed her hand. He growled as she 
swept up the pot. 
“Don’t be a poor loser.” 
“Is my clock sufficiently clean now?” he asked. 
Her laugh of delight wiped away some of his irritation and 
softened the blow of losing. She leaned forward to collect the 
cards. The shirt she wore slid down, revealing the smooth skin 
of her shoulder and giving a hint of the hills and valleys below. 
How fragile she appeared in the glow of the lamp, hair tangled, 
cheeks flushed with victory, eyes sparkling, lips parted. 
Unbidden, memories of another woman, another contest 
came to him. 
“You like to win?” he asked. 
Surprised, she glanced up. “Of course, doesn’t everyone?” 
“Perhaps. Ilka, my first life-mate, liked to win. In the end 
it caused her death.” Liar, your failure caused her death. 
Cathy’s hands stilled, the cards forgotten. “How?” she 
asked simply. 

He regretted his loose tongue, but his need to tell her all, to 
seek comfort and forgiveness, fought with his need to forget. 
Her hand covered his, her warm fingers twining with his 
suddenly cold ones. “Tell me.” 
Could he speak of Ilka now? He started to talk, finding it 
difficult to put the memories into words. “The daughter of my 
father’s cousin, Ilka and I were destined from birth for joining. 
From our first meeting we welcomed our destiny. A tall, 
handsome woman, Ilka embraced life and what it offered with 
enthusiasm. All she did, she did with passion, whether it be a 
game of Taram or a contest of arms. Even as a child four annum 
younger than I, she was bold and reckless. Ofttimes I was forced 
to rescue her from the consequences of her daring.” 
“She sounds a lot like Dale - or at least the way Dale was 
until Max and Steven were killed.” 
The look of understanding on Cathy’s face made the words 
flow easier as he continued. “When I reached my twenty-fifth 
annum, we joined. For a short time fate smiled on us. We were 
young and in love. The world and the future stretched out before 
us. Though forbidden by her position as my wife to follow her 
childhood dream of being a warrior woman, she continued 
training in the warrior arts of combat. She delighted in pitting 
her skills against mine and grew irritated when I held back 
because of my care of her.” 
Ash paused, remembering her anger, how she turned away 
from him and denied him her bed in retaliation. Only when her 
own passion could no longer be ignored did she lure him back, 
silencing his attempts to settle their dispute with hungry lips 
and hands. How quickly he forgot his own anger then. 
“During our third annum together, Ilka became pregnant. I 
was delighted, but the timing did not please her. An avid quinar 
rider, each annum Ilka participated in the ReKana, a dangerous 
race across rough country that tests the endurance and skill of 
both beast and rider. Fearing for her well being and that of the 
babe, I forbade her to enter. She argued, claiming I wished 
only to deny her her pleasures. Harsh words were spoken. I 
had no patience with what I saw as her foolish desires and she 
none with my orders. 

“I knew naught of her decision to defy me until I found her 
gone the morning of the race.” 
Ash closed his eyes. His voice grew hoarse. He remembered 
the agony of waiting for word of his wayward mate and the 
pain when he finally received it. “Three days later my guard 
located her, crushed beneath the body of her quinar.” He opened 
his eyes and met Cathy’s gaze. “She did not die quickly or 
easily.” 
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” 
“Perhaps if I had held my temper, explained my fears, she 
would not have taken the risk. She would yet live.” He bowed 
his head, blinking rapidly to banish the tears that threatened. 
“I failed to keep my life-mate and unborn child safe from harm.” 
“No!” Cathy gripped his hand. “Don’t torture yourself. 
When I was a child I blamed myself for what my father did. 
Even though I didn’t remember my life before my—accident 
—I thought maybe if I’d been a better little girl, my father 
wouldn’t have lost his temper, wouldn’t have drank, wouldn’t 
have beaten my mother. I was wrong. No one is responsible 
for the actions of another. Each of us makes our own choices. 
Ilka made a mistake, one that cost both of you dearly, but it 
was her mistake, not yours.” 
She sounded so sure, so convincing. He looked up into her 
face. “Perhaps you are right.” 
She smiled at him. “I know I am.” 
How easily she gave of herself, speaking the right words 
to ease the guilt in his heart. Still, he knew part of the blame 
for Ilka’s death lay at his feet. He’d been too young, too 
impatient to deal with her fiery nature. 
“Perhaps,” he repeated. “But I will not now fail to keep 
my people safe from war. The hour grows late. If we are to 
leave tomorrow, we must rest now. The trip down the mountain 
will be difficult.” 
Without hesitation she rose from her chair and limped over 
to the bed. He watched the sway of her hips. Desire surged 
through him. 
When he did not join her she looked up, the question 
obvious in her brown eyes. 

How trusting she was. He couldn’t crawl into the bed with 
her. 
“I must check the weather. Do not wait up for me.” 
Anger with herself quickly doused Cathy’s humiliation. 
When would she learn? Wasn’t one rejection enough? Ash had 
only one use for her, and it wasn’t in his bed. From this point 
on she’d focus her energy on finding a way out of this rabbit 
hole and back home. 
Abandoning all hope of sleep, she began gathering together 
items they’d need when they left the cave. Extra clothing joined 
food in a growing pile on the table. 
So intent was she on her self-appointed task she didn’t 
hear Ash re-enter the cave until cool air swirled around her. 
She didn’t turn to greet him. Knowing his gaze rested on 
her, she felt her skin redden. Her earlier decision to remain 
cool and remote in Ash’s presence deserted her. How could 
she face him? She couldn’t bear to see pity in his eyes. But 
what else could she expect, when she’d practically thrown 
herself into his arms and begged for his attention? She didn’t 
blame him for being human and responding. She blamed herself. 
His voice broke through her self-recrimination. “The storm 
has cleared and the sun shines. Already the snow melts. Though 
the path will be slick, it is passable. There is a large village 
below. We will obtain transport to Seaport Harbor from there.” 
The thought of days of travel in Ash’s company made her 
weak with longing and despair. Their destination and what 
would happen once they reached it seemed unimportant in 
comparison. 
“What will we use for money?” 
Her softly spoken words made Ash’s heart ache. How lost 
and alone she sounded, ashamed to lift her eyes to his, when it 
was he who should hang his head in shame. He wanted to wrap 
her slim frame in the circle of his arms and promise her.... 
Promise her what? He jeered at himself. He could promise 
her nothing, give her nothing. Fate decreed he could only take 
from this woman. Already he’d seized her life and would steal 
her very ka. Though she might offer it to him, he would not 
accept her heart as well. 

And he refused to give her his. 
Keeping his tone neutral, he answered, “The spin-master’s 
crystal dust. It is accepted as currency most places. Though I 
doubt the man still lives, once we reach the Castle Mar I will 
see that either he or his heirs receive reimbursement for what 
we borrow.” 
Head bent, her hair shielded her expression from him. “I 
collected some clothing and food for the trip.” Though she 
tried to match his blandness, he could hear the hopeless pain 
in her voice. 
Where before her refusal to believe frustrated him, he now 
found he disliked her timid acceptance even more. He bit his 
tongue to curb his urge to spur her into revolt just to see her 
eyes flash again with life. 
Instead he said, “If you wish to bathe, further down the 
tunnel I found a hot spring.” 
It took her a minute to respond, then her head lifted. “A 
real bath?” she questioned, her look and tone cautious, as if 
she expected him to deny the possibility. 
He smiled. Back on Earth he’d discovered her love of what 
she called bubble baths. “Yes, though you may find the smell 
rather different than you are accustomed to.” How well he 
remembered the sweet, spring-like fragrance that filled her 
house whenever she locked herself inside her bathing room. 
“It is a mineral spring, but the water is hot. If you look, you 
might find some bathing soap amongst the spin-master’s 
things.” This much he could give her. 
*** 
Bringing Cathy to the hot spring was a misjudgment on 
his part. One he could add to the many others he’d made 
concerning this woman. Steam, warm and heavy with the smell 
of minerals, misted the air, adding to the heat building within 
him. 
He stood outside the chamber containing the hot spring. 
The sound of her splashing echoed in the caverns. Her small 
expressions of delight skittered over Ash. His body went rigid. 
Eyes closed, he could envision her floating in the inky pool. 
Her hair would drift dark and sleek around her face, 

caressing her pale shoulders. Flushed and wet, her skin would 
gleam like pink crystal. The soft, white mounds of her breasts 
would break the surface, water lapping like an eager lover 
against their coral tips. 
His eyes snapped open, but the image remained. He 
groaned. Her needs, her wants, her desires - his needs, his wants, 
his desires - counted for little when compared to what was at 
stake. This woman could mean nothing to him. He could not he 
would not - allow it. 
A war between Ash, the man, and Ash, Prince of Arete 
raged within him. Only one could win. But in the end both 
would lose. 
The sooner they returned to Castle Mar the better. 

NINE
The storm ended, leaving behind a world bathed in 
sparkling whites and crystalline blues. Sheer rock wall rose up 
to the sky, blue against blue, each shimmering in the early 
morning light. Already the warmth of the sun melted the 
powdery snow covering the slope and trail. Below, the village 
bustled with activity, people emerging from their homes after 
the fury of the storm. 
In the valley, tiny figures of men, women and animals 
moved through muddy streets. Columns of smoke floated 
upward from chimneys. Though too far away, Ash could almost 
smell the odor of roasting meat in the marketplace, and hear 
the shouts and cries of the peddlers and merchants as they plied 
their wares. After two days of dried fruits and bland vegetable 
stew, the imagined aroma made Ash’s mouth water. 
He swallowed his hunger and looked at the steep, slick 
trail they must travel. 
Given Cathy’s infirmity, the trip down would be difficult, 
but they could linger no longer. And once past the village they 
faced a long and uncertain journey. How much time remained 
before his Moon-cycle retreat ended, and he must emerge with 
the princess for the Blood Bonding ceremony? He turned back 
toward the cave. 
Just outside the entrance, Cathy stood enraptured by the 
view. 
Great slabs of stone lay scattered at the foot of the sheer, 
rock walls rising behind her. Sunlight peeked over the mountain 
ridge, streaming down the snow-covered slopes like rivers of 
molten gold. Not a cloud marred the sky. All around her, snow 
and rock shimmered in shades of blue, from the deep indigo of 

the mountain’s crevasses to the milky blue of the snow. 
She shivered, not with cold but apprehension. These blue 
mountains existed nowhere on Earth. What she’d tried so hard 
to deny had happened. She stood on another world - Ash’s 
world. 
The grandeur called to the artist in her. Unable to resist, 
she longed to capture the glory of the scene on canvas. “It’s 
beautiful. Like being at the heart of a blue diamond.” 
“Yes, it is.” Ash spoke from behind her. “But it does not 
compare to the mountains of Arete.” 
The yearning in his voice touched a chord in Cathy. 
Then his tone hardened. “Come. If we are to reach the 
village before nightfall, we must leave. I will break the path, 
so follow close in my steps.” Ash moved ahead of her, down 
the trail. 
Cathy bristled at Ash’s cool tone of command. With each 
passing moment his attitude grew more distant. As if they’d 
never shared intimacies. Lain together. Made love. The gentle, 
caring man she’d come to know seemed to have vanished, 
replaced by an autocratic stranger she was beginning to dislike. 
Looking at his ramrod straight back, she considered turning 
and heading back into the cave’s warmth and the security she’d 
found there. For a short time, despite her confusion, she’d been 
happy. At the bottom of the mountain the unknown waited. 
Ash turned toward her. “Do you come?” 
Her rebellion proved brief. Logic told her she couldn’t 
remain huddled forever in the cave, and without Ash, it was 
nothing more than a hollow place in the mountain. 
“I’m coming,” she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. 
With a sigh she gripped the cane Ash had fashioned for her 
from a chair leg. 
Watching her, Ash started to speak. She glared at him until 
he turned away and began walking. She moved awkwardly after 
him. 
Within minutes, her leg started to object. Though the snow 
wasn’t deep on the trail, the going was rough. Her makeshift 
cane slid wildly on the loose rock and ice hidden beneath the 
blue-white blanket. Stubbornly, she refused to ask Ash for any 

assistance. Never again would she ask the hateful, infuriating 
man for a thing. She slogged on after him, pushing herself to 
the limit and cursing him silently. 
Time ceased to have meaning for her, and what could have 
been hours or days later Ash stopped. “We will rest here and 
eat.” 
Cathy dropped gratefully to the ground. She stretched out 
her leg and rubbed her thigh. Sharp daggers of pain shot through 
her. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she pressed her 
fingers deep into the aching muscle. Carry me, would he? She 
refused to consider what he might have been about to say before 
they started out. “Damn him,” she swore under her breath. 
She jumped when Ash knelt next to her. In the crisp 
mountain air the scent of leather and man settled around her 
like a warm comforter. He pushed her hands aside and began 
to massage her leg. Her protest died unspoken as his strong 
fingers burrowed into her flesh, and his heat penetrated her 
tortured limb. Leaning back on her elbows, she closed her eyes. 
“Why did you not tell me of your discomfort?” 
Her eyes flew open. A gentle look of concern creased his 
brow. Unable to bear his pity, she glanced away. 
“It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it.” 
Head bent to his task he said, “You endure pain like a 
warrior.” 
A flush of warmth ran through Cathy at his praise. 
With smooth, sure pressure he kneaded her leg until long 
after the agony subsided to a dull ache. When he stopped, she 
bit her lip to keep from begging him to continue. 
“Thanks, that helped.” 
“You are welcome. We will eat now.” 
She sipped the cold gana he gave her and nibbled on a 
piece of dried fruit, the scent and flavor of which reminded her 
of pineapples. The sun beat down on her head and shoulders, 
warming her despite the brisk air. Or was the heat of Ash’s 
touch still tingling in her? 
A musical chirping sound caught her attention. She turned 
to locate the source and found herself eye to eye with a small 
creature. About the size of a house cat, rich brown fur speckled 

with white covered the animal’s trim little body, ending with a 
long fluffy tail. The animal cocked its fox-like head, and its 
large, tufted ears swivelled forward. 
“Aren’t you cute,” Cathy told it. 
Twitching its dark, moist nose, the creature yawned, 
revealing a delicate pink tongue and white pointed teeth. Then 
it sat down and regarded her with curious eyes. 
“Are you hungry?” Cathy held out a piece of fruit. 
The creature stretched its neck toward her and sniffed. 
“Shecal are meat eaters.” Ash knelt next to her. 
Startled, the animal jumped to its feet. It gave a soft hiss 
and started to back away. 
“Oh,” cried Cathy under her breath. “You’ve scared it.” 
Ash laughed softly. “Unlikely. Shecal are bold little things. 
Their curiosity far outweighs their common sense. Though non-
aggressive except when hunting or protecting their young, they 
don’t seem to realize how small they are.” 
Shecal. That’s what Ash had called her. Smiling, she spoke 
softly, trying to coax the animal closer. 
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a bit of dried meat 
and gave it to her. “Here, offer him this.” 
Warm and rough, the brush of Ash’s fingers across her 
palm almost made Cathy forget the shecal. Heat coiled in her 
belly, making her long for something that could never be hers. 
Only the animal’s excited chatter when it caught the scent of 
meat pulled her thoughts back. 
“Will he bite?” 
“As long as you don’t threaten him or his mate, he won’t.” 
“His mate?” Cathy leaned forward and offered the Shecal 
the meat. 
“She’s over behind that bush. Watch.” 
The shecal eyed the meat in Cathy’s hand, then turned and 
hissed at Ash. Seemingly satisfied that he had put the interloper 
in his place, the shecal moved forward and took the offering 
from Cathy. Sitting back on his haunches, he held the meat in 
his front paws, rather like a squirrel or raccoon, and inspected 
it. Then he gave a three-note trill, and the female emerged from 
behind the bush. Ignoring Cathy and Ash, the two shecal sat 

together and shared the small bit of food. 
Ash’s hand on her shoulder drew Cathy’s attention. She 
fought the urge to brush her cheek against his hand. 
“Shecal mate for life. The males are very involved in the 
raising of their young and will protect both their mate and kits 
to the death. Children often try to make pets of them, but shecal 
are too curious to be confined and too destructive to let run 
loose.” 
The wistful note in Ash’s voice made Cathy ask, “Did you 
try?” 
“Of course.” His laugh sounded strained. “When I was but 
ten annum old, I found a shecal den and stole a kit. I took him 
home and raised him. My father warned me it was a bad idea. 
That a castle was no place for a wild creature. Naturally, I 
didn’t listen. I was enamored of my little shekit.” 
“What happened?” 
“At first, all went well. Sarid stayed in my room, content 
to explore its nooks and crannies. But as he grew to adulthood, 
he kept slipping out and causing a commotion. He thought it 
great fun to tease the castle hounds and raid the kitchens. Neither 
the hounds nor the cooks appreciated Sarid’s sense of humor. 
And everywhere he went he left behind scenes of destruction curtains 
and furniture shredded, food bins dumped, and trinkets 
and clothing taken and hidden.” 
Cathy grinned at the picture Ash painted of a castle turned 
upside down by one small creature. 
“Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to keep Sarid confined to 
my room. He found ways to escape. Finally, my father had a 
cage built for him. Sarid hated it. He cried continuously and 
chewed his mouth raw on the wooden bars. One day when I 
took him out to play, he snapped at me and drew blood. I don’t 
think he meant to, but when my mother saw the wound, she 
insisted he be removed to the stables. That night his cage was 
found open. I never saw him again. I like to think he made his 
way to the mountains and freedom, but I wonder if after being 
raised by humans he knew enough to survive. My selfishness 
probably killed him.” 
Ash stared into the distance, his food forgotten. At that 

moment he looked as lost and alone as she felt. A fragile bond 
stretched between them. 
Part of her longed to offer him comfort. To ease his look of 
sadness, as he’d eased the pain in her leg. To take away the 
burden he carried. “No. You loved him, and he loved you. You 
didn’t know he couldn’t fit into your world. You made a child’s 
mistake.” 
“Perhaps.” Ash turned to look at her. “What excuse do I 
use now?” 
A sudden resentment that he seemed to want her to ease 
his guilt made her break the fragile peace. “What exactly am I 
supposed to do once we reach the castle? I’m not sure I believe 
your wife’s soul is in me, but if—and that’s a big if—it is, how 
do you propose to retrieve it? And what happens to me then?” 
Like rocks into a quiet pond, she threw the questions at him 
and waited for the splash. At the first harsh word, the shecals 
vanished. 
Ash jerked at the impact of her words, but he didn’t react 
otherwise. “I am unsure.” 
“You mean you dragged me here without any plan? What 
about getting me back? Do you have any idea how to do that?” 
It felt good to finally voice the questions, to reveal her anger 
and fear. 
He dropped his gaze, refusing to meet her eyes. “When the 
time is right, the moon crystal will return you to your home.” 
Standing, he held out his hand. “Come, we will continue.” 
Once again his tone was firm, his features set in a hard mask. 
Ignoring his outstretched hand, Cathy struggled to her feet. 
“I think the time is right now. Send me home.” 
“Even if I wished to send you back, I cannot. The power of 
lightning is needed for the moon crystal to work.” 
“I see. I count for little in all of this. Your kindness and 
consideration were all for show. Only Princess Katrina’s soul 
means anything to you.” 
Ignoring his stricken look, she gripped her cane and limped 
determinedly down the trail, leaving him to follow or not. First 
chance she got she would grab the crystal and run. 
*** 

In the sun-warmed valley, they shed their heavy coats and 
followed the road toward town. Hard packed by many feet, the 
snow-covered surface felt smooth and solid. 
At the edge of the town square, Cathy twisted her head 
from one side to the other as she tried to take in everything at 
once. Anger and hurt faded. A place out of her dreams, the 
town spread out before her. 
Like crystal prisms reflecting the late afternoon sun in a 
array of color, icicles hung from the eaves of snow-frosted, 
quaint, old-world style buildings. Piles of melting snow lined 
cobblestone streets filled with people. Tall, narrow houses 
squeezed between busy shops whose windows displayed all 
manner of merchandise. 
Peddlers stood outside, loudly hawking their wares, 
creating a cacophony of noise. 
On one corner a man called out in a singsong voice, “Hot 
Gana, five mim a mug.” 
On another, a woman sold fruit from a cart. 
In front of one shop strange, colorful birds squawked inside 
wooden crates. Goatlike animals bleated plaintively, pulling 
at their short tethers. 
Organized chaos seemed the order of the day. 
From one open shop door the yeasty scent of bread, mingled 
with the sweet fragrance of the gana, drifted through the air to 
tease Cathy’s nose. Her stomach rumbled. 
Women dressed in long, flowing cloaks, and carrying 
baskets filled with paper-wrapped bundles, haggled with 
merchants, their voices adding to the din. Children darted 
through the crowd, scooping up the rapidly melting snow to 
throw at one another, laughing and snatching at the food 
displayed so temptingly. 
Cathy edged closer to Ash. She wanted to cling to his arm. 
“Where are we?” 
“The village of Cleva in Dramon, a small country on 
Mardelan’s northern border.” 
“Why are there so many people?” 
“Cleva is a resort town. Many people come here to enjoy 
the snow sports in the Azul Mountains. Also it appears to be 

market day. This is good. Two additional strangers will not be 
noticed. Let us find lodging for the night.” Ash started forward 
into the square. 
A sense of déjà vu held Cathy immobile. She stared at the 
scene. “I know this place.” 
In her mind she saw the village. Only it looked larger, the 
people dressed differently. Lightweight, multicolored silks 
replaced heavy woolen garments. Masses of flowers spilled 
from boxes lining the buildings’ windows, filling the warm air 
with the heady scent of summer. A soft hand clasped her smaller 
one, keeping her from being pulled away by the crush of people 
who crammed the square. 
She blinked. The scene wavered and shifted. 
Nausea swept over her, leaving her cold and shaking. She 
pointed to the far side of the square. “Just around that corner is 
an inn.” She sagged against the arm Ash wrapped around her 
shoulders, grateful for his support. 
“Then that is where we shall go.” 
“How do I know what’s around the corner? Nothing makes 
sense anymore. Is this real, or am I hallucinating?” 
“It is real. Perhaps your presence here has stirred some of 
Katrina’s memories. Be strong just a bit longer, Little Shecal.” 
Though she knew his concern was false, Cathy felt 
comforted. 
He steered her through the throng of people, protecting 
her from being buffeted. Thoroughly shaken, she now clung to 
him. 
How could she know this place? Why did it so closely 
resemble her drawings of Remal? Just who was she? Cathy 
Lawrence, or some otherworld stranger? Did the part of her 
which Ash claimed was the princess’s ka remember this place? 
Lost in her thoughts, she paid little attention to her 
surroundings. Looking at the strange/familiar place made her 
stomach churn and her head pound. She felt disconnected. 
Tossed in a stormy sea of confusion, only her grip on Ash kept 
her afloat. 
“Rauk, rauk.” 
The harsh noise startled her. She twisted around. Open

mouthed she stared at the beast bearing down on her. 
Long, ropey strands of hair the color of dried mud, covered 
the huge animal. Like a sprinkling of powdered sugar, snow 
dusted its shaggy coat. Nostrils flared, it lowered its massive 
head. Dark chocolate eyes, fringed with absurdly long lashes, 
gleamed with intelligence as they saw her. 
“Make way. Make way.” Perched atop the animal, like a 
monkey on an elephant, a man waved his arm at them. 
Cathy stumbled and dropped her cane as Ash pulled her to 
the side. Smelling of wet fur, sweat and hay, the animal and its 
rider moved past at a lumbering gait. The crowd flowed apart 
and swallowed them, until only the beast’s head and the man 
remained visible, seeming to bob on an ocean of humanity. No 
one else appeared to consider the beast odd. 
“What in hell was that?” Cathy asked. The sight of the 
beast made her forget her queasiness. 
“A quinar. They are much like your Earth horses.” 
“That creature doesn’t look like any horse I’ve ever seen, 
more like a cross between an elephant and a buffalo, with a 
dash of Bigfoot thrown in.” 
Ash laughed. “They are useful creatures. Unlike horses, 
quinar are hardy, little given to illness or injury. They will eat 
anything and are able to go for days without food or water. 
They can carry or pull many times their weight and move with 
great speed and agility despite their bulk. Much of the transport 
of goods throughout Mardelan is handled by quinar. We use 
them less in Arete because they are often too large for the narrow 
mountain trails, though my herdsmen are attempting to breed 
a reliable mountain quinar.” 
“They may be practical, but they’re damned ugly.” 
Ash laughed. “I agree, but do not let a quinar master hear 
you say so. They are quite loyal to their charges. Do you ride?” 
“No. Why?” 
“I hope to purchase two quinar for our journey.” Seeing 
her uneasy look he added, “Do not worry. I will secure a gentle 
mount for you.” 
Refraining from comment, she followed as Ash worked 
his way through the people crowding the square. Some of her 

disorientation faded. She looked around in renewed interest. 
Her drawings of Remal and its people had much in common 
with this scene, with subtle differences - the cut of a man’s 
coat, the layout of the shops, even the coloring of the people. 
In Remal, nearly everyone was fair-skinned and tall, with hair 
varying shades of blonde. Here in Cleva, the people tended to 
be dark-complexioned and short. Ash towered over everyone, 
which caused a few curious glances. 
A group gathered in front of a cage off to one side of the 
square, caught her interest. Made of wooden bars lashed 
together with vines, the cage looked primitive but sturdy. 
Gouges, some nearly half an inch deep, scored the dark wood. 
A two-legged, catlike creature paced the cage’s small confines. 
Sleek fur the color of polished mahogany covered the 
creature from head to toe. A thick mane surrounded a face not 
strictly human in appearance, but not altogether animalistic 
either. Eyes slanted, lips thin, his features were flattened, hirsute 
and slightly Oriental in appearance. A scrap of cloth hid the 
creature’s sex, but Cathy didn’t doubt he was male. His 
masculinity showed in every line of his powerful body, in the 
set of his head and shoulders. Like a majestic African lion, he 
moved with a loose-limbed grace, sure of his strength. 
Every few minutes he threw his weight against the bars. 
The cage groaned, but the bars and lashing held. He roared in 
frustration, claws slashing. Each time, the crowd gasped and 
jumped back, only to push close again when he returned to his 
pacing. 
Fascinated by the power rippling under the creature’s fur-
covered hide, Cathy abandoned Ash’s side. She pushed through 
the crowd toward the cage. Catching sight of her, he paused. 
One hand closed around a bar, his lips curled back in a soundless 
snarl revealing the length of his pointed canines. A low, warning 
rumble vibrated from his chest. Unable to stop, Cathy stepped 
closer. Something about this caged creature drew her. In him 
she sensed a kindred spirit, a trapped soul. Another foot, and 
she could reach out and touch him. 
A hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. “Here, now! 
Don’t be getting too close to the beast. He’s already killed one 

man, and he was armed. You’d be naught but a bug for him to 
swat.” 
Cathy looked back at the man holding her. “What is he?” 
“You’ve never heard of the Shakar?” The man shook his 
head in disbelief. “Mothers around here scare their youngsters 
into behaving by threatening to leave them out for the Shakar 
to get. Never held with such tales myself. The Shakar are 
dangerous, to be sure, but I doubt they often venture close 
enough to town to be a threat. This one, however, is different.” 
He let go of Cathy’s shoulder and pointed at the creature 
in the cage. “I’ve heard he’s half-human - his mother Shakar, 
his father human. Don’t know if it’s true. There’s little about 
him that looks human. What I do know is, years ago, a man 
used to travel around the country displaying three Shakar, a 
female and two young ones. The story goes when the three 
tried to escape, the female was killed and the young ones 
vanished. That was, let me see, about ten, fifteen annum past. 
A week ago the man was found dead, his throat torn out. The 
next day this Shakar was captured in the same area.” 
The creature stopped his pacing. He stood, head tilted, as 
if listening. Now that he was still, the crowd lost interest and 
started to fade away. 
“What will happen to him?” 
“Tomorrow at sunrise he’ll be destroyed. Skinned alive.” 
Nausea slammed into Cathy. “That’s barbaric.” She cast a 
look of pity at the animal. 
“Well, can’t say that I agree with the how, but the creature 
needs to be gotten rid of. Can’t have dangerous beasts roaming 
around. It’s not good for business.” 
Cathy found her gaze drawn to the creature’s eyes. His 
dark stare held her mesmerized. “It doesn’t seem fair. He’s 
such a beautiful animal. So wild. He should be free. Can’t they 
just release him far away from town where he can’t hurt 
anyone?” 
“No. He killed a man. Besides there’s some who think the 
Shakar are more than just animals, that they’re intelligent. But 
that only makes them more dangerous. People will rest easier 
when he’s dead.” The man looked at her, a hint of suspicion in 

his frown. “You’re not from about here, are you?” 
“No, I-um, we’re from...” 
“No matter.” He shrugged off her explanation. “All are 
welcome for the Harvest Festival. You just be staying back 
from that there Shakar. Intelligent or not, they’re a vicious breed. 
Not for one like you to be taking on. Enjoy the Festival.” The 
man turned away. Cathy watched him disappear into the crowd. 
“The sheerak is right. I am not an animal.” 
Like rough velvet, the creature’s words stroked her ears. 
She whirled around. “What? Who?” Had she truly heard 
him speak? 
The creature again paced the narrow confines of his cage, 
but he no longer threw himself against the bars. 
“Cathy. Where did you go? I thought you lost in the crowd.” 
Concern laced Ash’s words. 
Hands on her hips she turned to face him. “Don’t worry. 
I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself. I’ve been doing 
it for years. Just because you’ve dragged me down your rabbit 
hole, doesn’t mean I have to follow you around like a puppy 
on a leash.” Her voice rose with each word. 
Anger bubbled to the surface. Like the Shakar she threw 
herself against the bars of her cage. “Ever since you showed 
up in my studio, you’ve turned my life upside down. And fool 
that I am, I’ve let you. I’ve listened to your tales. Let you take 
control of my life. And why? Because you’re gorgeous? Every 
woman’s fantasy? You might just be, but you’re also stubborn, 
closed-mouthed, irritating and impossible. 
“Well, no more. It’s time for me to put my foot down. Let’s 
end this charade. I want to go home. Now!” 
“You are creating a scene.” Ash seized her arm. 
She jerked away and took a step back. “Good.” 
“Cathy, do not provoke me.” Ash advanced on her, forcing 
her to back away. 
Suddenly he halted. “Do not move.” 
“I’ll move if I like,” she said, then froze at the look of 
alarm in Ash’s eyes. 
Behind him people stopped and gasped. A murmur of horror 
ran through the crowd. 

“Step slowly toward me,” Ash told her. 
Warm breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. 
She turned her head. Terror held her rigid. Inches apart, her 
gaze met and locked with the Shakar’s. Flecks of gold glinted 
in his chestnut-colored eyes. His musky scent filled her nostrils. 
He raised his arm between the bars. Smooth and satiny, 
his knuckles brushed across her cheek, then moved down her 
throat. She shivered. He encircled her neck with his hand, the 
sharp tips of his claws just grazing her skin. She didn’t blink. 
Didn’t breathe. He drew her back against the bars, until their 
bodies nearly touched. She stared up at him. 
Somewhere in the distance she heard Ash speaking to her, 
softly giving her directions. She knew people shouted. The 
words meant nothing. The Shakar’s heat melted away the sound. 
“You’d be wise to listen to them, woman,” the Shakar 
whispered. “Those who wander too close to the flame often 
get burned.” His fingers tightened on her throat. “How easily I 
could kill you. They know they can’t act fast enough to stop 
me. So they wait. If I tear out your throat, the crowd will kill 
me now, quickly, unlike the lingering death they plan for me 
tomorrow. Shall I do it? Take your life to spare myself pain?” 
“I...” her voice rasped in her throat. “I don’t want to die.” 
“No, I thought not. Neither do I, but I will. Only the when 
and how remain to be seen.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. 
His grip eased. “I find I’m not willing to trade your life for an 
easy death. Return to your man. He appears most anxious for 
your well being.” He dropped his hand and nudged her forward. 
Caught off guard, Cathy stumbled, falling into Ash’s arms. 
He caught and lifted her. 
With a bellow of anger the crowd surged around them. 
They pelted the caged Shakar with loose stones and hard-packed 
snow. In the confusion she lost sight of him. 
“No!” Cathy screamed. “Ash, stop them! He didn’t hurt 
me. Don’t let them hurt him.” 
He carried her away from the erupting riot to the safe side 
of a building. “I cannot, but the magistrates will. Look.” 
Sharp whistles rang out. Several uniformed men pushed 
into the crowd. In minutes the commotion was subdued, the 

people dispersed. 
Cathy looked fearfully over at the cage. Except for a gash 
across one arm, the Shakar seemed unharmed. His gaze met 
hers, and one corner of his mouth lifted. 
“We need to leave before the magistrates turn their attention 
to the cause of this disturbance.” Ash set her on her feet, took 
her hand and led her away before she could protest. 
Around the corner the crowd thinned. Only a few people 
moved along the walkways of this less commercial boulevard. 
Just as she said, an inn faced the road, taking up most of 
the block. In ornate script, a sign above the door proclaimed it 
The Azul Mountain Inn. 
She balked at the door. “We have to help him.” 
“Help who?” Ash asked. 
“The Shakar. We can’t let them kill him.” 
“The animal nearly killed you. Why are you so concerned 
for his welfare?” 
“He’s not an animal. He spoke to me. He could have killed 
me, but he didn’t. He doesn’t deserve to die. He didn’t even 
have a trial.” 
“Animals are not tried.” 
Several passersby looked at them curiously. 
Ash took her arm. “We will speak of this later. Do you 
come now, or do I carry you?” Sparks flashed from Ash’s eyes, 
turning them stormy blue. 
This was a side of Ash she hadn’t seen. Cold and 
demanding, he frightened her with his intensity. Maybe, she 
decided, the street wasn’t the best place to have this discussion. 
But she would make him listen. With a nod, she followed him 
into the inn. 
The proprietor, a short, balding man with rosy cheeks and 
a friendly smile, greeted them from behind a desk inside the 
inn’s spacious foyer. “Welcome. How may I help you?” 
Ash stepped forward. “Two rooms for the night.” 
“I’m sorry, so many have come because of the Harvest 
Festival, I have but one available room. But,” the proprietor 
added quickly, “the bed is large and it includes a bath. You 
would be wise to take it. The village is near to busting.” 

“Ash, I don’t think...” 
Ash cut her short. “Do not think.” He turned to the 
proprietor. “The boy and I will take the room. Is it possible to 
have last meal sent up?” 
“Of course. Do you have a preference? No, then I will 
have an assortment delivered.” 
Boy? Cathy stopped halfway up the stairs. “I’m not a ....” 
Ash pushed her forward. “Do not argue. We will speak in 
the room..” 
She held her tongue until the door to the room shut behind 
them. 
Without preamble, she attacked. “We have to do something 
about the Shakar.” 
“Why do you care? The creature is not our concern.” Ash 
dismissed her plea. “It’s naught but an animal. One who killed 
a man. Walking on two legs does not make it human.” 
“From what I heard, the townspeople have no proof he 
killed anyone. And he’s not an animal. He’s a rational, 
intelligent being. He spoke to me. We can’t just stand by and 
let him be murdered by the crowd because he’s different.” 
“There is nothing we can do. It would be dangerous to 
interfere and draw attention to ourselves. We are strangers in 
this country, without papers or coin. Crystal dust will be 
accepted, but if we come under scrutiny it might be questioned. 
Relations between Dramon and Mardelan are strained. If we 
come to the notice of the authorities they could delay us, perhaps 
even imprison us. No, we cannot risk it.” 
Cathy stalked over to the door. “Well, I won’t sit idly by 
while he dies. If you won’t do anything, I will.” She reached 
out to yank open the door. 
Strong arms lifted and deposited her on the bed. Shock 
held her motionless, then she sputtered in outrage. 
“You…you…Neanderthal! How dare you?” She scrambled 
toward the edge, intent on escape. 
Ash leaned over, pinning her to the bed. She barely 
recognized the merciless stranger whose face hovered inches 
above hers. “I dare much for my people. I will not jeopardize 
the future of Mardelan and Arete for the sake of an animal. 

