Valchon was just leaving his quarters when Maya appeared around the corner. Before he could say a word, she braced a hand on his chest and shoved him inside his apartments, kicking the door shut in their wake.

Furious, the minister grabbed the hand on his chest, twisting hard even as he backhanded her with his other hand. "I told you not to come here again," he snarled, twisting her wrist until she toppled to her knees.

"I came with important news," she hissed, eyes filling with pained tears. "The outlander--"

"Is dead by now," Valchon interrupted on a satisfied note, "and so hardly a concern."

"Not exactly," Maya gasped the sound melting into a whimper when he twisted harder on her wrist.

"What are you babbling about, woman?" the minister demanded. "The outlander is dead. I arranged for it myself."

"Actually, she's in your queen's chambers," Maya told him, a flicker of triumph filtering through the pain as she realized she'd caught him by surprise. That was an unusual enough  for her to take more than a little pleasure at having one up on him for once. "Apparently she went on a little mission to the dungeons last night ... and found the woman being beaten and on the verge of being raped by the guards." Enjoying the power the knowledge gave her, she managed a mocking laugh in spite of the physical pain. "Your precious queen played the heroine ... and the outlander is being looked after by one of her personal guards. Quite doggedly loyal by the look of him." She cried out as Valchon twisted her wrist harder, punishing her for the moment's triumph at his expense.

Snarling a curse under his breath, he shoved her back, not caring that she fell hard enough to draw a grunt of pain. He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her. "If you're lying..." he snarled, "trying to get my attention--"

"I'm not," Maya insisted. "She's there." She rubbed her wrist in an effort to soothe away the worst of the pain, comforting herself with the fact that it would have been worse if he'd found out later. Not getting him important information would have given him a far greater excuse to deliver a harsh punishment than simply being the bearer of bad tidings.

"Dammit," he cursed, pacing in a tight circle as more curses and colorful invectives filled the air. Suddenly he stopped and spun, head canting to one side as he stared speculatively at his mistress. "You'll have to do it," he said abruptly.

Still massaging the badly wrenched joint, she pushed up to sit on the edge of a nearby couch, peering at him with a look of confusion. "Do what?"

"Kill the outlander bitch, of course," he said as though the answer was obvious.

Maya blinked, her mouth hanging open for a moment. "No," she said when she could find the breath to speak again.

Dangerous fury glittered in Valchon's eyes. "Excuse me?" he demanded as though he hadn't heard correctly.

She shook her head, eyes showing her panic at defying him. "I won't do it."

He crossed the distance between them in two long strides, grabbing her by the upper arm and hauling her to her feet. "You dare refuse your master?"

"She's got a guard on the woman," Maya gasped in a panic. "I'll never be alone with her. She'd would never allow--"

Valchon shook her like a rag doll, rattling her teeth. "For god's sake, you're fucking the deluded idiot. Use your hold over her to make her do what you want." His eyes slid over her body like a perverse caress. "Surely you've enslaved her with your body by now."

Maya rejected the idea, waving it off in a panic. Her hold over the other woman was fading day by day, and everything she'd tried in an effort to increase her control had failed miserably. With the powerful ministers she'd previously taken to her bed, she'd always known exactly how to make them mad with lust and bend them to her wishes -- or at least she had until Valchon. With him, her efforts at manipulation had been turned on their edge -- something she'd found almost painfully exciting in the beginning. But their new queen? She had yet to find the key to controlling her in or out of bed ... and her latest efforts to use the woman's lust against her had only worsened things. "No, I can't. She's ordered the guard specifically to protect the witch. It wouldn't make sense for me to ask her to change that."

He rattled her teeth again. "Just order him out and do it then."

Maya shook her head and kept shaking it. "I can't. I'm only a servant ... with no right to countermand her orders. If I did that ... then the woman wound up dead...." More panicked head shaking. "She'd know I did it on purpose."

"Just tell her the outlander attacked you," he dismissed her worries with an impatient wave.

"She'd kill me," she insisted, amazed to find herself every bit as afraid of their new "queen" as her master. She'd seen the possessive look in those blue eyes and noted the way "Terreis" couldn't stop touching her prisoner. Instinct told her that no matter what fiction Valchon had been able to make her believe, she'd destroy anyone who harmed the outlander. She had no intention of finding out first hand if she was right about her suppositions. None at all.

