She could tell that he hadn?t expected her to agree to his proposal, but, then, he didn?t know her very well. Around them, the sounds of the inn had reduced to an indistinct roar of sound as drinks were made and delivered. Everyone seemed so happy. It was out of place that Amthy should not be. In her mind, Ayreg was offering in his own way to please her. Maybe he had thought his suggestion would make her laugh or anger her. It was also possible he was making fun of her, and she told him so.

In the end, it didn?t matter his motivation or even what he wanted. While they didn?t end up in a bed upstairs, they did end up snuggled together on the sofa before the fire. Amthy wanted a story and he was going to tell her one. The story he wove was epic in its conception. It wrapped around her and she was completely enthralled. His words painted a picture and she relaxed against him and let herself see it. In her mind?s eye she could see the plight of Ayla the Wise and the threat of the Burning Prince. The world was scorched and brought to life again, but not without a price. Through the telling of the story, she?d worked her way closer to Ayreg?s lean battle-hardened frame. To the casual observer they appeared like lovers?though nothing was further from the truth. Even so, her world had been reduced to the couch and to him.

By the tale?s end she was crying. Her tears wet his shirt as she sobbed. Amthy made no effort to try and control the force of it. Her body shook but he was firm and steady. She clung to him and he let her. He had tried, in his own way, to prevent it; but his story had touched on a nerve. Exhausted, she rested against his chest, her body rising and falling with his breath until their breathing harmonized. Absently, she asked him questions about himself. Things she hadn?t cared to know only a few short hours before. Amthy could feel and hear his heart beating beneath his leather vest. Calloused fingers worked into her short, olivine colored hair and her scalp tingled. The air between them had become thick with an inexplicable tension. In answer to it, her pulse leaped and her heart began to pound.

He asked if she still wanted him to kiss her.
She did.

It was late and the common room had begun to wind down for the night. The odd patron lined the bar or occupied a table or booth. Small groups had begun to collect for private t?te-?-t?tes rather than boisterous orgies of dialogue. Amthy didn?t notice. The room could have been full and it still would have felt like they were alone. Jedidiah?no, Jodiah?and she were in a bubble outside of time and space. Nervousness spiked in her chest and clutched her heart when he looked down at her. His expression was unreadable, but his intent was clear. It was a different sort of kiss than the kind he?d blessed on Tara.

Amthy wasn?t sure what she had expected, but it hadn?t been that. She trembled in his arms beneath the power of his embrace. There was a beauty in it that she didn?t believe possible. Something happened then. Something was exchanged between them. He didn?t try to molest her. He didn?t even try to deepen the kiss past the lips. She was glad he didn?t. It would have cheapened the moment had he tried to. Amthy?s mind was reeling when the kiss broke. When he left, she half-feared and half-hoped that he would offer her his hand; that he would renew his offer from earlier in the evening. He didn?t. For a short-lived moment, she considered following him to his room. She didn?t.

Falling back onto the couch cushion she squealed and kicked her legs in girlish giddiness once she was sure he couldn?t hear. What had happened? Amthy couldn?t explain it. One thing was for certain. She couldn?t stay the night at the inn. After giving herself a moment to collect herself, she fled. She didn?t even bother to collect her belongings. She needed air?cold air?and lots of it. It was her hope that it would calm her airy little head. It didn?t.

Amthy tried, again, to reconcile with Silvanous. He wasn?t ready to accept her apology. Anger sparked inside her but it died nearly as soon as it was borne. Why should she be the one to apologize? Silvanous had directed her to end her relationships. Amthy had known for a long time that he thought her association with those outside the Clearing was a hindrance. Before, when her shell was still as most remembered it?curvy and doll-like with a crown of night-black waves, it didn?t seem to matter as much. How was she to know he was only biding his time? Who would have thought that the entity closest to her would be full of such deceit? Amthy had never once entertained the idea.

Things had changed. She was different and so was he.

Consolation was to be found in the knowledge that Sid, her True Blood heart sister, was working to help her with the other dilemma that weighed on her mind. The willowy Ancient had assured her that she would champion her Underhill, and free her from the promise Renaurd had wrangled from her not even a year before. It seemed like more time had past. Returning to the Garden now was almost inviting?almost. Since her return in early autumn what she had desired most was to reclaim the life, the memories, she had surrendered in the library. Every effort she made to that affect had actually worked to do just the opposite. While she was given brief respites where things were as she wished them to be, they didn?t last. Her imprisonment in the Garden had changed her too much.

On top of it all, her time was on her. Early spring was torture. She battered at the confines of her shell; the boundaries that kept her from finding the sky. Her head and heart was in the clouds, but her feet would forever be planted on the ground. Without Silvanous? power and guidance, Amthy was adrift. Her wind sibs called at her; tempted her. They missed her. It was a mutual feeling.

In the days that pasted after her encounter with Ayreg, she became aware of a change; A heavy empty-like feeling inside the core of her. During the quiet moments of the day, she was startled to find herself replaying the story of Ayla in her mind, and the events that occurred afterward. Amthy couldn?t understand it. Somewhere inside her the desire to see him blossomed. It was fledgling but it grew hearty and hale even as she denied it. No matter how she tried to smother it, the feeling remained.

She didn?t speak, and she was glad when it appeared that she didn?t have to. He didn?t even turn around! Hooking her fingers around the strap of her book bag, she pulled it over her head. Amthy put it lightly down on the bench, trying her hardest to stay out of his peripherals as she did so. She was not, by nature, particularly stealthy, though her shell made it possible to be so. Her poor little heart felt like it was going to burst!

Moving carefully over toward the ornaments, she admired them before turning her regard back to Ayreg. He was working, and this proved to be a curious thing to her, so she watched. It was at a distance at first, but then very slowly the space between them closed until she was practically watching him over his shoulder. She was sure, by then, he?d noted that Joshel was not acting very Joshel-ish. It just seemed wrong, somehow, for there to be any other sound but the whirl and scrub of the grinding wheel.