Nor will I allow you to do so.” 
When she ceased struggling, Ash released her and stood. 
“I am going out to arrange for transport. Last meal will be 
delivered soon. Do not wait on me to eat.” He turned to leave. 
Cathy pulled herself up, clutching a pillow to her chest. 
Where was the gentle, caring Ash she’d come to know on Earth? 
She had to try once more to reach past this cruel stranger. “Ash, 
please reconsider.” 
At the door, his back to her, Ash said, “The creature’s fate 
is out of our hands. I forbid you to speak further of it. While I 
am gone do not leave the chamber.” The door clicked shut 
behind him. 
Cathy stared at the door. “Forbid? You forbid me? Just 
who the hell do you think you are?” She threw the pillow. It hit 
with a dull thwack and slid soundlessly to the floor. She sagged. 
Prince Ash de Gar, heir to the throne of Arete, and my 
captor. That’s who he is. A man very much in control of this 
situation and of her. He knew it, and so did she. Though her 
cage might be larger—a whole world—she was as trapped as 
the Shakar. Without Ash’s help what could she, a crippled 
stranger, do for the Shakar? 
A tap at the door interrupted her gloomy thoughts. Opening 
the door, she accepted the tray from the young chambermaid. 
Mouth-watering aromas distracted her. Her stomach rumbled. 
She’d decide what to do after she ate. 
Outside, dark had fallen, and Ash hadn’t returned. Long 
before she had lifted the cover from the lamp. A warm yellow 
glow lit the room. Sounds of revelry drifted in through the 
windows. Apparently, the early snowfall did little to dampen 
the people’s spirits. Their Harvest Festival was in full swing. 
Pushing aside the now cold food, she limped to the window 
and looked out. A few people hurried along the boulevard. Light 
spilled into the darkness from the village square. The sound of 
music, bright and lively, set Cathy’s foot to tapping. 
Rested, her stomach full, she wondered how the Shakar 
fared. Had he been hurt? Did they give him food and water? 
She wanted to help him. Her foot stilled. 
Why couldn’t she? Because Ash said not to? That she 

should stay in the room? What was she, a dog to be told to 
come, sit and stay? She wasn’t his pet or his slave to blindly 
follow his orders. She was a human being, with a mind of her 
own and rights. If she wanted to free the Shakar there was 
nothing to stop her but her own fears. Before her courage failed 
her, she grabbed the knife from her dinner tray and headed out 
the door. 

Ten
Outside the inn, Ash moved quickly toward the riverfront. 
Once past the square, the night closed around him. 
Cathy’s words, “Who the hell do you think you are?” 
lingered in his mind. 
Her disillusionment stabbed at him. No longer did she gaze 
at him with awe, her heart reflected in her eyes. Now those 
warm brown orbs shot anger and resentment. Torn from her 
home, she looked to him for comfort and protection and instead 
found pain and rejection. With a callous hand he had turned 
away the gift she offered and earned her hatred. 
It was better so, he told himself. Then why did guilt and 
regret eat at him? 
Who was he? By what divine right did he interfere with 
the path Katrina’s ka had chosen? Could he consider the fate 
of one woman over that of two nations? How could he not? 
The sound of footsteps behind him forced Ash to focus his 
thoughts on his location. Distraction on the docks could get 
him killed. 
Ahead, a sliver of light and the muted sound of voices 
escaped from an unpainted wooden structure huddled in the 
river’s shadow. Pulling his dark cloak over his hair, Ash entered. 
His height and fair-coloring marked him a stranger and, if he 
wasn’t careful, fair game for foul play. 
Behind the rough-hewn bar the barkeep, a short, bald, 
muscle-bound tough, gave Ash a quick once over. “What’s you 
want?” 
“I am looking to secure transportation.” 
A calculating look entered the barkeep’s eyes. “What type 
and where ya want ta go?” 

“Quinar would be my preference. I wish to travel into 
Mardelan. Can you provide them?” 
The barkeep glanced around furtively, leaned toward Ash 
and spoke under his breath. “No quinar. None to be had. 
Border’s in dispute. Ya can’t cross the river bridge without 
papers. Ya got ‘em?” 
Though Dramon and Mardelan were not at war, relations 
between the two were strained. If Kersin came into power, the 
situation would change and not for the better. 
“I’ll need papers as well as transport.” From beneath the 
cover of his cloak Ash let the sparkle of crystal dust show. The 
man’s eyes reflected the glitter. 
“Maybe, if’n the price is right, I kin get ya some papers,” 
he said, eyeing Ash speculatively. “But no quinar. Asking’s 
sure ta draw attention. How ‘bout the river route? It’s quicker.” 
And riskier. Briefly Ash considered his options. People 
crossing the borders were being closely monitored. Without 
proper papers, they could not afford to be noticed. 
He had no desire to travel by water. He’d sooner have the 
sturdy back of a quinar locked between his knees than trust his 
life to a flimsy wooden craft cast adrift on a treacherous river. 
Then he remembered Cathy’s face when he’d ask if she could 
ride. How well would she do on a quinar? She’d traveled the 
mountain trail without complaint, but suffered dearly for it. 
Only the determined look in her eye and the stubborn angle of 
her chin had prevented him from swooping her into his arms 
and carrying her down. 
“We will travel by river.” 
The barkeep grunted his approval. “Easier ta slip past the 
border guard on the river than on the bridge.” He scribbled 
something on a piece of paper and slipped it to Ash. “Go here 
and see this man. He’ll get ya a boat.” 
Ash slid a small bag of crystal dust across the counter. 
The barkeep hefted the bag. A smile creased the battered 
leather of his face. “Good fortune, Mardelan.” 
“Good fortune,” Ash responded, not bothering to correct 
the man’s mistake. With his height and blond coloring, 
Dramians might easily think him from Mardelan. Given the 

unease between Dramon and Mardelan, the quicker Cathy and 
he left Dramon the better off they’d be. 
He headed out of the inn to see a man about a boat. 
*** 
By the time Cathy reached the square, the shops were 
closed, lights out, doors barred, and the street merchants gone. 
Only a handful of diehard celebrators remained. Singing, arms 
linked, they staggered toward home. 
Hugging the side of the buildings, she made her way toward 
the Shakar’s cage. Alone in the shadows she waited until the 
last of the people had deserted the square. 
Silence settled like a blanket around her. She shivered in 
the crisp night air, her breath creating small white puffs. Low 
on the horizon, the full moon rose. When it rode high in the 
sky, Cathy knew it would cast nearly as much light as the sun. 
To accomplish her goal she had to move quickly. The Shakar 
needed time to escape. If the alarm sounded, a full moon would 
help his pursuers track him. 
She glared at the offending moon. 
What? She blinked. Next to the moon was another round 
shape. Though it shimmered transparent blue, there was no 
denying it. This world had two moons. 
She groaned. Why did each bit of evidence proving she’d 
traveled to another world leave her shaken? She thought she’d 
come to accept the truth of her transfer to Tareth. 
It didn’t matter. She was here to free the Shakar. Pushing 
her situation from her mind, she gripped the knife and crept 
toward the cage. 
Was there a guard? A few yards away a man slumped 
against the side of a building. His hand lax around the neck of 
a jug, he snored. With any luck, he was drunk and wouldn’t 
hear her. 
In the dark she couldn’t see the Shakar. Was he still there? 
Had they already moved him? Her stomach rolled. If he was 
gone, how would she find him? 
A soft rasping sound drew her attention. As her eyes grew 
accustomed to the muted light, she could just make out a shape 
crouched in one corner of the cage. She moved around to that 

side. The noise ceased. The shape became motionless. 
“Why do you come back, woman?” 
The Shakar’s husky whisper nearly caused her to scream. 
He rose. She fought her instinct to flee. Taking a deep breath, 
she stepped closer to the cage. “I’m going to get you out.” Was 
she crazy? What if he turned on her? Though sharp, her small 
knife would be little defense against his obvious strength. 
He shifted, his dark gaze settling on her. “Why? How do 
you know I don’t deserve to die? That I didn’t kill that man?” 
“Because I know what it’s like to be trapped. Helpless. 
And because no one deserves the kind of death they plan for 
you,” Cathy whispered. “If you killed him, you must have had 
a good reason.” Angry tears blinded her. She began to hack at 
the lashings. The knife slid uselessly against the bars. 
Warm, furry fingers closed around hers. “Let me.” 
She relinquished the knife without protest and sat back as 
the Shakar used it to slice away the lashings he’d already 
chewed part way through. 
Though it seemed like hours to her, in actuality only minutes 
passed before he pushed the bars apart. They creaked loudly in 
the quiet night. Cathy froze, glancing anxiously around the 
square. The guard snorted then settled back to sleep. Nothing 
moved. No alarms sounded. When she looked back, the cage 
stood empty. 
She couldn’t move. If he meant to harm her, now would be 
his opportunity. 
“You have a brave heart.” 
Cathy gasped and spun around to face the Shakar. “Don’t 
sneak up on me like that.” 
“What is your name, woman?” 
“Cathy.” 
The Shakar stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “I thank 
you, K’Tee. I’m in your debt. You spoke of being trapped. Is it 
the man who holds you captive? If you wish, I will kill him for 
you.” 
His soft, sibilant whisper held her spellbound, as did his 
touch. 
“No...no, you don’t understand.” 

“Come with me then. I have need of a courageous mate.” 
Mate? Memories of her body mating with Ash’s filled her 
mind. Heat flooded her body. She shook her head. “I can’t.” 
He hissed softly. “It would be beneath you to join with a 
Shakar?” Hostility crackled in the air around her. 
“It’s not like that. I just...it’s because...there’s someone....” 
She stumbled over her tongue trying to explain without actually 
saying her heart already belonged to Ash. 
“Ah.” That simple syllable held a wealth of understanding. 
“The man, he is your mate?” 
“Yes...no!” Confusion made her stutter. Why didn’t he 
leave? “Go now, before the moon comes up. Hurry!” 
His hand dropped. “Very well, but remember K’Tal owes 
his life to you. And a Shakar always pays his debts.” 
Like a dark ghost, he melted into the night. 
“Good luck, K’Tal,” Cathy whispered. He was free and 
with him a bit of herself. Peace settled over her. She stood for 
a minute in the dark, then headed back toward the inn and...Ash. 
*** 
Ash looked into the empty room. On the table sat the 
remains of Cathy’s last meal, but of Cathy there was no sign. 
Somehow he knew the little fool had gone to free the Shakar. 
Why did she disregard his orders? Had she no sense? If the 
Shakar didn’t tear her apart, she was still prey to the dangers 
any lone woman faced on the streets after dark. 
The thought made his pulse accelerate and his skin grow 
clammy. He hastened out of the room. Irregular footsteps 
sounded on the stairs. 
He faded into the shadows as Cathy’s slim form came into 
the light. Appearing unharmed, she looked around nervously, 
then darted to the room and slipped inside. 
Limp with relief, he sagged against the wall, releasing the 
breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 
How could she risk herself? Did she have any idea of how 
important she was? The memory of her slender throat encircled 
by the Shakar’s paw made his insides clench in horror. 
Rage at her disobedience and carelessness brewed inside 
him. He straightened, fists curling. If she died... 

To release Katrina’s ka Cathy might have to die. The 
thought made Ash start to shake.. Why had he ignored the 
possibility? Because I did not want to consider it. Perhaps 
she must die? No! His heart rejected the idea, while his mind 
knew it to be so. 
He held himself back from entering the room. He could 
not afford to reveal to her - or to himself - the depth of his fear, 
not for the possible loss of Katrina’s ka, but for the loss of 
Cathy herself. 
Outside the room, he listened as she moved around. He 
heard the splash of water and the uneven slap of her bare feet 
against the floor. Clothing rustled as she disrobed. The creak 
of the bed made him groan. 
He could picture her there, skin awash in moonlight, hair 
tousled, a welcoming smile on her lips and in her eyes. How 
easy it would be to slip into bed beside her, take her in his 
arms and kiss away her anger and objections. In her arms he 
had found both release and contentment, adventure and safe 
harbor. The urge to recapture those feelings nearly overwhelmed 
him. 
Braced against the wall, he bit down on his lip to banish 
the image. Blood, warm and salty, pooled in his mouth. He 
could let neither this woman nor his feelings for her distract 
him from his goal. He could not allow her to mean more to him 
than a means to an end. To do so was to endanger the future of 
his people. He refused to consider the risk to his heart. 
Long after it grew quiet inside the room, Ash remained 
standing outside, fighting a silent battle. 
*** 
“Rise. Come break the fast.” 
Ash’s voice cut through the haze surrounding Cathy. She 
blinked against the glare of the sun streaming in the window. 
The smell of bread and gana stirred her appetite, chasing away 
the lingering cobwebs of sleep. 
“Come, the food grows cold.” 
Almost as cold as Ash’s tone, Cathy thought. She peeked 
at him. 
Like a king in his court, Ash sat at the room’s small table, 

his features expressionless. If she’d thought him distant before, 
now a chasm bigger than the one between Earth and Tareth 
stretched between them. She had no idea how to cross that 
chasm. Did she even want to? 
Yes! The answer disturbed her. When and how had this 
man become so important to her? 
She rose and walked over to the table. He didn’t look up. 
“Ash,” she began. “We have to talk.” 
“Eat now. The day passes. We have much to do.” 
She stood in front of him, forcing him to look up at her. 
“Don’t try to put me off. I want—I need—to know exactly 
what’s going to happen to me.” 
“I have told you what I know.” 
“That’s not good enough. Since we got to Cleva, I keep 
getting flashes of deja vú. Like I know this place. Have I...I 
mean has Princess Katrina been here?” 
“Most likely. Years ago Dramon and Mardelan were on 
much better terms. Many Mardelans, royal as well as common, 
would come to Cleva on holiday.” 
Cathy’s bones seemed to melt, and she let herself sink into 
a chair. “Is it really possible I do have another person inside of 
me? Am I me at all? Is my art hers or mine? Who am I?” She 
looked over at him. “When the princess’s soul leaves me, what 
will be left?” 
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I do not know.” 
He doesn’t know? Or doesn’t care? 
Finally, Cathy said, “It seems I’ve no choice but to go along 
with you.” With each word her tone grew harsher. “But when 
this soul transfer business is all over and done, whatever the 
outcome, I expect a first class ticket back home.” 
Ash gave a stiff nod of agreement. “I will do my best to 
see you on your way.” 
“Just see that your best gets the job done.” 
Dazed by the knowledge that she held within her another 
person’s soul, Cathy barely tasted the food. What was going to 
happen to her? 
Ash stood. “Are you finished? We have much to do this 
day to prepare for our journey.” 

“What?” Startled, Cathy dropped her fork and looked up 
at him. 
“I have secured transport, but we must purchase supplies. 
Do you wish to accompany me or remain here?” 
He sounded so disinterested in her decision, she almost 
refused his invitation. Curiosity won out over pique. Her quick 
glimpse of the town yesterday had whetted her appetite for 
more. She wanted to explore the quaint village, see if the reality 
matched the hazy memories rising in her mind. 
She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll come. I need a cane and 
shoes that fit. The spinmaster’s boots rubbed blisters on my 
feet.” 
Concern flickered across his face. “Why did you not 
mention this?” 
Warmth pooled in her belly, replaced by a quick chill when 
he added, “An injury would delay us.” 
Giving what she hoped was a casual shrug, she said, “What 
good would it have done? Now that we’re in town, we can fix 
the problem. We couldn’t before.” 
*** 
Questions hammered at Ash. When Katrina’s ka slipped 
from Cathy’s body, what would remain of the Cathy he’d come 
to know? Would she become, in turn, Raaka? If not, could the 
moon crystal return her to her own world? At that moment Ash 
would give his kingdom for the answers. 
Seemingly resigned to his inability to answer her questions, 
Cathy followed him out of the inn and into the street. 
Only a few graying piles of snow along the curb and 
shimmering puddles in the street remained of the storm. Shining 
down from a cloudless sky, the sun warmed the crisp morning 
air. People moved around without the previous day’s heavy 
attire. Ahead he could hear the hum of the crowd in the square. 
Pushing aside his concerns, he set off at a brisk pace. There 
was much to be done before they began their journey. 
Just before he reached the corner, Cathy grabbed his arm. 
“Slow down.” 
Startled, Ash stopped and glanced down at her. 
“Where’s the fire?” she panted. “Remember me, the gimp?” 

“Fire? Gimp?” 
“I can’t keep up with you. So unless your plan is to lose 
me, I suggest you slow down a bit. Okay?” 
She breathed heavily, exertion flushing her features. The 
warmth of her fingers still resting on his arm sent a wave of 
longing through him. Part of him wanted to tear her hand from 
his body, to deny the desire he felt for her. Another part wanted 
to reach out and pull her close. He did neither. He nodded and 
proceeded at a more sedate pace, allowing her to retain her 
grip. 
Excited conversation buzzed around them. He caught a 
snatch. 
“The Shakar has escaped.” 
His heart jumped. She truly did it. He jerked his thoughts 
into line. 
As they passed the now empty cage at the edge of the 
square, Ash put his mouth close to her ear. “Foolish female. 
That creature could have torn you apart.” 
Not denying her part in the Shakar’s escape, she dropped 
her hand from his arm and glared back. “But he didn’t. K’Tal’s 
a gentleman. Unlike others I know.” 
He turned and gripped her shoulders. “You’ll not behave 
so foolishly again.” 
She pulled away and put her hands on her hips. “I’ll do 
what I think is right. Get used to it.” 
Several bystanders started to take an interest in their 
exchange. Ash swallowed his next useless edict, grabbed her 
arm and forced her to follow or be dragged away. “We’ll speak 
of this later.” 
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, but went along. 
The morning passed quickly as they moved from shop to 
shop, purchasing supplies. Faced with Cathy’s enthusiasm for 
shopping, her undisguised delight in each new shop and 
discovery, Ash found his anger fading. By the time they had 
finished, the day was nearly spent and their pouches of 
spinmaster’s crystal dust much depleted. 
Cathy, with the aid of a new cane and properly fitted shoes, 
walked at his side. Ash found he missed the touch of her hand 

on his arm. 
As she had for him in her world, he bought clothes for her 
in his. A multicolored woven jacket topped sturdy brown pants 
and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt. Simple country attire, 
the clothing effectively hid her womanly form from curious 
eyes. With her short cap of hair, at first glance others could 
easily mistake her for a boy. A man and boy traveling together 
would cause less comment than a man traveling with a lame 
woman. 
However, Ash had no difficulty recalling the slim lines of 
her body, the roundness of her breasts or the swell of her hips 
below the indentation of her waist. His palms tingled as if he 
again stroked the velvet softness of her skin. 
“I need to make one more stop,” Ash said. 
Though tired from a mostly sleepless night and a full day, 
Cathy followed without protest when he took her arm and led 
her down a side street. The buildings huddled together, casting 
deep shadows unrelieved by colorful signs, open doorways or 
tempting displays of goods. Here stone and wood muted sound, 
and the warmth of the sun didn’t reach the narrow cobblestone 
road. Cool air, heavy with the scent of moisture and other rank, 
unidentifiable odors, swirled around them. Cathy shivered, 
moving closer to Ash’s side. 
“Where are we going?” She eyed the dark, looming 
buildings with a sudden unease. Things went on in this alley things 
she didn’t want to know about. 
“Here.” He halted in front of a recessed doorway. “Be silent 
and follow my lead.” 
Making a fist, he thumped three times on the door, waited 
for a count of three, then thumped twice more. For a time 
nothing happened. Muffled sounds came from inside. With a 
sharp click a small window opened in the door and two bright 
green eyes peered out at them. 
“What do you want?” a lad asked, his tone thick with 
suspicion. 
“I seek to purchase a crystal sword and other weapons,” 
Ash answered. 
“Go away. You come to the wrong place. This is an honest 

crystal forge, producing only household items. We sell no illegal 
weapons here.” The lad started to close the window. 
“Thain sends me.” Ash held up a pouch, allowing the lad 
to see the shimmer of crystal dust within. 
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Exasperation laced the lad’s 
high-pitched tone. The window closed with a snap. Cathy heard 
a hollow clank, and the door opened a crack. Short, frizzled 
red hair surrounded the smooth oval face poking out at them. 
“Well, come in. For what do you wait? The magistrate?” 
Cathy slipped sideways through the door after Ash. She 
jumped when the lad quickly closed it behind them and threw 
home a large bolt. Like a scratchy wool blanket, a warm gloom 
settled around her. Much drier, the air seemed slightly smoky 
and held a strange, almost metallic smell. 
“Come along then. I ain’t got all day,” the lad grumbled 
and moved down the hall. 
They followed him along the dim, drab-walled corridor 
until he turned a sharp corner into a large, high-ceilinged room 
filled with heat and light. 
Sweat glistening on his muscled bare arms, a giant of a 
man stood before the fire blazing in the room’s massive hearth. 
Dressed in tight pants, knee high boots and a sleeveless white 
top covered by a dark leather apron, the man dominated the 
scene. In his gloved hands, he held something deep in the center 
of the inferno. Seemingly impervious to the intense heat, he 
leaned forward and studied the object. 
With a nod, he gently eased the object from the fire and 
laid it on top of a smooth stone anvil. Enthralled by the scene, 
Cathy watched as he lifted a large hammer and with steady 
blows began shaping the still glowing object. 
“What is this place?” she asked Ash. 
“A crystal forge. On Tareth, crystal serves as what you 
call metal on your world.” 
“Hard to imagine crystal strong enough to take the place 
of steel.” 
“That man,” Ash pointed to the giant, “is a crystal smith. 
He tempers the raw crystal in the fire to give it strength, then 
fashions it into useable forms.” 

“Foreigners,” the lad muttered, eyeing her with barely 
veiled hostility. 
Cathy ignored him and looked around the rest of the room. 
Shelves lined the walls, filled with all manner of goods, from 
delicate stemware to bulky farming equipment. Firelight danced 
off the multicolored crystal objects, casting dozens of rainbows. 
“Are you here to buy or for a show?” the lad asked in a 
querulous tone. “We ain’t got all day.” 
“Thom, behave yourself,” the crystal smith warned. Thom 
frowned, but fell silent and moved to a cloth-draped table in 
the far corner of the room. 
Ash turned his attention to the display of arms the lad 
uncovered. 
Cathy watched as Ash selected a sword from the table and 
lifted the three-foot long, blue blade. Firelight turned the blade 
purple. Gripping the hilt in both hands, he took a spread-legged 
stance and swung the blade left, then right. His biceps bunched 
and flexed with each smooth stroke. How many of her sketches 
showed him in just such a pose? With each similarity to the 
world of her art, the line between reality and fantasy blurred. 
She swallowed her fear and concentrated on Ash. 
“The balance is slightly off.” He placed the sword back on 
the table and picked up another with a crimson blade. 
“Excellent choice,” the crystal smith said. 
Cathy jumped at the sound of the man’s rumbling voice 
behind her. 
The crystal smith stepped around Cathy and took the sword 
from Ash’s hand. “This sword was commissioned years ago, 
but no one has ever called for it. A piece of our best work.” He 
turned it to the light. 
Cathy stared in awe at the intricate carvings of battling 
men on the hilt and the length of the blade. “What wonderful 
carvings.” She trailed her fingers over them. 
“Careful, the edge is sharp. Thom here does all the 
decorations. I’m afraid my skills are limited to the forging of 
crystal and making of the blades.” 
She turned to Thom and smiled. “You have a rare talent.” 
A faint blush colored Thom’s fair skin. He ducked his head 

and mumbled a grudging thanks. 
“That it sits collecting dust is a crime,” the crystal smith 
continued. “I would have it in a warrior’s hands.” 
“Red crystal is forbidden to all but royalty,” Ash said. 
“You betray yourself, foreigner. In Dramon, all may own 
whatever they can purchase.” 
“As long as the authorities don’t know,” Thom muttered. 
“Be you Mardelan or Aretian?” the crystal smith asked. 
Ash smiled, but didn’t answer. 
“No matter,” the crystal smith continued. “You would do 
well with this blade.” 
Ash took the blade and swung it to and fro. A sound like 
the tinkling of wind chimes filled the silence as the blade sliced 
through the air. How could a weapon of death and destruction 
look and sound so beautiful? 
Ash sheathed the sword and looked at her. “Such a sword 
deserves an owner and a name. What would you name it?” 
She remembered the clear musical tones the blade made. 
“Wind Singer.” 
“Enough chatter,” Thom broke in. “Do you want the sword 
or not? I haven’t all day to stand around. Show me the color of 
your money, or be gone.” 
Ash and the crystal smith ignored the lad. “What is your 
price?” 
“200 hundred dravos,” Thom snapped, obviously put out 
at being disregarded. 
“A steep price,” Ash said. 
“But well worth it,” said the crystal smith. 
“I’ll take the blade, but I only have crystal dust with which 
to pay.” 
“Show me,” Thom demanded. It was obvious which of the 
two was the business man in this partnership. 
Ash placed two pouches of crystal dust in the lad’s eager 
hands. With a gleam in his eye Thom opened the bags. 
“Good,” he murmured. 
“One moment.” Ash stopped him. “For that price I also 
want those.” He pointed to two knives made of red crystal lying 
on the table. 

“Yes, yes.” 
“And sheaths for the blade as well as both knives,” Ash 
added. 
With a look of growing irritation, Thom nodded. Before 
Ash could speak again, he said, “But no more.” 
As Ash strapped the sheathed sword around his lean waist, 
concealing it beneath the cloak he wore, Cathy attached the 
knife he gave her to her own waist under her jacket. 
Thom hurried away clutching the crystal dust pouches 
against his chest as if fearful Ash would snatch them back. 
When Ash and Cathy turned to leave, the crystal smith 
spoke. “Have a care how you show your weapons. Dramon is 
in turmoil. The magistrates need little reason to seize a person.” 
Ash faced the crystal smith. “My thanks for your concern.” 
Fisting his right hand, he crossed his arm over his chest and 
said, “Live Hard. Die Well.” 
The crystal smith smiled and returned the salute. “Live 
Well. Die Hard. Good fortune to you, warrior and...” He winked 
at Cathy’s boyish disguise. “...to your lady.” 
Outside the forge night had fallen. Cathy gratefully hurried 
after Ash into the square. Though the crowds had thinned, 
enough people still moved about to banish the sinister pall of 
the alley. They walked toward the inn. 
Outside a restaurant, Cathy paused. “I’m starved.” The 
smell of roast boar and spices perfumed the air. 
Ash’s stomach growled in response, still he hesitated. “I 
don’t think it wise.” 
“Come on, we have to eat, don’t we?” She grabbed his 
arm and pulled him through the doorway into the dim interior. 
Several patrons looked up in curiosity. 
A waiter approached them. “Welcome. Two for last meal?” 
He addressed his question to Ash. 
“Yes, please.” Cathy tugged Ash further inside. “We’d like 
a table overlooking the river, if one’s available.” 
When Cathy took charge, Ash smiled at the waiter’s startled 
look. 
The man recovered quickly. “Of course. Follow me.” 
Once seated, Ash gazed out over the broad river. The 

rippling water reflected the purple and red streaking the 
darkening sky. Across the river lay Mardelan’s rolling hills. To 
the left Ash could see the buildings of Norward, Mardelan’s 
northernmost city. Outlined in yellow light, a single bridge hung 
over the water. At each end people lined up to pass through the 
checkpoints. Guards perused papers and searched wagons. As 
he watched, two guards grabbed a man and escorted him away. 
“What’s the river’s name?” Cathy asked. 
“Aron. It means high mountain. Aron flows from the far 
north through the Azul Mountains. No one has ever located its 
headwaters. Several leagues south, Aron splits three ways. The 
Aron continues on southwest, the Boaz goes eastward. In two 
days our boat will be ready. We will follow the center channel, 
the Prana, downriver to Seaport Harbor.” 
“We’re going by water?” 
“The boat master assures me the trip will be easy. The 
Prana is a major waterway through Mardelan, much traveled 
and smooth. You need not be concerned for your safety. The 
trip should take less than six days.” 
Cathy laughed lightly. “I’m not worried. Last year Dale 
and Thea talked me into running the white water on the Council 
River with them. After living through that experience, I think I 
can manage a few days on your placid Prana. Besides I love 
the water. I’m a good sailor and an excellent swimmer, courtesy 
of nearly twenty years of physical therapy.” 
Ash smiled at the note of pride in her voice. “Good. Perhaps 
you can help. My knowledge of the water is limited. Arete is a 
mountainous country with few navigable rivers or accessible 
seaports. I have little experience of river travel.” 
His admission widened the smile on Cathy’s lips. 
They fell silent while they ate. Afterwards neither made 
any move to leave. The cozy atmosphere of the tiny eating 
place wrapped around them. Candles flickered on the tables in 
addition to the mellow glow of crystal lamps lining the walls. 
The low murmur of voices washed over them, heard yet not 
understood. Ash sipped his cooling gana and watched Cathy 
as she gazed out the window. 
How well she adapted to my world. Longing blossomed in 

him. Perhaps after the transfer of Katrina’s ka, Cathy would 
choose to remain on Tareth…with him. 
He squashed the hope. If she survived the transfer, he could 
offer her nothing. He was bound to another woman, body and 
ka. But what of his heart? 

Eleven
“What manner of craft is this?” Ash demanded. “I paid 
you for a boat. Not a collection of twigs lashed together with 
string.” 
Cathy watched as Ash stalked across the damp river bank 
toward the cowering boatman. The watery dusk light did little 
to hide Ash’s growing rage. 
The boatman took a step backward off the scant protection 
of the makeshift dock. His feet sank in mud up to his ankles. 
Stumbling, he continued to back away as he sought to explain. 
“I didn’t promise a boat, just river transport.” 
Ash closed the gap between them, and the man’s voice 
rose in protest. 
“The raft is sound. It will take you down river nicely. Much 
more comfortable than a cramped boat,” he added with a 
strangled squeak as Ash grabbed his jacket front and lifted 
him off his feet. 
“I will have a boat, you miserable, lying, little cheat.” 
“Please, sir. There are no boats to be had. The authorities 
have confiscated them.” Almost crying, the man dangled from 
Ash’s hand. 
“Ash. Are you crazy?” Cathy yelled. “Stop it! Put the man 
down.” 
Slowly, Ash responded to Cathy’s command. Muscles 
relaxing, anger faded from his face. He lowered the boatman 
until his feet once again rested on the ground. 
With ruffled dignity, the man straightened his clothing and 
took a hasty step away from Ash. 
“Show me this raft,” Ash said. 
With a wary nod, the boatman turned and marched - or 

rather slogged - through the mud toward the raft bobbing on 
the choppy water. Ash followed. 
A mist blanketed the river in a shroud, nearly obscuring 
the small craft. Overhead, slate gray clouds rumbled ominously, 
while below, the river churned a brownish-green. In the 
distance, brief flashes of lightning lit the evening sky. From 
the safety of the makeshift dock, Cathy eyed the raft with 
trepidation. Though it looked solid, would it take them down 
river safely? 
At the river’s edge, the boatman turned to Ash. “The craft 
is sound. It will take you easily down the Prana. All you need 
do is use the rudder to steer. A child could handle this raft.” 
Ash frowned and studied the frail craft. Finally he gave a 
curt nod to the nervous boatman. “Very well, we will take it. 
Load and secure our supplies.” He pointed toward the stack 
sitting on the dock. 
“I’m no lackey...” the boatman started to protest. However, 
at the hard look in Ash’s eye, he hurried to do Ash’s bidding. 
Within minutes their supplies were lashed in place. Ash 
walked over to Cathy. Before she could object, he swung her 
into his arms and carried her across the muddy ground. 
She tensed, then with a sigh twined her arms around his 
neck and let herself enjoy the short trip. His body warmth eased 
the chill caused by the night air and his fierce demeanor. Laying 
her head against his shoulder, she breathed in his scent—a 
musky aroma of leather, rain and man. Though less than a week 
had passed since they had been lovers, it seemed forever to 
Cathy. 
Thoughts of how to lure Ash back into her arms shocked 
her. When had prim, frigid Cathy Lawrence become so 
interested in sex? 
Since Ash appeared naked in my life. 
No, she amended, not sex, love. What she felt for this man 
went beyond a physical need. With him she felt complete, her 
life no longer empty. The thought terrified her. Even if he didn’t 
belong to another, his interest in her didn’t extend past her 
usefulness in regaining his wife’s soul. 
The raft dipped beneath their weight, but well constructed 

and balanced, it quickly leveled off. 
“Sit here.” Ash pointed to a supply crate. 
Legs rubbery from reaction to her thoughts, Cathy sat. 
Ash untied the raft and used a long pole to push away from 
the riverbank. 
“Stay to the middle of the river and use no light.” Even 
though he disappeared from view moments after the raft entered 
the river’s flow, the boatman’s warnings followed them. “You 
should reach the split in the river about midnight. Choose the 
center channel.” 
Thick and heavy with moisture, a mist swallowed them. 
Cathy gripped the edges of the crate with numb fingers as the 
turbulent water tossed the raft. A spray of water washed over 
them. With every rise and fall, water surged up between the 
boards. She tried to stand. The pitch threw her sideways, jarring 
her bad leg. It buckled beneath her, refusing to respond to any 
further commands. 
Cold, wet and miserable, Cathy huddled on top of the crate 
while Ash struggled to hold the rudder. She pulled her knees to 
her chest and buried her face between them. So much for her 
bold words of a knowledge of boating. This was nothing like 
the fun-filled rafting trip she had taken with Dale and Thea. 
Distant flashes of lightning illuminated Ash standing 
straddle-legged, braced to hold the rudder against the pull of 
the river. Like in her drawings, wind blew his hair around his 
head and determination etched his features. She longed to touch 
him, to ease the lines of strain around his mouth, to press her 
lips to his, to feel their passion flare. 
Shivering, Cathy tried to block her awareness of the wet 
clothes clinging to her chilled flesh as she so often blocked the 
pain of her mangled leg. Bit by bit, she obtained the trancelike 
state where she found surcease from the constant ache. She 
rested in the comforting void, conscious of the world around 
her, yet not part of it. 
Her mind drifted. Snatches of the odd dream she’d had 
while sick returned to her. A castle. A room. Two strange men 
and their argument. And a woman lying motionless in a bed. 
Something tugged at Cathy, pulling her consciousness away 

from the tiny raft. Unwilling to follow, she hesitated, then let it 
take her where it would. Somewhere in this curious waking 
dream world lay the answers to her questions. 
She blinked and found herself floating through the unknown 
yet familiar halls of a castle. A closed door beckoned her. Like 
a wraith, she moved through the wall. The old man of her 
previous dream slept in a chair before the room’s glowing 
hearth. Dark night shadows hid the rest of the room. A strange 
pull tried to lure her to the far side of the room. She fought the 
urge to give in to it, afraid if she did, she could never go back. 
She hovered in front of the old man. He had the answers 
she needed. 
Wake up, she said, but no sound came from her lips. 
Still, the old man stirred, his eyes opening. He smiled and 
lifted his hand to her. “Princess.” 
Startled, Cathy jerked away. I’m no princess. You can see 
me? 
“Do not fear me. I am Akester. It was I who sent Prince de 
Gar to you. I have visited you before, in your world. Do you 
not remember me from your dreams?” 
Cathy moved back. Akester’s voice sounded familiar. 
Despite the heat of the fire behind her, a cold chill traveled 
through her. 
What do you want from me? 
“You must return soon. Time grows short. Less than two 
tenday remain until the Blood Bonding when the prince and 
princess must emerge from the joining chamber. If the princess 
is unable to speak the words at the ceremony, the bonding will 
not be made, and Kersin will have his opportunity to seize 
control of the crown.” 
“To whom do you speak, Zard?” 
Cathy jumped as a dark, lean man emerged from the 
shadows. 
Akester turned toward the man. “The princess. She is here 
with us. Do you not feel her ka?” He pointed toward the spot 
where Cathy stood. 
The man moved into the light. Eyes narrowed, he looked 
around. Cathy recognized Jakar from her last dream. Though 

dark to Ash’s light, Jakar carried himself with the same 
confidence. 
“I see nothing but the night mist.” Jakar sat in the second 
chair. 
“You are blinded by your logic. It is well the prince is 
more open-minded.” 
“Perhaps,” Jakar agreed. 
“Princess Katrina,” Akester turned back to Cathy. 
I’m not Katrina. I’m Cathy. 
Akester continued, “Wherever you are, come home now. 
Mardelan has need of you.” 
“Even if all you say is true, and the prince returns with this 
woman who holds Princess Katrina’s ka, how will they get 
back into the castle and this room?” Jakar’s tone and skeptical 
frown revealed his doubt. “Kersin’s men watch the gates and 
halls of the castle. He’s aware of our presence in this room, as 
well as Marta’s comings and goings. I’m surprised he hasn’t 
revealed this knowledge before now.” 
“Kersin but bides his time.” Akester stood. “He knows 
naught of Princess Katrina’s ka. I doubt he even believes in 
such. He waits to expose Princess Katrina as raaka at a time 
likely to gain him the most, the Blood Bonding ceremony.” 
“You still haven’t answered how the prince will return,” 
Jakar said. 
Indecision showed in Akester’s eyes. He glanced toward 
where Cathy stood. “Come.” 
Cathy was unsure to whom he spoke, Jakar or herself. 
Akester stepped to the side of the hearth. With one hand 
on the stone, he looked over his shoulder at Jakar. “As Prince 
de Gar trusts you with his life, I too will do so. What I show 
you now, you must never reveal to another.” Blocking Cathy 
and Jakar’s view with his body, Akester ran his hand over the 
rock. 
Nearly invisible in the corner of the room, an opening 
silently appeared. 
“A secret passage.” Jakar peered into the darkness. “Where 
does it lead?” 
“Wherever you wish. The castle is riddled with tunnels. 

