Upon returning to her apartments, Terreis knew instantly that the outlander was once again ensconced in her space when her nostrils were teased by a soft perfume that belonged to Janet Fraiser alone. It was no comfort to realize she'd  memorized that scent in so short a time, feel her pulse pick up, or realize that her rooms suddenly felt more her own than they had since she'd banished the woman. She paused in the doorway, taking a moment to cool the instinctive reaction, careful to stay where she was likely to be unnoticed by anyone else in the room, curiously relieved that Maya was out for the day. Her eyes fell to the gleaming metal she held, the weight of gold and steel weighing heavily in her hand and heavily on her soul, feeling wrong in every way imaginable. She ran her thumb along the graceful relief that decorated one of the cuffs. No matter how beautiful the workmanship, no one should be leashed like an animal, and that was their sole purpose. Yet, what choice did she have? She couldn't release the woman back to her people when there was a chance she might have learned something of the castle's defenses. And, while she'd denied any involvement in the killings, Terreis had no real reason to believe she was innocent, just gut feelings that might well be overly influenced by guilt. She might want to believe Janet, but she couldn't risk other people's lives on her intuition. For the same reason, she couldn't allow her any freedom within the confines of the castle. Too much chance she'd harm someone. Returning her to the dangers of the dungeons was out of the question as was handing her over to the interrogators. The queen sighed softly, seeing little choice other than the road she'd taken, but hating it all the same. At least these manacles would be gentler on delicate flesh, with no rough edges to cut or tear. Perhaps that would ease some of her guilt.

Finally, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, her eyes going straight to the niche where the prisoner should have been. She froze mid-step as she realized it was empty. Blue eyes flashed around the room, something akin to panic settling in when she didn't immediately spot either the outlander or her guards, her first thought that Valchon had returned with men and either taken Janet or murdered her. She should have stayed with them, should have made sure she was safe. No, he couldn't have moved that quickly, she assured herself as she hurried forward. Despite her efforts to convince herself that the minister couldn't and wouldn't have committed murder, her heart was in her throat and she half expected to find a delicate body lying in a pool of blood somewhere just out of view of the door. Sick terror spinning her stomach into knots, she quickly searched the room only to come up empty. Nothing. A soft sound from the balcony brought her around, and she was moving before she even had time to process what she'd heard. Two shadowy figures were just barely visible on the night-shrouded balcony, both small framed, standing close. No sign of Rubio, but the two figures were definitely Elyana and the prisoner. She saw Janet's arm come up. A shoving motion? And lunged through the door.

God, it wasn't Valchon attacking. It was the prisoner. Somehow, she must have gotten free and killed or incapacitated Rubio and was attacking Elyana. So much for her desire to believe that such an innocent face couldn't hide the soul of a killer.

Terreis latched onto the young servant's shoulder, yanking her clear even as she shoved hard with her other hand. She felt a moment's resistance, a flash of struggle, and then the awful sensation of a body falling away from her hand. Janet's head swung her way even as she toppled, spilling ungracefully over the railing, her hands scrabbling and grabbing at nothing in a panicked effort to save herself.

It was the horrified disbelief in dark eyes that nearly tore the queen in two.

In that instant and without thought, she lunged, diving headlong at the railing, her still outstretched hand digging into the front of Janet's dress with desperate strength, her only thought that she couldn't let the other woman fall. She hauled hard, but wasn't fast enough to keep her from going over the edge, and was yanked forward by the drag of the woman's slight weight on the thin fabric caught in her clutch. "No!" she hissed, hooking her other arm around the outlander's back and under one arm. She pulled with desperate strength even as she felt the woman slipping through her grasp.

"Highness, what..." she heard Rubio's voice in her ear as he reached past shoulder, grabbing for the woman dangling several floors above the stone pavers that marked the garden walkway below.