At length, Ayreg coughed and leaned up from the grinding wheel, looking to his lifted fingers. Clutched within them was a slender silver band, wrapped around itself like a cospse of ivy, and ending with upward-facing brackets where a gem could be set later. It was a lady's ring, and with the exception that it was missing the gemstone; it appeared to be finished. He turned on his stool and caught sight of the red backpack sitting on his work bench. His head turned, then, looking up at the green-haired Nymph. After a second of stunned silence, his lips twitched into a slow smile, and a single word of acknowledgement. ?Precious.?

As she watched him, some of the nervousness eased out of her; bleeding away in the comfortable quiet of the silver shoppe. There was a time or two, while he worked, that she nearly reached out to touch him; her hand hovering over his back a few scant inches from the vest before being drawn back away. The inside of her cheek, she found, had become swollen from nervous gnawing.

Amthy grimaced a little, and hid the expression behind her hand. Her lashes lowered, and she averted her gaze when he turned his attention then to her. After all, school bags didn?t appear out of nowhere! In that moment of stunned silence a blush filtered up onto her cheeks, though Amthy nearly laughed when he smiled. ?Teach me?? It was the first thing that popped into her airy little head. It was also the only way she could adequately explain her presence.

And he did, crouched on one knee beside her as she sat at his wheel. Ayreg taught her the nuances of the foot pedal and the proper way to grind a ring-to-be. He held her hands at first in order to teach her the correct method. Once he was comfortable with her work, he let his hands rest on her arms. Amthy could not help but be aware of the tension between them. It had been days since they had been in each others company, but it was like the first day still. How could she ever have believed that the indefinable tangle of emotions she felt had been silenced?

?What brings you to the Dragon's Breath today, Precious??

Amthy had been dreading that question. They had skirted around it for the whole of her visit/lesson, but now it had been given voice and she didn?t know what to say. ?I got lost.? She blurted out. It wasn?t completely true, but neither was it false. She had gotten lost on the way. Amthy glanced side long at Ayreg. He was crouched beside her still, his hands idly petting over her arms. She wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. She acknowledged that he probably didn?t. ?Does tha' position bother you, Jodiah?? A pang of guilt accompanied her words. Belatedly, she remembered that he had difficulties with one of his knees.

?No, it?s not that.? He stood and moved away from her.
?Then wha? is it? If the position doesn? pain you?.?
?Oh?just me being wool-headed again, Precious.?
?I came to see you,? she said casually, though her voice hitched up toward the end. ?Why did they teach you metal work at a temple??

For the rest of the day she was distracted. They had confessed a peculiar lack of feeling for one another. Where as one might expect vows of devotion and attraction, they said just the opposite. Neither one of them felt lust when they gazed upon the other. Amthy had no pressing need to tear Jodiah?s clothing off nor did she hope to hear vows of love. The nymph?s distraction lasted through the night and well into the coming days. She couldn?t wrap her airy mind around it?she didn?t even like him. Not even her daily routine could free her from thoughts about him. She secretly rejoiced at the random moments they found together though most of them comprised of accidently crossing paths at the Dragon. Only a few moments here and there, but it was enough. A look across the room. A passing touch. It sustained her through the trials and tribulations of every day life.

Amthy threw herself into school. Midterms were upon her and the prom was just around the corner. The school had already informed her that her attendance and grades would prevent her from being able to attend. That was unless she could improve them by the time progress reports were issued. She also wanted to join one of the spring teams. Maz, the film maker, assigned her several tutors to aid her in her plight. She had a session with them every day, and they didn?t let her leave until her work was done. Her brain hurt from all the knowledge they poured into it. Three-quarters of the school year was retaught to her in intense study sessions to prepare her for testing. She strongly disliked every moment of it.

School wasn?t the only thing that demanded her time. Tara, the commander of the Forsaken Blades and her idol, was getting remarried. There was a wedding to help plan and two dresses to commission. One dress for the wedding and another for the prom. A wedding should be a happy thing but controversy surrounded it. It appeared that not many people had affection for Tara?s husband-to-be. Amthy was not well acquainted with the Count Longden. He could be as horrible as everyone was whispering that he was or he could be misunderstood. She refrained from making a decision for Tara?s sake more than her own.

As her grades improved, she was allowed to join the school volleyball team. She wasn?t particularly good at it, but she had fun and was willing to learn. With so many things going on at once, it was natural that something suffer. Between studying, volleyball, and planning for the wedding and prom, her relationship with her family suffered. Before she would spend at least a few days a week at Ardane with Cayt and her fosterlings, Audrien and Ariella. The time she spent there reduced to once a week, and then further still to once every two weeks. Amthy found it hard to be there at Ardane. Cayt was a better mother figure than she could ever hope to be. The girls responded well to her attention and Cayt responded well to theirs. She could see that the girls were also bringing Cayt closer to her own daughter, Aurora. It hurt but she knew it was for the best. All she had ever wanted was for her girls to have a happy home life, and they had that at Ardane.

Tara?s wedding came and went. It was a splendid affair, even if neither one of her companions had decided to accompany her to the event. Amthy went anyway. She had to. She was in the wedding party. Tara wore white and the bridesmaids wore blue. The hall was decorated in white and burgundy. After the wedding there was a reception. She was pleased to see Chris, and he promised her a dance. She was startled to discover Jodiah had attended as well. He looked different to her with his hair dyed raven?s wing black. Inside of her the nameless and unfathomable feelings he aroused rejoiced. She wanted to be close to him, to speak to him and touch him. All she was afforded was a brief exchange of pleasantries before he fled. It left her feeling empty and unfulfilled. Later, after the party had wound down, she returned to the inn. He had extended her an invitation to visit him when ever she wished. Wound tight with anxiety, she went to his door. He wasn?t there. She looked for him but he was gone.

She spent the next few days at Ardane.

Amthy found it difficult to focus. Everyone was happy to see her. She had thought the visit would give her the relief she needed. Spending all of her time alone brooding at the Chateau or her flat wasn?t helping. Cayt and the girls doted on her. They had missed her. She tried to be happy for them, to hide the strain, but her sister was more astute. It was impossible to hide anything from the silvery-blonde haired woman. Their link put all of Amthy?s emotions and thoughts at the woman?s fingertips. It was hard not to pry when Amthy continued to broadcast her preoccupation, but Cayt did not snoop about in the Nymph's mind. If Amthy wanted to tell her, she would.