Only a few people are aware of them, and even they do not 
realize the extent of the passages.” 
“Does Prince de Gar know of them?” Jakar asked. 
“No, he does not.” 
Jakar snorted in disgust. “Then they are useless. We know 
not where he is, so how can we let him know of the 
passageway’s existence?” 
“But,” interrupted Akester, “the princess knows the tunnels 
well. She discovered them as a young child and used them 
often to escape her lessons, tease her nannies or just to play. 
She will lead the prince through them.” Akester sounded smug. 
Cathy wanted to hit him. She knew nothing of any secret 
passageways. How could she lead Ash through them? Her 
thoughts brought her up short. Of course, she didn’t know. She 
wasn’t the princess, so how could she? 
“I pray you’re right, Zard. If not, may Kala help us.” Jakar 
walked away from Akester. 
Akester turned toward Cathy. “Princess, you must 
remember. All depends on you. Do not fail your country, your 
people, yourself.” With that Akester returned to his chair, sank 
down and let his eyes close. 
Cathy stared into the dim passageway. Dank and cold, it 
looked like the entrance to Hell. The pull from the far side of 
the room grew stronger, sapping her strength and will. When 
she tried to leave the room the way she entered, something 
stopped her. She had only two choices, give in to the pull or 
descend into Hell. 
She chose Hell. 
*** 
Ash peered through the swirling fog. He could see nothing 
to give him a clue as to where they were. No sign of the shore. 
No lights. Only never-ending mist and churning water. Soon 
they would reach the river junction. If the mist didn’t clear, 
they would have to pull to shore and wait. They couldn’t risk 
missing the right channel. 
“Cathy?” Ash asked. She had been quiet for so long. Only 
days had passed since her illness. Had she relapsed? 
Situated at the back of the raft, he couldn’t see her for the 

crates. Had she slipped over the side while he fought with the 
sluggish rudder? When she didn’t answer, worry made Ash tie 
the rudder down and move forward. 
Curled into a sodden ball, Cathy lay between the crates. 
Dark hair plastered her pale, wet skin. In his exertion trying to 
steer the raft, Ash hadn’t realized how cold it had become. 
Why hadn’t she said something? Then, when had she ever 
complained? It was his responsibility to keep her safe and well. 
Once again, his carelessness had caused Cathy to suffer. 
They had to land. Cathy needed warmth and dry clothing. 
Shrugging out of his coat, Ash wrapped it around her and lifted 
her into his lap. She murmured something and snuggled against 
him. 
“Cathy, wake up. You have to move, get your blood flowing, 
before you freeze to death.” He shook her gently, rubbing her 
arms and back through the heavy cloth. 
She protested, pressing closer. Ash resisted the urge just to 
hold her and let the river take them where it would. 
“Wake up!” 
Her eyes fluttered open. “All right, already, I’m awake. 
Quit yelling.” Though groggy, she sounded clearheaded. 
“Thank the moons,” Ash whispered. “We have to make 
land. The fog is too thick. I can’t see the channels. Can you 
assist?” 
“Sure. Help me up.” 
He pulled her to her feet and steadied her as she gained her 
balance. 
“Thanks, I’m fine now...” 
Crack! Something hit the back of the raft. The rudder handle 
swung back and forth. No longer anchored in the water, the 
wood splintered. 
For a split second nothing happened. Then the raft pitched 
upward. Cathy fell backward, arms flailing, mouth opening in 
a panicked scream. Ash caught her arm and pulled her toward 
him before she went over the side. She clung to him. 
The raft crashed back into the water, knocking both Ash 
and Cathy to their knees. A crate broke loose and slid off the 
edge of the raft. The current swept it away. 

With his body, Ash pressed Cathy to the bucking raft. His 
fingers clutched at the lashings. The raft lurched. Wet, rough 
rope slid from his grip and tore his skin. 
“Ash, what’s happening?” 
An ominous roar nearly drowned Cathy’s cry. 
“Rapids. We’re in the wrong channel, headed toward the 
rapids,” Ash yelled above the growing thunder of water. 
Rudderless, the raft spun wildly in the churning river. 
Tossing them like a twig, the river lifted the raft then slammed 
it against the water, as if some malevolent river god sought to 
shake off the puny mortals clinging to the raft’s scant protection. 
“Hold on. I’m going to try to fix the rudder.” 
Ash wrapped Cathy’s fingers around the lashings and 
struggled to his feet. Lightning illuminated the sky. The river 
raced madly towards the source of the thunder - a waterfall. In 
the lightning flashes, Ash could see the spray of water where 
the river seemed to end. He also saw the steep rock walls rising 
on both sides of the water. Even had the rudder been intact, 
here the river allowed no escape, no shore or shelter. 
In minutes the river would carry them over the precipice 
to their death. 
Lightning streaked across the sky. Against his chest the 
moon crystal warmed in response. 
His gaze moved to Cathy. Though filled with fear, her eyes 
spoke of her trust in him. He couldn’t betray that trust. 
The decision made, he tore the crystal from around his 
neck and thrust it into her hand. “Hold the moon crystal up to 
the storm, and it will take you home!” he shouted against the 
roar of the thunder. 
Eyes wide with disbelief, she wrapped the cord around her 
fingers and clutched the crystal to her chest. “But what about 
you?” 
“Do it!” he ordered and lunged toward the swinging rudder. 
Cathy crouched against the constantly shifting, slippery 
logs. Each time the raft hit the water, she slid closer to the 
edge. Pressed around the now glowing crystal her fingers 
tingled. With each lightning flash, the crystal’s power surged 
through her. 

Above her, Ash braced himself against the pitch of the 
raft, challenging the elements. 
In her palm lay freedom. Home. Safety. She need only raise 
her arm to the storm. Could she leave him? 
In a flash of lightning their eyes met. “Go!” His lips formed 
the words, but the wind tore them away. He turned and reached 
for the rudder. As she started to lift her arm, the raft heaved 
upward and the rudder’s heavy handle caught Ash on the side 
of his head. 
Cathy screamed. Escape forgotten, she watched helplessly 
as he crumpled and disappeared into the inky water. Scrambling 
to her hands and knees, she crawled to the raft’s edge. Yards 
ahead, the river tossed Ash’s limp body. Then he was gone, 
swallowed by a veil of mist. 
“Ash!” 
Only the roar of thunder and crash of water against rock 
answered her anguished cry, which changed to a choked scream 
as the world fell away beneath her. 
Powerless to save herself, she tumbled through the 
cascading water. Instinctively, she held her breath, only to have 
it knocked out of her when she hit the water below. The force 
of her fall and the water beating down forced her under. She 
fought the urge to suck in nonexistent air, struggled out of her 
waterlogged jacket, and kicked upward. 
Her head broke the surface, and she gulped air. The river 
swept her along, slamming her to and fro. Remembering Dale’s 
advice on what to do if she went overboard on their rafting 
trip, Cathy twisted onto her back and thrust her feet out in 
front. For a seemingly endless time she rode the rapids, then 
her bad leg bounced off a rock and she spun around. Reaching 
out, she snagged a half-submerged tree trunk. 
Against her cheek the wet bark felt cold and rough, smelling 
of moss and decay. Water swirled around her, seeking to yank 
her away. She held tight. Coughing, she cleared her lungs of 
water and ignored the throbbing ache in her leg. From the fallen 
tree’s meager protection, she scanned the darkness, hoping for 
a glimpse of Ash. Every few minutes lightning lit the sky, giving 
her a brief view of the storm-churned water. 

Where was Ash? Had he been carried farther down river? 
Or dragged under? How long had it been since he was thrown 
off the raft? Was he dead? 
The thought brought a sharp pain to Cathy’s chest. No! He 
couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t imagine a world - any world, 
hers or his - without him in it. 
“Ash!” The wind grabbed her shout and whirled it away 
from her, a mere whisper of sound against the roar of the river 
and crash of thunder. 
Something bumped her leg. She shrieked and jerked back, 
but never loosened her grip on the tree. Heart pounding, she 
peered into the murky water. Strands of burnished gold danced 
just below the surface. A shape floated underneath. 
Ash! 
Gripping the tree with one arm, Cathy reached down. Her 
fingertips touched Ash’s hair, but the moon crystal’s cord 
tangled around her fingers prevented her from gaining a good 
grip. She stretched and wiggled her fingers to loosen the cord. 
The crystal slipped free, and she grabbed a handful of Ash’s 
hair. 
Eagerly, the river sought to pluck Ash from her grasp, and 
to tear her from her precarious harbor. A sharp pain shot up her 
bad leg. She groaned, gritted her teeth and pulled. 
At first, the river held Ash tight, refusing to release him. 
Then he came free, his body springing to the surface. He gagged 
and sputtered, arms flailing. His eyes blinked open, and their 
eyes met. He went still. 
“Cathy.” He lifted his hand to her. 
As she reached for him, his hair slid through her fingers, 
and the river snatched him away. 

Twelve
Sand caked Ash’s lips and crunched between his teeth. The 
sun beat down on his shoulders and back, its heat a contrast to 
the chill of the water lapping around his legs and hips. He 
rolled to his back and opened his eyes to a cloudless blue sky. 
Disorientated, he blinked against the glare. Large birds soared 
above the surrounding cliffs, their keening cry mingling with 
the muted roar of distant rapids. 
Where was he? 
Something dug painfully into his hip, a mere annoyance in 
comparison to the other aches in his badly bruised body. Pushing 
himself into a sitting position, he reached out and grabbed the 
splintered piece of wood, a part of the raft. Memory surged 
back. 
Cathy... 
Ignoring the pain of abused flesh and bone, he struggled to 
his feet. 
The last thing he remembered was Cathy’s hands reaching 
down, tangling in his hair, pulling him from beneath the water 
and shoving him free. Then the swirling water ripped him from 
her side and back into the current. 
He turned his head, and something hit his cheek. Reaching 
up he found the moon crystal, its cord tangled in his hair. Why 
hadn’t she used it to escape? Where was she? Placing the cord 
around his neck, he scanned the rock-strewn riverbank and the 
once again placid water. 
“Cathy!” Other than the echo of his shout against the 
canyon walls, no answer came back to him. Unmindful of his 
scrapes and bruises, he searched for her amid the broken raft’s 
debris littering the riverbank. He found no trace. Had she come 

ashore farther up river? He turned and looked back toward the 
rapids. Or did her body lie trapped and broken below the angry 
waters, as Ilka’s had under her quinar? Had he once again failed 
to protect the one he.... 
He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t put words to what 
he felt for Cathy when he had no right to feel anything for her, 
but he refused to believe her dead. If she no longer inhabited 
this realm, he would know in his heart. As much as he tried to 
deny it, their kas were linked. Whether through Cathy’s ka or 
Katrina’s ka, Ash didn’t know. 
Ahead a flash of color caught his eye. Splashing through 
the river shallows, he hurried forward. There, wedged between 
two rocks, was Cathy’s jacket. Lost in his rising fear, his 
knuckles turned white as he clutched the torn cloth. Did he 
only fool himself? Had she perished in their ride through the 
rapids? 
Behind him a pebble rolled down the slope of the riverbank 
to splash into the water. Ash whirled and froze. 
Five Shakar lined the shore. They stood still and silent, 
watching him. Dressed in naught but loincloths, their fur-
covered bodies radiated power. Each carried a spear. Just behind 
them a pile of game gave evidence of their hunting prowess. 
Would he be their next prey? 
Ash backed slowly into the shallow water, never taking 
his gaze from the Shakar. He gripped the hilt of the sword at 
his waist. 
The tallest Shakar, a beast the color of polished aronwood, 
stepped forward and lifted his spear. Light reflected off the 
spear’s crystal point. 
“Shila si, alkri,” he hissed. 
The other four Shakar crouched, their spears now aimed at 
Ash’s heart. 
Could he fight them? Outrun them? Dodge their deadly 
weapons? In his weakened condition, Ash doubted it. Blood 
dripped from a long gash on his leg. One eye was swollen 
nearly closed. His chest ached from the water he’d swallowed, 
making his breathing slow and labored. Could he do nothing 
while they took him captive or killed him? 

No! 
He pulled the sword free, spun around and sprinted toward 
the far bank. Four more Shakar waited there. He feinted to the 
right, then plunged past the startled Shakar to the left. A spear 
whistled by his head. 
“Na! Alkri! Alkri!” 
Crouched low, Ash darted back and forth. Sharp stones 
cut into his feet. The river had stolen his boots. Pain lanced 
through him with every step. Sweat blurred his vision. If he 
could reach the tall, thick brush ahead, he could turn and hold 
them off. 
His foot twisted on a pebble, and he stumbled. A heavy 
body crashed into him from behind, throwing him face down 
onto the rocks. The sword flew from his grasp. Dazed and 
blinded by the blood flowing into his good eye, Ash struggled 
to break free. Two more Shakar joined the first. Their weight 
pinned and held him. One Shakar twisted Ash’s arms behind 
his back and lashed his wrists together tightly. They then pulled 
him to his knees, forcing him to kneel as the tall Shakar 
approached. 
“Sueri,” he told the others, then turned his attention to Ash. 
Ash tried to blink away the haze from his eye so he could 
watch the powerful Shakar. 
“Why do you enter our land? No outsiders are allowed in 
this valley.” 
Ash studied the creature. Perhaps Cathy was right: They 
were more than mere beasts. Still, it mattered not. They didn’t 
appear friendly. He must escape and resume his search. 
The Shakar’s thin lips curved upward, but held little humor. 
He stooped in front of Ash until they were eye to eye. His 
smile faded. “Where is your woman? The one called K’Tee?” 
This was the Shakar from town! The one Cathy had freed. 
“Cathy? If you’ve harmed her...” Fury gave Ash strength. 
With a roar, he launched himself at the Shakar. Something 
struck the back of his head. Before he plunged into darkness, 
he glimpsed a shape emerging out of the brush. 
“Ash!” Cathy’s agonized cry followed him into oblivion. 
*** 

Cathy ignored K’Tal’s presence at her back as they stepped 
into the cave. The door closed with a thud behind them. 
It had taken most of the morning to get the Shakar to agree 
to let her see Ash. Though gentle and caring when they pulled 
her, half-drowned, from the river, they weren’t so inclined with 
Ash. 
When she saw him struck down at the riverbank, Cathy’s 
heart nearly stopped. She shuddered, remembering how they 
dragged him away, refusing to allow her to go to him. Only by 
playing on the debt K’Tal owed her did she finally convince 
the suspicious Shakar of her right to tend to Ash. 
After the clear, bright light of the canyon, the darkness of 
the small, airless cave left her momentarily blinded. She 
blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the light filtering in through 
the wooden slats that covered the cave’s window. The stench 
made her gag against the nausea rising within her. When the 
interior of the cave came into focus, she gasped. 
“Ash!” 
She hurried across the uneven floor and sank to her knees 
next to him. “My God! What have they done to you?” 
Hands and feet tightly bound, he lay on his side. The trip 
down the river had ripped away his boots and left his shirt and 
pants in tatters. Bruises and scrapes covered his broad back. 
Sweat, blood and grime streaked his limbs and torso. His golden 
hair lay plastered to his head in greasy, grayish clumps. One 
eye was swollen, and dried blood caked the corners of his 
mouth. 
With a groan he turned his head toward her and opened his 
uninjured eye. “Cathy...why didn’t you leave?” 
She strained to hear his raspy whisper as he tried to rise. 
“There was no time,” she lied. When he thought her in danger, 
he had abandoned his quest and given her the moon crystal 
and her freedom. Though pleased by his gesture, what did it 
mean? 
“Take it easy.” She stroked the tangled hair from his 
battered face. Something inside her twisted sharply at the sight 
of this proud, powerful warrior brought low. All her anger 
toward him dissolved replaced by a fierce need to protect and 

comfort. 
Her rage surged back, now directed at the half-human, half-
animal creature whose life she had saved. She stood and limped 
toward K’Tal. “How can you treat him like this? Don’t you 
remember your own captivity? The pain and humiliation?” 
K’Tal stared back at her, his slanted eyes and relaxed 
posture giving away little of his thoughts. 
She stopped inches from him and tilted her head upward 
until her gaze caught his. “I need fresh water, bandages, clean 
clothing and bedding.” With difficulty she kept her tone low 
and even, when she wanted to shriek and demand. 
A tiny smile touched K’Tal’s thin lips, but he made no 
move. 
“Please.” Cathy forced the word past her lips. 
He nodded and turned. Briefly, light flooded the cave. Then 
the door closed, plunging it back into gloom. 
A coppery taste filled Cathy’s mouth as she bit her lip to 
keep from screaming. She shook off the fury that made her 
blood pound and her skin feel icy. She couldn’t afford to lose 
control now. Ash needed her. 
“Are you hurt?” 
Ash’s voice, still raspy, but now firm, shook her from her 
thoughts. She blinked in confusion. Gone was the fallen hero. 
In his place sat a steely-eyed warrior. 
“Have they hurt you?” he repeated. 
“No-o-o,” she stammered, unable to shift gears so quickly. 
“I’m fine. Just a bit bruised from our ride down the river. But 
you...” 
He didn’t let her finish. “Do you still have your knife? 
They’ve taken mine.” 
She shook her head. “I lost it in the river.” 
“There’s some loose rock over there.” He nodded toward a 
dark corner of the cave. “It’s edges are sharp. Get a piece and 
cut me loose. I’ve just about gotten through the rope around 
my wrists.” He twisted his body and held out his arms. 
Cathy could see the frayed ends of rope encircling Ash’s 
wrists. She also saw the abrasions the coarse rope and jagged 
rock had left. 

“The rock,” Ash said. 
Automatically, Cathy followed his instructions, picking up 
a thin piece of shale-like rock. Kneeling behind him she reached 
for his hands, then hesitated. 
Ash turned his head toward her. “For what do you wait? 
That animal will be back shortly. We have to get out of here.” 
“K’Tal isn’t an animal,” she answered without thought. 
Rising, she tossed the rock into the corner. “Lie back down.” 
She pressed her hand against Ash’s shoulder. 
For a moment he resisted. “What?” 
“K’Tal or another will be back in minutes. This area is 
well guarded. There’s no way we can leave undetected,” she 
told him. “Besides you need nursing, food and clothing.” 
Suddenly, he complied. Cathy had to catch her balance to 
keep from tumbling on top of him. 
“You are correct.” 
He stretched out on his back, seemingly unaware of his 
ragged state of dress. 
She couldn’t help letting her gaze linger on his bare chest. 
Even battered and bound he left her feeling weak and breathless 
with longing. No matter what happened she’d never forget their 
time together in the spinner cave, when she’d learned what it 
meant to be a woman in the arms of the man she loved. 
Loved! 
The word shocked Cathy. She couldn’t - she wouldn’t love 
Ash. To do so would be emotional suicide. Despite his 
claim of her body holding his wife’s soul, the fact remained 
Ash was married to another woman. On top of that, he was a 
prince in this bizarre world. He could never belong to plain, 
old Cathy. Besides, her life was back on Earth. 
The door opened. Without being prompted, Ash rolled to 
his side and once again became the fallen warrior. His acting 
ability amazed Cathy. She almost believed he lay near death. 
The Shakar silhouetted in the open doorway was unfamiliar 
to Cathy. 
“By the Sha it stinks in here!” a lilting voice cried. The 
Shakar placed the tray she carried just inside the door and 
propped the door open with a rock. 

The sudden light made Cathy squint. Air, sweet and fresh-
smelling rushed into the cave. Grateful, Cathy breathed deeply, 
and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She leaned against 
the wall. 
Ash didn’t move or speak, but she saw concern in his gaze. 
The Shakar retrieved the tray and came to kneel next to 
Ash. “I am K’Sara.” She pulled a long, wicked-looking blade 
from the sheath strapped to her thigh. 
Cathy saw Ash tense as the Shakar leaned over him. The 
sharp blade slid easily through the ropes binding his wrists 
and ankles. 
K’Sara held up the ropes and seemed to study them for a 
moment. Then she smiled and tossed them aside. “It would 
appear my knife was little needed.” The blade disappeared back 
into its sheath. 
With quick, efficient motions she proceeded to bathe and 
bandage Ash’s injuries. He lay placid beneath her ministrations. 
Grateful, yet envious of the woman’s skill, Cathy attempted 
to help. 
K’Sara gently pushed her away. “Let me. You must rest. 
This is the least I can do for the one who saved my hapal—my 
brother—from death.” 
A furtive glance at Ash told Cathy he hadn’t missed 
K’Sara’s words. His expression conveyed angry frustration and 
reluctant pride. She refused to explain or apologize for her 
actions. She’d done nothing wrong. 
“Your mate is very brave,” K’Sara told him. “Not many 
would have the courage to release a trapped Shakar. Especially 
one such as K’Tal. He can be most fearsome.” 
Ash could almost feel the heat of Cathy’s blush as the 
Shakar called them mates. He forced his features to remain 
impassive. Though impossible, he and Cathy were mated in 
more ways than she could imagine. 
Through his good eye Ash studied the female Shakar. 
Though a head shorter than himself, Ash could sense her slim 
body’s tensile strength. When the time came he could overpower 
her, but it would not be an easy fight. 
Back in Cleva, he’d done little more than glance at the 

caged K’Tal. Naught but animals that walked upright had been 
his first impression of the Shakar. After regaining consciousness 
at the river’s bank, the fogginess of his vision and their rough 
handling of his person hampered his view of them. Now he 
took the time to look closer. 
K’Sara leaned over him as her slender, nimble fingers 
carefully cleaned the grit from an injury. Her fur-covered body 
brushed against him like warm velvet. A cloud of her musky 
scent surrounded him. He jerked. 
“My pardon,” she said. 
While not exactly human, her flattened features and slanted 
green eyes were appealing. Her fur, a lustrous reddish-brown 
color, covered all but the palms of her hands. On her head and 
shoulders, her fur fell long and thick. Around her face, arms, 
and what he could see of her torso, above the simple tunic she 
wore, her fur lay short and sleek against her skin, shimmering 
in the dim light as she moved. Her fingers had no nails, but 
Ash could see the tips of sharp, retractable claws. 
When she smiled, her lips parted slightly, giving him a 
glimpse of white, pointed teeth. In an instinctive aversion he 
drew away. The Shakar might speak the human tongue, walk 
upright and bear a resemblance to mankind in form, but human 
they were not. 
As if aware of his feelings, K’Sara quickly finished and 
moved from his side. She stood and looked around the dismal 
little cave. Her features twisted into a scowl, and her body 
went rigid, her fur seeming to crackle with some inner energy. 
Ash tensed. 
K’Sara strode across the cave to the entrance. She turned 
to look at Ash. “This is abominable. What was my hapal 
thinking to put you, an injured man, in such a place. N’Cal,” 
she called. 
In seconds, another Shakar had appeared in the doorway. 
Shaggier and more massively built than either K’Tal or K’Sara, 
N’Cal listened attentively as she gave him rapid orders in a 
strange, sibilant tongue. He nodded and hurried away. 
“Are you well enough to walk?” K’Sara asked Ash. 
In answer Ash rose to his feet. His head nearly touched the 

cave’s low ceiling. 
K’Sara’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Her 
gaze traveled down his body, then jerked upward. “You are 
big.” 
Ash wondered how it was possible for a creature covered 
in fur to blush, but he had no doubt the small female did so. 
She moved around him and snatched up the thin cloth Ash 
had lain on. Eyes averted, she shoved it into his hands. 
“Cover yourself as best you can. My people are not used 
to furless flesh.” 
Ash accepted the cloth with a grin, but obligingly draped 
its length around his shoulders, hiding what the remainder of 
his clothing did not. 
“Come,” K’Sara said. “I will show you to more comfortable 
quarters.” 
“Ash,” Cathy said. 
He moved toward the form huddled against the cave wall, 
and took her hands in his. Her fingers felt cold and clammy 
between his. Gone was the warrior woman who had gone nose-
to-nose with K’Tal. In her place stood a small, trembling 
woman. 
“I feel strange,” she whispered. Her eyes closed, and she 
crumpled into his arms. 
*** 
The world around Cathy tilted at a sickening angle. Her 
stomach gave a lurch and her vision grew blurred. Only the 
feel of Ash’s arms anchored her to reality. 
“No.” This couldn’t be happening again. She wasn’t ill or 
asleep. She refused to believe it. Squeezing her eyes closed, 
she fought the force dragging her into the unknown. 
“Cathy.” 
Though he was mere inches from her, she heard Ash’s voice 
calling her from a far distance. 
All physical sensation ceased as her awareness drifted 
away. She dug her fingers into Ash’s arm, but he, along with 
the cave and the Shakar, dissolved into a gray mist. 
For a time she let herself float in that peaceful void. Then, 
at the sound of voices raised in a heated argument, Cathy opened 

her eyes. 
Yellow crystal lamps lit the spacious room where she found 
herself. A man, his face twisted in a sneer, paid little notice to 
the luxury surrounding him. Unaware of her presence, his fists 
clenched and unclenched, his booted heels rapping against 
gleaming hard wood floors as he paced in agitation. The other 
man in the room ignored her as well. 
“Why have you no new information for me?” The pacing 
man glared at the second man. “I pay you well for nothing. 
I’ve worked too hard and am too close to let all slip through 
my fingers because of your incompetence. I must know what 
goes on. Tell me, Gerlat, why have you failed me this time?” 
Gerlat cringed, his tall, lanky body folding in on itself as if 
preparing for a blow. “My apologies, Lord Kersin, but Prince 
de Gar’s men guard the joining chamber. We can not get near. 
Del Jakar himself stands watch.” 
“Jakar. The man sees too much, and his loyalty to his prince 
runs deep. Prince de Gar might court peace and act with honor 
in all things, but Jakar would smile at you as he plunged his 
knife into your back. He is dangerous to our cause. Eliminate 
him.” 
“Commit murder in the castle?” Horror etched Gerlat’s 
voice. 
“No you fool. Find a way to draw him out and then kill 
him. Must I do all your thinking for you?” 
Shifting skittishly, Gerlat asked, “What of the old woman 
and the zard? They are both in the chamber as well.” 
“Marta, Princess Katrina’s ferocious little guard. She’s 
fouled my plans for the princess one too many times. I’ll deal 
with her when the time comes. 
“I wonder why Zard Akester attends the prince and princess 
during their Moon Cycle retreat? What does that old fool know? 
I could almost feel pity for poor, unenlightened Prince de Gar. 
It must have come as quite a shock to find that his beautiful 
new life-mate lacks a mind.” Kersin laughed. 
The humorless sound sent a chill down Cathy’s spine. 
“It’s true then, the princess is Raaka?” Gerlat asked. 
Kersin ignored the question, speaking in a low, angry tone. 

“What right do they, a witless woman and a foreign interloper, 
have to rule Mardelan? It is within my veins the blood of kings 
flows. I should sit on the dais in the council hall, side by side 
with my father, the rightful heir to the throne, rather than being 
relegated to a minor seat on the council. One way or another, I 
will have the throne and my vengeance. 
“Why didn’t the little she-hound die along with her mother 
years ago? How in the name of Sol has she survived for so 
long? With her gone, when my father dies the Council will 
have no choice but to name me his heir, despite his lack of 
foresight in not wedding my mother. Can Akester have 
discovered a way to restore Katrina’s ka? Is that why no one 
objects to his presence in the chamber?” 
“I don’t know, Milord.” 
“Of course you don’t, you idiot. Be gone. And don’t return 
until you have some good news for me, else you try my 
patience.” 
Cathy realized Ash was right. Unless his wife regained her 
awareness, Mardelan faced a dismal future with a man like 
Kersin as ruler. He would use the land and its people to serve 
his own needs, without regard for their best interests. 
What could she do to stop him? To protect this world which 
was in her mind half reality and half fantasy? 
Give up your soul. 
The answer tore at the foundation of her sanity. No, not 
her soul. Katrina’s. Cathy held to the thought like a lifeline in 
a stormy ocean. She could go along with Ash, surrender 
whatever part of her was Katrina and still remain Cathy. 
And in doing so she’d also give up Ash. Pain pierced her 
heart. 
“Cathy.” The faint sound of Ash’s voice caught her 
attention. 
Again the world tilted, and she sank into oblivion. 
“Cathy. Can you hear me? Wake up.” 
Ash’s anxious words penetrated the comforting gray fog 
around her. She blinked and looked up at his face hovering 
over her. “What? Where?” 
Ash pressed her gently back against the bed. “Do not 

attempt to rise. You have been gone from me for hours. Can 
you tell me what happened?” 
“I’m not sure. Let me up. I feel fine now.” 
When Ash released his grip on her shoulders, Cathy sat 
and gasped in surprise. The soft glow of crystal lamps 
illuminated the comfortable chamber. From the bed, she could 
see intricately woven tapestries glowing with color hanging 
over the cavern’s rough-hewn walls. Thick brown furs covered 
the stone floor. A wooden wardrobe carved with animals and 
plants took up the far wall. 
“Where are we?” 
“In the head Shakar’s private apartment. Apparently, 
because you rescued K’Tal back in Cleva, you are considered 
an honored guest. And as your mate, they are willing to tolerate 
me.” Ash grinned. 
Cathy smiled back. “I see they also found you something 
to wear. It seems you’re forever destined to wear clothing two 
sizes too small.” The Shakar’s simple tunic strained across 
Ash’s broad chest and fell far short of his knees, leaving much 
of his body bare. 
“It matters not.” His grin faded. “What happened? Why 
did you faint?” 
Cathy bit her lip and looked away. How much should she 
tell him? 
As if sensing her reluctance to reveal what had occurred, 
Ash took her hand in his and waited until her eyes meet his. “I 
know you have little reason to trust me. I dragged you from 
your home and...” 
For a moment his grip tightened, and he glanced away, 
then his gaze returned to her. “...and I made you mine when I 
had not the right. But I have never lied to you. Mardelan and 
Arete both face disaster if my union with the princess fails. I 
do not claim to know how or why Katrina’s ka chose you, but 
without her ka, she cannot interact with others and will be 
unable to speak the words at the Bonding Ceremony. When 
she does not speak, the bond will fail, and Mardelan and Arete 
will go to war. Thousands of lives depend on the choice you 
make.” 

Unable to bear the regret in Ash’s eyes, she pulled her hand 
and gaze from his. She’d fooled herself into thinking he might 
care for her, when all along he’d told her he wanted only to 
reclaim his wife’s soul. Her pain was not his fault, but her 
own. She didn’t blame him for taking what she had offered. 
“I know. I think I’ve known from the very moment I opened 
my eyes and saw you in my studio. Or maybe I’ve known all 
my life. Why else would I create a world so similar to one that 
actually exists? This is all either real, or I’m somewhere locked 
in a padded room. And given a choice I choose this reality. 
Now, the only questions remaining are how do we get to the 
castle, and how do we convince Katrina’s ka to go back where 
it belongs?” 
“Tell me what happened when you fainted,” Ash asked. 
How could she explain that she’d left her body and traveled 
to the very castle they needed to reach? Would he believe her? 
Then again, considering all the bizarre happenings since he’d 
entered her life, why wouldn’t he? “I went...” 
A loud rap and the opening of the chamber door interrupted 
Cathy. They both turned to look as a Shakar entered. 
Stooped with age, his once dark fur now well seasoned 
with gray, the elderly Shakar still carried an air of command 
about him. His eyes were sharp and piercing. A pure white 
tunic with long, full sleeves draped his body from neck to 
ankles. K’Tal followed closely behind. 
Once in the room K’Tal moved to the elder’s side. “The 
Kar would speak with you, K’Tee,” K’Tal said. “I will translate 
for him. Do not speak unless he asks you a direct question. He 
is our leader. Show him respect. You,” K’Tal glared at Ash, 
“do not speak at all.” 
The Kar strode over to the side of the bed. Dark, wisdom-
filled eyes stared down at her with gratitude and compassion. 
Lifting his gaze to Ash, the Shakar’s liquid look hardened to 
stone. Feeling Ash’s tension, she reached out and squeezed his 
arm in a silent warning. 
When the Kar started to speak, Cathy found herself so 
mesmerized by the low, flowing sound of the creature’s voice, 
she nearly missed hearing K’Tal’s translation. 

“...your courage in saving my sister’s son, my heir, I grant 
you your life and the life of your mate.” He paused for a 
moment, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Through sad experience 
we have learned Shakar and human can not live in peace and 
harmony. Years ago when human persecution of the Shakar 
threatened our very existence, my ancestors chose this 
inaccessible canyon for their home. From then until now, to 
keep our presence a secret, none are allowed to leave or enter 
Shakar land.” 
Cathy felt Ash start to rise in protest. K’Tal’s gaze 
challenged Ash. Afraid Ash would speak - and of what would 
happen if he did - she tightened her grip on his arm. When he 
settled back, she gave a sigh of relief. 
As if unaware of the silent exchange, the Kar continued. 
“Even after generations, the human hatred of the Shakar 
has not faded. They still seek to destroy us. We cannot risk 
revealing our location nor our numbers. Therefore, now and 
forever forward you must make your home with us. Follow 
our laws and customs, and you will be made welcome. Break 
them, and you must die as other interlopers have died.” 
Without another word the Kar turned and swept out of the 
chamber. When K’Tal made to follow Cathy called out, 
“K’Tal.” 
Ash sat tense at her side, but said nothing, allowing her to 
speak for them in this instance. His apparent trust in her ability 
warmed her heart, but she wondered if it might not be 
misplaced. Could she convince these people to let her and Ash 
leave? That they were no threat? 
The door closed behind the Kar, leaving K’Tal standing 
inside the chamber with his back to them. 
“You know we can’t stay here. Whether made of wooden 
bars or steep canyon walls, a cage is still a cage. I rescued you. 
You owe me. You have to let us go.” 
K’Tal turned to faced them and shook his head. “You merely 
saved me from death. No one can release me from my prison. 
I carry it within my flesh and bone. 
“When my mother ventured beyond the safety of the canyon 
walls, she paid for her defiance with years of captivity and 

abuse. In the end, she gave her life so K’Sara and I could escape, 
but our mixed heritage still cages us. Neither fully Shakar nor 
fully human, we can never find a true home in either world. 
“As children, K’Sara and I made our way here, but I swore 
one day I would have vengeance against the man who treated 
my mother, my sister and me like animals—my father. And so 
I, too, left the canyon and sought out humans. By killing my 
father, I stirred the embers of human hatred for the Shakar and 
put my mother’s people at risk once more. I will not betray 
them further.” 
Before either Cathy or Ash could protest, K’Tal turned and 
left the room. 