"Just help me," the queen grated, not bothering with explanations. She just needed to get Janet up, now ... safe. Whatever the woman was or had done, she didn't care. She couldn't lose her. Her teeth gritted, fingers digging in to soft flesh as she felt her grip slip another couple of inches, Janet's instinctive struggle to grab onto something making it harder to hold on.Rubio was trying to get a hold on Janet's dangling form, but couldn't reach her without dislodging Terreis' hold, while her loose nightgown gave him nothing to grab.  Sheer terror drove Terreis to grip more tightly, muscles clenching as she pulled that much harder, finall7y managing to lift the woman high enough for Rubio to hook a hand under her arm. They gained a few more inches and then a few more until finally, Terreis was able to slide an around the outlander's slender frame, hauling her close as she pulled her the final distance. Holding Janet's slight figure tightly as her shaking knees abruptly gave way, she sank down, her back braced against the balustrade. Sprawled across Terreis' lap, her body trembling violently, Janet could only drag huge breaths of air into her lungs. She didn't resist when Terreis curved a hand to the back of her head, tugging her close, instead nuzzling into the taller woman's shoulder, too in need of comfort to pull back. Her eyes suddenly full of tears, the queen buried her face in silky hair, clinging desperately to the woman in her arms, her lips moving rapidly, though it took her a moment to recognize her own voice whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over.

Janet lay shaking, but otherwise quiescent, in her arms for a long moment, then finally tried to pull back. Terreis couldn't let go and shook her head in silent refusal as she tightened her hold.

"My Queen?" Rubio whispered at last where he was crouched beside them.

"What happened?" Elyana added as she pushed to her knees where she'd fallen after Terreis' shove, and scrambled over.

"I thought ... I thought she was attacking you," Terreis mumbled, her voice muffled by soft hair. Janet stirred as if to pull free again, but the queen just held on that much tighter, unable to let go, her heart still racing painfully.

"No, Highness," the young maid said instantly, sounding shocked by the idea. "She simply asked for a moment of fresh air. She was chained to the balcony."

It was then that Terreis looked up and saw the heavy chain that attached the prisoner's wrist to the cuff latched around the railing. It calmed her pulse a notch to know that if she hadn't been able to catch the woman, the manacles would have kept her from falling to her death. She would have been hurt -- badly cut up, judging by the injuries she'd received just wearing the manacles -- but she would have survived. Unfortunately, it didn't change her own culpability a bit. She hadn't known about the chains. As far as she'd known she was shoving the woman to her death. As if responding to that thought Janet stirred, but Terreis only clung that much more desperately, as though she could control her own trembling if she just held on tight enough.

"The room we had didn't have any windows ... a-and she j-just wanted to be breathe clean air," Elyana stammered, clearly feeling guilty for what had happened. "Rubio and I didn't think you'd mind," she added, making it clear that they'd been the ones to make the decision, not the prisoner.

"I don't," Terreis exhaled, suddenly painfully exhausted, her body literally aching with it. "I don't," she whispered again. "I was just ... afraid," she exhaled, not knowing how to describe the terror she'd felt when she'd thought the outlander was in danger from Valchon, and how that adrenaline rush had melded into her instant response when she'd seen the two women on the balcony and believed the worst on such scant evidence. "I thought she'd gotten loose ... was going to harm you."

"I would never harm either of them," Janet rasped her first words since being dragged over the railing. Muscles tensing, she braced a hand on Terreis' chest and would have pushed back, but the queen would not allow it.

Terreis lifted her head, reaching up to curve her fingers to her prisoner's cheek and draw her head up until their gazes clashed.

"I haven't hurt anyone," the outlander added raggedly. She would have jerked her head back, but the queen spread her hand, preventing the maneuver as she found herself lost in dark brown eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Terreis exhaled, not caring for the moment, all other worries trumped by the mental after-image of Janet's terrified expression as she'd toppled over the railing. "You were innocent on this occasion ... and I was wrong." She ran her thumb along the curve of Janet's cheek down to the cupid's bow outline of her lips, noting the way her flesh was filling out again. A sudden image of dark eyes blank, that soft mouth slack in death, her body shattered on the stones burned itself into her retinas with an intensity likely to haunt her dreams for days. She continued stroking the soft skin under her hand, her servants forgotten, her gaze completely absorbed by soft lips and fathoms deep eyes. She had no words ... none at all.

And it momentarily seemed to her that the outlander didn't either as they stared at one another ... the real world a distant memory that had no bearing on those seconds of indescribable connection.

It was Rubio who broke the spell, first by clearing his throat, and then by speaking. "My Queen?"