The first night was dominated by an impromptu slumber party. No information was forth coming save that Amthy thought red polish looked better on Cayt?s toes than pink. They played games like the resident favorite Dream Date: Rhy?Din Edition and cards. Audrien and Ariella were even allowed to stay up an hour past their usual bed time. The nymph was too happy, too carefree. Everything about her was exaggerated. It was like she had forgotten how to be herself.

In the morning, there was school and in the evening everyone went to watch Amthy?s volleyball game. When they returned to Ardane it was to a picnic with all of the goodies Hedwig knew Amthy liked. The weather was temperate, a welcome change to the long winter, and they indulged in a dip in Lake Serenity. They wrapped up the night huddled around a fire roasting marshmallows and listening to stories and the odd song. Still, Cayt bit her tongue and watched. She had always been respectful of her sister?s private life. The next day signaled the beginning of the weekend, and Amthy had no school. Cayt knew from experience that one way to loosen Amthy?s lips was through shopping. Nothing tickled the nymph quite like spending other people?s money.

?Are you going to tell me what?s wrong?? The silvery-blonde haired shifter asked. She sank down into one of the chairs arranged near to the fitting room.
?This dress makes my butt look big.?
?That wasn?t what I meant.? Cayt replied with a twitch of her nose. ?You?ve been in your own world all day. You know that you can talk to me about anything,? she said to the fitting room door.
There was a soft rustle of fabric and the sound of hangers being shuffled. ?I know.? Inside the little cubicle Amthy?s expression faltered. Her fingers tightened around the dress she held wrinkling the material.
?Has Magister made any progress with your problem??
Cayt didn?t need to say which problem it was. Amthy knew she meant Renaurd and her ill-thought out promise. ?He has some ideas if Sid canno? help me. I?.?
?That isn?t what is bothering you, is it? Is there a problem at home??
Home? That could mean so many things and places, but Amthy took it to mean with her life in general outside of Ardane. ?Yes an? no,? she said cautiously.
?Is there anything I can do to help??
Can you explain to me what is happening inside of me? Can you tell me why Silvanous betrayed me? Can you tell me what I should do about the key? Amthy cleared her throat as she fought the overwhelming impulse to cry. ?I think everything will be okay.?
?Just remember, okay??
?I will.?

Amthy bought a new dress and card of hair clips. Cayt bought nothing, but that wasn?t surprising. They had lunch at Caff? Fuoco. Amthy was distracted and they spoke little. She barely touched her food. Instead she pushed it around her plate to make it look like she had eaten. Her appetite was only one thing that had suffered. She was relieved when the meal was over, and they parted paths. Amthy didn?t offer to escort Cayt back to Ardane. All she wanted to do was hide. Not only from those she knew, but from the compulsion to see him.

The room was dark save for the light from the street that filtered in through her window. It dappled across the lower half of the bed, and spilled onto the floor. There were still people in the barroom. Maybe she should go downstairs and socialize. Spending her time with other people, she knew, was just a temporary break from the tangle within her. There wasn?t even a guarantee that it would work. Had he found her note? Was he reading it while she lay restless, staring at the ceiling?

It was something she had been doing for a few hours, or at least it felt that way. It was already late or early depending on how one thought about the day. With a grunting huff, she rolled onto her stomach and let her hand dangle off the side of the narrow bed. Wriggling her fingers she tried to touch the ground, but her nails were just shy of the wood. What made matters worse was that she was genuinely fatigued. And then there was Ayreg. She squeezed her eyes closed tight and curled up in a fetal position. Roughly, she pulled her blanket up over her head as if the action would make the thought go away. It didn?t, but she already knew it wouldn?t help.

Memories stirred and the empty-warmth in her throbbed in sympathy. She wanted to squeal, shriek and kick the bed. Anything to vent the way she felt. Instead she sat up and tossed the blanket from her. ?Tha?s it.? She announced to the empty room. The shadows quaked at her determination. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood. She wanted to see him, even though she had told herself she wouldn?t. Would it really hurt to check his room?

Her fingers played over the pull for the nightstand drawer. She?d done a terrible thing. Days earlier, when no one was paying any attention to her; she?d liberated the spare key for Ayreg?s room and hidden it in her own. At the time it seemed sensible, like she should have it. The runners whispered as she tugged the drawer open and claimed the bit of metal inside. Holding it tightly in her hand, she bolstered her courage. The key was all she needed, and with it she walked back out into the hall. She closed her own door softly, but didn?t lock it. If it was unlocked it would make it easier for her to find sanctuary when (and if) she needed to flee.

Her mouth dried as she approached his room and she tensed when she came to stop before it. Maybe I shouldn?t. She bit her knuckle nervously, feeling the key dig into her palm. Hesitantly, she lifted her other hand and splayed her fingers over the door. Lightly, she let her nails rasp against the wood rather than knocking. She paused. Nothing. Had she honestly expected anyone to hear the scratching? It gave her an excuse. She had tried, albeit feebly, to gain admittance the traditional way.

Amthy was hardly breathing, her chest heaved from the shallow draws she took. It was making her light-headed. She froze when the mechanisms inside clicked and she kept the knob turned sharply to the side to minimize the sounds she made. Cautiously she eased the door inward, but not so slow that it would stress the hinges, and pulled the key from the lock. The nymph was trying to be stealthy, even if it wasn?t her forte. ?Jodiah?? Her lilting voice was a strained whisper and held no weight. There was a candle still burning, the flame sputtering occasionally under the rising level of molten wax. The light was just enough to halo him wrapped up on the bed. I should leave. Instead, she stood just inside the door way, staring.

The door seemed to close of its own accord.

Just a peek, and then I?ll go, she decided. He wouldn?t even have to know she?d been there. With the grace her kind possessed, she closed the distance between the door and the side of the bed, pausing on occasion at the odd hiccough in his breathing or at the rustle of blanket. Skittish, Amthy was a bird poised to fly at any moment. At the first sign of trouble, she?d run. She had told herself that several times by the time she was standing beside the bed. The death knight looked peaceful. In sleep his features were unmarred by his poor temperament. Her teeth sank into her lip, and her palm itched. Would it be so bad to touch him? He was asleep. Slowly, she leaned over him and let her hand hover just above his steel-touched temple.

