Understanding that the dol admission was a difficult one, that the whole discussion had been draining for them both, Lyssa was will ing to overlook being summarily dismissed.

Acknowledging Rhoswen with a nod, she moved toward the doorway with Jacob. Cayden could have been made of stone, his face expressionless.

As they slid out, the double doors closed behind them. Jacob hesitated. My lady, he defied her on my advice. He's already been whipped. I don't want to leave him in peril.

“I don't think that's her intent,” Lyssa said. “And though your advice may have prompted him, Captain Cayden is very much his own man.” At Jacob's look, she sighed, jerked her head to the left. “Come this way. I'l show you something I learned, wandering about while you were sleeping your days away. Unnecessarily I might add.”

“You didn't know about the sun any more than I did.”

Do I have to do all of my servant's thinking for him? She caught his hand, breaking into a near-silent trot to take him where she intended to go.

A winding stairwel led to a narrow fissure, through which they squeezed into the upper gal ery of the main hal . Using her cloaking abilities, Lyssa made sure they blended into the shadows at the rear of it.

She warned Jacob to absolute silence, knowing if Rhoswen's attention strayed, they would be found out. After their conversation, Lyssa didn't think the queen would censure them for curiosity, but that curiosity would remain unfulfil ed if they were noted there.

Rhoswen had sat back down on the edge of the fountain and now she beckoned. “Come stand before me, Captain.”

Cayden complied, maintaining that stolid expression. Leaning forward, Rhoswen took hold of one gauntleted hand. She pul ed the heavy glove off, then did the same to the other. His eyes darkened, his mouth tightening as she unbelted his tunic, setting aside his dagger and it scabbard. When she pul ed the garment over his head, since he was tal er, he had to help. The mail was heavy, so she stepped behind him, lifting it away from his sore back, tugging to tel him she wanted him to help her remove that as well. She dropped it to the floor with a heavy clink.

“My lady?”

“Be stil .” Now he was clothed in a thin undertunic and hose. Lyssa couldn't deny Jacob the anger that flashed through him at the sight of the dried blood pasting the thin shirt to his back in several raw patches.

Unsheathing Cayden's knife, Rhoswen cut the undershirt he wore, taking a strip from it. She wet it in the fountain then moved behind him again. He shuddered as she squeezed the moisture out of the cloth, dampening those stiff patches and loosening the fabric. His jaw flexed.

“My lady does not need to do that. I can—”

“Your queen will do as she wishes, and you will remain silent, unless I command you to speak. Kneel for me here, where I can sit on the fountain and attend to you.”

When he did, she sat back down behind him, her feet placed on either side of his calf. Gently disengaging the cloth from his skin, she removed it, so now he was bare except for his hose, for she cut the rest of the shirt off him, using additional pieces to clean out the wounds. An attendant came in, bearing a tray of salve, evidence that Rhoswen had some telepathic ability to communicate with her staff as Lyssa did. The queen bid the attendant leave the items and go, then began to apply them with her own hands on his broad back. In addition to the wicked scar on his face, Cayden had plenty other battle scars visible under the lashes. Several near fatal blows, making Lyssa remember Rhoswen's reference to the conflicts in the Fae world.

Rhoswen didn't speak as she cosseted her guard captain, but he became progressively more discomfited by this unprecedented behavior. His hands closed into loose fists. She'd set aside the balm, but was stil rubbing it in slow circles over the hard muscles in his back. Now she leaned forward and placed her lips on the nape of his neck. She stayed there, her mouth not moving, just touching his flesh. She curled her hands over his substantial biceps, holding him in place. Though he couldn't see her face, her tears had weight. Tiny diamonds of ice pattered against his skin, and hit the tile with a pling of noise.

“My lady,” he murmured, his voice broken.

“Sit on the fountain edge,” she said, easing her hold.

He did so, but when she slid off of it, going to her knees before him, he clasped her arms immediately, tried to bring her to a standing position. She resisted, moving so she was between his feet, her hands on his knees. He couldn't rise from his seat on the fountain without pushing her away or fal ing into the fountain himself.

“Lady Lyssa was correct,” she said. “You have ever been loyal to me, and though I have punished your disobedience, your actions were driven by what was best for the Fae. Best for me.”

“I won't tolerate you on your knees to me, my lady,” he said, struggling to rise. “This is—”

“An apology, Captain Cayden. A heartfelt apology.” He stopped, caught by the sincerity in her blue eyes. “Cayden, we have known one another for so very long. We've fought together, lost together. I know you love me well. Perhaps too well. If it has become too difficult to serve me, I will give you leave to serve anywhere else in the Seelie or Unseelie world, with nothing but the greatest of praise for you.