Thirteen
Ash stomped along the sandy riverbank, his gaze scanning 
the surrounding cliffs. For the last three days he had scoured 
the canyon for an exit, while each night he lay beside Cathy, 
close but not touching, and searched his heart for another kind 
of escape. Duty and honor demanded he retrieve Katrina’s ka 
and save his country from a useless war, but his heart asked 
for something quite different. If there was a way out of either 
predicament, he’d yet to find it. 
Up river he found impassable rapids, while down stream 
the river became a treacherous swamp, and all around rose 
steep, sheer rock walls. Little wonder the Shakar offered no 
resistance to his search. Their canyon seemed as inescapable 
as his position. The keening cry of sea birds told him the swamp 
led to the sea. From the coast, Seaport Harbor would be only a 
short sail. 
Echoing on the wind, the birds’ cries mocked him. The 
way out! The way out, they screeched, then wheeled through 
the air to disappear over the cliffs. 
The soft, boggy ground bordering the swamp showed 
evidence of both water and sand worms. The first was more 
nuisance than danger, small parasites that attached themselves 
to warm-blooded creatures and sucked their blood. But 
sandworms—Ash shuddered—no sane creature put itself in 
the path of an animal that could swallow a quinar whole. Even 
if he were willing to risk his life in an attempt to make his way 
through the swamp, he’d not risk Cathy’s. 
From a clear blue sky, the sun beat down on his head and 
shoulders. Sweat beaded on his skin. Here in this southern 
valley, summer bled effortlessly into fall, and winter would 

pass with no discernible difference. Other than the increased 
river flow and debris littering the banks, no hint of the storm 
remained. Water lapped at his feet and reminded him of his 
close brush with death. 
The moon crystal, its interior riddled with flaws, lay warm 
against his chest. He remembered Cathy’s hesitation when he 
handed her the crystal on the raft. If she had acted immediately, 
she would now be safe in her home. 
And he would be dead. Drowned. His body rotting amid 
submerged tree roots. Instead they were both prisoners of the 
Shakar and no closer to his goal than when they were on Earth. 
Ahead, a group of Shakar females and youngsters fished 
and played along the river’s edge. Amidst the dark-furred 
Shakar, Cathy’s pale, bare arms glistened wetly in the morning 
light, her thin shirt clinging to her slender form as she splashed 
in the water. Her laughter joined with that of the carefree 
youngsters as she seemed to adapt without effort to her new 
surroundings. 
Behind him gravel crunched. Pivoting, Ash’s hand flew 
instinctively to where his sword should have been. He mouthed 
a silent curse. The Shakar had yet to return his weapons. 
“You have good ears, human.” 
Ash stiffened at K’Tal’s mocking tone. “It takes no talent 
to hear one who crashes about like a wounded shoat.” 
K’Tal’s fur rippled, and the tips of his canines showed as 
his thin lips curled back in a soundless snarl. Tension held Ash 
rigid. Though unfailingly considerate of Cathy, K’Tal and the 
other Shakar did little to hide their distrust and antagonism for 
Ash. Their veiled tolerance of him, and K’Tal’s attention to 
Cathy, grated on Ash’s already taut nerves. Despite Cathy’s 
urging of caution and patience, Ash feared if he didn’t soon 
find a way to escape, he would do something rash. Time and 
temper grew short. 
Fury flared then faded in K’Tal’s dark eyes. His gaze swept 
over Cathy and locked on Ash. “Must be my human blood. It 
makes me clumsy.” Wry self-humor laced his words, and regret 
replaced rage. “Can we not, for K’Tee’s sake, have a truce 
between us?” 

Breath hissed through Ash’s clenched teeth. “A prisoner 
can never be at peace with his jailer. Release us.” 
“Why must you think of this place as your jail? Our valley 
is a good place. Here, you and K’Tee could make a home. Your 
children and mine could forge a new understanding, a new 
future between human and Shakar. Will you not consider?” 
“I cannot. My life is elsewhere. Too many people depend 
on me. I cannot abandon them for my own comfort.” Ash’s 
gaze was drawn to Cathy where she knelt in the river, a Shakar 
cub in her arms. “No matter how I am tempted.” 
“Then you are a foolish man.” K’Tal said one thing, but 
his tone spoke of understanding. 
“Perhaps,” Ash agreed. “But can a man forsake his duty 
and remain a man?” 
“If I thought she would not object, I would kill you and 
keep K’Tee as my own.” K’Tal’s grin dared Ash to protest. 
Fuming inside, Ash kept his face impassive as K’Tal 
continued. “But there is something about her...” he paused as 
if unsure of how to explain what he felt. “She is part of this 
world, yet not.” 
Did even K’Tal sense Katrina’s ka within Cathy? 
“K’Tee has told me of you, Prince Ash, and the difficulties 
your country faces. She pleaded your cause to the Kar most 
eloquently and, under certain conditions, he has agreed to let 
you both leave.” 
“What conditions?” The Shakar’s sudden capitulation made 
Ash uneasy. “What has Cathy promised?” 
K’Tal laughed and gripped Ash’s forearm, the tips of his 
claws nearly piercing Ash’s skin though his hide shirt. “An 
alliance between your people and mine. Your freedom for your 
promise of support for ours.” 
*** 
Over young N’Ril’s furry head, Cathy watched Ash and 
K’Tal in the distance. The laughter and chatter of the women 
and children faded as she struggled to hear Ash and K’Tal’s 
words. Ash’s stiff shoulders and K’Tal’s bristling fur didn’t 
bode well for the deal she’d made with the Kar. 
While Ash stomped around the valley hunting for an escape, 

Cathy had closeted herself with the ancient Kar and argued 
their case. Reluctantly, the Kar acknowledged the wisdom of 
her words. The Shakar couldn’t keep Ash confined forever. 
Either they would be forced to kill him outright, or he’d die 
trying to escape, and she along with him. Though Ash’s death 
meant little to the Kar, their honor demanded they keep her 
safe. And if doing so required them to keep Ash safe as well, 
so be it. 
A promise of a treaty between the Shakar, Mardelan and 
Arete finally swayed the wily old Kar. With the power of 
Mardelan and Arete behind them, no longer would the Shakar 
be at the mercy of humans. 
K’Tal’s laugh and Ash’s curt nod sealed the deal. 
Apprehension tinged Cathy’s sigh of relief. 
Why did she fight so hard for Ash’s cause? For a brief 
moment on the raft, she’d had the option to return home. Then 
the tingle of the crystal in her hand gave her a glimpse of her 
life without Ash - a future without warmth or color, devoid of 
emotion. Even if the raft hadn’t tipped Ash into the river, Cathy 
was unsure whether she would have left him. 
Each day her waking dreams grew stronger and more 
intense, the images no longer misty and fading as she returned 
to herself. Now the two worlds merged in her mind as one. 
Like a badly double-exposed piece of film, they clashed in 
some ways and flowed together in others, constantly shifting 
until her head spun dizzily. She comprehended only parts of 
what she learned in her dream state, but it was enough. Ash 
needed her to find his way. Without her, he would fail. 
Though she’d started this journey unwillingly, now she 
needed to finish it. As much for herself as for Ash. 
“Krise avel,” N’Tama said. Come, we leave. 
Strange how easily she understood the Shakar’s sibilant 
tongue. Another of Katrina’s talents perhaps? Cathy wasn’t 
sure. Since questions and argument gained her nothing, she 
merely accepted, as she accepted this whole bizarre experience. 
“Sai sta.” I stay. Cathy handed N’Ril to N’Tama and turned 
to watch Ash approach. 
With a brief nod, N’Tama gathered up N’Ril’s twin, N’Bal, 

as well, and left with the others. The two children murmured 
in sleepy protest at being disturbed. Relieved of N’Ril’s warm 
weight, Cathy’s arms felt empty and chilled. 
Gripping the makeshift cane K’Tal had fashioned for her, 
Cathy rose to face the storm brewing on Ash’s face. If she had 
the moon crystal, the lightning flashing in his eyes could carry 
her home. She smiled at the thought. The drone of the departing 
Shakar faded, leaving only the gurgle of water and sea birds’ 
cries to break the growing silence that accompanied Ash. 
Jaw rigid, eyes hostile, he stalked toward her. “Woman, 
you promise what you cannot deliver. You have no authority to 
make treaties or promises to these people.” Though his words 
were softly spoken, she could hear the shout. 
Resolute, she held her ground against his outburst. “No I 
don’t, but you do. Are you angry at me for thinking of this 
solution, or at yourself for not thinking of it?” She laid her 
hand on his arm. “Be reasonable.” 
As if repulsed, he jerked from her touch and turned his 
back to her. Pain settled in her heart. Since their arrival in the 
valley, Ash had avoided her. Though they shared a dwelling 
and lay side by side on a single pallet at night, he kept a distance 
between them. She could reach out and touch his flesh, but he 
held his heart carefully aloof. 
“What choice do we have?” 
“None,” he answered reluctantly, “but why did you not 
discuss this with me first? I dislike looking foolish before my 
enemies.” 
“But the Shakar are no longer your enemies. They’re your 
allies. And we need them to get out of here.” 
Ash grunted and turned to face her. “Allies. So you would 
trade a war between Mardelan and Arete for a war with 
Dramon?” 
“Don’t be silly.” She dismissed his concern. “The Shakar 
have no desire to go to war with Dramon. They just want to 
live in peace in their valley. With Mardelan and Arete as allies, 
Dramon will leave them be. What could be easier?” 
“You understand little of the nature of men. Because you 
accept the Shakar as human, you believe others will as well. 

The Shakar are too different to be accepted without difficulty.” 
“I realize that. I’m not stupid or naive. We can deal with 
that problem later. At least I’ve found a way out of here. Unless 
you’ve got a better idea.” 
“Flying out of here,” he muttered, his gaze following the 
flight of the birds. 
“What?” 
“Nothing. Come,” he took her arm, “don’t dawdle. We will 
make our plans to depart.” 
How typically male, she thought as she hurried to keep up 
with his long stride. He objects to any plan not his own, but 
once he accepts it, you’re supposed to rush. Still, if letting 
him take charge now got them moving, she’d gladly go along. 
She feared if she didn’t resolve her situation soon, she would 
dissolve into her dreams. 
*** 
Ash kept Cathy close beside him, the slap of their feet 
against wet stone the only sound in the winding passage. Lit 
only by a line of glimmer moss growing at the base of the 
walls, the tunnel snaked its way through the cliffs surrounding 
the Shakar’s valley. A complicated maze of dead ends, 
switchbacks and branches, the tunnel curved and twisted so, 
only one completely familiar with the route would stand any 
chance of emerging at either end. 
Ash locked his gaze on the Shakar. If the creature chose to 
abandon them, they would die in this moon-forsaken hell. “How 
much farther? We’ve been traveling for hours.” 
“Patience, Prince de Gar.” 
The humor in the creature’s voice grated on Ash’s already 
taut nerves. He clasped the hilt of his sword. “How do I know 
you lead us to safety? If you’ve played us false....” Ignoring 
Cathy’s gasp and her grip on his sword arm, he let the threat 
hang in the green gloom. 
The Shakar stopped and turned to face Ash. “Your lack of 
trust does not bode well for our treaty.” 
“If you fail in your part of the bargain, there is no treaty.” 
“Ash! Stop this. If K’Tal wanted to kill us, he didn’t need 
to leave the valley.” 

“Your mate is right. I could have easily killed you without 
all this bother.” 
“You could have tried.” He slipped his sword from its 
scabbard. The red blade gleamed like fresh blood. Your mate. 
The Shakar’s words burrowed into Ash like hungry water 
worms, draining his resolve. 
“You are a hotheaded fool. Sheath your sword, and let us 
continue.” K’Tal turned and strode down the tunnel. 
“Must you argue and taunt the man at every turn?” Cathy 
demanded. “He’s trying to help us.” 
Ash sheathed his blade, grabbed Cathy’s hand, and 
followed the disappearing Shakar. “He helps you, not me.” 
“The result is the same. We get out of here. So what 
difference does it make?” She stumbled along beside him. 
“None,” Ash agreed reluctantly, “but I dislike how he looks 
at you.” The cat-man’s hot gaze on her scorched Ash’s logic. 
Perhaps when Cathy was beyond K’Tal’s reach, Ash could put 
aside his suspicion and honor the treaty she had forged. 
Like sweet, cool water on a hot summer day, the sound of 
Cathy’s laughter doused his rage. 
“You’re jealous.” Her words sent a jolt though him. 
Jealous? He couldn’t be jealous. He wouldn’t be jealous. 
“Nonsense. You are not mine to be jealous of. I merely guard 
you to protect what resides within you—my life-mate’s ka.” 
“Am I really nothing more than a receptacle for your wife’s 
soul?” 
Her softly spoken question and white face tore at Ash’s 
conscience. Through hungry need he’d taken this woman’s body 
and heart, but to allow her to hope for his in return would be 
far crueler. He stopped and faced her. “Though I forced you to 
accompany me from your world, on the raft I offered you the 
opportunity to return home. You chose to stay and finish this. I 
admire and respect you for your courage, but my duty is clear. 
Do not ask me for what is not mine to give. There is no place 
for you in my life.” The lies tasted bitter on Ash’s tongue, but 
the pain in Cathy’s warm brown gaze spoke her acceptance of 
his decree. Could his heart accept it? 
“Why do you tarry?” K’Tal called. “The exit lies just 

ahead.” 
*** 
Cathy paused in the cave opening. Even after the dim green 
illumination of the caverns, the tree-shadowed woods seemed 
dark and foreboding. Dense forest crowded the rocky slope 
and hid any view of what lay ahead along the narrow, overgrown 
path coiling around massive tree trunks. Above, a thick canopy 
of branches shrouded the sky and sun. Below, fallen leaves 
rustled beneath Ash’s feet as he strode after K’Tal. Still, Cathy 
hesitated. A damp breeze from the tunnel stirred the smell of 
rotting vegetation hovering in the still forest air. And her own 
apprehension. Danger hung thick around them. 
Ahead K’Tal paused and waited for Ash and her. “Stay 
together,” he warned. “This place has little affection for 
humans.” 
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” she whispered 
into the oppressive atmosphere. 
“Keep your sword ready,” K’Tal told Ash and drew his 
own blade. He moved forward. “And keep close to my heels.” 
Clutching her small dagger, Cathy hurried to catch up with 
the two men. Somehow she knew whatever lived in these woods 
would give little warning and less mercy. 
Ash crept to K’Tal’s back. “What lurks in this moonless 
place?” 
K’Tal shrugged. “They have no human name. The Shakar 
call them the Sperry. They inhabit and protect this wood from 
harm. None may pass through without their permission.” 
“Will they attack?” Cathy eyed the gnarled trees and dense 
undergrowth with growing disquiet. 
“The Shakar and the Sperry have long lived in peace. 
Humans persecute us both, so we have forged a truce. The 
Shakar hunt these woods and provide the Sperry some 
protection against the few humans who have wandered this far 
west. In return, the Sperry guard the entrance to the tunnel that 
leads to the Shakar Valley. For generations the arrangement 
has served us well.” 
Cathy decided not to ask what happened to those humans 
brave or foolish enough to enter these woods without 

permission. She didn’t want to know. 
“Then why the swords?” Ash asked. 
“There are other creatures less pleasant than either Shakar 
or Sperry who make their home here. Caution is never wasted. 
Come, it will be dark in a few hours, and I would make camp 
before then.” 
Hours passed. Daylight bled into night without a whimper. 
With one hand Cathy gripped her makeshift cane and with the 
other Ash’s belt. Her leg and hip ached from traveling nonstop 
over uneven ground, but she refused to complain or ask for a 
rest. The undercurrent of threat present in the forest kept her 
plodding forward. She had no desire to meet either the Sperry 
or any other of this place’s inhabitants. 
Suddenly, the woods ended. K’Tal halted. “We’ll camp 
here.” He fitted action to words, and within minutes had started 
a small fire. 
“Do not wander from camp. The plain holds many traps 
for the unwary. There is a measure of safety in this narrow 
space between forest and plain, as well as in the circle of the 
campfire.” 
K’Tal’s words of caution couldn’t dampen Cathy’s sense 
of relief. She stepped out from beneath the heavy covering of 
the forest onto a broad, grassy strip of ground. Freedom from 
the unknown dangers of the forest made her want to whirl 
around under the star-studded sky. Near the distant horizon, 
two moons rode the black velvet—one brilliant white, the other 
a cool blue shadow. Where their two edges touched, a sliver of 
crimson bled into the night. 
Ash moved to stand next to her and looked up. “The Blood 
Moon begins.” 
The warm brush of his breath across her temple stirred 
forbidden desires. 
“Time grows short. We must reach Castle Mar before the 
moons merge in the night sky.” 
Ash sheathed his sword and bent to assist with setting up 
their camp. 
“Tomorrow I will guide you to the edge of a small human 
settlement not far from here,” K’Tal said. “There you may 

obtain supplies and transport to complete your journey.” 
Later, Cathy settled near the fire and looked at the two 
men—Ash sullen and hostile, K’Tal wary yet amused. For a 
man so abused by humans, K’Tal had developed a rare insight 
into human nature and apparently found it quite humorous. 
“How will I send word to you when we have reached our 
goal?” Ash broke the silence that had fallen over the group. 
“In the morning, mark this location. Send a messenger to 
camp here. The Sperry will note his arrival and relay word to 
us. We will contact him. Have a care as you traverse the plain. 
It is deceptive in its appearance.” He handed Ash a parchment. 
“I have marked the location of oases you should pass. Make 
every attempt to reach one before nightfall.” 
“Why?” Cathy asked, pretty sure she didn’t really want to 
know the answer. 
“At night, Li’al roam the plains.” 
“What or who is a Lial?” 
“Ka eaters,” Ash answered. “Soul stealers. A myth told to 
terrorize children.” 
“Perhaps,” K’Tal agreed with a thin-lipped smile. “But 
most myths have a basis in fact. The Shakar are proof of it. 
The Li’al may not eat souls, but whatever they are, they are 
vicious predators that hunt at night. Take care. If you die, Prince 
Ash, the Shakar/Human treaty dies with you.” 
Brows furrowed in anger, Ash glanced at the parchment 
then tucked it inside his belt. “You have my gratitude for your 
assistance, Shakar. I give my word I will honor the treaty Cathy 
forged with your leader.” 
Cathy flinched at the suppressed rage in Ash’s tone. Why 
did K’Tal insist on taunting Ash? 
“I never doubted you would, human. If I had, you would 
not have left the valley alive. I could wish you were less 
honorable, then I would have had cause to kill you.” 
When K’Tal’s gaze settled on her, Cathy felt a heat that 
owed nothing to the cheery fire. Though she discounted the 
desire blazing in the Shakar’s expressive eyes as his way of 
tormenting Ash, it eased the ache of rejection in her heart. 
“Should you ever grow tired of this human, K’Tee, I would 

welcome you in my cave.” His warm, honeyed words soothed 
and stroked Cathy’s battered ego. “A man who does not value 
his prize deserves to lose it.” 
Ash bristled, his fingers clenching around the hilt of his 
sword. Cathy gulped and wondered if the two would yet come 
to blows. The thought alarmed her, yet she couldn’t contain 
her thrill at Ash’s show of jealousy. 
“Do not worry, Warrior Prince, I’ll not steal her in the dark 
of the night, but...” He paused, and his tone hardened, “if she 
came to me of her free will, I would fight to keep her.” 
With a curse, Ash jumped to his feet and pulled his sword. 
“You dare much, Shakar.” 
The tip of the blade touched K’Tal’s throat. His composure 
didn’t waver. Cathy froze, her pleasure in K’Tal’s flowery praise 
gone. 
“I dare nothing. Sit down, human. Despite appearances, 
you are not so much a fool to cut my throat. You yet need me. 
And your honor will not let you kill an unarmed man.” He 
nodded at his own sword resting a few yards away. 
Cathy struggled to her feet beside Ash and clutched his 
sword arm. She held tight when he tried to shake her loose. 
“Can’t you see he’s only testing your honor? He’s heir to the 
leadership of his people. I mean nothing to him.” 
“She is partially correct.” For a moment, K’Tal’s warm 
gaze rested on her, then he looked at Ash. “I would know that 
your temper does not rule your head and heart. We may never 
be friends, but there must be trust between us for this alliance 
to succeed.” 
While K’Tal’s words reflected hers, the sadness in his eyes 
made her wonder which of what he said was true. Based on 
K’Tal’s knowledge of their relationship, his test made sense. 
He believed she and Ash were mates, bound by desire if not 
love. If he knew the whole truth, would he be as secure? 
Tension eased from Ash’s body. “You court trust in a 
peculiar fashion. How have you managed to live this long, 
Shakar?” Muttering unintelligible oaths, he sheathed his sword 
and sank down by the fire. “Your tests are dangerous. What is 
mine I hold. And never forget - Cathy is mine.” His arm snaked 

around her waist and pulled her down by his side. 
Ash’s harsh words and powerful hold sent a chill through 
Cathy. She was his. In the spin master’s cave she had given 
him her heart and her body. When they reached Princess 
Katrina’s side, she would give him her soul. 
What would be left? 

Fourteen
Early the next morning, Cathy chafed at remaining hidden 
with K’Tal while Ash entered the small human settlement 
situated at the edge of the forest. But since for once both men 
were in agreement, she gave in and stayed behind. Despite 
K’Tal’s cheery company, the hour it took Ash to purchase two 
quinar and the supplies for their trip across the Ardath Plain to 
Seagate Harbor dragged. A growing restlessness ate at her 
patience and urged her forward. Any delay unsettled her. With 
each passing heartbeat, time grew short. 
When Ash returned, K’Tal took Cathy’s hands in his and 
pulled her into his embrace. She ignored Ash’s hostile stare 
and hugged K’Tal. 
“May the Sha guide and protect you, K’Tee. May you find 
what your heart desires. And remember, you are always 
welcome in the Valley of the Shakar.” 
Against her skin, his palms felt like soft leather, his fur 
like warm velvet. His musky male scent surrounded and 
comforted her. How quickly this gentle man had found a spot 
in her heart. “Come with us. Once Ash has settled his problems, 
if you’re there, he can put the treaty with your people in place 
immediately.” 
“Even if I wished to, I could not ride with you.” 
“Why not?” Cathy stepped back. 
A few yards away Ash stood waiting with the quinar. At 
K’Tal’s approach, the animals shifted nervously and pulled at 
the reins in Ash’s hands. 
“Easy there.” Ash soothed the skittish beasts, but the closer 
K’Tal got, the more agitated they became. “Stay back, before 
they decide to bolt. I cannot hold them if your scent pushes 

them to panic.” 
Comprehension dawned in Cathy. “To the quinar you smell 
like a predator.” 
“Don’t let his verbal skills deceive you. He is a predator.” 
Ash led the quivering quinar away. “Finish your farewells and 
let us be on our way.” 
Disregarding Ash’s terse tone and angry stare, she leaned 
forward and pressed her lips to K’Tal’s fur-covered cheek. “I’ll 
miss you.” 
“As I will you, K’Tee.” He turned and walked away. In 
moments he had vanished into the dense forest. 
Would she ever see him again? Tears brimmed in her eyes. 
She jumped as Ash jeered. “Perhaps when our journey is 
completed, you will wish to return to the Shakar’s valley rather 
than to your Earth.” 
With an exasperated sniff, she lifted her chin and strode 
over to the quinar. “You, Prince Ash de Gar, are a fool.” She 
turned her back to him and waited for him to help her mount. 
Two silent hours later, she shifted in discomfort on the 
broad back of the shaggy quinar. Her butt, legs and back 
screamed in agony from the creature’s jarring gait. Though 
Ash claimed quinar were superior to Earth horses in stamina, 
endurance, docility, and comfort, he couldn’t prove it by these 
poor creatures. Ill-tempered and stubborn, they moved along 
only because Ash was even more ill-tempered and stubborn. 
Her hairy beast plodded on without direction, its nose hugging 
the tail of the equally hairy beast Ash rode. 
Stretching from horizon to horizon, an ocean of waist-high 
grass surrounded them. The tan stalks undulated in the wind, 
creating an illusion of waves rippling across the ground. Behind 
them the grass sprang back and obliterated their path. 
Everything beneath those rolling waves was hidden from view. 
Unconsciously, she tucked her legs tighter to the quinar’s sides, 
suddenly grateful for its height and bulk keeping her above 
whatever lurked below. 
Cathy missed K’Tal’s company. Though his conversation 
had been loaded with land mines, his keen sense of humor had 
taken the sting out his words and made the earlier part of the 

journey pass quickly. Ash’s current sullen silence made time 
drag. 
Tired of being neglected, she abandoned her pique, bit her 
lip against the pain of the movement and jabbed her heels into 
the quinar’s sides to urge it forward. With a grumbled protest, 
it increased its pace and pulled alongside Ash’s beast, then 
settled back to its rough gait. 
“Talk to me,” she commanded. 
Startled, he shot her a quick grin. “About what?” 
“I don’t care. Anything. Nothing. The silence is about to 
drive me nuts.” 
“Silence?” 
“Yeah, you know, silence, the lack of sound.” Apparently 
their lack of conversation hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. 
“You find the plain silent?” 
“Of course, don’t you?” 
He cocked his head toward her. “Listen, can’t you hear it 
singing to you?” 
The soft whoosh of air blowing through the grass blended 
with a creak of saddle leather. As she concentrated, other sounds 
came clear. The musical whistle of ground birds calling to one 
another. The chirp of insects. The crackle of grass and earth 
breaking before the quinar. The patter of some small animal 
scurrying away. The sigh of the wind. A symphony of sounds 
lifted on the dry air and swirled around her. 
“It does seem to sing, but I can’t make out what it’s trying 
to tell me. Can you?” 
A bemused smile tilted the corner of his well-shaped lips. 
“Like the mountains or the sea, the plain doesn’t sing words, it 
sings its essence. Each part of nature has its own song. You 
interpret the meaning in your heart, not your head.” 
“What do the mountains of Arete sing to you?” 
For a moment before he spoke Ash’s focus turned inward. 
“Wild, dangerous majesty. They challenge me to reach and glory 
in their heights and plumb their hidden depths. A man could 
spend his life and never know the all of Arete’s mountains.” 
Ash’s gaze grew fierce with longing. The intensity made 
Cathy shiver. Would he ever look at her with such desire? 

Unbidden heat burst deep within her. She shoved it away. 
“And the farmland of Mardelan? What does it sing of?” 
“Contentment and satisfaction. Home and hearth. The 
things a man needs to consider his life complete.” 
Ash’s words sang a song to Cathy, one of a man striving 
for freedom yet craving the security of home. Once the princess 
was restored to him, would he find what he sought in her arms? 
Like a crystal blade, the thought twisted in Cathy’s heart. 
Before he could see the yearning in her eyes, she changed 
the subject. “This land looks like it would be perfect for grazing 
animals or farming. Why haven’t we seen any farms or other 
settlements?” 
“Like much of my world, the land west of the Prana River 
is largely unexplored and unsettled.” 
“What about the settlement?” 
His lips thinned in anger. “A collection of outlaws and 
misfits unable or unwilling to conform with societal 
requirements, mostly rough men and a few even rougher 
women. If I had taken you there, it is unlikely either of us 
would have left. The inhabitants would have tried to kill me to 
get to you.” 
Ash’s grim tone evoked images of a lawless frontier town. 
In fact, in many ways the plain stretching out in front of them 
reminded her of a Western prairie. “All it needs is a couple of 
Indians and a herd of buffalo,” she mused. 
“What?” 
“Nothing, just thinking out loud. How long before we can 
stop for lunch?” 
An infectious grin softened his rigid demeanor and eased 
the morning’s strain. “Hungry again?” 
“Is the Pope Catholic?” she quipped then laughed in delight 
at his puzzled frown. “Yes,” she answered before he could 
question her odd phrase. “Where will we stop?” 
“Ahead.” In the distance a stand of trees broke the smooth 
line of the horizon. “Beneath the trees, the ground will be clear 
of grass.” 
“Glad to hear it. I wasn’t looking forward to wading through 
this stuff.” She eyed the tall grass warily. In addition to hiding 

whatever lived at ground level, the grass blades were thick and 
tough. Only the quinar’s heavy fur and thick hides protected 
them from injury. Walking through this field could be 
dangerous. 
An hour later the quinar lumbered into the oasis where the 
grass ended abruptly. Grateful for his support, Cathy let Ash 
lift her from her quinar’s back. Her legs trembled. Exhaustion 
and strain had her swaying into Ash’s side. The urge to rest in 
his arms left her vulnerable. When he steadied her then pulled 
away, she pushed aside the ache of his unsubtle rejection and 
turned her attention to the odd oasis of trees in the middle of 
this never-ending plain of grass. 
The area consisted of only four trees, each equally spaced 
from the others to form an almost perfect square. Beneath the 
tree’s drip line, nothing larger than a soft, brownish-green moss 
grew. Midday light filtered through a dense canopy of branches. 
The breeze rustled the browning leaves and stirred a moist, 
earthy aroma. None of the trees’ branches touched, and at the 
center of the oasis a beam of sunlight bathed a tiny, rock-lined 
spring. 
After the vague sense of threat she felt crossing the 
grassland, here peace and safety suffused the very air. “This 
can’t be a random growth of trees, can it?” 
“There is much about the Ardath Plain which is unknown. 
These odd oases occur at regular intervals. Travelers have 
learned that if they do no damage to the trees or springs, their 
presence is tolerated.” 
“And if someone were to try to cut some firewood or disturb 
the spring?” Apprehension slithered down her spine as, without 
apparent cause, the light around them dimmed. The quinar 
snorted and pulled against Ash’s hold. 
A muscle in Ash’s jaw jerked. “I wouldn’t recommend it. 
We will eat our meal cold and do naught but drink of the spring.” 
Ash loosely tied the quinar to a stout branch and quickly 
unpacked their supplies. 
The wind sighed through the leaves. As quickly as it came 
the unexplained gloom vanished and the small oasis seemed 
once again welcoming. 

Seated on a tarp spread next to the sparkling spring a 
thought occurred to Cathy. “Will we reach another oasis before 
dark?” 
“I’m unsure. I know little of this area except what I’ve 
heard. The map K’Tal provided indicates another oasis within 
reach, but I can’t be positive.” 
“What will we do if we don’t find one?” The thought of 
spending the night surrounded by this dense growth of grass 
made Cathy groan inwardly. “Can we ride through the night?” 
“We cannot travel after nightfall.” 
“Not that I want to ride in the dark, but why not?” 
“Predators roam the plain at night.” 
The sweet fruit, hard bread and sharp cheese suddenly 
tasted like cardboard. Wine soured on her tongue. 
“Great. Just what I needed to hear.” All around the oasis, 
the wind set the tall grass to swaying. Its dense foliage hid a 
myriad of unknown dangers. “What will we do if we don’t 
reach an oasis?” 
Ash glanced up at the sun. 
“I will trample a circle in the grass, and we will camp 
there. Don’t worry, I will remain awake and on guard throughout 
the night. There is little danger. Finish your meal. We need to 
move on.” 
“When I get home I’m going to register a complaint with 
my travel agency. This trip just keeps getting worse and worse.” 
Ash shot her a reproving look, but said nothing as they 
mounted the quinar and moved out onto the plain. 
They reached the next oasis as the sun neared the horizon. 
Cathy slid to the moss-covered ground and leaned against the 
quinar. The animal’s labored breathing echoed the pain 
thrumming through her aching body. 
To Cathy this oasis appeared almost identical to the first. 
The same number and odd arrangement of trees and the same 
spring. If not for the subtle differences in the shape of the trees 
and placement of the rocks around the spring, she could almost 
believe they had traveled in a circle. 
The spring bubbled, filling the air with the sweet scent of 
water. She pushed aside her doubts and hobbled over to kneel 

at the spring’s edge. The quinar followed and stuck its muzzle 
into the water. For a moment Cathy merely gazed at the 
shimmering liquid, then she plunged in her cupped hands and 
drank. Cool water glided like nectar down her parched throat. 
“Come and eat.” 
Silhouetted against the setting sun, Ash stood over her. She 
longed to turn into his embrace and rest her weary head against 
his strong shoulder. She didn’t have the right. He belonged to 
another woman. “I’m too tired to eat.” 
“Then rest. I will see to the quinar.” 
“No.” She struggled to her feet, ignoring Ash’s outstretched 
hand and the flash of pain on his face at her silent rejection. 
“I’ll help. Pull off the packs, and I’ll set up camp.” 
He nodded his agreement and turned away. A short time 
later, the animals cared for and camp made, they settled onto 
the tarp and ate some fruit, bread and cheese, washed down by 
the last of the wine. 
As darkness descended, a high-pitched cry split the quiet. 
Cathy shuddered at the feral sound and scooted closer to Ash. 
His arm came around her shoulder and pulled her to his side. 
She lifted her head and studied his features. Moonlight 
drained the gold from his hair and color from his skin, gilding 
him with silver. 
“Relax. The night grows cold. We leave at first light. Sleep.” 
Beneath her cheek, Ash’s warm chest rose and fell in a 
steady rhythm. 
Hours later she woke with a start. More than a dream, yet 
less than her other odd excursions, this dream left her weak 
with longing for what she knew could never be. In it she walked 
at Ash’s side, hand in hand, through a crowd of cheering people. 
They called his name and another - Katrina - his wife. 
Her leg and hip throbbed with a dull ache that precluded a 
return to sleep. She shifted restlessly. A low moan of pain 
slipped past her lips. When she tried to move away so as not to 
disturb Ash, he tightened his grip. She looked up into his eyes. 
For hours Ash had lain awake while Cathy slept in the 
circle of his arms, her body soft and trusting, her woman scent 
hot and tantalizing in his nostrils. Finally he’d managed to fall 

into a restless sleep. Now the slide of her flesh against his 
stirred him from half-slumber. He splayed his hand just below 
the swell of her breast. Except for the rapid thud of her heart 
and the catch in her breath, she went still. 
Stars glittering in the now moonless sky provided the only 
illumination, washing everything with a pearly gleam. Eyes 
wide and vulnerable, she raised her gaze to his, and he was 
lost. 
“This is wrong. I have no right. Tell me to stop,” he begged. 
“I can’t. I need you. I want you. If only for this moment.” 
Her lips parted on a soft sigh. 
Unable and unwilling to ignore her plea, he bent his head 
and kissed her. Fate had decreed he love one woman while he 
was bound to another. How could he deny what felt so right? 
Sweet and slightly shy, her lips opened beneath his and he 
groaned his surrender. Conscience faded away as her tongue 
met his. Tomorrow he would regret his weakness, but at this 
moment the wants and needs of his body and ka commanded 
him. 
Morning dawned bright and clear. If only Ash’s emotions 
were as simple. Cathy lay in his arms, her body warm and lax, 
sated with his loving. At the thought, his body hardened in 
renewed desire. However many times he joined with this 
woman, he knew it would not be enough. Perhaps the fact that 
she was forbidden to him fed his urge to possess her, but he 
doubted it. Even with Ilka his desire had not been so constant 
and intense. He groaned and disentangled himself from Cathy’s 
embrace. 
Once again he’d betrayed his vows and Cathy’s trust. Guilt 
stirred his anger as he rose and readied the quinar for travel. 
He must keep his distance from this woman and remember his 
goal. 
They traveled through the next two days with little 
conversation. Cathy seemed lost in her thoughts, surprising 
Ash when she made no protest at his curtness. Each day the 
quinar moved more slowly, their strength nearly spent. In the 
morning he roused her earlier, and they traveled later into the 
night to reach an oasis. Though he knew they flirted with danger, 

nothing he did could prod the quinar to greater speed. 
The fourth morning they left before dawn, but didn’t reach 
another oasis until late afternoon. They paused only long enough 
to fill their water skins and ate while riding. 
Hours later the sun began to set. The glowing ball painted 
the sky with streaks of red and yellow. 
Oblivious to the beauty, Ash scanned the horizon for sight 
of the next oasis. Though he’d spoken with surety about his 
ability to keep them safe through the night if they missed an 
oasis, he doubted the task would be simple. 
Since the sun began its descent, the sounds of the plain 
had taken on a different, more ominous tone. No longer did he 
hear the twitter of ground birds or the scurrying of small rodents. 
Now the rustle of the grass indicated the movement of much 
larger creatures - creatures that were following them and 
growing ever closer. Their rank odor wafted on the breeze. 
That they approached up wind spoke of their confidence. Ash 
could hear the rasp of their breathing and their hoarse calls to 
one another. His tired quinar trembled and strained to break 
into a run. 
But try as he did, Ash could not catch a glimpse of the 
shadowy predators slinking through the concealing grass. Could 
a man fight what he couldn’t see? 
Determined to keep Cathy safe or die trying, he gave his 
quinar his head. Cathy groaned a protest at the rough gait as 
her quinar struggled to keep up. The tough blades of grass 
bent but didn’t break beneath the heavy animal’s hooves. 
They needed to find an oasis soon to replenish their water 
supply as well as for the safety offered. The plain seemed to 
sap the moisture from living things. Normally hardy and able 
to go days without food or drink, even the quinar were 
dehydrating. If their mounts failed, they would never make it 
across this moon-cursed plain. 
“Ash!” 
At Cathy’s panicky cry, Ash whirled his quinar around. In 
the growing dusk, shadowy shapes leaped out of the grass and 
surrounded her. Growls and squeals of excitement spewed from 
their throats. Rearing and slashing with his hooves, her quinar 

screeched. Eyes wide with terror, Cathy clung to the quinar’s 
back. 
“Hold on!” Pulling his sword, Ash raced back. 
A dark shape jumped up and latched on to Cathy’s quinar’s 
throat. The quinar threw up its head, and the dark shape dropped 
away. Blood spurted. The quinar’s scream became a liquid 
gurgle as it stumbled to its knees. Vague shapes slithered 
through the grass. 
“Ash!” 
Only feet separated them. A shadow passed between them. 
Pain sliced into his side. He struck out with his sword. The 
blade bit into something soft yet solid. Without pause, he lifted 
and tossed the carcass aside. 
He slashed blindly at the flitting dark shapes that crowded 
closer and eluded his blows with frustrating ease. “Give me 
your hand.” Controlling his terrified quinar with only his knees, 
he reached out toward Cathy. 
She stretched up one slim arm. He wrapped his fingers 
around it and yanked her free of the fallen quinar just as it 
gave one last scream and crumbled beneath the grass and a 
flurry of dark shapes. The predator’s yips and barks nearly 
overshadowed the sound of tearing flesh. 
Hugging Cathy close to his chest, Ash urged his quinar 
forward. The beast responded with a burst of speed. 
Against the darkening blue horizon, Ash saw the distinctive 
outline of an oasis. As if it knew safety lay beneath the trees, 
the quinar galloped on without encouragement. 
“Are you injured?” 
Her mumbled reply made Ash’s heart stop. Again he had 
failed her. He hadn’t been quick enough. The night creatures 
had gotten to her. How bad were her injuries? He ran his hand 
down her body. 
“Stop that.” She wiggled and pushed against his chest, then 
sat up and trapped his hand beneath her own on her waist. 
“I’m fine. What are those things?” 
He felt her tremor of fear. 
“The predators K’Tal warned us of. He might have been 
more specific. Then perhaps we would not have been caught 

unawares.” 
She twisted in his arms and looked over his shoulder. “Are 
they following us?” 
“I think not. They seem well occupied with your quinar.” 
Her tremor increased to a shudder. “Poor thing,” she 
murmured and burrowed into his embrace. 
Her warmth soaked through the chill that had settled around 
his heart at the thought of her being hurt. He clutched her close, 
vowing to see her safe - no matter the cost. 
“There is an oasis just ahead. We should be safe there.” 
“They won’t enter the oasis?” 
Ash shook his head. “I am unsure, but travelers speak of 
the safety the oases provide. It seems likely the predators avoid 
them.” 
“I hope so, because without a fire we’ll be sitting ducks on 
the open ground beneath the trees. I guess we could climb into 
a tree for the night and pray those critters can’t climb.” 
Cathy verbalized each of Ash’s fears. When he didn’t 
answer, she snuggled closer. Her hand brushed his side. He 
flinched. 
“You’re hurt.” 
“It is nothing. A scratch,” he lied. Only now, with the 
immediate danger over, was he aware of the blood pumping 
out of the gash. Thoughts became difficult. His vision blurred. 
The quinar burst into the oasis and shuddered to a halt 
next to a spring much larger than the one at the previous oases. 
Sides heaving with exertion, the quinar’s head hung to the 
ground. 
When Ash made no move to dismount, Cathy slid from the 
quinar’s broad back. Pain shot up her bad leg when her feet 
touched soil, but she gripped the animal’s sweat-lathered fur 
and remained upright. Ash needed her. Blood flowed out of his 
side at an alarming rate. His golden skin appeared chalk white, 
but whether from blood loss or the dim moonlight, Cathy 
couldn’t tell. He swayed in the saddle, and his sword slipped 
from his fingers to thud on the soft dirt. 
“Oh, my God! Ash!” Cathy stumbled as Ash fell into her 
arms. His weight carried her down beneath him. 