Unfortunately, Amthy found, rational thinking often got in the way of what she wanted. The next morning, they rose before dawn. While she had never been a morning creature, she had become accustomed to rising early for her swim class. Felicitously, Ayreg and she were together like angels in heaven, but no matter how she tried to beguile and cajole; Ayreg refused to spend more time with her. His rejection of her hurt. The emotions he provoked inside of her were strong, and she reacted in kind. By the time he took to walking her to school, she had withdrawn back into herself and a clumsy silence stretched out to form a rift between them.

She had let herself become vulnerable and that exposure now seemed ill-used. She had thought they had reached an accord, and now she realized, perhaps, she was wrong. It was a feeling that began to eat her alive; gnawing at her thoughts as she tried to pay attention to her lectures. Snips of conversation from the night before continued to circulate through her airy little head.

Swimming: ?Does it bother you that you do not like me??
Economics: ?I?Not so much angry, Precious. Distressed at times... I?I wish I could explain it. It's strange, like everything else between us.?
Elementary Math: "I feel so mixed up inside, Jodiah. You ask where I had been...'ve been hiding, but no' jus' from you, but this. Slowly...over the days...all I think about it you. I know it should no' be tha' way. Jodiah...I want you to touch me. I want it so badly it scares me. I am shaking on the inside, Jodiah."
Art Fundamentals: ?I do not...hate that it is you, Precious.... I did not believe another could get so?close to me. I did not think you could.?
Common: ?It became that way anyway. Are you going to give in??
Intro to Drow: ?Would it change us??
Lunch: ?I don?t know. You are to me a sweet torture. There is naught you could do to me that would hurt more than your absence.?
Astronomy: ?Then do not leave me, now. I will keep you safe. I will keep you close. Sleep with me, ussta farjali narikia.?
Fashion and Fabrics: ?Your wish is my will. Take comfort in me, Jodiah. I am here for you.?
Volleyball practice: ?You are my place of comfort, and I will be gentle with it; with you. But what am I to you? An old man. What have I to offer you for your comfort?"

She was exhausted by the time she retired to the locker room. She didn?t want to think about it?him?any more. It was more than she could handle. This is my heaven. A low growl left her lips at the memory, and she clutched her head in her hands. She pulled at her hair and gnashed her teeth but the recollection of his crooning voice remained, now let me help you discover yours. He had made her so happy, and now? In the absence of him, she was a mess.

He didn?t mean it, Amthy argued within herself, what else could he say? She changed quickly. It didn?t matter if the lines were straight or that she was still sweaty. The things she said to him, they were no great prize either. Melancholy blossomed in her bosom and flowed outward to taint every nerve. The promise of herself was no reward to any man. How many times had she said something of that nature to someone else? How many times had she told someone she liked the way they made her feel?that she liked the person she was in their presence? Too many! But, then, she had changed, and the person she was changed accordingly. What she needed had changed.

Was the person that Jodiah gave her the strength to be better than the person Christopher had? Or Miles? Or Morpheus? But Morpheus hadn?t known her, not really, no matter how many times she had tried to bring them closer. It was her fault, she knew. Her insecurities about him hadn?t helped matters. Amthy had never known where she stood with him. They loved each other, yes. It was sweet and gentle, but he was a god, and she wasn?t on always on par with the divine. There was something in her that was undeniably lacking. Supernatural in conception though she might be Amthy was remarkably ordinary. He never would have been with her if she hadn?t stalked him, but then that was true of all of her relationships. Even the one with Miles, especially the one with Miles. She was a different person now than she had been with any of the others. That was before, she reminded herself. Before Silvanous? betrayal. Everything had changed since then.

?But I love Miles and Morpheus! I dunn even like Jodiah.? She closed her eyes. But she needed Jodiah. The Death Knight was going to drive her insane; completely and unquestionably insane. ?Christopher was sexier.? She grumbled to herself with a heavy sigh. Not to mention Miles and Morpheus, and even Christopher, had all one thing in common: they could, and sometimes did, have affection for her. Jodiah never would. Two things were clear to her as she walked to her apartment a few blocks away. One, she should never see Jodiah again. Two, she didn?t deserve any of the men in her life. Never had and probably never would.

Amthy didn?t return to the Dragon. The chance of seeing Ayreg loomed always in her mind. There were other things to do. She needed to speak with Sid about Renaurd. She had no real idea what progress had been made on that front, or if any improvement had been made at all. Admittedly, she had been negligent. That was something she could do to keep her busy, she decided. She checked up on her solicitor and the papers that had been drawn up in case Sid wasn?t able to free her of her promise. Amthy might have been careless in the Garden, but she wouldn?t let her fosterlings suffer for that recklessness.

Oddly, she found herself missing the Garden and its simplicity. Renaurd had kept her a prisoner and made her into what amounted to a slave, but life hadn?t been hard. The only thing Amthy had concerned herself with was escape, and holding onto what memories she had left. Renaurd, for an Unseelie wizard, had been kind to her in his own way. He taught her to read, and after a few years, they had flirted with becoming friends. She had been aflame with desire to leave that place and return to the City. Now, she regretted her decision and wished she had stayed.

The more she tried to stay away from Jodiah, the more unbearable the need to see him became. When she should have been doing her homework, she lost herself in daydreams. She took ?short cuts? home that were just the opposite, but the path took her closer to the Forge. Irrationally, she hoped they?d meet each other on the street; an accident. It was ridiculous, and Amthy knew it. In avoiding Ayreg, she was also staying away from her friends. That was something she didn?t want to happen. Gathering up her courage, she turned her sights on the Dragon and abandoned herself to the happiness that could be found in camaraderie.