"Dammit, you stupid celanth--"

"If you want her dead, do it yourself," Maya shot back at him, amazed at her own temerity now that  her life was on the line. "You're her senior minister. The guards are more likely to take your orders than mine. They'd also believe whatever story you tell to explain the murder ... as would your queen." He paled ever so slightly, leading her to suspect that he at least suspected the danger in touching the prisoner. "Afraid to do it?" she taunted, crying out a millisecond later as he backhanded her with enough force to send her careening into the couch.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he snapped, though the way his hands fisted tightly at his sides threatened to reveal the claim as a lie. "Certainly not our queen." A tight smile curved his lips as he forced his normal self-confidence back into place. "She's mine to control."

"Then kill the outlander yourself," Maya taunted, using the one weapon she had to make him back off. She'd learned through hard experience that challenging his manhood was one guaranteed way to control him -- virtually the only weapon she had in her arsenal where he was concerned, and one easily overplayed. It had backfired on her more than once.

He ignored her tone, pulling back and regaining control. A long moment passed, then he straightened his shoulders, his gaze becoming distant. "Perhaps it is for the best if I do it," he mused out loud. The tight smile drew his mouth into a ghastly mockery of humor. "After all, our queen would never question the word of her senior minister." His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as though they were wrapped around a human throat; the only sign of his inner battle for control. Suddenly they stretched one more time, then hung, relaxed, at his side as he laughed very softly. "Or perhaps there's someone else who can do it." A sly smile curved his mouth, then se abruptly refocused on her, a feral look in his eyes. "Get out ... and don't come here again until you're prepared to do whatever you're told." He smoothed the front of his doublet, wiping away any wrinkles the same way he banished the viciousness from his expression. "And now I have several things to see to before my morning meeting."

Maya shivered, torn between relief and horror at what she saw in his expression. It freed her from the responsibility for doing his dirty work, but the utter boredom was far more terrifying than hatred or rage would have been. At least those emotions would have given some reason for his murderous intent ... and perhaps some sense that others might avoid his wrath by never invoking those dark impulses. But his total ease with killing for the slightest reason meant that anyone could wind up on his hit list if their death became expedient. A shiver slid down Maya's spine as she found herself wondering how soon her death might become expedient. She knew so many of his secrets.

As if reading her mind, he offered the chilliest of smiles. "You may go now."

Dismissed, she had no choice but to leave, though she was wise enough to wonder if perhaps it was time to flee the royal castle at the first opportunity. No, that would only draw his attention ... and the attention of his enforcers that much sooner. She'd made her deal with the devil. Now she was stuck with it.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Terreis stood in the entry to her chambers, a folder of papers clutched tightly in one hand, her expression grim. It had been one holy hell of a long day. And one holy hell of a bad one. The ministers had all been on her about minor matters and then Valchon had brought the latest reports from the field, including a detailed accounting of the farm where the outlander had been taken, complete with pictures that would forever be burned in her memory. He'd said little. He hadn't had to. The complete report had said everything necessary, making a mockery of her attempts to reason with the prisoner the night before. The outlanders barely qualified as human if they were capable of such savagery.

It didn't help in the least to find the woman comfortably ensconced in the servant's bed, her every need seen to by the servants assigned to see to her care, all the food and drink she could want waiting for her. Fire burned in the queen's eyes as she thought of all the victims -- all the dead and injured, and those who'd loved them, all the homes burned, the fields destroyed.

And all the while, her enemy slept safe and unconcerned, protected by the soldiers she would happily kill, her belly full of food grown and cooked by her victims. A tiny, inhuman growl escaped the queen's lips, the soft sound drawing Rubio's attention.

The guard looked over, standing straighter when he recognized his queen. He was standing near the narrow pallet where the prisoner slept while his wife was curled into a nearby chair, her head down as she read a book borrowed from the bookshelves. She looked up as Rubio cleared his throat pointedly, then jumped to her feet when she realized the queen had returned. Drawing breath to speak, she changed her mind when her husband held out his hand in a silencing gesture.

"Your Highness," Rubio said formally with a faint duck of his head as she drew closer. "I didn't hear you enter." He nodded to indicate the sleeping prisoner. "She's slept most of the day."

The queen said nothing, barely acknowledging his presence, her entire focus on the figure sprawled on the narrow pallet. How could she sleep so deeply with all she'd done? Didn't she have any guilt over the countless misery inflicted on innocents in the name of whatever cause she served?

