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At the sound of her name, I snapped awake to realize I was having another nightmare. Branwen continued sleeping heavily to one side of me; to the other, Valeria stirred. She turned over in the darkness and peered at me tiredly, her eyes puffy with sleep and desperately kissable.

“Are you all right, Rorke?”

“I am—of course, I am.”

The pre-dawn morning outside was still crisp. I looked out the window to gauge the hour by the richness of that darkness, then fit my hand to Valeria’s warm cheek.

“I’d ought to go to the Temple now.”

Nodding, she sat up in the dark as silently as she could. I thought she only meant to give me room, but then she rose and dressed. When I whispered to know what she was doing, she murmured, “I must come with you.”

“I’m not sure that you should,” I told her, remembering Zweiding’s comments about the durrow and El’ryh. “I’d fight better knowing you were there, but—”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“But the durrow are not well-liked by other members of the Order.”

How it saddened me to say! Yet Odile had told me just such a thing from early in our acquaintance. She knew more about my own organization of knights than I myself had ever been permitted to learn while raised among them. Now I regretted not taking her more seriously; in fact, I felt a complete fool. I could not permit Elishta-bet to endure such an impious reproach for something she could not control—something that was, to my mind, entirely unverified and unimportant.

“If I am to spend even part of the rest of my life on the surface, Rorke, I must accept that there are those who detest me. There are also sure to be those who do not. Your makes it worthwhile to me, and—”

Her lips pursed. She fell silent, her hand a fist upon her heart. She remained leaning forward, her gaze upon me, the sheet draping away from her to leave one breast exposed and add tenderness to her plea. My heart ached to see her so worried for me. I knelt, clasping her free hand in both of mine and pressing her knuckles to my lips.

“I’ll be safe, Valeria.”

“But how are you to duel with no weapon?”

“Weltyr will see to me.” At the intensification of her dubious expression, I lowered my voice with a brisk glance at Branwen’s back. “It has been told to me specifically, Valeria,” I confessed, looking at her in a meaningful way from where I genuflected at her feet.

She absorbed my expression and, after a few seconds, her own changed somehow. It filled with an excitement; an intensification. Bending forward more, the rarely modest durrow forgot her nakedness and braced her hands against the edge of the mattress. “How was it communicated you?”

“The raven informed me,” I allotted. “I wish I could tell you more. I can’t.”

Yet her features sharpened with acute knowledge. She caressed my face with her delicate fingers. “Your hands tell the story in the fierceness of your trembling, my paladin…oh!” She quivered, too, marveling at the very sight of me. “Are you quite sure?”

“If I wasn’t sure, I would be very wrong…or very evil. So, I’m very sure.”

“Strife,” she whispered at last, understanding.

I nodded, my gaze unable to hold hers. “But I was assured, among other things, that I would find a sword in my time of need. And I don’t know how to explain this, but…I feel it. In my heart.”

Valeria nodded, her caresses sliding back over my scalp and down my neck. “Yes—I understand, Rorke. The call and assurance of a god within the heart. Many times I have been urged by Roserpine to make a snap decision and trust it will work out, even if success seems unlikely and the decision ill-advised.” A faint smile graced her features. “That is the kind of confidence I felt when told to leave El’ryh with you.”

Despite myself, I smiled. Kissing her knee, I told her, “Well, that’s the confidence I feel when I think of this promise that I’ll find a sword at the right moment. I don’t really have much choice…I have to believe it will work out well.”

“Then you must let me come with you. Pray, ease my mind. Roserpine drives me on to be with you in the same degree of confidence. This assurance that what is being urged is being urged for a reason…it is what I feel right now, when my heart insists that I must go with you. You may need my help, Rorke.”

Sighing, I glanced at the back of Branwen’s head. Her breathing was softer than it had been when she was actually asleep and I told her, “Don’t even think about coming with us.”

“Well?” Caught, the high elf turned over to let me see her frown. “How can I help it, Rorke? I don’t like the thought of you going through all this any more than she does.”

“If I have too many people with me, it’ll look like I’m intending retribution in the case of a loss. I don’t want that.”

Sighing, shaking her head, the high elf said, “Well, you really do need to have at least one person with you. Anroa forbid something should go wrong…the people at the Temple won’t know where to look for your friends, and we’ll be stuck back here wondering what happened to you.”

“If that’s the case, I could have Father Fortisto come tell you…but, I suppose you’re right.” With a sigh of my own, I patted Valeria once more, rose, and began to dress. “Valeria can come along. If it looks like Zweiding is going to kill me without holding back, perhaps you can intervene.”

“I could do it anyway,” she said with a crooked smile.

I knew she jested, but I couldn’t help a stern reaction.

“No,” I said in a firm tone that gave her pause. “If you’re to come with me, you must not interfere in any way. Not unless it looks like Zweiding is violating the code of the

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