"What do you think of that makes your expression so serious?" he asked.

"The future."

"Why no' relax and enjoy the present?"

"As soon as you let go of the past," she countered.

He exhaled wearily and leaned back against a tree. "You ken I canna do that. Can we no' speak of something else?"

"I know you won't speak of the...torture. But how did Demestriu come to capture you in the first place?"

"Demestriu faced my father in the last Accession and slew him. My younger brother Heath could no' handle the rage he carried. He obsessed on the fact that Demestriu took our father's life - and then stooped to steal his ring, which had been passed down since metal was first forged. Heath told us he'd rather die than feel that way. He set out for Demestriu's head and that damned ring, uncaring if we followed or aided him."

"He wasn't scared? To face him alone?"

"Emma, I believe in times of adversity there's a line that is sometimes drawn, a line that separates your old life from your new. You cross the line, you'll never be the same. Heath's hatred made him cross the line, and he could never go back. He'd sealed his fate to one of two outcomes: Kill Demestriu, or die trying."

His voice went low. "I searched everywhere for him, but Helvita is hidden mystically, like Kinevane is. I used everything I'd ever learned about tracking, and I believe I got close. That's when they ambushed me." His eyes were faraway. "Like a nest of vipers they rose up, attacking, then tracing, so I could no' retaliate. There were too many." He ran a hand over his face. "I later learned that they had no' taken Heath alive."

"Oh, Lachlain, I'm so sorry." She sidled over to kneel beside his outstretched legs.

"It's the way of war, I'm afraid," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'd lost two brothers before Heath."

How much pain he'd endured, most of it at the hands of Demestriu. "I've never lost anyone I've known. Except Furie. But I can't believe she's dead."

He stared past her to peer into the fire.

"What, Lachlain?"

"She might wish it so," he finally said, but before she could speak, he asked, "Is Furie the one who burned your hand?"

She gasped, staring down at it when he cradled it in his own. "How did you know someone burned it?"

He ran his fingertips over the back. "It seemed to explain the pattern of scarring."

"When I was three, I almost ran into the sun." Emma supposed she hadn't learned her lesson as well as she'd thought. Every day here, she secretly returned to a hidden shaft of light and exposed her skin to it. Did she plan to book a cruise to St. Tropez anytime soon? No, but each time she could withstand it longer, and maybe in a hundred years she could walk in the twilight with him. "Furie ordered it done."

His face turned hard. "They could no' have found another means to teach you? The day a child is hurt so in this clan will be a day of reckoning."

Emma flushed, embarrassed. "Lachlain, the Valkyrie are...different. Violence doesn't affect them like others, and their beliefs are not like yours. Power and fighting are what they revere." She left out shopping, suspecting it might detract from the point she was trying to make.

"Then why are you so gentle, lass?"

She bit her lip, wondering why she kept letting him think she still was. No longer. Tonight she would tell him about the dreams, and of her new decision...

"Lachlain, if you leave on your quest without me, then know that I'm going to resume mine."

He ran his hand over his face. "I thought you wanted to go to your coven."

"I've realized I don't have to think of my life in terms of either the Valkyrie or you. I began something and I want to see it done."

"Never, Emma." His eyes flashed blue. "There is no way in hell you'll return to Paris - to search out a vampire - when I am gone."

She raised her eyebrows. "Seems like you won't be here to have a say."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "No, I will no'. So I'll do what men did with their women in times past. Before I go, I will lock you away until I return for you."

Her lips parted. He was...serious? The time capsule was deadly serious. Two weeks ago, she would have made excuses for his behavior and placed herself in his shoes. She would have convinced herself that he'd been through so much and deserved some latitude.

Now, she cast him the look his words deserved, twisted from his arms to stand, then walked away.

Lachlain stared long after she'd gone, debating whether he should go to her. He sometimes felt like he crowded her, overwhelmed her even, and decided to let her be alone now.

That left him - and the fire. Though he was improving, he was still uneasy every time he was near one. She could never know this. And so she could never understand why he couldn't allow Demestriu to live -

A loud groaning sounded. He leapt to his feet, every muscle tensed. The unfamiliar sound echoed again from miles away.

He stood, head cocked, trying to make it out. Then...realization.

Like a shot, he sprinted down the path, spying her just ahead.

"Lachlain!" she cried when he swooped her into his arms before racing for the castle. He was dragging her into their room minutes later.

"Stay in here!" He charged across the room, retrieving his sword. "Doona come out for any reason! Promise me."

Some being trespassed on the grounds of Kinevane - and in a fit of groaning metal and screams had somehow taken down the massive gate to do it.

If it got past him...

"But, Lachlain - "




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