Uncertain how to read his mistress' mood, Rubio spoke up quickly, "Elyana made certain she ate and drank regularly." He flicked a tiny smile at his wife. "And the outlander offered us no trouble."

"Didn't she?" Terreis ground out without looking at him, her mind on the graphically ugly picture painted by the reports.

"No, My Queen, she was very cooperative...." He trailed off, sensing her dark mood, but confused as to its origin and more than a little afraid he'd offended somehow.

Either wakened by the sounds of speech or the intensity of the gaze directed her way, the outlander stirred, lifting her head, then snapping upright when she saw the blazing look in overbright blue eyes. Unlike Rubio, she knew precisely where the dangerous edge of rage was directed.

Rubio looked at the prisoner, then back at his queen. "She gave us no trouble," he said again, the words only firing Terreis' anger to greater heights.

Of course she offered no trouble. Facing no threat whatsoever, well fed and looked after, why should she? She could simply sit safe and sound while her people cut a brutal swath through the very people caring for her. Terreis' lips drew back from her tightly gritted teeth.

Rubio stood helplessly, completely at a loss to understand what to do. He glanced at the prisoner. She sat up now, any sleepiness thoroughly banished, her eyes wide, hands trembling faintly where they curled into the blankets. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was hauntingly gaunt, but even a few hours of sleep and decent food and drink had eased some of the damage. He looked back at his leader, a shiver sliding down his spine when he saw her expression; an intimidating mix of fury and something less defined.

She looked at him and pointed at the door. "Go."

Pinned in place by her hard look, Rubio stood frozen, his instincts all at war with each other. "My Queen--" he began, hesitant to leave when she was obviously so upset, though it was hard to say whether he was more worried about her or the prisoner.

"Get ... out," Terreis bit out, cutting him off impatiently. Her voice sharpened to a verbal razor's edge, "now."

With no choice but to leave, he cast a last uncertain look at the prisoner, then waved for Elyana to precede him and slipped out.

Terreis didn't bother to make certain they'd left, simply glared at the prisoner where she sat, silent and wide-eyed. "Tell me," she commanded at last, her voice soft and dangerous, "how to stop the attacks on my people." She couldn't allow the slaughter of her people to continue; couldn't go on reading reports cold bloodedly recounting such hideous barbarity and staring at pictures that showed it all in black and white that somehow made it all the uglier for the lack of color. It had to end and this woman was the only one who held any hope for doing that.

A muscle clenched, tension rippling along the line of Janet Fraiser's jaw. "I don't know," she insisted.

"Don't you?" Terreis demanded, furious that the woman thought she was either blind or stupid. "I've read the reports. I know where you were taken ... how those farmers were murdered." Valchon's initial story had left out considerable details ... ones the latest reports had detailed with stomach churning specificity. "You're a part of this. You know what your leaders want and you'll tell me how to stop them." She spoke slowly and with absolute finality, channeling the helpless rage into a perverse kind of precision.

Janet shook her head. "I don't know what you've been told, but I had nothing to do with any attacks." Her eyes were soft ... scared. "I don't know what's going on. I just know that everything's wrong."

Terreis' eyes slid over the too slender body. If she hadn't known better she might have believed the innocent image the woman projected. She wondered if that was how she got close to her victims. Did she use that very appearance of sweetness to draw them in and make them trust so she could slit their throats more easily? It was amazing that she could look so innocent when she was anything but. "Don't lie," she hissed, her anger intensifying in the face of the denial. "I know you were there."

"You don't know anything!" Janet shot back instantly.

A furious growl bubbled up from the queen's chest, anger exploding into a red haze. "I know this!" Without planning to, she flung the folder in her hand at the prisoner, curiously satisfied by the way she instinctively flinched and flung up her arms as if expecting a blow while papers fluttered around her on all sides. Momentarily caught in the strange snow storm, she stared up at her captor with genuine fear in her eyes. "Look at them!" Terreis ground out, eyes glittering with a horrifying level of barely controlled rage. "They're accounts of the death and destruction you and yours have wrought here!" It was burning a hole in her gut to think she could want someone who could be a part of that ... that she could want to touch, not the way Maya had suggested, but with kindness and care ... that she could want to protect ... to--

It didn't matter, she reminded herself, it wasn't real.

Janet scrunched into the corner of the narrow pallet. "We had nothing to do with that," she swore, but Terreis barely heard her.