Breathless, Cathy struggled to move Ash’s limp form. The 
warmth of his blood touched her and then soaked into the moss-
covered ground. Around her, the oasis seemed to take a 
shuddering breath. The trees rustled despite the lack of breeze 
as branches bent downward, forming a protective veil. Water 
gurgled in the spring. 
For a moment Cathy felt as if the oasis knew and cared 
what had happened. Then she shook off the fanciful notion. 
Ash needed her help. If she didn’t do something quickly, he 
would bleed to death. 
She crawled from beneath him, rolled him to his back and 
tore away his shirt. Though the moons cast a milky light, they 
hadn’t risen far enough to illuminate the oasis through the trees. 
By the time they were high enough, it would be too late. If she 
couldn’t see how could she staunch the flow of blood? Fumbling 
in the darkness she tore off her jacket and pressed it against 
Ash’s side. He moaned and thrashed as the rough material 
touched the gash. 
“It’s too dark,” she cried in frustration. 
All around her the oasis came to life. The spring bubbled 
up. The spray glittered with a thousand pinpoints of light, 
illuminating the oasis. She blinked against the sudden brilliance. 
“Are you alive?” she questioned the strange oasis. If so, 
this one sensed her problem and, in its own way sought to help 
her. But beyond the rustle of the trees, she received no answer. 
Moist and soft, moss compacted beneath her clenched fingers. 
She lifted her hand and stared at the greenish mass. Before 
fear and doubt made her question her decision, she tore up 
handfuls of the stuff and, in the now adequate light, packed it 
in and around the gash in Ash’s side. 
He tossed his head, but didn’t try to move away. Either the 
moss hurt less than the material of her jacket, or he was beyond 
pain. Cathy chose to believe the former. The soft moss packed 
easily into the wound, and the bleeding quickly slowed to a 
trickle, then stopped entirely. 
Ignoring the pain in her bad leg, she crouched next to Ash. 
Her training in first aid was limited: stop the bleeding, CPR, 
and call 911. She was unprepared to deal with an injury of this 

magnitude. What else could she do for Ash? 
Keep him warm. 
She hurried to the quinar and pulled Ash’s pack from the 
creature’s back. Because her quinar carried less weight, Ash 
had placed the larger portion of their supplies with her. She 
was relieved to find a ground cloth and a thick blanket. 
Spreading out the cloth, she rolled Ash onto its dry surface and 
covered him with the blanket. He moaned softly, but didn’t 
rouse. 
Next she sorted through the remaining supplies - a few 
strips of dried meat, a loaf of hard bread and a chunk of cheese, 
along with a half-filled skin of water. Despair threatened to 
overwhelm her. If Ash couldn’t travel, they hadn’t enough food 
to survive long at this oasis. In the morning could she go on 
alone and bring back help? Would Ash live until her return? 
A shriek pierced the night. Jumping up, Cathy rushed to 
Ash’s side. Ash’s sword rested next to him, but she made no 
attempt to lift the heavy blade. She gripped her dagger and 
stared into the darkness beyond the oasis. The quinar whinnied, 
his hooves beating a nervous tattoo in the dirt. Another shriek 
sounded from the other side of the oasis. Then a chorus of 
yowls began, rising and falling as the creatures paced the oasis’ 
perimeter. 
With the rising of the moons, the light from the spring 
faded and died. Only the ghostly, red-tinted glow of moonlight 
lit the oasis. 
Despite the cool night air, sweat dripped down Cathy’s 
spine and tingled beneath her armpits. Fear clutched at her 
soul. Her hand crept into Ash’s. If she died this night, she would 
do so fighting at his side. 
Ash’s fingers tightened around hers. “Help me up. And 
hand me my sword.” 
At the sound of Ash’s voice and the strength in his grip, 
relief flooded through Cathy. Together they stood a better 
chance than she did alone. With her shoulder beneath his arm, 
she hoisted him to a sitting position, back braced against the 
rocks at the edge of the spring, and closed his hand around the 
hilt of his sword. Sweat glistened on his face as he lifted the 

heavy blade. 
“Stay on my bad side.” 
As Cathy strained to see into the darkness, one predator, 
bolder than the others, crept forward until his sleek body slipped 
from the cover of the grass into the clearing. Like a gray ghost 
it remained there, an indistinct shadow, all but invisible. Feral 
eyes glinted with blood lust, and long white canines gleamed 
in the moonlight. The smell of death, thick and rank, preceded 
it. 
Step by cautious step, body low to the ground, the predator 
slunk closer. Red eyes peered out of the grass, waiting, 
watching. The quinar squealed and whirled to face the threat. 
Massive head lowered in a defensive stance, its hooves churned 
the ground. Bits of moss and dirt spewed over Cathy. She 
tightened her grip on the dagger. 
Above, the branches creaked and groaned, brown leaves 
crackling. Thwack! A branch crashed down. The predator 
yelped and leaped up. Whirling around, it pawed at its 
hindquarters, where a long thick splinter of wood protruded. 
Thwack! Thwack! Branches rained down, pelting the creature, 
piercing its flesh. Roaring in pain, the animal bolted into the 
grass. The rain of branches ceased as abruptly as it started. 
Screams exploded in the grass. Though Cathy could see 
little beyond the brief glimpse of teeth and eyes, she could 
easily imagine the scene as the other predators fell on their 
injured companion and tore him apart. 
She huddled against Ash. “Will they try again?” 
His arm closed around her shoulders. “I think not. Listen.” 
Silence had fallen over the grass. The only sounds in the 
night were the grunt of the now calm quinar and the musical 
tinkle of the spring bubbling behind them. 
“Thank you,” Cathy whispered. 
Ash shot her a puzzled frown. “I did nothing. If the creatures 
had attacked, I would have been useless.” His sword weighed 
heavy on his arm. The gash in his side throbbed with painful 
intensity, blurring his vision, leaving him weak and trembling. 
“Not you, the oasis,” Cathy insisted. “It protected us. It 
attacked the predator and drove it away.” She lifted her head 

and stared up into the trees. 
“Nonsense,” Ash muttered angrily. “It was naught but the 
wind knocking loose some dead branches that scared the 
creatures off. Trees have no minds, no will to do such a thing.” 
“Believe what you want, but I saw what I saw. And I say 
this oasis is alive. Maybe it’s not the trees, but something here 
saw our trouble and helped us. There’s magic and wonder in 
your world that even you don’t know about.” She shrugged out 
of his embrace, stood and threw out her arms. “Thank you!” 
she cried. 
Moonlight bathed her in a pearly glow, turning her skin to 
ivory. Her brown hair caught and held silvery shards of light. 
Dagger clenched in one hand, her legs in a battle stance, she 
appeared a warrior goddess of legend come to claim his ka for 
its journey to Eternity. 
At that moment, if he could have risen, he would have 
followed her gladly. 

Fifteen
After a meager dinner of cheese, hard bread and spring 
water, Ash took first watch over Cathy’s objections, claiming 
he might as well, for he couldn’t sleep because of the ache in 
his side. Though worried about his wound, she settled beside 
him with a weary sigh, thankful for the presence of his solid 
bulk. 
At first light Cathy woke alone. The spot where Ash had 
sat was empty. Panic flared. Had the creatures carried him off 
in the night? She jumped to her feet. Her bad leg buckled. She 
caught her balance on the rocks surrounding the spring. “Ash!” 
“I’m here, Little Shecal.” 
She whirled around to see Ash enter the oasis from the 
grass on the far side. Behind him the grass closed, leaving no 
indication of his passage. Angry, she stormed to his side. “Don’t 
scare me like that. I thought those creatures got you.” 
He grinned down at her. “Take my tough carcass and leave 
your tender flesh? I think not.” 
Relief warred with frustrated rage at his seeming 
carelessness. “Don’t tease me, Ash. Please.” Tears spiked her 
lashes, blurring her vision. She couldn’t lose him. The last few 
days she’d struggled to push aside her growing love for this 
aggravating warrior, but whatever happened at the end of this 
journey, she needed to know he would be safe and well. 
His obvious guilt over their lovemaking tore at her soul. 
Unable to face his rejection, she’d kept her distance since then. 
But the thought of him dying broke through her reserve, leaving 
her without any defense. Hopeless though it might be, she loved 
him. 
With his knuckle, he tilted her face up to his. “Tears for 

your abductor?” 
Embarrassed, she pulled away and turned her back to him, 
huffing, “Of course not. But if something happened to you, 
how would I ever get home?” 
“True enough,” he agreed, but she could hear the laughter 
lurking in his voice. 
Squaring her shoulders, she faced him again. “Besides, 
you shouldn’t be on your feet. Your injury....” 
“Seems miraculously better. See.” He lifted his arm and 
parted his shirt. 
Though the flesh was torn and blood crusted, in daylight 
the wound appeared less horrific than it had last night. 
“The injury felt worse than it was.” 
She reached out and traced her fingers above the gash that 
ran from his armpit to his navel. Already the skin seemed to be 
knitting together, the healing accelerated beyond the norm. “Or 
this moss holds an unknown healing power.” 
“Perhaps.” Ash dropped his arm, and a grimace of pain 
crossed his face. “It matters not. We must move on.” 
Cathy looked at the remaining quinar. The beast stood 
where they’d left him, head hanging down. Dried blood matted 
his coat, but she couldn’t tell if it was the animal’s or Ash’s. 
“Was he injured?” In her concern over Ash, she’d completely 
forgotten the animal. 
“No. After you slept, I checked him. He’s merely old and 
tired.” 
“Can he carry us both?” 
“You will ride. I will walk.” 
“You can’t. Even though you’re healing much faster than 
normal, pushing through the tough grass will be too hard. You 
could start bleeding again.” 
“There is no choice. The beast is too spent to carry two as 
well as forge through the grass. I must cut a path for him or he 
will falter long before we reach the end of our journey.” 
“But...” 
“Do not waste your breath with arguments, woman. You 
haven’t the strength to use my blade. Nor will your leg allow 
you to walk the distance. Fill the water skin and your belly. We 

must leave.” 
Knowing he was right didn’t make the situation any easier 
to accept. Cathy chewed a hunk of cheese while she filled their 
one small water skin and then drank her fill. Only a day and a 
half from their goal, they were going to die. The knowledge 
twisted inside her until she longed to scream in frustration. 
There had to be a way. 
But what? 
Ash turned, and the medallion on his chest caught her eye. 
Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? She jumped to her feet 
and rushed to his side. 
He started when she grabbed the medallion. “What?” 
“I have an idea. Maybe we can use your moon crystal.” 
“How?” His brows knitted and he waved his hand at the 
cloudless sky. “Even if you could command the stone to 
transport us, the power of storm is needed. Do we wait until a 
storm brews to try? Storms are few and far between on Ardath 
Plain.” 
“No, of course not.” She tugged the medallion over his 
head and held the smooth crystal. As before, her hands tingled 
at the contact with the cool stone. A thrum of power surged 
through her. “All along I’ve had the resource to rescue us.” 
When she spoke to the zard why hadn’t she told him of their 
location? Why hadn’t she told Ash what she’d learned? Had 
she kept the knowledge to herself to prolong her time with 
him? How could she have been so foolish? So selfish? 
She stared up at Ash, certain he could read the guilt in her 
eyes. “During my waking dreams, I spoke with your zard.” 
She quickly related all she could recall of those conversations. 
“Why did you not tell me this sooner?” 
“I don’t know. At first I tried to deny what I heard and saw. 
Maybe I’ve become so good at confusing fantasy with reality, 
I can’t separate the two any more.” Her gaze pleaded for his 
understanding. 
Though he struggled to maintain his anger, was his own 
guilt any less? Why hadn’t he questioned Cathy about her 
waking dreams? Had he selfishly not wanted to know, so that 
their time together wouldn’t end? Had his foolishness put both 

their lives in danger? As his harsh words had led his first wife 
to her death? 
“He told me he had been watching me, communicating 
with me in my dreams through the years. How did he do it?” 
Cathy asked. 
Memory of the zard’s words flooded Ash’s mind. “The 
moon crystal. He used it to set his ka free to travel the universe. 
And Katrina’s ka drew him to you.” 
“Maybe I can use the moon crystal to contact the zard. If it 
works, I can tell him where we are, and he can send help.” 
“It might work.” He paused. “But it’s too dangerous. Each 
time you’ve fallen into your waking dream, you’ve returned 
weaker. Who knows how the power of the stone will affect 
you.” 
Or the stone might whisk her home. The thought whispered 
in his mind. And if it could do so, did he have the right to deny 
her the chance of safety? He struggled with the choice. Either 
way, he would lose her. 
“If we stay here, we’ll soon die of starvation. If we try to 
walk out, those night creatures will probably make a feast of 
us.” She touched his arm and gazed into his eyes. “I have to 
try. It’s our only shot.” 
Reluctantly he decided. In the end he would lose her, but 
he would not lose her to death. 
“As usual, Little Shecal, you are right. You must try to 
contact the zard.” 
Fear flickered in Cathy’s brown eyes. Then she straightened 
her shoulders and it faded, replaced by fierce determination. 
She lifted the moon crystal. “Okay, how does this thing work?” 
“I...I do not know.” Defeat and an insidious sense of relief 
surged through Ash. Perhaps nothing would come of this idea. 
Without the power of the moon crystal, Cathy could not leave 
him. 
And they would die. He banished his foolish fantasies. 
“What happened each time you had a waking dream? 
Perhaps there is a clue there? Was there anything similar about 
each event?” 
“Nothing that I can think of.” She turned the now cloudy 

crystal over and over in her hands. Her fingers stroked the path 
of the internal fractures as they had stroked his skin when they 
made love. His body roused at her unconsciously sensual 
manipulation of the cold stone. 
“I’ve never been much good at it, but maybe if I tried 
meditating, something would happen.” She glanced at Ash then 
out at the swaying grass. “I don’t know how long this might 
take. How much longer can we stay here and still reach the last 
oasis before dark?” 
“We will stay here as long as necessary. Try to reach the 
zard.” Ash left unsaid the fact that even if they left immediately 
they would never reach the last oasis before nightfall. With a 
slight nod she turned and went to sit beneath one of the trees. 
For a while Ash busied himself with the quinar’s care. He 
washed the blood from the animal’s side, fed and watered him. 
He looked over to where Cathy sat motionless. Minutes then 
hours passed. She never moved. How long should he let her 
try? Was this nothing but a false hope that would keep them 
from making the attempt to move toward safety until they were 
too weak to try? He took a step then stopped. Whatever 
happened, he must let her try. The only other choice was death. 
At noon Ash gave up the pretense of keeping busy. He sat 
by the spring and waited. If the power of the moon crystal 
chose to snatch her from him, he would watch. 
His stomach rumbled. He ignored it. Shadows grew long, 
and the air chilled with the approach of night. Still, Cathy sat. 
Outside the circle of the oasis the grass rustled in the breeze. 
She didn’t flinch as a shrill cry broke the quiet. Only the length 
of a man’s height separated her from the edge of the oasis. A 
tremor of fear stole Ash’s breath. Grabbing his sword, he moved 
to her side. If any night creature attempted to attack, he must 
be closer to protect her. 
In the fading light Ash crouched at Cathy’s side and studied 
her still figure. Her legs were crossed in a position he knew 
would be agony for her twisted leg and hip, and her hands 
rested palms up on her knees. Head titled back, eyes closed, 
except for the dried tear tracks on her pale cheeks she appeared 
a statue. But her lips moved as if she conversed with an unseen 

presence. 
A chill slid down Ash’s spine. Had she succeeded in 
contacting the zard? Or did she drift in some unknown limbo, 
unable to find her home or her way back to his side? 
*** 
Cathy’s leg protested the Yoga position, but she ignored 
the pain. The soft murmur of the spring behind her, the rustle 
of grass and leaves created a gentle, soothing melody. The smell 
of dust swirled around her then faded beneath the earthy scents 
of moss and water. 
She closed her eyes and sought out her center. Never 
extremely skilled at meditation, she could only hope this would 
work. Before when she found herself yanked into that unknown 
realm, the change had been abrupt, unexpected and unwanted. 
Why she thought meditation would work now she didn’t know. 
But no other ideas on how to accomplish the shift occurred to 
her. 
Usually she found it difficult to focus enough to reach any 
state beyond a mild daydream. The moon crystal rested warm 
and heavy between her breasts and infused her with a feeling 
of calm security, easing her transition almost without her 
awareness. She floated away from the world into an unformed 
haze. Minutes. Hours. Days. Time passed without meaning. 
Distant sounds teased her ears. Music? Voices? Unclear. 
Languor banished curiosity. Nothing could touch her here. 
Dimly she felt the cool, damp ground beneath her, and the rough 
bark of the tree scraping her back through her shirt. There was 
something she must do. What was it? 
Memory crashed into her. Ash. Cold and harsh, reality 
ripped apart her safe, comforting cocoon. 
She spun around, searching for something, anything solid 
to lead her to her goal - the zard. How could she find him? 
Zard? Can you hear me? Help me. I’m lost. The void 
swallowed her voice and gave nothing back. Not a whisper. 
She’d failed. Tears gathered in her eyes to fall warm and salty 
down her cheeks. 
I hear you, little one. Come to me. 
Like a morning mist, the haze dissipated. A familiar room 

took shape in front of her. In the large hearth a fire blazed, 
casting flickering shadows over the zard’s stooped frame. 
Elation surged through Cathy. She’d done it. 
Worry etched the zard’s wrinkled visage. He took a step 
toward her, hand outstretched. “Time grows short. Soon the 
prince and princess must emerge from their Moon Cycle Retreat 
and take part in the Blood Bonding. Why does Prince de Gar 
delay?” 
Cathy shrank back in fear as a dark form rose from a chair 
and strode to the zard’s side. 
“Your apparition has returned?” the man questioned. 
Jakar. Cathy recognized the warrior’s voice and face as he 
stepped into the light. 
“Where is she?” Jakar asked, his dangerous gaze skimming 
over the room and Cathy without seeing her. 
“Speak softly.” The zard placed a warning hand on Jakar’s 
tense forearm. “Or you will frighten her away.” 
“I will strangle her if she does not reveal the whereabouts 
of my lord.” 
Cathy suppressed a giggle. The big, dark warrior no longer 
scared her. At least not while she was in this form. She grinned. 
He would strangle a ghost? 
“Jakar would wrestle with the Evil One if asked to by his 
prince.” The zard returned her smile. 
“Do not banter with the woman, old man,” Jakar practically 
roared. “Find out what delays Prince de Gar from returning to 
the castle. Do it now, before I lose my patience.” 
“Perhaps Jakar is right.” 
“Perhaps,” Jakar muttered in disgust. 
The zard cocked his head and studied Cathy. “You have 
come to me for a reason. I sense a difference in you this time. 
Sit,” he told the blustering warrior, and the man obeyed. 
Something about the zard reminded Cathy of her foster 
father, both wielded power tempered with wisdom. Though 
Max had been physically commanding as well, she sensed he 
would have met his match in this small, withered zard. He had 
convinced a skeptical Ash to travel through the boundaries of 
his known universe and made the hostile Jakar jump to obey 

his orders. 
He held out his hand. “Come, tell me, child. Where is our 
delinquent Prince?” 
She shook off her musings. Time was running out. Ash 
was injured.... 
Jakar jumped up. “Injured! When? Where is he?” 
Despite herself, Cathy cringed at Jakar’s rage. How did he 
hear me? 
“Perhaps concern for his prince has sensitized Jakar to 
your presence?” 
Eyes narrowed in suspicion and disbelief, Jakar stalked 
toward her. “Tell us, woman, or I’ll make you regret it.” 
The zard held up a hand, and Jakar sputtered to a halt as if 
suddenly aware of how empty his threat was. 
Ash was injured by an animal as we crossed the Ardath 
Plain. She glanced at the still tense Jakar and continued, He is 
fine, but we can’t travel fast enough to cover the remaining 
distance safely. So we’ve taken refuge at an oasis. 
Jakar’s gaze zeroed in on her. “If I show you a map can 
you pinpoint the oasis?” 
Though she sensed he couldn’t truly see her, having him 
hear her was discomforting. Safe enough in this form, she didn’t 
look forward to coming face to face with this man. 
The zard remained quiet, content now to let Jakar continue 
the questioning. 
I think so. 
“Wait.” Jakar strode to the door, opened it, and spoke softly 
to a man standing guard. The man hurried away. 
In minutes, a soft tap sounded. Jakar opened the door again, 
took a rolled parchment from the man, and cleared a small 
table with a swipe of his hand. Empty cups clattered to the 
stone floor, the noise loud in the silent room. He unrolled a 
map. “Come here, woman, and show me.” 
Cathy bristled at Jakar’s dictatorial tone. One tyrant in her 
life was more than enough to deal with. The man needed taking 
down a peg or two. But not by her. Besides, his goal was hers 
as well—rescue Ash. She moved closer to study the map. 
Surprisingly she had no difficulty reading it. Mardelan 

differed little from her vision of Remal. She had only to picture 
the mural on her studio wall to locate and identify the 
corresponding points on the map of Mardelan. But how to 
indicate Ash’s location to Jakar? He couldn’t see her, just hear 
her. 
Jakar solved the problem. “Zard come show me where the 
woman points.” 
The zard stepped closer and touched the map where Cathy 
indicated. 
I’m pretty sure we’re about here. This map doesn’t show 
the oases, but Ash said we were a day and a half ride and one 
oasis from the border of the plain. 
“Good enough.” Jakar rolled up the map and tucked it into 
the wide sleeve of his tunic. “There are men in my command 
who have scouted the Ardath Plain. They will know which 
oasis you speak of.” He turned toward Cathy. “Go back now 
and tell Prince de Gar his men come for him. We will arrive 
before the next nightfall.” 
Jakar, Cathy called softly as he strode toward the chamber 
door. 
Back to her he halted. “What?” His tone indicated his 
impatience for action. 
Be careful. At night, packs of predators hunt the plain. 
“I’m touched at your concern for my well being, woman, 
but my men and I are well able to take care of ourselves. Just 
pray we find my lord safe and well, or that we do not find 
you.” 
His hostility and mistrust cut deep. Then he was out the 
door. 
He hates me, Cathy whispered. Why? 
“Nay, child,” the zard said. “He does not hate you. He 
loves his prince. Anger hides his fear. Now go to the prince.” 
Her mission accomplished, Cathy waited to be pulled away 
from the chamber. Nothing happened. 
The zard watched her, a puzzled expression on his face. 
I don’t know how to leave. Panic choked her. Was she stuck 
forever in this in-between state, neither here nor there? How 
do I get back? 

“How did you go before?” 
I have no idea. It just happened. There had to be a rational 
explanation. As if anything about this whole situation was 
rational. Be calm. Think. When you visited my dreams, how 
did you come and go? 
“I just thought of you, and I was with you. And when I 
wished to leave I thought of home and I was there. Perhaps 
you should try that. Think of Ash.” 
Think of Ash. Yes, that might work. She closed her 
nonexistent eyelids. Images flashed in her mind. Ash standing 
naked in her studio. Ash entranced by Earth’s modern devices. 
Ash challenging the raging river and losing. Ash lying warm 
and sated in her arms. Ash. Her love. Her heart. She let herself 
drift into the haze toward him. 
“Ash de Gar!” A roar of anger shattered the images, leaving 
her floundering in a gray, cloying mist. 
Ash! she cried out. Where are you? 
“Ash de Gar! I’ll crush him beneath my heel!” 
The mist parted. Cathy shuddered as another familiar room 
took shape. Red-faced, screaming in rage, Kersin rounded on 
a man cringing near the chamber door. 
“He’ll not escape me this time. Take a troop of men. Follow 
Jakar and his men and destroy them. Bring me de Gar in chains. 
I don’t know what he’s been up to wandering the countryside 
when he should be enjoying the charms of his new bride, but I 
will know before I denounce him and the princess to the 
populace. They will die along with my father, then the kingdom 
and the throne will be mine.” 
No! She had to warn Jakar. But how? She tried to will 
herself back to the zard’s side as the other man quit the chamber, 
scurrying like a rat from a sinking ship. Again and again she 
tried to leave, but she remained firmly in Kersin’s chamber, 
listening as he continued to spew his hatred of Ash, his father 
and the princess. 
Why had the power of the moon crystal brought her here 
to hear Kersin’s foul plans if she could do nothing to prevent 
his success? Shudders of fear racked her soul. 
If she couldn’t warn Jakar, could she return to Ash? Ash, 

she moaned, help me. 
*** 
Like crystal dust, stars littered the night sky over the oasis. 
Predators skulked around the perimeter, but none ventured out 
of the grass. Still, Ash crouched, sword in hand, ready if any 
grew bold. 
Concern gnawed at Ash as Cathy went white and her body 
began to shake, whether from cold or emotion he couldn’t tell. 
He tucked a blanket around her, but her shivering continued. 
What should he do? Wake her from her trance and risk her ka 
being lost? Or wait? 
“Ash.” 
He barely heard her low moan over the rustle of the night 
wind. 
“Help me.” Her voice whispered through him. 
How? 
On her breast the moon crystal reflected the moons’ glow, 
a pinpoint of red at its center, like a drop of blood. He wrapped 
her in his arms, pulling her stiff body deep into his embrace. 
Heat burned where the moon crystal pressed against his flesh. 
Damn the thing! Ever since it entered his life, nothing had gone 
right. With a frustrated curse he tore the crystal from around 
her neck. 
At that moment he knew he would count Mardelan and 
Arete well lost if she would but return to him. What meaning 
did his life hold without her? What honor? If she left him, he 
would be Raaka, for his ka would surely follow hers. 
Stiffness drained out of her. Pale and lifeless, she lay limp 
in his arms. 
“Cathy,” he called and shook her gently. 
Her head lolled on her neck then her eyes fluttered open. 
“Ash?” 
“Thank the stars! I thought you lost. Are you all right?” 
“Yes.” Quickly she related what had happened with the 
Zard and Jakar before the details faded. “Ash, I think there’s 
something else.” Struggling to remember the rest of her waking 
dream, she tried to sit up, but settled back when Ash secured 
her in his arms. 

“Later, my love.” 
My love. His lips touched hers in a possessive kiss. Memory 
fled as his strength flowed into her. 

Sixteen
Waiting strained Ash’s patience. Raf and his men would 
arrive by nightfall, but in the meantime Ash paced the perimeter 
of the oasis like a caged sardak. He longed to throw Cathy 
atop the quinar and ride out to meet his men, but to do so might 
prove fatal. The quinar lacked the strength to carry them both. 
On foot they stood no chance of making the last oasis before 
dark and could easily miss connecting with his men. 
On the west horizon the sky darkened with an approaching 
storm. Moisture scented the dusty air blowing through the oasis, 
but Ash knew the storm would be unlikely to break over Ardath 
Plain. Rain rarely fell on this strange grassland. The storm 
would form and sail eastward out to sea, then hit Seaport 
Harbor. 
Another storm brewed in his heart. Honor and duty warred 
with love and longing. Once more he had discarded virtue for 
passion. And knew he would do so again. 
He shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun and studied 
the gray, billowing clouds. Like mutating mountains, they 
churned and rolled forward. Did they hold the power to activate 
the moon crystal? Against his chest the cursed crystal grew 
warm, whether a reflection of his body heat or a response to 
the storm, Ash didn’t know. 
Minute flashes of light split the bank of clouds. Pain pierced 
his heart. In a day, perhaps two, the coastal city of Seagate 
Harbor would feel the storm’s fury, and Cathy would leave 
him—willing or not. 
He strode over to where she sat by the spring. She looked 
up in greeting, a warm, welcoming smile on her lips. 
“When we reach the castle, the zard will find a way to 

send you home. I was wrong to steal you from your world. If 
Katrina’s ka resides within you, then it does so by her choice. 
I have no right to command otherwise.” 
Cathy started at Ash’s blunt statement and struggled to 
stand. His stiff spine and measured tone left little room for 
argument. Why had he changed his mind? Did he care for her? 
The warm glow the possibility created in her heart didn’t lessen 
her growing determination. 
These last few weeks with Ash had shown her she could 
no longer hide from herself. She had to take this journey to its 
conclusion. Everything else faded from her mind as she rose to 
confront him. 
“You can’t get rid of me that easily. I don’t know exactly 
what will happen when the princess and I are finally face to 
face, but I have to see this business through to the end.” She 
touched his arm. 
“Even if it might mean your death?” 
The torment in his eyes made her want to weep and promise 
him anything he asked. Instead, she said, “Yes.” 
His muscles went hard and inflexible beneath her trembling 
fingers. 
“Try to understand,” she pleaded. “All my life I’ve lived 
with the knowledge that I never quite fit. That somehow I was 
different. For a time as a child I only came alive in my dreams. 
Without the love and patience of my foster family and caring 
therapists, I would never have bridged the gap between reality 
and my dreams. I learned to separate the two, but I always 
wonder which life is real and which the dream. Now I know 
they’re both real, but I can only live one life. Before I can 
return to my life on Earth, I have to settle my life here. I owe it 
to myself. 
“And what about your bride? Are you willing to deny her 
a chance of returning to life?” It hurt to speak of his marriage, 
but Cathy knew she had to remind Ash of his obligations. “I 
need to return whatever part of me belongs to her. Maybe then 
I can find peace in my world.” 
His eyes darkened with a frown. “We will not speak of 
Katrina.” 

“Then consider Arete and Mardelan. What of them?” If he 
sent her home to keep her safe and sacrificed his country to 
war as a result, he would never forgive himself. Or her. 
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I will deal with the 
situation. They are not your concern.” 
His decree hurt. Long before Ash had crashed into her life, 
Remal and its people had been real to her. Changing its name 
to Mardelan didn’t lessen her loyalty. 
“It is too dangerous,” he added. 
She couldn’t contain a bubble of laughter. “More dangerous 
than being struck by lightning and transported to another world? 
More dangerous than riding the rapids without a boat? More 
dangerous than being attacked by,” she waved her hand at the 
grass, “whatever those things out there are?” 
With each question, Ash’s scowl deepened. “You will return 
home.” 
Frustration killed her laughter. “And they say women can’t 
make up their minds,” she muttered and moved away. 
“Stubborn, stupid man.” Whatever it took, she would stay on 
Tareth. Neither Ash nor the Zard could make her leave. She 
paused at the far side of the spring. 
Could they? 
After a sparse meal of their remaining supplies, she drank 
from the spring, then splashed the cool water over her face and 
neck. Her dry skin gratefully accepted the moisture. 
Night fell early. The thick cloud cover blocked the moon 
and blanketed them in an eerie gloom. Even the predators were 
absent, either frightened away by the pending storm or looking 
for easier prey. Their silence added to the hush of expectancy 
hanging over the oasis. 
Cathy sank down onto the blanket, leaned against the 
spring’s rock wall and massaged her aching leg. Ash stood 
vigil at the oasis’ eastern edge, staring out into the darkness. 
He turned toward her. “They are coming.” 
She climbed to her feet and moved to his side. “Where?” 
Straining to see, she searched the night. 
“Listen, and you’ll hear them.” 
Beneath her feet the ground seemed to vibrate then rumble 

like distant thunder. Soon the sound of hooves hitting dirt and 
the crash of quinar through the dry grass echoed in the night. 
She moved closer to Ash and laid her hand on his arm, 
strangely frightened by the sound of approaching rescue. “How 
many are coming?” 
He cocked his head to one side. “A dozen, maybe more. 
Enough to chase off the night predators.” He pulled away from 
her. “They will be here soon.” 
His rejection stung. Apparently now, so close to his goal, 
he regretted the intimacies they had shared. His decision to 
send her home had nothing to do with his caring for her. Only 
honor and guilt drove him. 
“Greetings the oasis!” 
Cathy shuddered at the familiar, angry voice and stumbled 
back as quinar crashed through the grass into the open and 
pranced to a stop. 
A dozen well-armed, mounted men rimmed the edge of the 
oasis. Their quinar shifted restlessly, nostrils flared, lathered 
sides heaving. Leather creaked. Swords rattled. Men swore 
softly. The oasis seemed to close in on itself. 
Even knowing these men came as rescuers, she still felt 
apprehensive. Dark and dangerous, this troop of men sucked 
the air from her lungs and the courage from her soul. She forced 
herself not to cringe behind Ash. 
One rider moved forward. His gaze passed over her. 
“Your Highness?” Raf del Jakar called out. 
She bristled at his casual dismissal of her presence. 
Ash stepped toward the dismounting Jakar. The two men 
embraced briefly. “It is good to see you, my friend,” Ash said. 
“And you, Your Highness.” 
“Did you encounter any difficulty with the night predators 
that roam the plain?” 
“A bit, but we soon drove them off. They had no taste for 
their own blood. But I suggest we move quickly before they 
regain their courage enough to try again.” 
Though Jakar spoke lightly of the predators, Cathy sensed 
the encounter had been more than a minor annoyance. She 
suspected that only sheer numbers and force of arms brought 

Jakar and his men through. 
While they spoke, the other men dismounted, drank from 
the spring, and then watered their quinar. The task was 
accomplished quickly and quietly. 
“Why do you dally here?” Jakar asked, his gaze falling 
with suspicion on Cathy. “The Blood Bonding ceremony 
approaches.” 
His tone bordered on insolence and insult. She bit her 
tongue to keep from calling him on his innuendo, but Ash 
merely smiled and nodded. He took her hand and pulled her 
forward. “Allow me to introduce my traveling companion, Lady 
Cathy del Lawrence.” 
Jakar inclined his head. “We have met. In a fashion. A 
pleasure.” He ignored Ash’s frown when his tone said otherwise. 
Cathy didn’t flinch as Jakar’s hostile gaze raked over her 
and focused on her disheveled appearance. She met him stare 
for stare, pleased when he looked away first. This man disliked 
her, and she wasn’t sure why. 
“Are you ready to travel?” he asked Ash. 
“We have but one mount. And the beast is not strong enough 
to carry us both.” 
Jakar grinned. “I brought a friend.” He motioned to one of 
his men. 
The man spurred his quinar forward. Behind him came a 
large quinar. Powerful muscles flexed beneath a long black 
coat, while dark, liquid eyes gleamed with intelligence. 
“Lunn?” Ash asked. 
Raising his shaggy head, the beast bellowed, pulled loose, 
and surged toward Ash. Ash met the quinar with a quick, fierce 
embrace. Then in a smooth, fluid move, he leapt atop the beast. 
Lunn danced across the oasis toward Cathy, his hooves tearing 
up great clods of mossy dirt. Minds and bodies in accord, Ash 
and Lunn blended together as one. She forced herself to remain 
still as they bore down on her. 
Once at her side, Ash leaned down and held out his hand. 
The smell of fur, leather and sweat swirled in the air around 
her. She hesitated. Beyond the calm security of the oasis lay an 
unknown future. “Our things?” 