One by one, her friends retired for the night. Without their distraction her mind turned inevitably to the stairs and the room at the top. Was he in Rhilshen? Nervous anxiety balled up in her stomach and the scent of burnt sugar and cinnamon wafted around her as she stood at the bar. She still had his key. He hadn?t demanded it from her so she hadn?t surrendered it. She pushed away from the bar and headed hesitantly toward the steps. He was helping Alysia. Chances were he was still in Rhilshen. Granted, she didn?t know what he was doing exactly in Rhilshen, but she hoped it was time consuming. But what if he was in Rhy?Din?

When Ayreg returned it was to find Amthy fast asleep in his bed. Boggled as he was by the disaster she had made of his quarters, he took care not to wake her. Instead, he watched her sleep. It was only after some moments of doing so that he touched a chaste kiss to her temple. ?Precious.? His voice was soft, whisper-like in quality as he leaned above her.

To Amthy, it felt like part of a dream. Sleepily, she moved back toward the sound of his voice. She wanted to feel him curled against her, to have the comfort of sleeping with another body close. Frustrated, one bright eye cracked open and she swung a hand back; searching for him. Her fingers slapped against his face, and wriggled inquisitively over the contours of his face nearly poking him in the eye. ?You came back.? Her voice was low and thick from sleep.

?Yes, I came back.? His voice was soft as it often was, but its tone left an underlying hint of sarcasm. He urged her to move over, to give him room, and when she did he stretched out on the mattress behind her. Though they rested together, they were not close. Even if they both had wanted to be, there were things that prevented it; Emotions that would continue to drive them apart. It was a difficult thing to have a profound, yet unconventional, attachment. Their connection was based neither on love or lust, nor even on friendship. Yet, it survived and thrived when it should just die.

They began to quarrel. Amthy crawled out of the bed and struggled with her clothing. The fabric was a puzzle she couldn?t decipher in the dark. Eventually, after several thwarted attempts, she got the dress back on. She didn?t want him to grovel. Most of all, she didn?t want him to say things he didn?t mean. Tears welled in her lantern-like eyes and a feeling of hopelessness filtered through her being.

?You feel neglect, Am'thyst? Closer than anyone has gotten to me in years, and you call it neglect!? Hear me, woman: you are no chore. I don't understand it, either, but I do understand that. You shared a part of yourself, and I my own, and you think I feel I don't need you? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be?I am who I am, Am'thyst, and who I am is a ball of iron tempered in flame. Yet you?you are not outstanding in any particular way, and one of the most?And you?! Yet?!?

He grabbed her arms. His fingers bit painfully into her.

?It isn?t my wish to fight with you.? Nerves made her tremble, and his words wounded her ego. ?You might not find me remarkable, Jodiah Ayreg, but there are people in this realm who do!? Amthy?s voice was thick with tears. ?Granted, I was more beautiful before, but I am still celebrated by men and women alike.? She gave a sound that was a cross between a laugh and sigh, and the sound of it wasn't kind. ?For all those who do delight in me, I come to you. I canno' even keep company with those I love! I love them, and I know I do, but the feeling in itself has paled to be near meaningless. 's like a whole different world, and I canno' touch it or be warmed by it any longer."

"Yet," She pointed a finger at him, "you, whose insides are a barren thing I canno' ever hope to touch; you're the one I want to be with. I'm in this deep enough to drown, Jodiah, but'm never gonna be good enough. Nothing that I do will bring me any closer to you, especially when you're holding me always at arm's length." She looked at the shadowy outline of him briefly before pressing the butts of her palms to her eyes and looked up at the night dark ceiling. "'m easy to replace, Jodiah. I wish I could say the same about you.?

?I didn?t mean it like that, Am?thyst. You are beautiful. You're not so easy to replace as you might think. You?You make me feel like a good man, again. Like I mean something to someone in this world. That's special to me. That's why you're precious.. to me. You're not at arm's length, Am'thyst. An arm couldn't bend close enough to pry you away, were you where I wished you to be." He released her, and his arms hung limply at his sides.

Sobbing, Amthy struck her hands against him; slapping and punching at his arm and shoulder. ?Why did it have to be you?? She asked in frustrated anguish. Ayreg pulled her into his arms, and offered what comfort he could give. It just wasn?t good enough any more. One half of her rejoiced in him, and the rest knew to give in would only end in pain. No matter how much she needed to be with him, or how much he wished to be with her, there were obstacles they couldn?t over come.

She broke away from him, and dried her face. He would keep her safe. He would keep her close. She understood, at last, why it bothered her so much. How long had she been deluding herself about the truth? ?You would do all tha' an' more, but I won' ever be good enough. Oh, sure, good enough to protect but no' to cherish, an' tha's the unfortunate truth of it. Good night, Jodiah.? Her kiss tasted of tears; a chaste touch of her lips in a brush to his before she left, closing the door behind her.

Amthy heard something out on the walk outside her door. The shades were drawn over the single wide window to help keep her room dark. Her apartment was humble. A small studio apartment that she had rented furnished and only decorated sparsely in a rainbow spectrum of textiles and textures. Her bed sat flush and parallel to the wall adjacent to the window. Knowing that she couldn?t see, she strained her ears to listen. It was probably some of the children that lived in the complex home from school.

The heavy clip of boot heels against concrete was lessened by the door, but still the sound crept in through the cracks. The empty-warmth inside her chest clinched cruelly around her heart; twisting with a spark of adrenaline. Hope flashed along her spine as she rolled from one side to the other, listening. Fear made her breath come fast. Lying to herself wasn?t making things easier. It was irrational to think that Jodiah would came to see her, but somewhere, for a moment, she hoped that he had.

?Amthy??

It was her sister, Cayt. Disappointment left a sour taste in her mouth. Turning her head away, she pulled the blanket up over her head and sulked. She knew better than to hope for the impossible. Beneath the cover her lower lip turned out. It had been a nice thought. For a second, she had felt rejuvenated, but it was only Cayt. The link between them, weakened as it was, had told her so. Not to mention Ayreg didn?t have a charming and pleasantly feminine voice.

?Amthy?? Cayt called softly as the door creaked open. The air was dank and stale inside the flat, and it reminded her of a root cellar. The silvery-blonde half expected to see the walls dripping slime and spots of fungi glowing in the dark apartment. Her nose twitched and then wrinkled. She knew the lump beneath the blanket was her sister. ?I got a letter from your school.?