The queen grabbed one of the stray papers, glaring at it, then thrusting it at her prisoner. "Look at it!" she snarled. "Your work!" It was a picture, grainy and black and white, but clearly a child's body, slaughtered and dumped carelessly aside. "How could you be a part of this?" The anger melded into hurt, triggering a sense of betrayal that made no sense, but which she was powerless to change.

Janet would have continued to pull back, but her shoulder bumped into the back wall of the niche, leaving her with nowhere to go.

"Look at it," the queen commanded again, her temper just barely held in check, forcing the issue until Janet had no choice but to take the paper. The color drained from her face as she scanned the photograph. "He was found on the farm where you were taken ... the only one still recognizably human when your soldiers were finished."

"Dear God ... Jelan...." Janet exhaled, clearly recognizing the child. She paled another notch and seemed to waver, her voice a sick rasp.

Taking it for a confession that the woman had been a part of the attack, if not the killing, the queen pressed harder. "Tell me how to make it stop so no more children have to die like that," she begged, the genuine horror in the other woman's eyes giving her some hope that she'd broken through whatever fear the outlander's masters had inflicted, that despite everything a core of humanity remained underneath everything.

Her prisoner's chin rose, luminous brown eyes focusing on her with frightened intensity. She shook her head slowly, rejecting the charge. "I don't know." Shaken, the words coming in uneven pants, she looked back down at the picture. "This is the boy I was trying to save. His father tricked us into going to him ... but it was only rags.... I didn't think they'd actually...." She shook her head again, tears filling her eyes. "How could anyone do this?"

"You tell me," the queen whispered, her voice a rasp. "Your people did this."

Janet's chin rose and she shook her head, denying the charge. "No one I know would do this ... no one."

"It's obvious you recognized the boy," Terreis growled, angry that the woman could deny her the information she needed even now. "So don't try to tell me you weren't involved when it's obvious you were." Sick and tired of the lies, the restraints on her fury growing thinner with every passing second, she leaned down, one hand braced on the mattress near Janet's hip, trapping her where she was. "Tell me why this is happening." If she just knew that much, maybe she could find a way to deal with all of this and make it stop. "You can't make up for this, but you can help stop it from happening again."

Janet just shook her head. "I swear, I had nothing to do with this," she insisted again. "This is.... it's insane."

Terreis' temper snapped, the image of the child's broken body burning in her mind's eye. "No more lies," she hissed, lashing out with her free hand to tangle her fingers auburn hair, forcing her prisoner's head back. "I want the truth," she growled, reacting to the outlander's sudden struggles by shifting the hand on the mattress higher, bracing it near her shoulder and leaning into the smaller woman's space. "Did they use you as bait ... or were you a part of it all? Did you kill that child yourself?" The idea that her prisoner might be capable of that kind of insane behavior was tearing at her.

"NO!" Janet gasped, her free hand rising to brace on Terreis' chest in a futile effort to push her back. "I was trying to save that boy. I wouldn't have hurt him!"

"If so," the queen rasped, grabbing Janet's wrist and peeling her hand away from her chest, "tell me what your masters want!" she growled, pinning Janet's arm over her head as she wrestled the smaller woman to the mattress, using her weight to contain her struggles. "Give me a way to stop it from happening again."

"I don't know!" Janet repeated, fighting desperately, panic edging every movement. Twisting her head back on her shoulders, she stared at the way Terreis had her wrist trapped even as she tried to wrench it free.

"Oh no," the queen hissed, tightening her grip and pressing the slender joint harder into the mattress. She leaned harder into the struggling body beneath her own, aware, but not caring that the woman's other wrist was twisted at an uncomfortable angle where the manacle locked it to the bedframe, the metal biting deeply into soft flesh. She'd given her prisoner so many chances to make amends, but she'd refused all of them. Bitter rage drove her to tighten her grip. Kindness was wasted on the outlander if she could protect the murderers who'd killed that child and so many others. "You're not going anywhere." Her face only inches from her prisoner's, her breath playing over the woman's face, she glared down into frightened eyes, feeling a measure of satisfaction at punishing one of the monsters who'd inflicted so much terror on her people. "Now, tell me," she ground out, deadly threat in her eyes.

Janet's mouth worked silently for no more than a second. "I can't," she whispered, her voice ragged from exertion.