“There is no time nor need. We will reach the castle by 
morning.” 
Still doubtful, she placed her hand in his and allowed him 
to lift her up in front of him. There she squirmed, trying to 
make a space for herself between the hard saddle and Ash’s 
stiff body. Though a little better than riding astride, already 
her bad hip and leg protested. Unwilling to rest against Ash 
and betray her weakness to him or his men, especially the 
antagonistic Jakar, she held herself ramrod straight and gritted 
her teeth against the renewed throbbing and sharp, sudden pains 
of abused muscle and bone. 
Leather reins bit into Ash’s palms as he gripped them to 
keep from gathering the wiggling Cathy close against his chest. 
The gyration of her hips into his groin made him swell. He 
swallowed a groan. How could she miss the growing evidence 
of his attraction to her? Or perhaps she didn’t? Her anger was 
a palpable thing. Did she move so to punish him for refusing 
to listen to her demand to finish what he had started? 
If so, it would do her no good. 
Long ago, he thought he had come to terms with the many 
difficult choices a leader must make. That he had not believed 
the zard’s bizarre story at first did not absolve him of his guilt. 
He had known at the outset what he planned to do was wrong, 
albeit necessary. Despite his misgivings, he had abducted Cathy 
from her world and her family. Honor demanded he return her 
to her chosen life. 
And what of the people of Arete and Mardelan who would 
suffer because of his so-called honor? What did he owe them? 
What honor would he find in their deaths? Could the fate of 
one woman count more than the rest he served? 
He lied to himself. Honor did not direct his actions. But he 
had no right to admit to the true reason - love. 
“Sit still,” he growled in Cathy’s ear and yanked her against 
him. “Let’s ride,” he shouted to his men. 
Lunn’s muscles bunched beneath his thighs as the beast 
bounded toward the swaying grass. At his cry, his men whirled 
their mounts, and they were off. 
The night closed around them, leaving the oasis behind, 

but Ash’s doubts and guilt rode with him. 
Hours later, exhaustion finally claimed Cathy. Ash heard 
her sigh and felt her body go limp against him. Despite the 
wound burning on his side and the uncertain future facing them, 
contentment crept into his ka. He almost wished the moment 
would never end, that they could ride together forever. But he 
knew the dawn would bring new difficulties, new choices. 
The quinar kept a steady pace through the dark, waving 
grass. Overhead, moisture-laden clouds rolled along with them, 
headed toward the sea, while below the dry grass reached 
upward in useless longing. 
Raf rode up next to him. “You are injured?” 
“A mere scratch.” 
Raf gave a disbelieving grunt and reached for Cathy. “I 
will take the woman for a bit.” 
Ash tightened his grip on the sleeping Cathy, unwilling to 
release her even to Raf’s care. “No. I am fine.” 
“I wasn’t thinking of you, but of Lunn.” 
Between his thighs Ash felt Lunn’s body straining at the 
forced pace and extra weight. Though strong, the beast was 
being pushed to his limit. Reluctantly, he shifted Cathy to Raf’s 
arms. She didn’t stir at the transfer. Without her warm, slight 
weight, his arms felt as empty as his heart would when she 
returned to Earth. 
In the eerie half-light of the cloud-hidden moons, Ash saw 
Raf study Cathy’s face. Dislike warred with reluctant 
admiration on Raf’s harsh features. 
“It is hard to believe that the beautiful Princess Katrina’s 
ka hides within this rather ordinary and damaged body. Do 
you really believe Zard Akester speaks the truth?” 
“Damaged? Perhaps. Ordinary? Never.” The vehemence 
of Ash’s words surprised him as well as Raf. From the first, 
he’d seen beyond her appearance, a somewhat plain, dark-
haired woman with a badly mangled leg, to the ka beneath. To 
him her courage and strength endowed her with an inner beauty 
that shone through her eyes. “I have no reason to think he lies. 
Ever skeptical, my friend.” 
“Practical. I believe only what I can see, hear, and touch. 

This woman is real enough, and things have occurred I have 
no explanation for, but...” Raf shook his head in disbelief. 
Ash understood well his friend’s confusion. “I have seen 
things I cannot deny. But this is a discussion for another time.” 
Raf nodded his agreement then asked, “If the Zard speaks 
the truth, by what means will Katrina’s ka be extracted? Must 
this woman die?” 
“No!” Ash’s response was instant. Cathy would not die. 
Ash felt more than saw Raf’s curious look. “You are 
enamored of this woman?” 
Words of denial froze on Ash’s lips. He could not lie to his 
friend, but neither would he acknowledge his love for Cathy in 
words. “I am sending the woman back to her home. Whether 
or not Katrina’s ka resides within her body matters not. I was 
wrong to abduct her and will not force this choice on her.” 
“You do love her,” Raf said solemnly. “What of your union 
with Princess Katrina, and the Blood Bonding ceremony? I 
have seen the princess. She is incapable of speaking the words 
that will complete your bond and create a lasting alliance 
between Arete and Mardelan. Without it, Kersin will have his 
opportunity to stage a coup and gain the throne. Will you risk 
a war to save one woman? Think carefully before you toss 
away the peace Arete and Mardelan have worked so hard to 
forge.” 
“Why do you argue so hard for that you which you doubt 
is even real?” 
“As your friend and advisor, I must take everything into 
account. I cannot risk ignoring the slightest possibility the Zard 
and this woman are truthful.” 
“I have considered all you say, but my decision is made. 
The woman goes back. I will discuss it no further.” 
“Don’t I have some say in this?” Cathy lifted her head and 
met Raf’s angry gaze. When she tried to push away from his 
broad chest, his arms tightened. Like Ash, Raf was too strong 
for her to win, so she sighed and went still. She looked over at 
Ash, but he kicked his quinar forward, leaving her alone with 
Raf. She shivered, not from cold, but from Raf’s animosity. 
“You will allow him to send you home?” 

The question, vibrating through Raf’s chest, sent chills 
down her spine. “Why do you hate me?” 
“Hate you?” He sounded surprised. “I do not hate you. I 
am indifferent to you, but you distract Prince de Gar from his 
destiny. Somehow, you and the Zard have woven a spell around 
him. Never before have I seen him question his goals or his 
methods of obtaining them. 
“I do not believe this business of traveling kas and other 
worlds. I believe you and that wily old zard are in league. 
Somehow you are the key to Princess Katrina’s renascence. As 
yet I do not know what you expect to gain by this elaborate 
deception or how you accomplished it, but never doubt I will. 
And....” His dark gaze bore into Cathy, and his fingers dug 
painfully into her waist. “If you betray my prince, you and the 
zard will die.” 
Weary of the battle, Cathy sagged. “Believe what you want. 
In spite of you and your stubborn prince, I’ll do what needs to 
be done.” No matter what it costs. 
Through the night Cathy dozed fitfully, passed from man 
to man like an unwanted package. When awake, a sense of 
something left undone haunted her. Snatches of her waking 
dream taunted her, but she could grab hold of nothing solid. 
Near dawn the flat, endless grassland finally gave way to a 
patchwork of well-tended fields ripe for harvest, stands of trees, 
and ponds, interspersed by neatly-kept farmsteads. The troop 
rode without pause. 
Heavy with the threat of rain, clouds dogged their progress 
and blocked the morning light. In the distance lightning flashed, 
followed by the rumble of thunder. 
Cathy opened her eyes to a gray-green gloom and yet 
another unfamiliar face. Sensing her awareness, the warrior 
scowled down at her. Apparently these men took their cue from 
Jakar. She struggled to sit up, then stifled a groan as sharp pain 
lanced through her hip and leg. Days of unaccustomed activity, 
and no medication or therapy, were taking their toll on her. 
“I will take her now,” Ash said. 
“Yes, Your Highness.” 
The warrior lifted her like a sack of grain and deposited 

her in Ash’s lap. She bit her lip to keep from crying out against 
the agony the motion caused. Tears blurred her vision. She 
ducked her head to hide them from Ash. 
“Drink.” 
With trembling hands, Cathy took the water skin Ash 
offered her and lifted it to her dry lips. Lukewarm water trickled 
down her throat. She gulped it eagerly. Next he gave her a thin, 
soft pastry shell wrapped around a sticky, rice-like grain. 
Though cold and bland, the simple food and drink revived her 
sagging spirits. Even the pain in her hip and leg eased. She 
licked her fingers clean and sat up. 
“How much further?” she asked. 
“We will reach the castle within the hour.” 
So soon? “What then?” 
“While I make my way into the castle and to the bridal 
chamber you will remain with Raf and my men. I will send the 
Zard to you, and he will send you home.” 
His voice cold and distant, Ash refused to meet her eyes. 
“How will you get into the castle? Kersin knows you’re 
not in the bridal chamber. He’s sure to have guards posted.” 
Something else about Kersin tickled her mind. What? As with 
normal dreams, soon after each waking dream, the details faded. 
The harder she pushed, the less she could recall. Only by 
emptying her mind could the images and memories reform. 
“The woman is correct.” Raf rode up alongside. “You’d 
not make ten feet into the castle before Kersin’s men grabbed 
you. If it is discovered that you left the chamber before the end 
of the Moon Cycle Retreat, your joining with the Princess 
Katrina will be declared null and void.” 
“I will find a way,” Ash insisted. 
“I’ll not let you walk alone into a certain trap. I will fetch 
Akester.” 
As the two men argued, she let herself retreat mentally, 
and snatches of her waking dream returned. Images of dark, 
dank corridors stretching, turning, twisting without end teased 
her memory. “I know a way in,” she blurted. “Secret passages 
honeycomb the castle. They were used by generations past as 
escape routes when besieged. That’s why Castle Mar has never 

fallen to an outside enemy. There is an entrance to the tunnels 
from the bridal chamber.” 
Both men stared at her. Raf with disbelief. Ash without 
expression. 
“But you’ll have to take me with you.” 
“Yes,” Raf said. 
“No,” Ash said. “You will draw me a map.” 
She shook her head. “I can’t. The passages are like a maze. 
It’s as if my feet will know the way my mind can’t recall. I 
have to go along.” 
Suspicion now darkened Ash’s gaze. He thought she lied 
to get her own way. Pride and hurt at his distrust kept her from 
arguing. 
The thud of the quinar’s hooves against the hard-packed 
dirt echoed the beat of Cathy’s heart as she waited for Ash’s 
decision. If he left her behind she would have to follow. 
The attack came without warning. Hoarse shouts. The clang 
of clashing swords. Quinar screamed. She turned to look and 
swallowed in horror. Outnumbered two to one, Ash’s men 
fought without regard for their own safety. 
Sword raised, a rider burst toward them. Ash struggled to 
pull his blade, but she hampered his reach. He turned to block 
the man’s blow with his body. 
Raf’s sword whistled and sliced clean through the man’s 
arm. Blood sprayed. The warrior shrieked in agony and tumbled 
beneath the hooves of his quinar. His screams ended abruptly. 
Cathy couldn’t control her shudder. 
The clash of swords reverberated in the quiet morning air. 
At Ash’s command, she shifted so he could reach his weapon. 
Without discernible direction from Ash, Lunn twisted, lunged 
and lashed out as they battled. She clung to Ash. 
All around them, men fought and died. 
“Ride on!” Raf yelled. “We will hold them back!” He 
whirled his quinar and rode into the fray. 
“Ash?” she cried over the growing melee. 
For a brief second he looked over his shoulder, his face 
twisted into a mask of anger and distaste, then he spurred Lunn 
into a gallop. If not for her, she knew Ash would never leave 

his friend or his men to battle on alone. 
Memory slammed into her. How could she have forgotten 
Kersin’s plans? Because of her, men were dying. 
Flecks of Lunn’s sweat sprayed her face. The beast raced 
across the countryside, tearing through stubbly fields, jumping 
small streams and fallen trees. Though his heart seemed likely 
to burst from his straining chest, he never hesitated, answering 
each and every demand Ash made. 
Ash’s body pressed against hers, his breath harsh and hot 
in her ear. Twisting around she peered behind them. In minutes 
the battle disappeared from view, blocked by trees and the rise 
and fall of the land. The sounds faded more slowly. 
Or was it only the echo of the screams of the dying that 
lingered in Cathy’s ears? 
What else had she forgotten? And who would die next 
because of it? 

Seventeen
Lunn picked his way carefully along the narrow trail 
leading around the cliff side of the castle. Dislodged by his 
hooves, pebbles tumbled down the steep incline to the churning 
ocean below. On the right, the castle’s massive stone wall rose 
into the stormy sky. 
The moist spray of the pounding surf blended with rain 
from the clouds rolling overhead. Like icy shards of broken 
glass, the two pelted Cathy’s exposed skin. She shivered and 
burrowed closer into Ash’s embrace. His arm tightened around 
her. 
They had tried the main road through town, but soon 
became aware that palace guards kept a close watch on 
everyone. Though the streets were crowded with people coming 
in to town for the Blood Bonding celebration, atop his massive 
black quinar Ash stood out. They couldn’t chance that the 
guards were loyal to Kersin. She hadn’t seen Jakar or his men 
since they had left them behind. 
Though she didn’t care for Jakar, she didn’t wish him dead. 
She couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect Ash. 
“How much farther?” Ash asked. 
Vague memories from her waking dreams led her down 
this hidden and long-unused path. She closed her eyes and tried 
to visualize the entrance to the passageways. “Just past the 
next corner, I think. The location isn’t something I know. It’s 
something I feel. Once I’m there, I’ll recognize it.” 
The trail jogged. Around the sharp corner, Lunn came to a 
stop. A fallen stone block obstructed the path. Balanced on 
edge, half the stone hung out over the precipice, the other rested 
against the castle. Part of the trail had crumbled, leaving a 

small, triangular opening between the stone, the path and the 
wall. 
“We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.” Matching 
action to words, Ash slid from Lunn’s back and lifted Cathy 
down. 
Loose rock shifted beneath her feet, skittered across the 
path and down the incline. The sound of its fall was drowned 
by the growing rumble of thunder and the increasing patter of 
rain. She pressed her back against the castle wall and eyed the 
narrow opening. “With some wiggling I can probably squeeze 
through to the other side, but...” she looked at Ash’s broad 
shoulders, “...you’ll never fit. Can we push it over the edge? It 
doesn’t look too steady.” 
Ash touched the stone block. With an ominous grating 
sound it shifted, narrowing the opening by nearly an inch. At 
its base a chunk of the path gave way and cascaded down the 
incline. “Perhaps. But I fear it will take the trail along with it. 
You will go under the rock. I will go over it.” 
She grabbed his arm. “That’s crazy! You can’t climb on 
that thing. It’s poised to fall. Your weight will send it crashing.” 
The thought of Ash lying broken at the base of the cliff was 
too horrible to contemplate. “Maybe we should try going 
through town? If we leave Lunn behind and get you a 
disguise....” 
“Time is too short. At next moonrise, the Blood Bonding 
ceremony will begin. I must be back in the bridal chamber 
before the zards come for the princess and me.” He covered 
her hand with his. “Don’t worry, Little Shecal. You forget the 
mountains are my home. I learned to climb before I learned to 
walk. I don’t plan to touch the rock. I will scale the castle wall 
and make my way over.” 
The man was certifiable. “How? That wall is straight up. 
Even a mountain goat couldn’t climb it.” 
“Look closer. The stone is old and weathered.” He pointed 
to the pits and crevices between the massive stones that made 
up the wall. “I will use these as handholds to climb across.” 
Still unsure, Cathy fitted her fingers into the crumbling 
grooves. Rain trickled down the wall. The block groaned again. 

Behind them, Lunn snorted and pawed the ground. “What about 
Lunn?” 
With quick, efficient motions, Ash stripped the saddle and 
bridle from the quinar and whispered a few words in the beast’s 
ear. Lunn turned and moved down the trail. In minutes, he had 
disappeared from view. 
Ash dropped the tack against the wall and turned to Cathy. 
“I sent him away. He is a fine animal. Someone will take him 
in until I can collect him.” 
Cathy clearly heard the “if” in his words. 
The rain increased to a steady downpour. Water plastered 
their hair to their heads and ran in rivulets down the trail. 
“Hurry.” He urged her toward the small triangle of space 
beneath the heavy stone. 
She knelt on the wet, muddy trail and looked into the narrow 
corridor, five feet long, less than twenty inches high and about 
a foot wide. She would have to go through on her side, back to 
the castle wall. If the stone block slid down the castle wall 
even a few inches, she would be trapped and crushed beneath 
its weight. Maybe Ash’s way was better? At least a fall from 
this height would provide a quicker death. 
Ash understood Cathy’s hesitation too well. The thought 
of her sliding under that massive stone froze his heart. There 
was no other choice. He could possibly complete the difficult 
climb up the castle wall and over the stone, but Cathy could 
not. And he doubted her ability to hold on to him if he tried to 
carry her. He would need to press flat to the wall, so she would 
have to cling only with her arms around his neck. If her grip 
failed, he would not be able to save her, and they would both 
fall. As dangerous as it was, she had to crawl beneath the stone. 
If the stone started to slide, he would attempt to push it 
over the cliff and take the chance of going over the side with it. 
Rain beat down on his head. Far out over the ocean, 
lightning lit the sky. On his chest the moon crystal warmed. 
The main force of the storm would not break over the castle 
for hours yet. He couldn’t wait here to send her home. Kneeling 
at her side, he lifted the medallion over his head and hung it 
around Cathy’s neck. 

“I don’t want...” she grabbed the moon crystal and started 
to protest. 
He closed his fingers around hers, locking the moon crystal 
in the cup of her hand. “It will catch on the wall as I climb. 
Hold it for me ‘til the other side.” And if I fall, use it to find 
your way home, he added silently. 
She nodded her agreement and let the medallion slip under 
her shirt, but her solemn gaze told him she understood his 
unspoken message. 
“Courage, Little Shecal. I will see you on the other side.” 
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. 
Like cold tears, rain coursed down her cheeks, but her 
mouth opened, hot and willing, to his. With a groan he pulled 
her close and ravaged her mouth. Her hands crept beneath his 
jacket and clutched at his back as she met him kiss for kiss. 
Finally she pulled away and looked at him. Her fingers 
stroked her swollen lips then touched his. “Be careful,” she 
whispered, then slid from his arms. 
Heart in his throat, Ash crouched and watched as, arms 
extended over her head, she squirmed into the tight fissure. 
Under her the gravel shifted and pushed against the edge of the 
stone. She used her legs and feet to shove herself forward. With 
each movement, her knees bumped the diagonal slope of stone 
hovering above her. Over the pounding of the rain and his heart, 
Ash could hear the whining grate of stone against stone. 
Just as her feet slid into the opening, the block gave a 
resounding crack and began to crawl down the wall. 
“Hurry!” Ash braced his shoulder against the lessening 
angle of the block. 
“I’m nearly through!” Cathy shouted back. 
The stone sank lower, pressing him down. He ignored the 
pain of his screaming muscles and pushed with all he had. Her 
feet and legs scrambled inside the crack then disappeared from 
Ash’s view. 
“I’m out.” 
Ash bent forward and threw himself back from the stone. 
With a roar it crashed down. For a moment the trail held, the 
large stone butted at right angles up against the castle wall. 

Then weakened by the weight of the stone and centuries of 
ocean-driven storms, a portion of the trail gave way and tumbled 
down the steep slope into the surf. 
Stunned by the force of his backward dive, Ash staggered 
to his feet. He peered through the driving rain and settling dust 
over the yawning crevice. Had Cathy gone over the side? 
“Cathy!” The roar of the wind snatched away his agonized 
cry. 
Cathy sat up and shook her head. Pebbles and dirt streamed 
off her chest along with torrents of water. Cold rain washed 
over her face and stung the scrapes on her palms. For a second 
she stared without comprehension at the gaping hole in the 
trail where her feet dangled. Then she gasped, scrambled 
backward and pressed up against the castle wall. Like a 
nightmare waterfall, rocks and mud slid past her into the raw 
slash. 
“Cathy!” 
Her head snapped up. “Ash? Ash!” She tried to stand but 
her leg gave out under her, and she slumped back against the 
wall. 
Though it was only late afternoon, rolling gray clouds and 
heavy rain cast the world into near darkness. 
“Are you injured?” 
Even though the break in the trail was no more than fifteen 
feet across, Ash’s question seemed to come from a great 
distance. A watery veil of rain obscured Cathy’s vision and 
muted all sound but for the growing rumble of thunder and the 
never-ending crash of the surf below. 
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” she asked. 
A wavering apparition, Ash appeared at the far side of the 
chasm. 
“I’m coming across,” he yelled. 
Struggling to her feet, she stared up at the castle wall in 
horror. Wind-driven rain battered the stone and ran in sheets 
down to the trail. To keep from crying out and distracting him, 
she grabbed her lip between her teeth. 
Ash shed his jacket and shirt, bundled them up and tossed 
them across the gap. They landed in a wet heap near her feet. 

Pushing his scabbard so it hung down his backside, he began 
the climb. 
A tiny ledge of ground against the wall still stretched across 
the opening. Cathy watched as he pressed himself against the 
wall and moved out over the aperture. With his toes, he carefully 
edged along the crumbling ledge while his hands roved up and 
down the slippery stone seeking purchase. Shimmering with a 
sheen of rain, the muscles of his back and shoulders stretched 
and flexed. 
As if enraged at not being able to snatch at his clothing, 
the wind whipped his wet hair around his head. In the dim, 
watery light, he appeared like a bronzed, male Medusa. 
She held her breath and prayed. 
Clinging to the wall, Ash inched along the ledge. Sheets of 
rain pounded against him. Century old stone and mortar 
crumbled beneath his groping fingers. Five feet from Cathy’s 
side of the chasm, the ledge narrowed to nonexistence. One 
foot extended toward her, Ash searched for a foothold. There 
were none to be found at that level. 
The castle wall was constructed of massive stones three 
feet high by five feet wide. He had to go to the next course 
before he could continue across. He reached upward and began 
to climb. 
She stepped to the edge, ready to make a grab if he slipped. 
Mud and rocks tumbled down the gash as the trail started to 
disintegrate beneath her weight. She jumped back and pressed 
her shoulder to the wall. 
Approaching thunder reverberated in the waterlogged air. 
Icy rain and scalding tears dripped off her nose and chin. 
Drenched to the skin, she shivered with both cold and fear. 
Unable to find hand and toe holds, Ash moved higher until 
his feet were nearly level with her face. Never glancing down, 
he moved by touch. One foot closer. Another. And another. 
If Cathy reached up she could touch his ankle. Then he 
was above her. 
“You’re across.” She spoke softly so as not to startle him. 
He looked down. In the murky light she could see blood 
on his forehead and cheek from where he had scraped them 

against the rough stone wall. 
“Stand back,” he warned. 
She scooted a few feet down the trail yet remained poised 
in case he slipped. 
Inch by laborious inch, he moved down the wall until his 
toes rested in the mortar groove of the first tier of stones three 
feet above the trail. Then he dropped lightly down. For a 
moment he teetered before he caught his balance, straightened, 
and flashed her a triumphant grin. 
Arrogant male. But she couldn’t help returning his smile. 
A low rumble vibrated up Cathy’s legs. His smile faded. 
The ground shifted, and the trail collapsed beneath his feet. 
She screamed and lunged forward as he fell into the growing 
abyss. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and clung. Pulled 
off her feet by his weight, she sprawled flat against the ground 
and gripped his outstretched arm. 
Stunned by her impact with the ground, she blinked away 
the rain that blinded her. Pain shot up her leg, and her arms 
screamed with strain. Held only by her grip on his arm, Ash 
dangled over the chasm. 
The pale oval of Cathy’s white face hovered above Ash. 
Then he realized his position and hers. Muddy water sluiced 
what remained of the slick trail and cascaded down to the sea. 
Water, mud and pebbles rained on his head. Inch by inch, his 
weight pulled her closer to the edge. 
He reached up with his free arm and grabbed at the trail. 
His feet scrabbled against the crumbling cliffside but could 
find no purchase to help him climb. 
He looked into her wide, frightened eyes. “Let go.” 
Her fingers tightened convulsively. “You’ll fall.” 
“If you hold on, we will both fall. I need both hands to pull 
myself up.” And if the trail disintegrated further, he would not 
take Cathy with him. 
She shook her head. “We’re in this together.” Still gripping 
his wrist, she began to crawl backward. 
“Stubborn woman,” Ash muttered, but he stopped arguing. 
He needed all his energy to hang on to the edge of the trail. 
Fingertips, palms, forearms, then his shoulders slowly crept 

up onto the trail. Sharp rock sliced his flesh. Using his elbows 
and shoulders, he scrambled up and flopped forward. Not 
hesitating, he crawled away from the gap and pulled Cathy 
along with him. 
Huddling against the castle wall, he closed his arms around 
her. With a shuddering sigh she rested her cheek against his 
chest. Rain washed over them. 
How close they had both come to dying this day. She had 
risked her life to save his. The image of Cathy plunging over 
the cliff to lie broken on the rocks drove out gratitude. Anger 
at her careless disregard for her own well-being froze his blood. 
He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her to look up at 
him. Rain spiked her dark lashes and dripped over her pale 
cheeks. 
“You must learn to obey my orders.” Though he meant to 
be firm in his chastisement of her, the feel of her body pressed 
against his proved a greater distraction than he had anticipated. 
“You’re bleeding.” She ignored him and brushed her fingers 
gently over the numerous scrapes on his chest. 
He touched the corner of her mouth. “So are you.” 
Shockingly pink against her white face, her tongue flicked 
out and probed the small cut on her lip. Unable and unwilling 
to resist, he bent and slanted his mouth over hers. The warmth 
of her slick tongue tangling with his made him forget the cold 
rain drenching his bare back and the raw scrapes stinging his 
chest. 
Her icy hands stoked fire across his skin, and her low moan 
of pleasure ignited an inferno of desire in his loins. 
“May the Eternal One forgive me. I want you.” The words 
slipped unbidden through his clenched teeth. 
Her fingers covered his. “I’m yours, Ash. I have been since 
the first night you came to me in my dreams.” 
Threading his fingers through her wet, snarled hair, he tilted 
her face up to his. Though it went against his honor, he wanted 
her more than his life. More than his very ka. 
He had no right to the love shining in her eyes. No right to 
hold her in his arms, to lie with her, to keep her at his side. 
He pulled back and looked away. “This is wrong. I am 

pledged to another. I have nothing to offer you. Instead I tried 
to steal your very ka. You will return to your home.” 
“It’s my soul, and I wish to give it to you.” 
She stroked his cheek with her palm, then curled her hand 
around the back of his neck and tugged his face to hers. “How 
can love be wrong?” she whispered against his lips. “When I 
thought I’d lost you over the cliff I decided that I’d no longer 
hold back. And I don’t intend to waste a moment of whatever 
time we have together. Come morning, you’ll belong to the 
princess and your people, but for now you’re mine. Your lips 
might deny it, but your body tells a different tale.” 
He groaned in surrender as her hand slid down his chest 
and closed around the evidence. His hand slipped beneath her 
coat and clinging wet shirt to find her breast. Already puckered 
with cold, her nipple teased his palm. 
“I love you, Ash.” 
He pressed her down. Lightning illuminated the trail. 
Thunder crashed overhead. Cold mud sucked at his arm and 
oozed beneath Cathy’s back. Frigid rain pounded him, cooling 
his blood. Still, he might have taken her anyway but for the 
ominous grating of shifting rock. 
Without explanation he pulled her up, grabbed his bundle 
of clothing and hurried her down the trail. She stumbled along 
behind him. 
“Where is the secret passage?” 
Soaked to the skin, exhausted, cold, frustrated, and angry, 
Cathy shivered as she struggled to keep pace with Ash. Even 
the heat of embarrassment did little to keep her warm against 
the driving rain and dropping temperature. With the coming of 
night, the day lost what little light and warmth the storm-hidden 
sun could provide. Her cheeks burned, while the rest of her felt 
like ice, both inside and out. He couldn’t hide his desire for 
her, but his blasted honor kept him from accepting her love 
and admitting his love for her. 
How many times would she offer herself to him before she 
accepted his rejection? 
“Slow down.” She set herself against his pull, but barely 
impacted his gait. “I need to think. The entrance has to be close. 

I can feel it.” 
Strobe-like lightning over the ocean now provided the only 
light. Never easing his hold on her hand, Ash inched along as 
she searched the battered castle wall for the entrance she’d 
seen in her dream. Water slicked the rough stone beneath her 
probing fingers. Scraped raw, her hands ached and burned. Each 
step shot shards of agony up her leg and hip, but she kept 
moving. She poked at every crevice, examined every seam 
between the stones. 
Slowly they made their way along the wall. Then suddenly 
the castle wall jutted out five feet in a sharp right angle, and 
the trail ended. 
Nothing. Frustration ate at Cathy. They were so close, she 
could feel the passage beckoning to her. Where was it? In her 
waking dream she’d seen the entrance from the inside, she had 
no idea what it looked like from this side. 
“Perhaps you were mistaken, and there is no entrance.” 
She watched as he shrugged into his shirt and put on his 
jacket. Though wrinkled, they were both still fairly dry. 
“It’s here. It has to be.” She knew as well as Ash there was 
no going back. Too much of the trail had crumbled. Even when 
the rain stopped, the gap was too large for them to cross and 
the incline to the sea too treacherous to attempt. If there were 
no passage, they would die on this miserable trail. 
Defeated, she sagged against the outjut of castle wall and 
looked up at Ash. “I’m sorr....” her words ended in a strangled 
gasp as the wall gave way behind her. 
Darkness swallowed her. She screamed as she fell and 
landed with a dull thud on her backside. The short fall knocked 
the air from her lungs. Struggling to catch her breath, she 
climbed to her knees and looked around. Little was visible in 
the gloom. Taking a deep breath, she coughed at the cloud of 
dust raised by her fall. A fine spray of rain cut through the dry, 
dusty air. 
Ash stood silhouetted in the middle of the rectangle of 
muted light provided by the opening. “Cathy! Where are you?” 
“I’m here. I’m okay. We found it! This is the way in.” 
Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed his hand and tugged him 

forward. 
“Wait.” Hand outstretched, he stepped into the narrow 
passageway and felt his way along the wall. 
Cathy squinted. In the darkness, Ash was nothing more 
than a shadowy shape. 
“What are you doing?” 
“Yes, just as I thought.” 
She heard a rasp and a hollow clunk. Yellow light flooded 
the passageway and blinded her. She blinked against the sudden 
glare of the crystal lamp Ash held. When their eyes adjusted, 
they headed down the corridor. 
Roughly hewn, the passageway appeared to be cut from 
solid rock directly into the mountain beneath the castle. The 
crystal lamp lit their way as they followed the downward slant 
of the passageway deeper into the mountain. 
Suddenly, the passage spilled into a thirty-foot circular 
chamber. Her mouth dropped open in awe. A cathedral-like 
domed ceiling soared fifty feet above them. All along the 
chamber’s perimeter passages led off into the unknown. At the 
center of the chamber, a circular stone staircase rose from a 
round pit and curled upward into blackness. 
A marvelous feat of engineering, the chamber seemed 
carved from solid rock, but the smooth walls and floor gave no 
evidence of seam or chisel. Other than the rectangles of the 
steps, there were no corners or angles to be seen. The walls 
and floors curved and flowed seamlessly into one another. Not 
a speck of dust covered the satiny surfaces. 
Long ago, the howl of the wind and crash of thunder had 
faded along with the flashes of lightning. Inside this chamber 
the air was still and calm, cool and dry. 
Ash was quiet as they approached the stairs. “Legend 
speaks of how untold centuries ago the Eternal One built Castle 
Mar for his faithful follower, the first great king of Mardelan.” 
He touched his fingertips to the wall. “No man had a hand in 
this. Praise be.” 
Like at the oasis, Cathy sensed something here. Something 
patient. Something timeless. An inhuman awareness. Soundless 
whispers teased her ears. Though they were not openly hostile, 

somehow she knew if she stopped to listen they would drive 
her mad. The mystery of this chamber was not for men to 
understand. The hair on her body stood on end. 
“Whoever or whatever built these passageways, I’m just 
thankful they’re here. We have to go up.” Not daring to look 
down into the dark pit, she stepped across the gap and onto the 
stairs. She shivered as warm air from above flowed abnormally 
downward tugging at her. After the unnaturally smooth, flowing 
curves of the rest of the chamber, the sharp angles and chiseled 
blocks of the steps comforted her. These were definitely 
constructed by man. 
She started up the stairs then realized Ash was not 
following. “Ash?” 
He stood at the edge of the pit, staring into the inky well. 
The lamp dropped from his hand and rolled a few feet behind 
him. The flickering light cast dancing shadows on the walls. 
“What’s wrong?” she asked. 
As if in a trance he stood still and silent. Air swished down 
the stairway and swirled into the chamber. Cathy blocked her 
ears, but she caught hints of anger in the growing, malevolent 
whispers. Whatever inhabited this place didn’t like them being 
here. 
“Don’t listen!” She stumbled back down the stairs and 
leaped at Ash just before he stepped forward into the pit. 
They hit the floor with a thud. Abruptly, the whispers and 
wind ceased. 
“Why do you knock me down?” Ash stood, pulling Cathy 
up with him. “Are you injured?” He ran his hands down her 
body, only stopping when she stepped away. 
“You were about to jump into the pit.” To hide her sudden 
tremor of desire at his impersonal touch, she turned away and 
picked up the lamp. 
His brows drew together as he glanced around the chamber 
as if noting where he stood. Confusion flickered briefly in his 
gaze, then he said, “Nonsense. Why would I do something so 
foolish? Let us leave here.” 
Cathy’s hip and leg burned with the strain of climbing the 
narrow, circular staircase. Wide at the outer edge and narrowing 

to nothing at the center, it had no rail or wall to brace herself 
against. Finally, in an effort to maintain her balance, she grabbed 
hold of Ash’s waistband. 
Once the steps passed above the chamber she knew they 
had entered the maze of passages hidden inside the castle walls. 
No longer smooth, now rough-hewn stone walls surrounded 
them. Fifteen feet above the chamber, they reached a square 
platform. A passage led off each side, while the stairs continued 
upward, this time as a series of switchbacks inside a thick wall. 
Slivers of light filtered in at each landing. 
On the first landing, Ash held the lamp up and studied the 
stone wall. To the right there was a lever that obviously provided 
a way to open the hidden entrance. 