Cayt left the door to the apartment open allowing fresh sun-scented air in to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere. From the threshold, she moved to the window and drew back the curtains. A cloud of dust hung in the air, catching the light as it settled down on the sill, the curtain, and in the web of a small black spider. ?When was the last time you opened this window?? She asked the unresponsive mound of blanketed nymph behind her. The horizontal sliding sash of the window screeched in the runner as she fought to pull the pane back. The sound answered her question when Amthy did not. ?Aren?t you curious about what the letter said??

?Not really.?

?You?ve been put on academic probation,? Cayt explained. ?You?ve been suspended from participating in any extracurricular activities.? Gingerly, she sat down near to Amthy?s covered feet. ?You know, like the volleyball team and prom.? She was trying to be gentle, but at the same time her voice was unapologetic. Amthy had been aware of her tenuous academic standing for some time. This wasn?t out-of-the-blue. If her sister had honestly wanted to participate, she would have tried harder. There was nothing to be gained by coddling her now.

The mound of blankets shrugged. It was an infuriating gesture that was meant to make it seem like the nymph didn?t care. Cayt could feel that it did. Amthy?s pain and disappointment intensified and crashed through the link between them like a flash flood through a dry creek bed. Instinctually, Cayt throttled the flow of emotions until only a ghost of the sensations made it through. She sighed. Getting information from Amthy wasn?t usually so difficult unless it was something important.

?Aren?t you going to tell me what?s bothering you?? She pulled at the blanket, and tried to draw it down from Amthy?s head. They fought against each other; the fabric pulled taunt before Cayt yanked hard and gathered the cover quickly into her hands. Cayt almost wished she?d left the blanket where it was. ?You look horrible,? she said her shock making her matter-of-fact. The mop of Amthy?s green hair was slick, dark, and tangled with sweat and her face was swollen and red. ?Your face looks like a smooshed tomato.?

Amthy blinked rapidly, breaking free of her mood briefly to pat down her face. ?No, it doesn?t!? She pushed herself up to rest on one elbow.

?Oh, yes, it does,? Cayt reassured her, a hint of a laugh winding in through her voice, ?especially with your green hair.? She leaned over and reached, mussing the shiny fringe of dirty olive green. ?I guess it could be a squashed strawberry.?

It didn?t help matters that the nymph scrunched up her face and huffed. Her chin started to tremble and her brows knitted deeply together. ?I dunn look like a tomato.? Amthy snuffled. Lantern-like eyes turned glassy with the fresh threat of tears.

?I bet you?d look better?and feel better, too?if you had a bath.?

?I dunn wanna.? Amthy grumped. Falling back against the pillow, she turned over to her side and gave her back to Cayt.

?Oh, obviously,? Cayt observed with dry humor. ?Come on. It can?t be that bad. Whatever it is, Amthy, it can?t be worth this. When?s the last time you ate? You?re skin and bones.? Cayt gave a motherly cluck of her tongue and pet her fingers over Amthy?s calf.

?Please, Cayt, jus? stop. I appreciate you coming by, but, please, jus? leave me alone.?

Amthy curled her fingers over her mouth and stared at the ceiling. Cayt?s question replayed in her mind, the words wrapping around the wrenching warm-emptiness in her chest. Was this love? It didn?t feel like love, at least not like any she?d ever known before. It felt different, like it was more?greater than love. It was inexplicable and indefinable. She shook her head again, slowly. ?No, I dunn love him. He?s old, ugly and mean.?

He was also patient and strong. Aggravating. Cold. Gentle. Reassuring. Solid. Cruel.

?That?s it.?
?Wha?s?t??
?Get out of bed.?
?Make me.?

Cayt growled. ?You can be so frustrating! I want to shake you until your teeth rattle! Stop feeling sorry for yourself.? She pointed a warning finger at the green haired nymph. ?Before you say it that you aren?t I can feel that you are, so stop it. Now, get out of bed. You wanted me to make you?? Cayt grabbed at Amthy?s arm and started to pull her off the bed. ?I?ll make you.?

Amthy gave a high pitched squeaking squawk of complete surprise. She hadn?t honestly meant for Cayt to try and make her get up! It was just something snotty to say. Grabbing at the sheet, the fitted corners popped off the mattress and it, along with the stack of pillows, came with her as Cayt dragged her off the edge. ?Aiiiee!? She didn?t stand. Childishly, she let her knees buckle and became limp in her sister?s grasp. Sagging to the floor she sat between the edge of the bed and the coffee table in a mound of soiled linens.

?I don?t tolerate this behavior from the girls, and I certainly won?t from you. Get up.? Cayt said her jaw tense. ?And you take a shower right now.?

?Jus? leave me alone!? Amthy yelled as she slapped her hands over her face.

?No,? Cayt replied. Holding her sister by the upper arm, the silvery-blonde haired shifter forced Amthy to her feet. The nymph was light, barely a spit over a hundred pounds. It wasn?t hard. Once she was on her feet, Cayt towed her toward the short hallway that separated the bathroom from the rest of the apartment. She was through being gentle. It wasn?t making an impact. Force would.

Amthy?s resistance was feeble. She tried to worm her arm out of Cayt?s hand but every time she succeeded Cayt just grabbed some place new. It was exhausting. Eventually, they made it to the threshold of the bathroom, and Cayt unceremoniously shoved her inside of the small room. Resigned, Amthy turned on the water and sighed. ?Fine,? she said at last while wriggling her fingers under the warming water.

?It better be.? Stepping back into the hall, Cayt closed the bathroom door and left Amthy alone to her toilette.

Amthy watched the dirt packed path that wound down into her valley. It was empty, but she knew that at any moment a visitor would appear. It might be a horse and rider or a rented something-or-other. Either way, she knew without doubt that someone was coming to see her. Gnawing at her thumbnail, she paced beside the far side of the chateau. Amthy knew someone was on their way because she had invited him.

If a call to duel could be considered an invitation.