"Can't?" Terreis demanded at last. "Or won't?" Her teeth pulled back from clenched teeth in a feral growl, and she pushed up on her hand enough to let her eyes trail down over Janet's heaving body, taking in the softness of pale skin where it was revealed by the scant slave garment. "So vulnerable," she whispered, her voice taking on a new note. "The women in that village were vulnerable.... I didn't show you that part of the report, but perhaps you already know the details." Muscles tightened and she shifted her weight just enough to force her knee between slender thighs despite the way taut muscles tightened in an effort to block her. Some part of her was horrified by her actions, but the rage was thick and cloying, and wouldn't be contained. "There was little they could do to fight back ... just ... like ... you." Maya's suggestions burning in her brain, she couldn't stop herself. It was thick, primal, irresistible desire. One hand was still tangled in silky hair and she released her hold, slowly dragging her fingers down the slender column of her prisoner's throat, then dusting the bare expanse of her upper chest, her breathing suddenly harsh with need. Maybe Maya was right and it was time to take the answers she needed by any means necessary. Nothing else was working ... and she was within her rights. God knew, her ancestors wouldn't have had any qualms about doing whatever they had to to protect their people.

Comprehending the unspoken threat, Janet exploded into motion in a burst of struggles, writhing desperately in an effort to throw her captor off. The wrestling match was short lived and left them both breathing hard, bodies pressed intimately close, the smaller woman pinned firmly to the mattress.

Her knee riding between slim thighs, belly pressed tightly against the heaving plain of Janet's abdomen, breasts molded together, Terreis was so wrapped in her lust and anger that she was incapable of maintaining control as the dangerous mix of desire and violence turned explosive. "Tell me," she hissed, so close her breath played over Janet's face, her lips mere inches from the softness of her prisoner's mouth, "how to make it stop."

A tiny whimper escaped the outlander's softly parted lips, and she shook her head helplessly. "I swear I don't know."

The red haze reappeared as an inhuman growl escaped Terreis' lips. She shifted her weight and her free hand slid down to a rounded breast. A firm thrust of her knee forced slender thighs apart once again, and her mouth came down on soft lips with rapacious cruelty. Drinking in her prisoner's frightened whimpers, Terreis was lost in a dark lust that gloried in such total domination. This was her right as queen, and the outlander deserved no better after everything her people had done. Such brutal revenge was only justice. Her teeth dragged against a soft lower lip as she rubbed her thumb firmly over a tight nipple and squeezed a firm breast. She ground her thigh punishingly against delicate flesh and gave no quarter to the soft mouth trapped beneath her own. "Tell me," she ordered through the grinding kiss. "Save yourself." She trailed tiny bites along the curve of her prisoner's jaw, riding the rolling hip thrust intended to throw her off, the desperate writhing setting off fresh flashfires of want that burned through her. Fabric tore under her hand and then she was cupping the bared weight of a perfect breast, the incredible softness of smooth flesh drawing her attention to the body beneath her own. It was made for pleasure, not this agonized spectacle.

Suddenly lust rather than rage became the driving force behind her actions. "Tell me what I need to know," she whispered, her voice somewhere between a demand and a plea. She pushed up on one hand, staring down into impossibly deep brown eyes with raw desperation, hating herself almost as much as she hated the woman beneath her. "Let me make it good for you." If the outlander would just surrender, there would be no need for this. She would show that she could be merciful in victory.

"Don't do this," Janet begged, her voice thick with tears, but Terreis didn't have the self-control to pull back. Lost in lust, convinced of her self-righteous right to do whatever she had to in order to protect her people, she could only go forward, like a rock tumbling down a cliff.

She slid her hand lower on her prisoner's body, brailing too thin curves before finding a soft, inner thigh. "Give yourself to me," she murmured as she fluttered kisses over Janet's upper chest. She forced taut thighs wider, shifting so that she was lying completely between them. "I can keep you safe and make everything right again." Once this ugly violence with the outlanders was over, there would be no reason for the inescapable anger that burned in her breast. Tapered fingers slid higher on the outlander's inner thigh, drawing so close--

And then suddenly her prisoner went wild again, bucking beneath her, tiny inarticulate sounds escaping her throat as she fought to regain her freedom with desperate passion.