Eighteen 
“We will rest here for awhile.” Ash could see and feel 
Cathy’s growing exhaustion in her strained features, her 
increasing limp, and the fine trembling of her body, but she 
refused to stop and rest. Though she’d slept in his arms for a 
bit the night before, he knew she could not continue much 
longer. 
“There’s no time.” 
“We’ve been traveling through this maze of stairs and 
passageways for hours. We are lost.” 
“We’re close. I can feel it.” 
“Dawn approaches. We will have to give up the hunt soon. 
After a short rest we can move into the castle proper. Once 
there I know the way.” 
“And take the chance of being spotted by Kersin or his 
men?” 
“It is a risk we must take. Time grows short. An hour prior 
to moonrise, the zards will arrive to escort Princess Katrina 
and me to the bathing cavern for the ritual cleansing before the 
ceremony. If I am not present in the chamber, whatever the 
princess’s condition, the zards will raise a hue and cry, 
destroying any chance of the bonding.” 
“Just a bit longer.” Her teeth clinked together as a shiver 
racked her slight body. 
Fire and lamplight flickered through chinks in the walls, 
but none of the heat penetrated into the cold tunnels. Shortly 
after they started through the tunnels, Ash had exchanged 
Cathy’s wet jacket for his own slightly drier one. She huddled 
inside the large garment as if seeking his lingering body heat. 
To look at this woman with her crippled leg and nondescript 

features, few would realize the courage and strength she 
possessed. Yet time and again, she had saved his life. Her 
stubborn will to survive would put many warriors to shame. 
A few feet ahead of him, she stumbled and fell to one knee. 
He knelt at her side and gripped her shoulders. Head bowed, 
her breath rasped through her pale lips. 
When she tried to shrug off his arm and rise, she swayed 
into him. 
“You will rest.” Pulling her down with him, he sat, braced 
his back against the wall and settled her between his legs. That 
she didn’t object gave mute evidence of her fatigue. 
“Just for a minute,” she mumbled. 
In seconds her head lolled sideways on his chest, and she 
was asleep. Beneath the smell of rain and mud lingering on her 
damp hair, he caught the warm, tantalizing scent of woman. 
Soon he would send her from him, but for now he cuddled her 
close, enjoying the feel of her pliant curves molding to his 
harder angles. 
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and allowed 
his fingers to stroke down her throat. Soft and smooth as crystal 
silk, the feel of her skin shot a bolt of unwanted desire through 
him. 
He stiffened and jerked his hand away. She was not his. 
Could never be his. He must learn to deny his urges toward 
her. Too many times he had given in to his weakness. His actions 
sullied his honor and hers. But when she lay in his arms, honor 
ceased to have meaning for him. 
Arete. Mardelan. Princess Katrina. They all faded from 
his mind, his love for Cathy stronger than honor or duty. 
Love! 
After Ilka’s death, Ash told himself that love had no place 
in his life, that as the crown prince of Arete, his relationship 
with a woman must be politically based, that he wanted only 
mutual respect between his bride and himself. Still, deep within 
he had hoped for more with the Princess Katrina. When that 
hope died, part of him had died as well. 
Then Cathy entered his life. She stirred his heart, that he 
thought long buried, to life. His love for her was as sweet as it 

was forbidden. 
Muttering, she shifted restlessly. Her jacket fell open, 
revealing the outline of the moon crystal resting in the valley 
of her breasts. A muted, reddish glow from the stone told him 
the storm continued to rage. 
Tomorrow night, Tareth’s two moons would merge in the 
sky as one. Beneath the Blood Moon, he and Princess Katrina 
would speak their final, binding vows and exchange blood. 
Without those vows, the bonding between them would be 
nullified, and Kersin would have his chance to seize the throne. 
If Kersin gained power, war between Mardelan and Arete was 
inevitable. 
Could he sacrifice the woman he loved to save his country 
from war? 
Could he live with himself if he didn’t? 
He leaned his head back against the rough stone and let 
his eyes close. His dilemma had no solution. The life of one 
woman. Or the fate of two countries. 
*** 
Cathy woke in Ash’s arms, the path she must take obvious. 
Looking back, the whole of her life seemed to have drawn her 
to this place, to this moment, to this decision. Despite the 
warmth of his body against hers, she felt cold and desolate. 
Her head rested on his chest, and his chin pressed against the 
top of her head. The deep, even thud of his heart found an 
answer in the rhythm of her own. She lifted her head to look at 
him. 
Deep lines of strain bracketed his mouth. Dried mud matted 
his golden hair and streaked his rock-scraped cheeks. His 
knuckles, resting loosely over the hilt of his sword, were raw 
and blood-crusted. 
A longing to close her eyes and snuggle into his embrace 
seized her. She wanted to kiss him goodbye, but didn’t dare, 
afraid even the touch of her lips might wake him. He’d made 
clear his determination to send her home without trying to 
transfer Katrina’s soul. If he was with her, Cathy knew he would 
prevent her from approaching the princess. She had to go into 
the bridal chamber alone. 

For a minute she clung to him and breathed in his warm, 
salty scent. Then she slipped quietly from his side and stood. 
He never stirred. 
Leg and hip aching, she stumbled up yet another flight of 
stairs. In minutes she located the entrance to the bridal chamber. 
Light and sound from the chamber filtered into the passageway. 
Strangely unwilling to enter the room, she waited. Once she 
went in, the outcome was inevitable; she would lose a piece of 
herself. How big a piece she didn’t know. 
But it really didn’t matter. She’d already lost her heart. 
What she had with Ash was no more than a lovely dream. 
One she must awaken from soon. As much as she might wish 
it, Cathy Lawrence had no place in this world. Her home was 
Earth. Whatever part of her that belonged here on Tareth would 
leave her body. God willing, when and if she returned to Earth 
she would remember nothing of her time here. For to live with 
only the memory of Ash would surely destroy what remained 
of her. 
“Where are they?” Jakar’s angry voice pierced the hush. 
“They left us hours ago. Kersin will be here soon. Where is 
he?” 
“Be easy,” Akester soothed the restive warrior. “If she 
learns anything, Marta will return to warn us.” 
The thud of Jakar’s boots as he paced vibrated up Cathy’s 
spine. It was time. 
The lever moved down under her hand, and the secret door 
swung inward. Like a blessing, heated air bathed her chilled 
flesh. After the gray gloom of the passageways, she blinked 
against the flare of muted light. 
“You!” 
Strong hands closed around her upper arms in a punishing 
grip and jerked her into the chamber. She staggered and crashed 
into an unyielding chest. The cloying stench of sweat and blood 
clung to his stained clothing. 
Outside, the storm raged on, jagged cracks of lightning 
pierced the gray-green dawn sky. The roar of thunder drowned 
his curse. 
“Where is Prince de Gar?” Jakar demanded, shaking her. 

“Answer me, woman.” 
Her head flopped drunkenly. 
“Be easy, Jakar. Can you not see she has been through 
much?” 
Akester ignored Jakar’s scowl and pried the warrior’s 
fingers from around her arms. 
“Tell me, child, where is our delinquent prince?” 
As Akester led her to a chair by the fire, a sense of urgency 
gripped her. Remembering her goal, she summoned her 
strength, pushed away from the old zard and headed toward 
the silk-draped bed. “There’s no time for questions. He’ll be 
here soon. I have to finish this before he arrives.” 
Hand on the hilt of his sword, Jakar blocked her path. 
“Finish what?” He scowled down at her. 
She eyed the length of his sword then lifted her chin and 
glared up at him. Lightning cast his face in harsh relief, all 
angles and hollows. If the man ever smiled he might just be 
handsome in a dark, brooding sort of way, but she doubted he 
had much of a sense of humor. “Either use that thing or get out 
of my way. I’m tired of you macho men telling me what to do. 
First Ash, now you.” She tried to step around him. 
He moved with her and slid the sword from its scabbard. 
Dried blood flaked off the blue crystal blade. Swallowing 
hard, she took a step back. 
“You’ll do nothing until Prince de Gar arrives.” 
Damn, she didn’t have time to argue with the man. Ash 
would be close on her heels. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. It’s simple. 
I’m not going to hurt the princess. I just need to touch her.” 
“I think not.” Like an immovable mountain, he set himself 
in front of her. 
She licked her dry lips. Would he really use that wicked-
looking blade if she tried to dash around him? Probably 
wouldn’t need to. A head taller, a hundred pounds heavier, and 
well-muscled to boot, he could hold her back with one hand. 
She had to try. 
She glanced back at the dark opening to the passageway. 
How long before Ash arrived? 
“Let her pass.” Akester stepped around from behind her. 

She looked at the wizened old zard in his flowing, white 
robes, surprised when his firm command made Jakar stammer 
like a schoolboy. 
“But...” 
“Do you doubt your prince?” 
“Of course not, but...” 
“Prince de Gar trusts this woman, therefore so shall you. 
Move aside.” 
With obvious reluctance Jakar stepped aside, but didn’t 
sheath his sword. The crystal caught and reflected the flash of 
lightning. 
“Come, child. Your destiny awaits.” Akester took her hand 
and led her past Jakar whose suspicious gaze never left her. 
Shimmering silver and gold, like a misty veil of clouds, 
the silken bed drapes hid the princess from view. Undulating 
in a rain-scented draft, they drew Cathy forward. 
Lightning danced in the sky, the long, branching streaks 
creating a strobe-like effect in the chamber. Rain battered the 
castle wall while the stone floor seemed to vibrate from the 
almost constant thunder. 
Fear strummed a discordant note inside her. The deep well 
of the unknown both beckoned and repelled her. Could she go 
through with this? Consign her very soul to a shadowy fate? 
Doubt made her fingers tighten around the zard’s. She 
suddenly felt ill-equipped to undertake this task. The bed 
loomed before her. Princess Katrina’s form took shape behind 
the wisps of silk. 
With shaking fingers she parted the curtains. The artist in 
Cathy responded to the perfection of Princess Katrina—her 
slender yet softly curved body, long, graceful limbs, and 
classically elegant features. Lightning and firelight gilded her 
hair the color of gold-flecked moonbeams. In comparison, 
Cathy felt drab and plain, a brown sparrow next to a golden 
canary. 
“She’s so beautiful. So flawless.” To Cathy’s dismay, her 
voice wavered. 
The thought of this woman in Ash’s arms, smiling, 
laughing, talking, making love, sent a bolt of jealousy through 

her. Would Katrina love Ash as she did? Care for him? Stand 
by his side? 
It didn’t matter. Sorrow bled away resentment. Princess 
Katrina was Ash’s chosen mate. He needed her at his side to 
unite his world, to prevent war and the destruction of all he 
held dear. Cathy couldn’t give him that, Princess Katrina could. 
“A person’s true beauty does not lie in the appearance of 
their body,” Akester said. 
“I know. Beauty is only skin deep.” She couldn’t keep the 
sarcasm out of her voice as she repeated the old saying. Before 
he could respond she asked, “What do I do?” 
Akester gently pulled his hand from hers and patted her 
arm. “Whatever feels right.” 
What felt right was to run from this chamber and back into 
Ash’s embrace. Instead, she stepped forward and let the curtain 
fall closed behind her. 
Part of Cathy urged her onward, wanted to touch and merge 
with Katrina, while another part screamed for her to flee. In 
response to the violence of the storm, the moon crystal resting 
against her chest grew heated. With a fingertip, she touched 
the stone. A tingling crept over her, as if each nerve and hair on 
her body was being zapped by electricity. If she raised the 
medallion to the storm, she could escape this choice, but could 
she ever escape her past? 
Or her future? 
The air in the chamber seemed to waver and grow thick. 
She stretched out her hand toward the motionless princess. A 
strange, almost painful sizzling sensation raced up her arm, 
leaving her weak and dizzy. Dreamlike, time and motion 
slowed. Her vision clouded. All she needed to do was touch 
the princess, and this nightmare would end. Another inch, and 
they would become one. 
She sensed more than heard Ash’s cry. 
Time had run out. While every particle of her screamed for 
her to run to Ash’s arms, instead, she thrust her hand toward 
the princess. Like spun sugar, the world around her melted. 
Colors and shapes blurred as she and Katrina began to fuse. 
Panic threatened to overwhelm Cathy as she felt herself 

dissolving. She forced fear into a dark corner of her mind and 
let go. 
*** 
Wind whirled around the room. Through the wildly blowing 
bed curtains, Ash saw Cathy, her hand hovering over the 
motionless Katrina. In the white flash of lightning their bodies 
looked misty and unreal. A shimmering rope of light wavered 
between them. 
“Cathy, no!” Thunder drowned his shout to nothing more 
than a faint plea. 
She looked at him briefly. A small smile touched her lips, 
then she turned back to the princess. 
Akester grabbed his arm. “No, do not stop her. This is as it 
must be.” 
Ash brushed the diminutive Zard aside and stormed ahead. 
Too late! Too late! The words hammered in Ash’s head as 
he struggled to reach her through the suddenly thick air. 
“Raf, stop her!” 
Raf sprang toward the bed. Sharp shards of energy crackled 
throughout the chamber then burst into a brilliant white light. 
Momentarily blinded, Ash staggered and dropped to his 
knees. The acrid odor of singed hair burned his eyes and stained 
the rain-drenched air. He blinked to clear his vision. Though 
thunder still rumbled and lightning still lit the sky, the storm 
seemed to have lost some of its fury, at least within the bridal 
chamber. He stumbled to his feet and looked at the bed. 
“Cathy?” 
“Here.” Raf’s coughing reply came from under a tangle of 
bed curtains. 
“Get off of me, you big oaf. You’re crushing me.” 
At the sound of Cathy’s irate voice, Ash allowed himself 
to breathe a sigh of relief. Then he chuckled as Raf gave a 
pained grunt and levered himself up. Torn crystal silk curtains 
draped her head and shoulders as Cathy scrambled out from 
beneath Raf. She ignored the hand Ash held out to help her. 
“Are you injured?” 
“Only my pride.” Hands on her hips and eyes flashing like 
the lightning outside, she turned on him. “Why did you stop 

me? The transfer was almost complete. In another minute, you 
would have had your princess back.” 
Why indeed? “And what of you? Would you sacrifice 
yourself to save my world?” 
“Wasn’t that the whole idea when you kidnapped me? Why 
change your mind now?” Her gaze pleaded for him to say what 
was in his heart. 
He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He had no right to her ka or to her 
heart. Better to send her home whole and without giving her a 
piece of himself. 
“Ash, now is not a good time for this argument.” 
Raf’s use of his first name and familiar grip on his forearm 
told Ash of the man’s agitation. 
“My men easily defeated Kersin’s assassins, but in our 
rush to get back to the castle, a few escaped. By now Kersin is 
aware that you have been out of the bridal chamber. I have no 
doubt that he will be along shortly with a contingent of zards 
and other officials to denounce you. This woman, Zard Akester 
and myself can not be here when he arrives.” 
Akester placed an arm around Cathy’s shoulder. She sagged 
against him, and Ash knew his refusal to speak of his feelings 
for her cut deep, but she made no protest as the zard led her 
toward the secret passage. 
“One moment.” Ash touched Cathy’s arm. 
She stopped and turned to look at him. The pain in her 
gaze nearly undid him. He hardened his heart. 
“This world is not your responsibility. I was wrong to bring 
you here. Raf will take you to the castle roof. Use the moon 
crystal and go home.” He swung her around into Raf’s grasp. 
She searched his face then asked, “You can’t really want 
this. Let me stay. I love you, Ash. Doesn’t that mean anything?” 
“No. It cannot mean anything.” 
The light of hope went out of her eyes, and she turned 
away. 
What did she want of him? To declare his love would 
destroy them both. She had no place here. Sending her home 
intact was the best he could do for her. He gripped Raf’s hand. 
“Take her to the roof, my friend. Live hard. Die well.” 

“Live well. Die Hard.” 
The secret panel slid quietly shut behind them, and the 
seam melted into the wall. Ash moved around the chamber, 
cleaning up the evidence of any disruption. He shoved the torn 
bed curtains under the bed and quickly washed and changed 
into clean clothing, but there was nothing he could do to disguise 
the scrapes and bruises on his face and hands. He hid his sword 
beneath the pillows and his short dagger in his boot. 
Ash sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Kersin to 
come. He anticipated with relish Kersin’s frustration and anger 
when he found Ash in the bridal chamber. Soon after that, the 
zards would arrive to lead him and Katrina to the bonding 
ceremonies, and when Katrina was unable to speak the words 
and perform the rituals, the country would fall into chaos. He 
could think of no solution to this problem. 
Dawn gave way to day, but the sky remained dark as the 
storm continued to vent its wrath on the castle. With each flash 
of lightning, he wondered if Cathy had yet gone. 
Throughout everything, Katrina remained still and quiet. 
He studied his life-mate, but found himself unmoved by her 
perfection. Instead, his mind was filled with images of Cathy. 
Her quick, shy smile. The sparkle of humor in her soft, brown 
eyes as she explained the wondrous technology of her world. 
Her awe as she experienced the beauty of his. The sweet taste 
of her mouth. The warmth of her body pressed against him in 
passion. 
Though Katrina possessed smooth, flawless features and 
a near-perfect form, hers was a cold, lifeless beauty. It was 
Cathy who radiated purity from within. If he had allowed the 
transfer, would Katrina have gained what Cathy lost? It was a 
chance he had not been willing to take. 
The chamber door crashed open. Throat slashed from ear 
to ear, the guard fell dead through the opening. Ash grabbed 
his sword and jumped to his feet. Men poured into the room. 
Not the zards Ash had expected to come and denounce him for 
his absence, but well-armed fighting men come to kill him. At 
that moment, the problem of Katrina’s Raaka state became 
moot. Apparently Kersin was taking no chances. The men 

stepped aside, and Kersin strolled in. 
“My, my, Prince de Gar. I must say this is a surprise, but a 
convenient one. At least for me.” 
“Are you mad, Kersin?” Ash held his sword ready, but 
none of Kersin’s men made a move toward him. “What can 
you hope to gain by violating the sanctity of the bridal chamber 
and Moon Cycle retreat? The zards will arrive in moments.” 
“To find their beloved princess and her new life-mate dead.” 
“And what of the dead guard?” Anger churned inside Ash. 
Though at only ten and seven annum Oman was too young to 
actually serve in Ash’s personal guard, he had begged to 
accompany his prince. Now he was dead at Kersin’s hand, but 
the true guilt lay at Ash’s feet. 
“Merely the first casualty of war.” Kersin waved his hand 
in dismissal. “Though I was surprised not to find your faithful 
hound, Jakar, lying across your doorstep. It would have been 
much more satisfying to kill him rather than this useless pup. 
Still, his time will come.” 
“What do you plan?” Ash stalled. 
“Very simple. The new groom, despondent over his life-
mate’s Raaka state, goes mad and kills her. He kills his own 
guard when the lad tries to stop him. Then, filled with remorse 
at his actions, he commits suicide.” 
“Do you think the king’s zards and council are stupid? 
That they won’t notice the bruises and cuts on my body? How 
will you explain them?” 
Irritation and mild panic flickered over Kersin’s face, then 
he smiled. “Thank you for pointing that out to me. Perhaps, 
our poor mad prince, after killing his guard in a rage, drags the 
poor princess up to the battlements and throws her off. Guilt-
stricken, he follows her. That is what the officials will determine 
when your bodies are found at the base of the castle wall.” 
He motioned to his men. “Take him...alive.” 
Three men moved forward cautiously. Ash planted his feet 
and waited until they attacked. Two engaged him in a flurry of 
swordplay, while the third edged around the bed. Ash attempted 
to block his progress, but three more of Kersin’s men 
surrounded him and forced him away from the bed. Though 

less skilled, they outnumbered him five to one. For every blow 
he landed they landed three. 
“Enough!” Kersin shouted. The men broke off their attack 
and retreated. 
Ash stood panting. Blood dripped down his cheek from a 
lucky cut. His clean clothing hung off his torso in tatters. 
“Bring the princess here.” 
One of Kersin’s men sidled past Ash. He held Princess 
Katrina in front of him, a dagger at her throat. She didn’t 
struggle or tremble. Ash shuddered as her empty gaze met his. 
“Drop your sword.” 
Ash hesitated. 
“Now! It matters not to me if the princess is dead before I 
throw her off the battlements.” 
Blood pounded in Ash’s ears. With one quick swipe he 
could disable the man holding Katrina, but could he stop the 
others from cutting her down? Once she died, nothing else 
mattered. Kersin knew it and would use the knowledge to force 
Ash’s cooperation. Legitimate or not, as the king’s only other 
child, Kersin would rise to power. As long as Katrina lived 
there was hope, however slim. The route to the battlements 
was a long one. Anything might happen. His sword clattered 
to the floor. 
“Kick it over here.”
He followed Kersin’s instructions.
“Bind him. Hurry. The zards will arrive soon. I want this
over and done with.” Kersin cast an anxious glance out the 
door. 
“Let me kill him now, Lord Kersin,” one of Kersin’s men 
said. “After his fall from the battlements, no one will notice if 
there’s been a knife in his belly.” 
“No. Not yet.”
“But, My Lord...”
Kersin backhanded the man.
Ash hid his smile while his hands were jerked behind his
back and coarse rope bit into his wrists. Kersin’s thirst for 
blood and vengeance would be his undoing. He wanted Ash to 
watch as Katrina fell to her death. 

“Get moving.” Kersin’s man prodded Ash with his sword. 
Ash stumbled to one knee and sagged briefly when dragged 
to his feet. The hilt of his dagger now rested securely in his 
palm. 

Nineteen
Cold, wind-driven rain slapped Cathy’s face as she stepped 
out of the protection of the castle wall onto the battlement. She 
tried to retreat, but Jakar’s body halted her backward motion. 
He thrust her into the tempest, not stopping until they both 
stood exposed to the raging elements. Lightning crackled across 
the sky, followed by the boom of thunder. Against her chest 
the moon crystal radiated heat. 
“You’re crazy!” she shouted over the roar of the storm. “I 
won’t do it. You can’t force me. If you even touch me while the 
moon crystal is struck by lightning you’ll be transported to my 
world as well. And I can guarantee you won’t like it there.” 
He ignored her puny threat and leaned close, his lips near 
her ear. “You will do as Prince de Gar orders.” 
The warmth of his breath across her chilled, wet flesh, 
combined with his hostile tone, made her shiver. She missed 
Akester’s comforting presence, but before they reached the roof 
he had left them to join the other zards. 
Jakar ’s dark brows met over his angry eyes as he 
straightened and continued, “And do it quickly, so I may return. 
I fear what Kersin may plan.” He muttered the last, almost as 
if unaware she could hear him. 
“He isn’t likely to do anything to Ash with other people 
around...is he?” She hadn’t considered that Kersin might do 
more than try to discredit Ash and ruin the joining. She whirled 
and headed back toward the passageway. Jakar’s hand on her 
shoulder pulled her up short. “We have to go back. Ash may be 
in danger.” 
“Ash can take care of himself.” Jakar’s tone softened, but 
his grip didn’t loosen. “Use the medallion and go home. You 

have no place in Prince de Gar’s world, in his life. His destiny 
is with the Princess Katrina.” He nudged her away from him, 
out into the storm. 
She staggered under the onslaught of rain and wind and 
turned to face him. “You’re wrong. Ash is wrong. Katrina. Ash. 
Me. Our destinies are bound together. I can’t leave yet.” As 
she said the words, she realized how true they were. “Part of 
Katrina is locked within me. If I leave here with it, she’ll never 
recover. She’ll be unable to perform the rituals, and the bond 
between Arete and Mardelan will crumble, plunging the two 
countries into chaos. Let me try. What can it hurt? Let me touch 
Katrina.” 
Indecision flickered in Jakar’s eyes as he balanced loyalty 
against instinct. What could she say to convince him when 
even Ash refused to listen? 
Cathy would never know what path Jakar would have 
chosen, for at that moment soldiers burst onto the far side of 
the roof. Heads bent under the fury of the storm, they didn’t 
see them because Jakar grabbed her and pulled them out of 
sight against the castle wall. Hidden in the shadow of the wall, 
she watched Ash, hands bound behind his back, walking in the 
midst of Kersin’s men. 
Blood ran from a cut on his forehead, and his shirt was 
sliced to ribbons over his broad chest. Still, he stood undefeated, 
a defiant gleam in his eye. The soldiers guarded him, hands 
resting uneasily on the hilts of their swords. 
“Stay here,” Jakar ordered then slipped away along the 
wall. She huddled against the wet stone as he melted into the 
rain-washed gloom. 
Kersin lingered in the shelter of the doorway. In one hand 
he held a lamp. The other gripped Princess Katrina’s arm. The 
lamp cast a pitiful circle of watery light on the narrow strip of 
rooftop. He stepped out and headed toward the battlement wall 
overlooking the ocean. Wraithlike, the princess moved with 
him. Rain quickly soaked her hair and plastered her silk 
nightdress to her body, but she didn’t blink or shiver. Her lack 
of any human emotion made Cathy shudder. 
Kersin’s men, obviously frightened by her imperviousness 

to the elements, backed away as she passed. None seemed to 
notice that they left Ash standing alone. Several men jumped 
when lightning split the sky and thunder rolled through the air. 
Though they had aligned themselves with Kersin, maybe they 
still felt a bit of loyalty toward their king’s rightful heir. 
“Cowards!” Kersin turned on his men. “Why do you fear a 
mindless woman? She can’t hurt you. She can’t even save 
herself.” He swung her around toward an opening in the 
battlements. 
Above the crack and roar of lightning and thunder, Cathy 
could hear the crash of waves against the jagged rocks below. 
“Perhaps they know if they destroy her body, her ka will 
return to haunt them,” Ash taunted. Though his tone was calm, 
Cathy could see the muscles of his arms tighten. Something 
fell down past his legs, and then his gaze seemed to seek her 
out crouched against the wall. 
She looked around the group of men. If she created a 
distraction, could Ash escape? Where was Jakar? 
A low murmur of assent ran through the group. 
Superstitions roused, they inched away from the ghostly 
princess and Ash. 
“Fools. I’ll take care of my sister.” Kersin spat the word 
and pushed the princess closer to the opening. “You don’t have 
to touch her. Toss him over the edge.” 
Cathy stifled her cry of horror and stepped away from the 
wall into the faint glow of Kersin’s lamp. Their attention 
focused on Ash, no one noticed her. 
The men suddenly realized that Ash stood beyond arm’s 
reach. Before they could move, he grinned and sprang into 
action. Grabbing Katrina’s arm, he whirled her away from the 
edge of the battlement. She flew backward and landed against 
Cathy. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Cathy 
brushed wet silk from her face, pushed Katrina against the wall 
and shielded her with her body. A faint tingling raced through 
Cathy. With a conscious effort, she pushed it aside. Now was 
no time to join with Katrina. Ash needed her. 
“Kill him!” Kersin screeched, and pulled his sword. The 
lamp clattered to the floor and sputtered out, leaving only 

streaks of lightning as illumination. Sheets of rain lashed the 
roof. 
A knife flashed in Ash’s hand. He slashed at his first 
attacker. The man screamed and went down. Ash deftly plucked 
up his sword and turned to meet Kersin’s lunge. Swords met in 
midair. Sparks flew. 
Caught off guard, the other men fumbled to join the fray. 
Sword raised, a battle cry on his lips, Jakar appeared out of the 
shadows. Back to back the two fought. But outnumbered two 
against eight, Ash and Jakar were pushed relentlessly toward 
the edge of the roof. 
Kersin stepped back from the battle. His laugh rang out 
over the rumble of the storm and the clash of swords. “Force 
them over the edge!” 
Ash’s sword found its mark. A man gave a strangled 
screamed and crumpled. At the strength of Jakar’s blow, a man’s 
sword flew out of his hand and sailed into the storm. He died 
without a sound. Another man screamed and fell back. One by 
one, Ash and Jakar whittled away their attackers. Kersin’s men 
surged forward, forcing Ash and Jakar to retreat. A couple more 
steps, and they would plunge into the abyss. Skill and daring 
alone wouldn’t be enough. Cathy had to help. 
A few yards away, a sword lay against the wall. The smell 
of death tainted the water-soaked air. Shrill cries of pain were 
a sharp counterpoint to the near continuous roll of thunder. 
Cathy tucked the unresponsive Katrina into a dark corner 
and crept along the wall on her hands and knees. With the back 
of one hand, she dashed away the rain and tears obscuring her 
vision and closed her fingers around the blood-slick hilt. 
Beneath her shirt the moon crystal grew hotter with each 
flash of lightning. Distracted by the burning sensation, she 
yanked the medallion from around her neck and shoved it in 
the pocket of Ash’s jacket, which she still wore. Using the 
heavy sword as a crutch, she climbed to her feet. She gasped in 
pain and swayed as the overused muscles in her bad leg 
protested. 
She straightened and started forward. Dragging the heavy 
sword behind her, unsure of what to do, she stopped and 

watched in amazement as Ash and Jakar continued to dispatch 
Kersin’s men, until only four remained. Though tired and 
wounded, both men answered the blows of the soldiers they 
fought. A man fighting Ash turned and bolted. Ash plunged his 
sword deep into the chest of the second. He fell forward dead, 
yanking Ash’s sword from his hand. 
One of Jakar’s attackers turned toward the unarmed Ash. 
Avoiding the soldier’s lunge, he leapt back until his heels hung 
over the edge of the battlement. 
Busy warding off the blows of his last and most skillful 
opponent, Jakar was now too far away to help Ash. 
“Kill him! Kill him!” screamed Kersin. 
Ash dodged a strike and teetered. He caught his balance 
and ducked another swipe. 
“Ash!” Cathy doubted he could see or hear her through the 
crash of the storm, but his head snapped up. She lifted the 
sword by its blade and tossed it to him. He jumped up, picked 
the sword out of the air by its hilt and brought it down in a 
graceful arc. The force of the blow knocked the soldier past 
Ash and over the edge. The wind drowned the sound of his 
scream as he fell. 
Ignoring the bodies littering the rooftop, Ash started toward 
Cathy. Water and blood dripped down his face and arms, but 
triumph glittered in his eyes. Weak with relief, she took a step 
forward. 
“No-o-o!” Kersin’s cry made them both turn. Princess 
Katrina hung limp in his arms. 
Ash took a step toward Kersin. 
He pressed his back against the battlement wall and dangled 
Katrina over the edge. “Stay back, or I’ll drop her.” 
Behind her, Cathy could hear the sound of Jakar still 
fighting. 
“It is over, Kersin. Let her go. Harm her, and I will kill 
you.” 
“Do you think I care!” Kersin shrieked. “All my plans. 
My dreams. Ambitions. All for nothing because of a mindless 
slut. Why didn’t she die along with her whore mother? I planned 
the attack so carefully, but she survived.” 

With each flash of lightning, Cathy could see the growing 
madness in Kersin’s eyes. 
He whirled away from the wall and fell to his knees. 
Katrina’s body flew out over the edge of the roof and dangled 
in midair. Only Kersin’s grip on her wrist kept her from falling 
to her death. The wind tore at her hair and nightdress as she 
fluttered and twisted in the gale like a white flag of surrender. 
He turned a mocking smile on Ash. 
“Kill me now. Run me through with your sword,” Kersin 
taunted. “Or save your bride, and I’ll escape. Choose quickly 
Prince de Gar. My arm grows weary.” 
As Kersin opened his hand, Ash leaped forward and caught 
Katrina’s arm. The force of her weight pulled Ash flat. Half 
his body hung over the edge of the roof. 
With a laugh, Kersin jumped to his feet. “You are a fool, 
Prince de Gar.” 
Sparing Kersin only a fleeting glance, Ash inched himself 
backwards, pulling Katrina with him. Water slicked his 
straining biceps. Though she was a slight woman, the storm 
seemed determined to snatch her from him. Beneath him, the 
roof started to crumble from his weight and the water streaming 
over the edge. He teetered there, unable to pull her to safety 
but refusing to let her go. 
Clutching the hilt of his sword in both hands, Kersin lifted 
the blade over Ash’s unprotected back. Unholy glee flashed in 
his eyes. “Die along with my sister.” 
No! In desperation, Cathy launched herself between Kersin 
and Ash. The blade pierced the right side of her chest. Instead 
of fiery pain, a cold numbness crept over her. She sank to her 
knees and slid down the edge of the battlement wall. 
“She-hound,” Kersin snarled and tugged his sword free. 
Lightning streaked through the sky as he lifted the sword 
again. 
Every breath sent shards of ice through Cathy’s chest. Still, 
she crawled forward and tried to cover Ash’s back. Kersin 
kicked her aside. She fell back, her body no longer responding 
to her mind’s command. Ash, I failed. 
Kersin’s scream of pain ended in a strangled gurgle as 

Jakar’s blade skewered him from behind. Through dimming 
vision, Cathy watched the triumphant madness on Kersin’s face 
turn to stunned disbelief. His sword clattered to the ground. 
Clawing at the blade protruding from his chest, he staggered 
forward and tumbled into nothingness. Cathy couldn’t tell if 
the wail she heard was the wind or his death cry as he fell to 
the rocks and ocean below. 
Jakar reached down and grabbed Katrina’s arm. Together, 
he and Ash pulled her onto the roof then sagged on either side 
of the opening. Breathing hard from exertion, neither man 
noticed Cathy slumped against the wall. Like a rain-soaked 
rag doll, Katrina lay sprawled between them. Her pale, vacant 
blue eyes met Cathy’s. She shuddered at Katrina’s emptiness 
and looked away. 
Kersin’s soldiers littered the rooftop. Each bolt of lightning 
revealed a macabre waterfall of blood and water sluicing over 
the edge. The steady rain washed away the stench of death, but 
Cathy could feel it hovering over her. 
A heavy weight pressed her eyelids downward, and her 
heart slowed. The world darkened and started to fade from 
view. Sound dimmed. Pain melted away. I’m dying. Strangely, 
the thought didn’t frighten her. Death was familiar. She’d 
walked this path before. 
Wait. She couldn’t die yet. There was something still left 
to do. But what? 
Ash. Ash would know. 
Biting her lips against the renewed pain she stirred herself 
to awareness. “Ash....” The wind snatched away her breathless 
whisper. 
*** 
“May the Eternal One have mercy on their souls.” 
Ash turned as Akester stepped onto the rooftop. His white 
robes flowed around him as he stopped to bless each fallen 
soldier. In the murky half-light, he seemed to glow with an 
inner radiance. 
“Leave them, Zard,” Raf growled. “They deserve no more 
mercy than they would have shown the prince and princess.” 
Akester paid no attention to Raf’s order. He continued to 

bless the dead. 
Ash’s muscles screamed in protest as he knelt next to 
Katrina and lifted her in his arms. Her vacuous gaze reminded 
him of what he had lost. Rain stung his raw flesh, but didn’t 
compare to the ache in his heart. Katrina’s cool beauty was no 
substitute for Cathy’s vivid warmth. 
Without Kersin waiting to step in and seize the throne, 
Katrina’s Raaka state mattered less. When she failed to perform 
the rituals, King Ruthor could declare the bonding void, or, 
because he had no other heir, he could allow it to stand and 
pray there would be a child of the union. War was no longer an 
imminent threat, but Ash could not stir himself to care. Either 
way, Cathy was lost to him. 
He buried his longing for what could never be and turned 
to Jakar. 
“Thank you, my friend. I owe you my life twice this day. 
Good toss.” 
“It is a life well worth saving. Besides I believe you are 
still one up on me.” A bewildered frown erased Raf’s grin. 
“What toss?” 
“Take the princess to the bridal chamber and summon 
Marta to care for her.” Ash placed her in Raf’s outstretched 
arms. “You have my gratitude for sending Cathy home.” 
Before he left, Raf hesitated and looked around. “But I did 
not. You and Kersin burst onto the rooftop before I could 
convince her to use the medallion. I left her hidden against the 
far wall.” 
She’s still here! Hope and joy erupted inside Ash. He 
whirled around. Where was she? With the threat of Kersin 
nullified, could he convince her to stay here on Tareth with 
him? Did he have the right to try? If King Ruthor allowed the 
bonding to stand and named Ash heir to the throne, he could 
offer Cathy nothing beyond his love. Could he ask her to give 
up her whole world to become his mistress? 
A flash of lightning illuminated the rooftop, and Ash saw 
her sitting against the battlement wall. Rain plastered her hair 
to her head and coursed down her pale face. 
“Cathy?” Why didn’t she answer? Ash hurried to kneel at 

her side. In the gloom of the storm, he could see crimson staining 
her shirt. He tore it open. Blood welled from a narrow, three-
inch gash just above her right breast. He pressed his palm over 
it, but the flow didn’t ease. 
Her eyes opened, and her gaze met his. She lifted her 
fingertips to touch his face. They felt like ice against his skin. 
“Sorry...couldn’t leave. Something I need...to do....” Her 
delicate brows drew together in a puzzled frown, and she 
coughed. “I can’t...can’t remember.” 
Ash could barely hear her ragged whisper above the roll 
of thunder. He remembered the sensation of someone above 
him as he tried to pull Katrina from over the edge. “You put 
yourself between Kersin and me. Why would you do something 
so foolish?” Pain pierced his heart at her selfless sacrifice and 
for what they might have had. 
Her lips curved in a smile. “He would have...killed you. 
Couldn’t let him...love you.” She shook her head and spoke as 
if explaining the obvious to a child. Another ragged cough shook 
her body. The rain quickly washed away the trickle of blood 
from the corner of her mouth. 
He had to get her inside, but when he tried to pick her up, 
she screamed in agony. Hot blood gushed from her chest and 
over his hand. Frustrated at his helplessness, he curled his body 
over hers to shield her from the pounding rain. With a sigh, she 
settled back against him. The specter of death hovered in the 
air. She was dying in his arms. He could feel her slipping away 
from him, her skin going cold, her breath growing sporadic, 
her heartbeat slowing. 
No! She couldn’t die! She couldn’t leave him! Not now! 
Not ever! 
“Akester!” 
The zard knelt next to Ash and quickly examined the 
wound. 
“Do something,” Ash demanded. 
“There is naught to be done.” Akester shook his head sadly 
and sat back on his heels. “The blade bit too deep, pierced too 
many vital organs. I haven’t the skill to heal her.” 
“No. Do not leave me.” Ash buried his face against her 

neck where a faint pulse still beat. Tears burned his cheeks. He 
had thought his heart would break when he sent her away from 
him to return to Earth, but this was much worse. On Earth she 
would have lived. He could imagine her there in her home, in 
her studio, living, laughing and perhaps even loving. Death 
would take her from him completely. His memories were not 
enough to sustain him. 
“Don’t c-cry, my Mystic Warrior. I’ll always...always be 
with you. Here.” She pulled away slightly, smiling through her 
pain, and touched her trembling palm to his chest. 
He covered her hand with his own. “Stay with me, Little 
Shecal. Please.” 
“Can’t.” Her voice firmed. “I don’t belong...in your world. 
Never did...never will.” She looked over his shoulder and her 
eyes widened. “Do you...do you see it?” 
He glanced over his shoulder, but saw nothing more than 
the stone castle wall. “What? See what?” 
“Light...colors.” She breathed the words on a note of awe. 
“Music...so beautiful.” 
Akester gripped Ash’s shoulder. “The Eternal One’s 
seraphim come for her ka. You must let her go, Prince de Gar, 
or they may take yours as well.” 
Ash shook off Akester’s hand and tightened his hold on 
Cathy. “I’ll not let them have her. Let them take me, too.” Duty 
and honor be damned. 
“No, Ash. You stay.” For a moment she gained strength 
and clarity and pushed away from him. “Arete and Mardelan 
need a ruler. The king is old. Princess Katrina can’t rule. 
Kersin’s dead. But there’s always someone waiting to seize 
power. You have to stay.” Her hands framed his face and forced 
him to look at her. “Promise me.” 
“Anything, my love.” 
“Always remember...I love you.” She lifted her face to his 
and kissed him. 
Ash stroked her icy lips with his tongue, seeking to infuse 
her with his own heat and life force. Her mouth opened to his, 
and he tasted blood. 
She pulled back, and her gaze drifted away. A beatific smile 

curved her lips, then she went limp. 
“As I love you,” he whispered. Too late. She was gone. 
“Cathy! No-o-o!” His wail of grief echoed the thunder as 
he hugged her slim, lifeless body. For a long time he sat and 
rocked her. Pain left him frozen. Even the sky continued to 
weep with him. 
“Prince de Gar.” 
“Ash.” 
Akester and Raf’s voices finally pierced the veil Ash had 
drawn around himself. He lifted his head and glared at them. 
“Go away.” 
“The time for the Blood Bonding ceremony grows near,” 
Akester said. 
“Do you think I care?” Ash snarled at the zard. 
“You should. Cathy gave her life for yours. Will you 
abandon it here on this rooftop?” 
“Without her I have no life.” 
“And the people of Mardelan and Arete. Will you desert 
them as well?” 
“Has Cathy’s death released Katrina’s ka?” 
“I don’t know,” Akester admitted. “Katrina’s ka may choose 
not to return to her body.” 
“Then it is ended. When the Blood Bonding fails, I will 
return to Arete.” 
“With her dying words, Cathy told you to remember your 
duty to the people of both Arete and Mardelan. Will you not 
honor your promise?” Like annoying insects, Akester’s words 
buzzed around Ash, giving him no peace. 
“Give her to me, Ash.” Raf reached out. “I’ll take care of 
her. Go prepare yourself for the ceremony.” 
The pity in Raf’s eyes fed Ash’s rage. For a moment he 
resisted, then his shoulders sagged. “One moment.” 
Raf took a step away. 
Ash cradled Cathy against his chest and stood slowly. Eyes 
closed, her skin washed of all color, Cathy lay like a broken 
doll across his arms. He stroked a strand of hair from her cheek, 
then pressed his mouth against lips now as cold and hard as his 
heart. 