Tabor would welcome you. Your father was Seelie.

You have as much acceptance there as you do here.”

“And who would care for you, my lady? Watch over you?”

Cupping his face, she touched his mouth with her thumb. “Though I am quite capable of caring for myself, I'm sure you already have at least five men trained to take your position if ever you fel .” Her eyes lifted to his, an intriguing mixture of cool reproach and urgent heat at once. “If that ever happened, I would utterly destroy whoever dared take you from me. Then I would grieve deeply.” Withdrawing her hand, she sat back on her heels and then graceful y rose, stepping back from him.

Her face became that dispassionate mask, but one that stil managed to convey the strong emotions moving behind it.

“I have abused your service, over and over. I release you from it, and give you the right to ask for retribution from your queen, for the injury she has done to you.”

Lyssa glanced at Jacob. From the formality of her tone, and Cayden's stunned expression, it was an offer of unprecedented significance. She lifted her chin. “That means if you want me flogged as you were flogged—”

Surging up from the fountain then, he closed the distance between them in two steps. He didn't touch her, but the effort not to do so was obviously overwhelming. “No one shal ever touch your fair skin, my lady. I would tear off the arm of the first man who lifted a whip.”

“But you accept my right to do it to you.” She trailed her fingers over his shoulder, touching the edge of an unhealed lash mark. The touch elicited a flicker in his gaze that wasn't pain. “You should be less accepting, Captain Cayden.”

Now something trembled in her expression, something that made Jacob remember the armory, when Rhoswen had faced the unexplored but undeniable part of her.

“Perhaps I wasn't thinking of having someone do it. Perhaps I was thinking of you. You are a very direct man, one who handles things personal y. You might not even wish to use a whip. Perhaps you'd like to use your own hand.”

She'd recognized her captain's nature in much the way she had hers. Jacob wondered how long she'd known, and if it had tormented her as he was sure the elusive glimpses of her own nature had tempted Cayden. Now the captain swal owed audibly. While it was hard to tel when the woman was playing a strategic game, Jacob thought Rhoswen might be more nervous than she was revealing.

She is, Jacob. She's trembling. He's close enough to feel it.

“My lady.” Cayden cupped her face now, drew her against his bare chest, wrapping an arm corded with battle-hardened muscle around her. “I will never leave your service. If you took away my rank and cast me out, I would sit at your castle gates, sleeping by the moat like a vagabond to be close to you.

Whenever you had need of my protection and strength, I would be there. I serve you, in all things.” Another Sir Vagabond. Lyssa was amused but touched as well , Jacob could tel .

Cayden lifted her chin, looked into her blue eyes.

There was strength in the grip, command, even as he spoke careful y. “However, if one of the things you need from your servant in private is to force your surrender, to give yourself permission to feel, to laugh, to cry . . . to heal and forget . . . then I am more than equal to that task.”

The soldier was now trembling as well , both daring far more than they'd ever dared. Lyssa looked at Jacob. We've eavesdropped long enough. He is safe from her wrath, for now. But I want exact details about what happened between you two that resulted in this.

How she connected it to Jacob, he didn't know, but he'd long ago stopped underestimating his Mistress. Of course, he wasn't sure if she was talking about his confrontation with Cayden or the night with Rhoswen. He hoped the former, though by even having the thought, her dangerous curiosity latched on to it like an arrow pointing where he didn't want her to go. He winced. Having been a vampire for a mil ennium meant she'd picked right back up on how to use all the perks of being one. She could open his mind like a tuna can.

But that was his queen. He didn't want her any other way.

She slept deeply. She needed more blood. Since she would only take so much from Jacob, and refused a human donor like Sel ya, claiming she preferred to wait to seek more nourishment until she returned home, he sent a note to Keldwyn via Sel ya, asking for a favor. Whether or not the enigmatic Fae Lord would accommodate him remained to be seen.

Close to dawn, he left Lyssa nested in the covers to sit in the window seat. He sensed it would be a while before they returned to the Fae world.

Surprisingly, Jacob found the idea bugged him. He remembered the dancing in the forest, the sirens and angels. The Hunt. He recal ed when they'd chased the hart, being with Tabor and his comrades.

His lady's arms around his waist as she pressed against him. Here the fairy tales and legends were real.