The queen rose up, muscles pulling taut with raw strength as she controlled the wild struggles with ease. Her anger rekindled, her mouth came down on Janet's. "I have every right," she snarled, blindly pushing thin fabric aside as her fingers reached for--

"Sam! No!" The horrified scream stopped her mid-movement and pain exploded behind her eyes as though an actual blow had slammed into her skull. She tumbled forward, still aware enough to contain panicked struggles even as her head throbbed with violent agony. The pain only lasted moments, but long enough to leave her shaken and confused by the foggy images that had so briefly burned in her brain.

Images of herself and this woman ... together ... desire and caring impossible to separate ... her heart so lost she would die for her in an instant. Just the memory of it made her ache with longing ... .and the longing stoked the already simmering fires of resentment. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Her head came up, teeth gritted against the remains of a throbbing headache, eyes flaring with suspicion. "What did you do to me?" she demanded, her voice a low, guttural growl of fear and fury. She didn't know how the outlander had done it, but she wouldn't be controlled by any tricks.

Her prisoner just shook her head back and forth, no words coming.

The queen lifted her hand to the curve of Janet's jaw, caressing the corded line of the smaller woman's throat with her thumb, pressing just hard enough to make her point. "You said that before," she pressed a little harder, perversely gratified by the way the prisoner lost all color. This woman had to learn who was in power here. "What does it mean?"

"Nothing," Janet croaked, her voice trailing off into a tiny, strangled whimper as Terreis pressed harder.

"What does it mean?" the queen demanded again, fingers sliding down to brace along the woman's throat.

"It's just a name," Janet panted, her body still writhing with instinctive struggles.

"Whose?" the queen growled, then threw out accusing answers to the question before the prisoner had a chance to speak, "Some perverse god of death that you worship ... some slaughtering general whose name you invoke to give you strength ... maybe some murdering ancestor you think might lend their ghostly aid?"

Janet's head just kept shaking back and forth, her expression twisted by fear and pain. "No," she gasped. A tiny moan of pain that had nothing to do with the physical escaped her lips. "God, doesn't some part of you know?" she begged desperately.

The headache started throbbing at the back of Terreis' skull again, the pain driving her anger even harder, panic edging her reactions, the notion of the other woman having so much power over her a terrifying thought. Her lips pulled back from clenched teeth in a gritted sneer. "What are you talking about?" When Janet only shook her head and turned her head away, she shook the smaller woman with bone-rattling force. "What does it mean?" Her fingers tightened on Janet's wrist where she held it pinned to the mattress and pressed into the slender arch of her throat.

Suddenly Janet twisted the hand pinned above her head, managing to wrench it free. She yanked it down in a blink, bracing it on the queen's chest and shoving as hard as she could. "Goddammit!" she hurled at Terreis, "it's your name! Your goddamned name!"

Not expecting the sudden attack, Terreis reared back, rage burning in her breast at the defiance and lies. Whatever the word meant, it certainly wasn't her name. Reacting on instinct, she thrust out a hand, slamming the outlander back into the mattress as she chocked her other hand back, fingers curling into a tight fist.

"My Queen," the startled exhalation froze both women in place, the grim tableau suddenly utterly still, as though carved in stone.

Terreis came back to herself in an instant, the details filtering into her brain in small, discrete packets; her fist pulled back ready to strike; the outlander pinned, terrified and totally outmatched; Rubio standing in the entry, a shocked look on his face. All those and a thousand other details seeped in as she crouched there.

Rubio's shock could never have equaled her own. As it sank in what she had been on the verge of doing, her stomach rolled with sick nausea. She'd never been one to turn to violence on a whim, and yet she'd been ready to do something that horrified her. And the worst part was that she couldn't even guarantee it wouldn't happen again. Already her fingertips were tingling with the memory of touching soft flesh, her mouth still full of the taste and faint tang of her prisoner's skin and lips, all of it overlaid with a dangerous level of anger and resentment for what her people had done ... and perhaps for the power the woman unknowingly wielded over Terreis' thoughts.

"My Queen?" Rubio said again, and she glanced over, taking in the young guard where he stood poised on the balls of his feet, visibly uncertain what to do. He wasn't a man who could stand by while any woman was abused ... and yet, Terreis was his queen and someone he'd come to respect. He couldn't believe she would act in such a fashion without good reason. He honestly didn't know what to do.