“Live hard. Die well, Little Shecal,” Ash whispered against 
her cheek. In his mind he heard her laughing reply, Live well. 
Die hard, Mystic Warrior. 
Rain washed away his tears, but couldn’t cleanse the guilt 
from his heart. Though another’s sword had pierced Cathy’s 
chest, she died because of him. 
He stepped toward Raf. An arrow of brilliance split the 
sky. Like a celestial finger, lightning caressed Cathy. Fissions 
of energy jolted through Ash. In a shower of crystalline sparkles, 
she dissolved in his arms, leaving behind nothing but a wet 
bundle of clothing. 
He clutched the cloth, and the moon crystal slid into his 
hand. Now cool, the crystal no longer glowed. Instead, its 
center was now gold-flecked white. For a second he gripped 
the stone. Its edges bit into his palm, then he let it dangle by its 
cord from his fingers. 
Neither Raf nor Akester spoke as Ash straightened and 
strode toward the secret passageway without a backward 
glance. The Eternal One had passed judgement. For his failure, 
Ash would not even be allowed to grieve at Cathy’s grave. 
He would do his duty, but in all else he was Raaka. 

Twenty 
Ash’s agonized cry of pain and loss shattered Cathy’s 
serenity, halted her soul’s journey. She blinked and found she 
now viewed the world from outside herself. Tears mingled with 
the rain streaming down Ash’s face as he cradled her body and 
rocked back and forth. His grief tore at her heart. She couldn’t 
leave him like this. 
She moved closer to comfort him. I’m here. Don’t cry, my 
love. Her words made no sound, and without substance her 
hand slid through his shoulder. 
A flash of light blinded her, and the physical world 
dissolved. Her soul soared free. Doubt and fear vanished as 
she floated in a comforting void. There was more, but she was 
content to wait. 
It’s time to come home. A soft, melodic voice, neither male 
nor female, surrounded her. 
Home? Where was home? Earth? She needed her body to 
go there. 
Not Earth. A chime of laughter rippled over Cathy. 
Heaven? 
Some call it such. Come. 
What about Ash? 
He has his destiny. You have yours. 
She jerked away from the being’s compelling lure. No! We 
belong together. I have to go back. I can’t leave him. 
Cathy Lawrence and Ash de Gar were never meant to be 
together. 
Then why did we meet? 
They didn’t. Not really. 
The odd pronoun confused Cathy. I don’t understand. I’m 

Cathy Lawrence. Ash and I definitely have met. I’m not going 
anywhere with you until you explain. 
Like a soft breeze, the being’s sigh touched Cathy’s cheek. 
She floated in an unformed place where the air had a crystal 
clarity, but she could see no distinct shapes. A figure of white 
and gold hovered in front of her. Though she couldn’t make 
out the exact form or features of the being, she could sense its 
disquiet. 
You will understand when you remember who you are. 
Then you can choose. 
I’m Cathy Lawrence. Choose what? 
Are you? Think back to your first memories as Cathy. What 
came before? Remember, then choose. 
The voice and form melted away like the mist in the 
morning sun. Memories slammed into Cathy. Like a disjointed 
film, the images returned: a small, golden-haired child, she 
skipped at the side of a laughing woman. She saw her mother 
in a crowded marketplace, then herself squirming impatiently 
on her seat, her feet dangling above the floor as her father, the 
king, held court. Next she heard the shouts and screams of 
people dying around her, and her mother shielding her from 
the deadly blow of a sword. Blood, hot and salty, dripped onto 
her face. She relived the suffocating fear of being pinned 
beneath her mother’s lifeless body, of waiting for the raiders 
to find and kill her. A groan of remembered terror held Cathy 
rigid. 
I’m not Cathy Lawrence. I’ve never been Cathy Lawrence. 
She died twenty years ago at the hand of her abusive father. 
Only her body survived. All these years I’ve lived Cathy’s life, 
though deep inside, I knew the truth. My art revealed my real 
identity. 
She knew what she had to do. 
*** 
The warmth of the bridal chamber didn’t ease the ice around 
Ash’s heart. Oman’s body was gone from the room, but the 
who and how of the clean up did not interest him. 
He stripped off his wet, tattered clothing, pulled on the 
simple white ceremonial robe for the ritual cleansing, and sat 

down to wait. Later, more elaborate robes would be donned 
for the Blood Bonding ceremony. 
When the door opened and Marta bustled in, Ash spared 
her only a brief look as she hurried to Katrina’s side. 
“My poor Katy.” She turned on Ash. “What have you done 
to her?” 
Her angry accusation barely registered. 
Marta scurried around the bed, stripped off Katrina’s wet 
nightdress, dried and brushed her hair, then slipped a white 
robe over her unresisting body. Seated near the hearth, Katrina 
showed no ill effects from her ordeal. She gazed sightlessly 
into the crackling fire, her hands resting motionless on her lap 
where Marta had placed them. Only the steady rise and fall of 
Katrina’s chest and the telltale throb of her pulse in the hollow 
of her throat gave evidence of her life force. In everything else 
she was naught but a beautiful sculpture, without warmth or 
emotion. 
Ash wished his heart could be as empty, but memories and 
images of Cathy haunted him, giving him no peace. He had 
failed her. He’d dragged her from her home, and now she was 
dead. 
Outside, the storm ceased to roar, its fury finally spent. A 
watery stream of sunlight pierced the parting clouds, but the 
meager warmth couldn’t penetrate the hard shell around his 
heart. To continue, he must lock away his emotions. 
Soon the moons would rise and merge in the sky. Blood 
red, they would cast their glow over Tareth, either a promise or 
a threat. 
Led by Akester, the zards arrived an hour before sunset. 
The holy men cast curious looks at Ash, but said nothing about 
his cuts and bruises. They looked from him to Katrina with 
sympathetic eyes, aware, no doubt, of Katrina’s Raaka state. 
Ash couldn’t summon the energy to care. He would do what 
was required of him, speak the words, perform the rituals, but 
the result held little interest for him. 
As the other zards preceded them out of the chamber, 
Akester held back to walk by Ash’s side. “You follow the letter 
of your promise to Cathy, but what of the spirit?” 

Akester’s words pricked at Ash’s conscience. “You ask 
too much, old man.” 
“The fate of your people rests in your hands. They have no 
need of a heartless ruler. King Ruthor is old and ineffective. 
His rule leaves Mardelan a plum ripe for the plucking. A leader 
must have passion. Must care.” 
“I will do what is needed. Do not bedevil me. I cannot give 
them what I no longer possess. Besides, what does it matter?” 
He waved his arm at the passive princess the zards escorted 
through the corridors toward the bathing caverns. “King Ruthor 
may soon declare the bonding invalid. If so, I will return to 
Arete, and Mardelan will no longer be my concern.” 
“And what of Arete? Will you sit upon its throne with casual 
disregard for its well-being?” 
“My father....” 
“Your father is also old and has no other heirs. You will 
someday rule. Will you do so wisely?” With that, Akester moved 
ahead and joined the other zards. 
As little as Ash wished to hear, Akester spoke naught but 
the truth. Childhood lessons learned at his father’s knee 
returned. 
His father’s words echoed in his mind. Royalty cannot live 
just for itself. Power and privilege demand responsibility and 
sacrifice. Your life belongs to the people you serve. Grief does 
not negate obligation. 
The entrance to the bathing cavern loomed before him. 
Already the zards in their flowing white robes lined the wall, 
backs to the heated pool. The soft, rhythmic melody of their 
chant melded with the gurgle of running water. Clean, sweet-
smelling rushes covered the slick stone floor, while rare incense 
burned, filling the moist air with a heady aroma of spice. 
Katrina stood at the edge of the pool, naked, her robe a 
white puddle at her feet. As before, her white-blonde hair 
streamed like a moonlit waterfall down her slender back and 
brushed the back of her hips. Lamplight warmed her cold 
beauty, added color to her alabaster skin, a spark to her empty 
gaze, and made her seem alive, aware. 
Once Ash had thrilled to the knowledge that she was his. 

Now her beauty touched him not. His mind could only see 
Cathy—her short dark hair ruffled around her smiling face, 
her eyes sparkling with emotion as she gave herself to him. 
Sorrow and regret for what he had lost nearly overwhelmed 
him. 
Still, there was naught else to be done. Ash knew his duty. 
He approached his spiritless bride. His robe slipped to the floor 
as he took Katrina’s cool fingers in his own and led her into 
the pool. 
Water sluiced over Ash and Katrina’s skin, coating them 
with a liquid sheen. Carefully he bathed Katrina, then took her 
hands in his and ran them over his body in a mockery of what 
the bathing ritual should be. 
A small scar on Katrina’s hip brought a memory of the 
scars Cathy bore with such courage. He remembered the feel 
of her small, capable hands moving down his chest then lower. 
His body stirred to painful life, his fingers tightened. 
Katrina showed no awareness of his presence or his intimate 
touch. Her soft breasts felt cool and lifeless beneath his hands. 
His flesh shriveled. 
Eyes averted, two zards stepped forward and held out 
drying towels. 
“Be strong,” Akester whispered in his ear as he and the 
other zards dressed Ash and Katrina in the heavy ceremonial 
robes. 
Covered in white-crystal beads, the cloth reflected the 
lamplight like a thousand desert suns, while crimson streaks 
of red-crystal beads bordered the wide hems, flared cuffs and 
stiff collars of the robes. The weight pulled at Ash’s shoulders, 
but Katrina stood unaffected. 
On the sash around Ash’s waist, Akester hung an intricately 
carved dagger. Forged from a solid piece of white-crystal, the 
blade depicted the legend of the two moons, while the red-
crystal hilt showed the story of the first Blood Moon. Both 
edges of the blade were razor sharp. 
Swinging a hollow crystal globe filled with burning 
incense, Akester led the procession from the bathing cavern 
up into the castle proper. The tang of spice and smoke stung 

Ash’s eyes and nose. A murmur of sound from the people lining 
the wide corridors grew as they approached the great hall. Ash 
and Katrina passed, and apprehensive whispers swelled to 
excited shouts. 
“The Eternal One’s blessing on you!” 
“Long live our princess! Long live our prince!” 
Bejeweled, elegantly dressed women stood shoulder to 
shoulder with peasant women wearing simple cotton skirts and 
blouses. All dipped in low curtsies. Gentlemen brushed elbows 
with farmers, merchants and woolie herders, bowing their heads 
in respect. On this day, the social hierarchy ceased to matter as 
the people paid homage to their rulers. Awe and hope in his 
eyes, a child reached out and touched Ash’s shimmering robe. 
The shouts became a chant. “Princess Katrina. Prince Ash. 
Long may they rule.” 
Something stirred in the burnt-out embers of Ash’s heart. 
Madelans and Aretians, rich and poor, these were his people. 
What did he owe them? 
Before he could consider the answer, the massive aronwood 
doors to the great hall swung inward. Heat from a thousand 
bodies rushed out into the cooler air of the corridor. Lamps 
lining the smooth stone walls cast a yellowish light into every 
corner. An expectant hush fell over the hall. The crush of people 
dressed in perfume-scented finery parted before them. 
At the far side of the crowded hall, King Ruthor waited on 
the dais. A spark of hope kindled, then died, in his watery blue 
eyes as Ash stood Katrina to his left. The king seemed to shrink 
and slump in defeat. 
As Ash moved to the king’s right, the king whispered to 
Akester, “All hope is gone. Kersin has won.” 
Ash leaned toward the king. “Kersin is dead.” 
“Dead? How?” The questions quavered on the old king’s 
trembling lips. 
The zards moved into place, Akester behind the king, two 
others each to the side of Ash and Katrina. 
“Does it matter?” Ash asked. 
A flicker of grief passed over the king’s aged features, then 
he shook his head. “Let us proceed.” Though death hovered 

over him, a new firmness ran in his voice. 
A dozen soldiers took up position. With the grinding shriek 
of stone against stone, the seemingly solid wall behind the dais 
began to part. Ink black, the night sky crept into view through 
the growing opening, and cold, rain-damp air washed into the 
hall. As one, the crowd caught its breath, and a shiver of unease 
raced through the room. 
Ash turned as a red glow suffused the lamplight’s yellow. 
Full and round, Kala and Dema were as one, dominating the 
sky. Like a sprinkle of crystal dust across black silk, only a 
scattering of stars braved the light of the Blood Moon. 
Finally the stone walls came to rest, and the great hall stood 
open to the night. Beyond the opening, the castle wall fell a 
hundred feet straight down to the sea. A froth of rusty crimson 
capped each indigo wave as the sea crashed against the castle 
wall, sending the scent of salt and water into the hall. 
“Join hands.” 
Akester’s voice carried over the renewed murmur of the 
crowd. They fell silent once more, all eyes focused on Ash and 
Katrina. 
A zard stepped forward on either side of Ash and Katrina 
and escorted them to the center of the dais. King Ruthor took 
Ash’s and Katrina’s right hands and placed them wrist against 
wrist, then moved back. Through her fragile skin, Ash could 
feel the steady throb of Katrina’s heart. He searched her eyes 
for some spark of life, of hope. There was none. Pale blue as a 
desert sky, her gaze remained unfocused. 
Akester took the king’s place and wrapped a silken red 
cord twice around their wrists. “This cord symbolizes the bond 
you’ve forged between your physical bodies. What the Eternal 
One blesses, let no man deny.” 
With one hand resting over theirs, Akester drew the dagger 
from Ash’s sash. Holding the flat of the ceremonial blade to 
his lips, his kiss fogged the cold, polished surface. Then he 
slashed the blade between their wrists and through the cord. It 
tumbled to the floor, whole. The crowd gasped. Even Ash felt 
a touch of awe at what he knew was probably no more than a 
magician’s trick. Would that Akester could work his magic on 

Ash’s heart. 
A zard placed a small table draped in red-crystal silk 
beneath Ash and Katrina’s still outstretched arms, and another 
zard set a clear-crystal bowl atop the table. Above Akester’s 
white head, the joined moons bathed the faces of the crowd in 
a bloody glow. Red. The color of life. The color of death. 
The time had come. Ash hesitated. A low murmur of 
disquiet rippled through the hall. 
His fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger still warm 
from Akester’s touch. He lifted the blade to his lips and kissed 
the cool crystal. 
Turning his right hand up, he slid the blade across his palm 
from the base of his index finger to the outside edge of his 
wrist. The sharp edge sliced clean through callused skin. A 
thin line of blood started to well. 
He lifted Katrina’s unresisting left hand and wrapped her 
fingers around the hilt of the dagger. He could do no more, 
Katrina must respond, or the blood bonding would fail. He 
would fail. 
“Cathy, if you can hear me, you must act now. Send 
Katrina’s ka,” Ash whispered. 
He had failed Ilka. He had failed Cathy. He would not fail 
his people. 
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she swayed slightly. Time 
lengthened. He waited, the warm, salty scent of blood clogging 
his nose. 
Slowly, as if held down by heavy weights, Katrina’s eyelids 
lifted. She blinked. Pale blue swirled and darkened until her 
eyes turned a rich chocolate-brown. 
“Cathy?” he whispered. Conflicting emotions surged 
through him—grief, anger, hope. When her gaze remained 
unfocused and she didn’t respond, his fragile hope faded. 
A cool, salt-scented breeze caressed him. Somewhere water 
crashed unceasingly against rock. Feet scraped against stone 
flooring, and voices murmured softly. The weight of a bead-
laden sleeve pulled downward on his outstretched arm while 
blood welled across his palm. A blur of color and movement, 
people crowded closer. A hush fell over the vast hall. 

She lifted her gaze to search his face. Then, with a confused 
frown, she glanced at the thickening line of blood crossing his 
palm then at the smooth, pale skin of her own. A thin streak of 
glistening ruby coated one edge of the blade wobbling in her 
hand. Slowly, she turned the blade and slashed across her right 
palm from the bottom of her pinkie to the base of her thumb. 
Her lips tightened to a straight line. Blood, thick and dark 
as a rich red wine, welled up. 
She held out her hand. Ash’s gaze jerked upward to meet 
hers as he took her hand in his own. Wordlessly, she squeezed 
his fingers, then pressed her palm to his. 
“My blood to your blood,” Ash said. 
“Your blood to my blood.” A stranger’s voice, light and 
musical, sprang from Katrina’s soft lips. 
“Your blood to my blood.” 
“My blood to your blood,” she answered. 
They stepped together until only inches separated them 
and their clasped hands hung at heart level between them. Her 
mint-scented breath mingled with his. The scent of her body 
stirred a warmth low in his belly. 
Katrina had spoken the ceremonial words. Somehow, some 
way, Cathy had succeeded where he had failed. She had returned 
Katrina’s ka to her body. 
Heavy sleeves fell back to their elbows. Blood dripped 
down their forearms into the crystal bowl. 
“Now and forever, we are bonded as one.” Their voices 
blended, as did the crimson liquid swirling in the water-filled 
bowl below. 
The crowd’s gleeful roar pounded in Ash’s ears, drowning 
out King Ruthor’s acceptance and Akester’s blessings on the 
Blood Bonding. The hall erupted in cheers as the celebrations 
began. The Bonding was complete. 
The zards quickly cleaned and bandaged their hands. The 
shallow cuts would heal, but the wound in Ash’s heart would 
never close. As protocol demanded, the zards led Katrina across 
the dais. One leg buckled slightly, and she stumbled. 
She turned her head toward him. “Ash.” The sound of his 
name on her lips, similar to Cathy’s voice yet so different, 

poured salt on his grief. 
Fear made him turn away, but a faint hope held him rooted 
to the dais. Could Katrina’s body yet hold a small part of Cathy? 
He couldn’t face her, afraid to find that nothing of Cathy 
remained, but he couldn’t run. 
Music and the thud of a thousand dancing feet against stone 
drowned the pounding of his heart. 
“Are you a coward then, My Lord?” Akester asked. 
Ash glared down at the diminutive zard. “Do you think it 
so easy to cast one woman from my heart and accept another?” 
Akester stared at him with a thoughtful frown, then looked 
at Katrina. “Princess Katrina seems to have regained her ka 
and her wits. See how she interacts with her subjects.” He 
pointed to where Katrina was already holding court. She sat at 
the edge of the dais, a young child perched on one knee, while 
people crowded around. Her laughter rang like a chime over 
the noise of the hall. King Ruthor stood at her side, hand on 
her shoulder. His smile erased a score of years from his lined 
and weary features. 
“At least the princess knows her duty. You would do well 
to take lessons. What do you fear? Perhaps you were more 
comfortable with the thought of a mindless life-mate? Hmmm?” 
Before Ash could formulate an answer to Akester’s thought-
provoking questions, the zard walked away and disappeared 
into the mill of people. 
Ash looked at the princess, her face alight with a smile as 
she spoke to the child in her lap. The mere upward curve of her 
lips transformed her cold, remote perfection. She radiated with 
an inner beauty that shone out of her warm, brown eyes. 
What did he fear? With the return of Katrina’s ka, the fate 
of Mardelan and Arete was assured. Together they would rule 
the two kingdoms. But who was this stranger, his life-mate? 
Katrina? Cathy? Honor and duty commanded he stand at her 
side. 
Still, Ash hesitated. Raf appeared . 
“Your Highness. This medallion is too dangerous to leave 
lie. What would you have done with it?” Raf held out his hand. 
Reluctantly, Ash accepted the moon crystal resting in Raf’s 

palm. 
The crystal’s gold flecks winked red in the light from the 
joined moons. Lingering warmth touched Ash’s hand when his 
fingers closed around the now flawed and milky medallion. 
He welcomed the pain of clutching the crystal against his 
wounded palm. He swallowed the grief clogging his throat and 
closed his eyes for a brief moment. 
“My Lord?” Raf questioned. “Do you wish to retire?” 
Ash shook his head. “No. Though Cathy still owns my 
heart, I owe my loyalty and allegiance to my life-mate.” 
“Your Cathy sacrificed herself to save you. I cannot regret 
my failure to carry out your orders. If she had used the medallion 
as you directed, Kersin’s sword would have ended your life. 
Honor her memory with your wise rule.” 
“Simple and good advice, my friend. If only it were as 
easy to accomplish.” Ash stepped off the back side of the dais 
and moved to stand in front of the open wall. 
The Blood Moon lit the ocean with a ruby light and turned 
even the few brave stars to pinpoints of fiery red. A faint wisp 
of red-tinged clouds lingered from the storm. Here the crisp 
scents of salt spray and rainwater filled the air, while behind 
him the hall was heavy with the smell of warm, perfumed 
bodies. The crash of the surf against the rocks below mingled 
with the clamor of people and music. 
“It is time to let go.” Ash lifted his closed fist to the night 
sky. The silken cord of the medallion dangled down his arm, 
the pale yellow strands of the braided hair caught the light of 
the moon and looked like a trail of blood. 
With a mighty heave, he sent the moon crystal sailing out 
into the darkness. Tumbling over and over, its surface glowed 
crimson. From the clear sky, lightning streaked down. In a burst 
of light and a crack of sound, the medallion vanished. 
Ash whirled back into the hall. The time had come to greet 
his new bride. 

Twenty-One 
From her seat at the edge of the dais, Cathy looked around 
for Ash. Men, women and children blocked her view. Warm, 
perfumed bodies pressed close. Everyone talked at once, until 
the words formed a mumble in her mind. She smiled until her 
face ached and mouthed her thanks for their well wishes. 
One hand resting lightly on her shoulder, Akester stood at 
her side. Only he, Marta and the king seemed aware of any 
difference in the princess. Ash had turned away from her. Why 
wouldn’t he prefer Katrina’s beautiful, perfect body? How could 
she have ever hoped he could love Cathy’s ugly, broken form? 
“Where is Ash? I need to see him. Talk to him.” 
With people around her, she couldn’t voice the questions 
rolling in her mind, but Akester nodded his understanding. 
“Be patient with him, Your Highness. He has much to 
consider.” 
Since the Blood Bonding ceremony ended, Ash hadn’t come 
near her. Was he avoiding her? Why? Or was it just the demands 
of the people that kept them apart? Goodness knew she stood 
little chance of breaking free from those who sought her 
attention. But then she didn’t have Ash’s physical strength or 
his ability to command. Though she now had Katrina’s form 
and early memories, her life experiences were as Cathy. Royal 
prerogative didn’t come naturally to her. 
The little girl sitting in her lap tapped her cheek. Small-
boned and fair-haired, the child reminded her of Thea. A pang 
of homesickness joined Cathy’s growing fear. What of those 
she had left behind? Thea? Dale? Her heart ached with the 
realization they’d never know her fate, and the pain they’d 
suffer. Had she given up her life on Earth for one empty of 

love? 
Why had Ash changed his mind about letting her release 
Katrina’s soul? Once Cathy dared to hope love prompted his 
action. Now, she could only wonder at his motives. 
The night wore on, and the joined moons sank into the sea. 
Slowly, the crowd thinned. Weariness sat on her unfamiliar 
shoulders. Cathy’s new body felt strange and uncomfortable. 
Though her hip and leg were smooth and unscarred, they ached 
with remembered pain. But the pain was minor compared to 
that in her heart when she saw Ash leave the hall without ever 
coming to her side. 
“Come, my little lambie,” Marta crooned in her ear. 
“You’ve had a hard day. Let me help you to bed.” 
The soft, familiar tone of Katrina’s nursemaid soothed 
Cathy’s fear. Memories of Marta’s gentle care during Katrina’s 
rambunctious childhood made Cathy smile. She’d run the poor 
woman ragged with her antics. She turned into the plump 
woman’s outstretched arms. “Marta, I’ve missed you so.” 
Marta stiffened and pulled back so she could search 
Katrina’s face. “Sweetkins? Have you truly come back to us? 
Is it really you?” 
In the dimming lamplight, Cathy saw the hopeful spark in 
Marta’s eyes. 
“Yes, it’s me.” 
“How? For so many years I prayed to the Eternal One to 
rescue your ka from limbo. Where have you been?” 
Cathy placed her fingers gently over Marta’s lips. “Not 
now. I’m too tired to explain, even if I could find the right 
words. Help me to bed, dear Marta.” 
“Of course.” 
Like the drill sergeant Cathy knew her to be under her 
facade of motherly concern, Marta shooed the remaining crowd 
aside and escorted Cathy from the hall. She limped as a phantom 
pain shot up her leg, an echo of her other life. Would her 
memories fade with time, until Earth became the dream of 
Tareth’s reality? 
Hope sustained her until they reached the bridal chamber 
where a cheery fire blazed in the hearth. On top of the small 

table placed between the chairs facing the hearth, there were 
two glasses, a bottle of wine, and a platter of cheese and fruit. 
Filmy curtains fluttered over open windows. The scents of 
burning aronwood, rain-washed breezes and sweet fruit filled 
the air, but the empty room smelled desolate. 
What chance did she have with Ash if he didn’t come to 
her? 
Once inside, Marta bustled around and lifted the heavy 
ceremonial robe from Cathy’s shoulders. A wispy veil of near 
transparent white crystal-silk settled down over her body while 
Marta’s low murmur of conversation barely impinged on 
Cathy’s consciousness. Wrapped in a cocoon of anguish, she 
listened but didn’t hear. Nods and smiles alone satisfied and 
delighted Marta. 
Finally, unable to bear another moment, Cathy dismissed 
the hovering maid with a hug and a kiss. Marta smiled and left. 
With a strangled sob, Cathy leaned against the bedpost. 
She’d gambled all and lost. The harsh reality of a loveless future 
stretched out ahead of her. Somehow she would have to bury 
what she felt for Ash deep inside her. Was the Katrina part of 
her tough enough to bear living with Ash as his consort but 
never having his love? 
Tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as she released her 
pain. She sank to her knees and pressed her face into the bed 
robes to muffle her cries. Tomorrow she would be strong. 
Tomorrow she would face the future. Tonight she would weep 
for what she had almost had. 
Hidden in the shadow of the chair, Ash listened to the sound 
of Katrina’s tears. For what did she cry? 
In the great hall he had started to approach her, but halfway 
there he hesitated. What could he say surrounded by the crowd? 
Though she had spoken the ritual words, for all intents he 
was a stranger to the princess. While he’d been traveling with 
Cathy, Katrina had spent their Moon Cycle Retreat locked in 
limbo. She seemed to have an awareness of who and where 
she was, but did that awareness include him? So he left the 
hall and made his way to the bridal chamber. Their first meeting 
must be held in private. 

Her heartfelt sobs shattered his caution and restraint. 
Kneeling behind her, he gathered her in his arms and murmured 
into her hair. “Cease your weeping, woman.” Silken strands 
caressed his cheek, and the fragrance of honey fruit filled his 
nostrils. 
“Ash.” Sniffling, she turned into his embrace. 
His heart leaped. She knew him. But did he know her? 
He turned her face up to his. Dark, tear-misted eyes looked 
into his ka. 
These were Cathy’s eyes, the eyes from the drawing she’d 
done so long ago. Hope exploded into his chest. His hand 
gripped her upper arms as he held her away to search her face. 
“Cathy?” he whispered. 
Warmth and emotion animated Katrina’s formerly cold 
beauty. In his mind, Cathy’s features and Katrina’s began to 
merge as one. 
Her lips trembled. “Yes! No! Sort of. It’s hard to explain.” 
“Are you Cathy? Or Katrina?” 
“Both.” A bemused smile touched her lips. 
“You speak in riddles.” 
She cupped his cheek in her small, warm hand. Her gaze 
took on a distant look. “Both Cathy and Katrina died before 
they were destined to. Crossing into the light, they each faced 
a choice, to stay or return. Cathy, bruised and battered in body 
and soul, her parents both dead, decided to remain on the other 
side, while Katrina chose to go on living. But Katrina’s soul 
didn’t return to her own body. Instead it chose to reside in 
Cathy’s. The Cathy you knew was Katrina. I am Katrina.” 
Ash covered her hand with his own. “No doubt this was 
foreordained. Kersin planned the raid that killed the queen and 
left Katrina Raaka. If she...you had recovered intact from that 
raid, Kersin would have tried again and again until you died. 
But in a Raaka state you posed no real threat to him, so he 
could afford to be patient. He thought King Ruthor would be 
unable to arrange an advantageous political marriage for you 
in that state.” 
“Why not?” Cathy asked. 
“Those who are Raaka rarely live long. He planned to wait 

until your body died then seize the throne. The Eternal One put 
you on Earth to keep you safe.” 
“And when the time was right, he sent you to bring me 
home.” 
“To be my life-mate and reign at my side. I give thanks to 
him for restoring you to me.” 
Her face clouded with unease. She caught her lower lip 
between her teeth and pulled away. “Dreams kept my memories 
of Tareth alive, but what do I know about being a princess? In 
my world, royalty is obsolete.” 
“Courage. Strength. Wisdom. Loyalty.” Ash gave her an 
encouraging grin. “You put the welfare of others ahead of your 
own. What more does a ruler need? Together, we will govern 
well.” 
“I don’t know, Ash.” Part of her reveled in his open 
admiration. But could she settle for less than his love? What 
choice did she have? She was bound to this body, this world 
and this man. Did she dare surrender her heart as well? 
“Why do you hesitate, Cathy? Do you fear I don’t want 
you?” 
“Well....” Cathy’s stomach lurched. “What man wouldn’t 
want Katrina’s perfect body?” 
“The form of your body matters naught. It is your ka, your 
heart, and your mind that make you the woman you are.” His 
eyes misted. “When the life slipped from your body, only my 
promise to you kept me from plunging over the edge of the 
battlement. Without you, duty and honor are mere words. You 
are the queen of my heart. I love you, Little Shecal.” 
With his words, the cloud over Cathy’s heart evaporated. 
Joy burst inside her like a rainbow after a storm. She threw her 
arms around his neck and raised her lips to his. “As I love you, 
my Mystic Warrior!” 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elysa Hendricks resides in Northern Illinois, but her 
imagination allows her to visit 1870’s Texas, alternate universes 
and other planets. A voracious reader, she began writing in the 
early 90’s. She helped found both the Windy City and the 
Futuristic, Fantasy and Paranormal chapters of RWA. 
Owned by two cats, one dog, two sons, a mortgage and 
two car payments, she dreams of escaping to a tropical island 
with her hero husband. For the time being, she keeps warm by 
writing hot, sensual love scenes. 
Elysa loves to hear from her readers. You may visit her at 
www.geminimoon.org or write to her in care of ImaJinn Books. 

Don’t Miss 
Elysa Hendricks’ 
CRYSTAL MOON
On Tareth, the small country of Dramon is in the throes of 
a rebellion. When Sianna DiSanti is called home from the semireligious 
order where her father has hidden her since birth, 
she is eager to know her estranged father and become part of 
a loving family. His plan to use her as a marriage pawn in his 
quest for power devastates her. While seeking comfort in the 
garden, she is mistaken for her half-sister and abducted by her 
father’s enemies. 
Kyne Cathor lusts for vengeance against DiSanti, the man 
who murdered his brother and threw Dramon into turmoil. To 
draw DiSanti into the open and restore the country to peace, 
Kyne uses Sianna as bait. Though she proclaims her innocence, 
Kyne believes she might be pregnant with his brother’s child. 
To keep her stepsister safe and protect herself, Sianna conceals 
her true identity. 
Once at the rebel stronghold, Sianna’s gentle, innocent 
nature and heroic actions fuel Kyne’s growing attraction to a 
woman he can never have.