When she had woken up that morning, it had seemed like the perfect plan. Ayreg wasn?t likely to visit her of his own volition. If that had been the case he would have come to see her already. After acknowledging her sister?s wisdom, Amthy had been trying to bring Cayt?s insight into being. She knew Ayreg to be a man of honor and attacking that seemed a sure fire way to bring about results. Except, now, she regretted it. Maybe she didn?t want to see him again?ever. Or maybe she did.

Nothing ever was simple.

A dark form crested the path, slowly coming into view as it descended into her valley. She watched as Jodiah dismounted and tied his mount to a tree. While he was occupied, she hid herself behind the edge of the wall. Amthy watched as Ayreg cautiously explored the area, his movements tight with the perceived threat of violence. When he rounded to the back of the chateau from the opposite side, she crept toward the back as well.

Thoughts rolled through her airy little head. She was going to tell him she never wanted to see him again, and that whatever it was that drew them together was wrong; undeniably misguided. Two threads in the pattern had been crossed on accident, and this was the horrible result. It wasn?t as if they were in love. He would understand. Luminous tsavorite-like eyes clouded and her gaze dropped down. Taking in a breath, she held it as she stepped away from the wall and into view.

A carefree giggle spilled from pale green lips and mingled with the sound of the brook that babbled just a few feet away. It gave birth to a smile, small but genuine in its warmth, and it lingered with the feeling of simple contentment. With the back of her hand, Babylonica brushed the leaf bearing hair-like vines from her brow, but the foliage rebelled and with serpentine undulations curtained one side of her muted sage toned complexion and tickled the brow of her companion. Her eyes angled down to where Tristus pillowed his head on her lap. The mouth of a rough hewn pipe, the wood still green and weeping, rested against his lips and his fingers stroked along the body.

?Shall I play another??

Babylonica?s smile intensified. ?Please.?

?Do you a request or may I play what strikes my fancy first??

She lifted up her fingers, dandling them thoughtfully across her lips as she considered his question. ?I did enjoy the reel you played at the last revel.?

Tristus smiled around the pipe and began to play. The sound buoyed her heart and brought warmth to her lanky limbs. In the distance, above the thick canopy above them, dingy clouds promised rain. For the moment, at least, the sun?s pure gold rays warmed the air and dappled across the brook beside them; the shimmering points dancing along with Tristus? music. Dipping down her toes, Babylonica flicked them against the water?s edge. The flow was quick and cold as it ran down through the mountains, swelling up against the bank as the snow leagues above them continued to melt.

It was a day she wished would last forever in unwavering perfection.

The bucolic quietude was ripped asunder before the reel was finished. The music broke on a note turned shrill, but not from a lack of ability on the part of the player. Both nymph and tree spirit were frozen. The world as they both knew it ceased to exist. The knowledge of it twisted painfully inside them both; a shared experience in loss. Their number had been reduced by one. In a time marked by a burgeoning of disbelief, it was an event that could not be tolerated. They were precious and few in number. The old traditions went neglected. Power did not flow the way it once did. Now, they could only exist near to the weakest points in the Veil. It was a dark time for them all.

The note from the still green pipe hung in the clean spring air, but Tristus was alone. The back of his head hit against the ground as the willow-haired nymph crossed the Veil, disappearing into the land beneath them.

Babylonica did as she claimed she would. Amthy?s body was collected from beside the hot spring hidden deep within the trysting garden behind Chateau Malign and returned to the wood that had become her home. Babylonica avoided the Clearing and brought Amthy instead to her copse of willows beside the swollen brook. Gently, she laid her sister nymph down into the icy flow, and washed away the dirt and rocks. When Amthy was clean, purified by the spring thaw, Babylonica pulled her from the brook?s shallow depth and laid her carefully out on the wild grass and plush blanket of wood violets that grew along the bank.

?What are you going to do with her, ?Lonica?? Tristus asked carefully from behind her.
?I don?t know.?

It was an honest answer. She hadn?t thought that far into the future. There was an overwhelming feeling of regret coiled deep inside of her. If they hadn?t listened to Silvanous then Amthy would still be alive. Looking back, she knew they all had call to doubt his actions, but she was his bond.

Babylonica?s gaze raked down over Amthy?s body. She was too thin and, in death, projected a sense of fragility she hadn?t noticed in life. Reaching for the shirt she had found with Amthy?s remains, Babylonica stretched it between her hands. ?I will watch over her.?

?Is that wise??
?I have no choice. This is a burden we all share. He made her one of us.?
?They won?t like it.?
?No, I don?t imagine they will.?
?There will be trouble.?
?Of that I have no doubt.?
?But you?re going to do it anyway??

?Yes and so will you,? she replied matter-of-factly.

The fabric in her hands tore. Effortlessly, Babylonica extended her will to unmake the fibrous material; shredding it into a raw state before manipulating it into a form she found pleasing. The cloth thinned and grew becoming a delicate gossamer shroud. As she worked the ground beneath her rumbled and cracked. The flora that blanketed the soil rolled like foam above a restless sea. Roots speared upward through the dirt and wrapped around Amthy?s limbs, holding her securely as she was moved along the liquid-like surface of the brook bank. Standing, Babylonica folded the shroud in close to her chest and followed as the body disappeared beneath the supple willow branches that teased against the ground.

?What if they try to take her back?? Tristus asked cautiously.
?We will have to stop them.?
?How??
?I don?t know.?
?That?s comforting.?
?It wasn?t meant to be.?

Passed the dangling branches, in the small room they created, the roots that had moved Amthy momentarily stilled. They then thrust upward until the nymph?s remains had been lifted three feet above the ground. Beneath her, the soil boiled upward. It built upon itself until the dark material formed in against the contour of the slain nymph?s back to create a platform in her dimensions; a place for her to rest.

Cayt took several slow, measured steps back from the side of the four poster bed until the back of her leg hit against the lip of the chair cushion. Feeling around behind her with her hand, she sank down onto the seat and sighed. Stretching out her legs, she propped an elbow on her knee and curled her fingers over the point of her chin.