Terreis' head swung back around, focusing on her prisoner, seeing the terror she had inflicted. The nausea only got worse. She pushed to her feet, staggering several steps away from the pallet. A part of her broke inside when she looked into heart-stoppingly deep brown eyes and saw the complex swirl of emotions, all of them making her chest ache. She tried without success to summon the anger and disgust she should feel for this woman, but she was too busy feeling disgusted with herself. "Get her out of here," she abruptly commanded Rubio. She needed space to think ... or not think.

"Highness?" he exhaled in genuine confusion.

She whipped around, turbulent emotions honing her temper to a fine edge. "Get ... her ... out ... of ... here," she commanded, each word coming in a sharp blast. "See to her care in your own quarters, or...." She almost gave him permission to return the prisoner to the dungeons or hand her over to the interrogators if he chose, but the words wouldn't come. Even as frustrated and angry as she was, that involved a level of risk she couldn't take with the other woman's life. She backed up another step, some of the anger draining away into a confused ache she was helpless to understand. "If you need more room contact my majordomo and have him assign you larger quarters. I don't care. Just get her out of my sight." Maybe if the outlander was elsewhere, she could regain some sense of her equilibrium and be rid of this bizarre obsession.

Suddenly shaking off his paralysis, the guard hurried forward, impressed by his liege's obvious distress. "Yes, My Queen," he said quickly as he retrieved the key to the manacles from his belt. A moment later, he reached for the prisoner, not trusting that she could walk.

Hands folded together at the small of her back, Terreis barely managed to restrain the urge to grab his arm and yank the woman back from him, the possessive drive gnawing a hole in her gut. As he slung Janet Fraiser's slender figure high in his arms, it was a literal physical pain to allow him to touch her. Even knowing he had no interest in her -- that his wife was waiting for him in their quarters --hy she almost couldn't do it. Dear God, was the outlander a witch wrapping her in some kind of sorcery? She needed to get away from her before she lost her mind. "Go," she hissed, turning away to escape the look turned her way by the woman in question. "I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Yes, my Queen."

She couldn't contain a tiny flinch with each of his soft, echoey footfalls as he slipped out, some part of her screaming that this was all wrong. The woman was hers -- enemy or not -- they weren't supposed to be separated this way. It wasn't until the doors had slammed shut in his wake that she allowed herself to show some emotion, a hissed curse escaping her lips as she spun back, suddenly aware that the soft perfume of soap and a woman's body still hung in the air, teasing her senses with the unwanted reminder of what she was running away from. She escaped onto the balcony, grateful for the head-clearing chill air. Breathing slowly and deeply, she braced her hands on the railing, leaning heavily as she struggled to assemble her thoughts into some semblance of coherence. She had to get over this bizarre obsession. It was far too dangerous to allow herself to be distracted at a time when her people were under such brutal attack. The outlander was nothing to her, just a prisoner. Whatever her ancestors might have done, she wasn't them.

Her knuckles whitened on the railing, and she let her head fall forward for a moment before straightening. Peering out at the city, she forced herself to think about something else. The streets and houses were still darker than she would have wished, but there were lights now. Repairing the power grid and generators was going slower than hoped for, but it was moving forward. Purposely distracting herself, she envisioned it all in her head, mentally testing various ideas for streamlining the repairs in search of something that might speed things along. She was still consciously focusing on anything but the outlander some time later when she heard the soft pad of footsteps. A momentary burst of hope flared in her chest that the outlander had returned for some reason, then she glanced back, her heart sinking when she saw Maya standing in the doorway onto the balcony.

"Hello, my love," her handmaid said softly.

"Maya," she murmured, then turned to stare back out at the city, appalled by the fact that it wasn't her lover she'd hoped for, but a woman she should hate.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. "Did your meetings go well?"

The queen shook her head. "No matter what I do," she said bitterly, the things she'd read painting horrific pictures in her head, "it's not enough to stop the destruction." She swallowed hard, purposely forcing the mental images down, wanting to escape from everything. She looked back at her lover, forcing a stiff smile into place. "And how did your shopping go?" she asked, trying to summon some level of interest.

"It's unimportant," Maya dismissed the issue, then glanced back over her shoulder. "I see no sign of the outlander," she added after a beat.

The last thing Terreis wanted was to discuss one woman with the other. "She's been dealt with," she said without elaborating.

A long moment of silence passed, then Maya spoke softly. "Then I have you to myself again." Her voice was low ... sexual.

"Yes," the queen whispered and did a slow turn, reaching for her lover with gentle hands. If she couldn't distract herself one way, perhaps another would work better.

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Part 6