This wasn?t happening. She had never known the Goddess to be so cruel! Her mind reeled with brief snips of earlier conversations and images. Even now, she couldn?t believe what her eyes told her to be true. Nested on the feather tick mattress was her heart sister, Amthy. Olivine green hair haloed over the pillow and framed a finely boned visage in repose. After what Babylonica and Tristus had explained to her the previous evening, she felt no choice but to remove Amthy from their care.

Burn her.

The willow nymph?s words resounded in her ears. Could she do it? Could she burn Amthy knowing she was not quite dead? Could she keep her in the bed knowing she was not quite alive? How long did it take before one surrendered to the inevitable?

Return her to the sky; you must understand: he will never let her be free.

They had made it as far as the Chateau. Though Amthy was light, it was a cumbersome task to carry her for any length of time. Chateau Malign was a welcome sight, and stirred inside her breast a wealth of fair and foul memories. The foyer was thick with boxes, and cloths had been draped over the furniture in the adjacent rooms. What was she supposed to do now? Did she take her back to Ardane? If she did, what did she tell the girls? She?s just sleeping, darlings, like in the stories I read to you at night.

Groaning inwardly, Cayt slid her hand up to cover her mouth. She searched inside the maelstrom of her thoughts for the link she shared with her fallen heart sister. All she wanted was a sign?anything to show that the green-haired woman wasn?t completely gone?but the rapport they shared remained silent. Her sister looked peaceful in the pink pajama set she had dressed her in. Vaguely, Cayt recalled that the set was one of hers, that Amthy had never returned it.

How was she going to get the nymph back to Ardane? There was no conveyance readily available at the Chateau, and Cayt knew she couldn?t carry her all the way to Ardane. Lightly, she strummed her fingers across her lips. She didn?t feel comfortable leaving Amthy, not yet, anyway. It would take the better part of a day to return to Ardane and even longer still to get everything ready. Besides, Amthy wasn?t the only one half dead. Oh, sure, she wasn?t really half dead, but she looked like it. Cayt had happened to catch sight of herself in one of Amthy?s new mirrors. Her lips turned downward. Memories bubbled up and sorrow caught in her chest. She forced the recollections back and focused on the floor.

Ardane would have to wait.

One day had turned to two, and two just as quickly to five. Cayt hadn?t been able to bring herself to leave Amthy alone. It should have been easy considering the nymph was, in a manner of speaking, dead. She refused to think of her that way. Tristus? words had given her hope, and she wasn?t ready to surrender it just yet. At night, she had read to the nymph, even though she knew it was unlikely that Amthy would even realize that she had. When she wasn?t watching over her sister, she was hunting or scouting. Keeping busy, she found, left little time for her to consider Babylonica?s assertions. There was, however, one that continued to push itself to the front of her mind:

Take her as far away from here as you can. If Fate is kind, distance will weaken his hold on her.

It had been two weeks since Amthy?s body had been reclaimed, and Cayt knew it was time. They would be worried about her at Ardane, and if Babylonica was right, staying at the Chateau wasn?t helping Amthy any. With a measure of trepidation, she rose from her seat and tucked the blankets up around Amthy?s chin. Lightly, she ran her fingers across the nymph?s cheek, feeling the residue that coated Amthy?s skin cling to hers. No matter how she tried, she hadn?t been able to remove it. The touch was followed with a kiss blessed to the green-haired woman?s brow.

Cayt?s determination strengthened and she left her sister there at the Chateau. There was no time to waste (hadn?t she wasted enough already?). The sooner she returned the better. Her need brought fleetness to her feet as she sped in her wolf-guise over the uneven terrain; a single-minded intensity that drove her to cut through hill and dale until she reached Ardane frothing at the mouth. There she rallied the refugees from Geladine together, ?Rora having already drawn together the Pack, and prodded them into a frenzy of activity. No matter how hard she tried, it was obvious that they wouldn?t be able to leave for the Chateau until morning the next day.

It just wasn?t good enough.

* * *

The return to the mountains was slow. Their leisurely progress made Cayt feel jumpy. Why couldn?t they hurry? Didn?t they understand how important this was? The members of the Pack that had accompanied her on the return ranged out on either side of the trail while she was stuck with the horse drawn cart. They?d lost even more time stopping in town to collect a sensitive bit of equipment, namely a coffin. Even if Amthy wasn?t completely dead, Cayt didn?t want to have her body on display or cooked beneath the sun.

When the Chateau filled the horizon, she abandoned the cart and ran the rest of the way down the path to the door with her pale silvery-blonde hair waving behind her like a banner in the wind. Cayt tossed the door open, and slid across the marbled foyer to the foot of the spiral staircase that led to the second floor.

?I?m back, Amthy, I?m back!? She yelled breathlessly up the stairwell as she took the steps two at a time to reach the top. Behind her, Cayt could hear the rest of the party crossing the threshold. She was panting by the time she reached the master suite, and the bed where she had left her heart sister. ?Amthy?!? Her mouth hung open, and she stared at the plush feather mattress, and the cushion that had pillowed her sister?s head.

?Mother?? ?Rora voiced hesitantly from the hall.

?She?s gone,? Cayt answered dully from shock and disbelief. ?They must have come and taken her after I left,? she explained forelornly as she continued to stare at the thrown back covers, and the empty place where Amthy?s body used to be.

"We will find her, Mother. We will get her back." 'Rora asserted.

"Yes, we will, and the one that took her will pay dearly for it." Cayt replied grimly with menace in her voice and tears stinging behind her emerald eyes.

"I will send out the Pack at once."

Cayt nodded, but didn't turn around. Instead, she walked over to the bed and sat heavily at the edge. It was just yesterday that they both were there, together. She should have stayed, but she couldn't. Angling to the side, she rested lightly on the mattress with her head on the corner of the pillow. Petting her fingers over the hollow Amthy's body had created, she drew in a deep breath through her nose to try and catch the elusive scent of her heart sister.

"Where have you gone? Where have they taken you?" Cayt whispered so low that even she could barely hear it. "I'll find you, Amthy, I promise. I found you before, and I can do it again. Just...wait for me." Tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes to wet the fabric beneath her head. "I'll find you, I swear by the Goddess I will."