Terreis looked up, the color draining out of her face as she peered up at the guard and realized he and his wife were silently watching the strange scene before them. So far, they'd been discretion personified as far as she could tell, but she wondered how long even the most discreet of servants would resist the urge to tell the tale of their queen mooning after a prisoner rescued from certain rape in the dungeons. Sliding Janet off her lap, she pushed to her feet and drew the smaller woman along in the same move. Once standing, she held a hand out to the guard. "The key to the handcuffs," she said sharply, her gaze locked on her prisoner. Then she looked up, nodding toward the door. "There are replacements ... I think I dropped them just inside the door." The command was implicit in the words and, after handing over the key, he quickly moved to retrieve the dropped manacles. Terreis' gaze touched on Elyana, and she offered the faintest of nods, indicating the door. "Bring something to clean her wrists," she instructed.

The young woman got the signal and followed her husband back inside, pulling the door shut in her wake and leaving the queen alone with her prisoner.

Janet swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on the closed door to the balcony. Rubio and Elyana had come to represent safety for her, Terreis realized in a burst of insight ... and after what had just happened, she had to be scared ... wondering if perhaps her next journey over the railing would be neither a miscalculation nor an accident. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said very softly, wanting to wipe away the fear she'd inflicted.

The denial drew a soft, exhausted laugh. "I doubt that's possible at the moment," Janet sighed, then tilted her head back on her shoulders to peer up at Terreis as though hunting for something. "But I appreciate the effort." Her sarcasm was inescapable and layered in meanings Terreis didn't even begin to understand.

The queen didn't know what to say, so she simply ducked her head, concentrating on freeing the sharp edged manacle from a fragile wrist. "The new ones I had made ... they shouldn't...." She paused, her stomach rolling under a wave of revulsion. "They shouldn't cut your skin." The lock was stubborn and she finally had to force it to turn the key. She felt the faint rasp of the tumblers, then the cuff opened under her hands. She swallowed hard, sickened by the sight of cut and bruised flesh. "I'm sorry for this," she breathed, then tipped her head up to stare into Janet's eyes. "I didn't know." Her throat pulled tight under a wave of guilt, making it hard to speak. The prisoner was her responsibility and she had abrogated that task badly by leaving her servants with no confidence they could come to her if there were problems. "I wouldn't have had you suffer this way."

"How would you have had me suffer?" Janet sighed, then flinched as though afraid the grim question would bring another dose of wrath down on her head.

No surprise, really. After everything she'd been through, she had good reason to be afraid, but it left Terreis totally flatfooted with no good answer, torn between the part of her that was horrified by the faintest injury to this woman ... and the part of her that hated her for what she'd done. She was saved from the need to answer by Elyana's appearance.

The young maid was bearing a tray with several cloths, a bowl of liquid, and several bottles. She settled it on the low table near the wall, her expression uncertain. "Shall I stay, My Queen?" she questioned worriedly.

"No," Terreis dismissed her without even pausing to consider her answer. She glanced at the girl. "I'll call you when I need you." She felt Janet tense, but didn't acknowledge the response, simply urged her to sit in one of the chairs near the wall well away from the balcony's edge. Pulling another chair over, she popped the cork on one of the bottles, tipping a healthy measure into the silver bowl of water. When she looked up again, they were alone. "She's a kind child," she said very softly.

"Yes," Janet breathed.

Terreis dipped a cloth in the liquid, squeezing out the excess one-handed as she slipped her other hand under Janet's wrist, lifting it as she began gently washing the injuries.

The prisoner winced, a tiny hiss of air escaping her lips.

"This will help it heal more quickly," Terreis informed her, "and the new ... ones ... shouldn't hurt you."

A grim laugh escaped the outlander's lips. "A new leash and collar."

It was Terreis' turn to flinch, though she would have preferred it had her pain been as simply caused as the outlander's. "Do you think I want this?" she demanded, her voice rough with emotion, though her hands remained achingly gentle.

"I don't know what you want," Janet admitted.

It took all of the queen's self-control not to whisper, "You." She swallowed hard, reining in the dangerous impulse with brutal efficiency. "My wants don't matter. You're an enemy of my people ... one who might be able to help end all of this ... but who also might be very dangerous." She couldn't contain a soft sigh. "I have little choice but to protect those in my care."

Janet looked down, hiding her expression behind her bangs as they fell across her eyes. Her obvious hurt and fear tore at Terreis, driving her to reach out and draw the other woman's chin up.

"You are also my responsibility now ... no less so than my subjects." Another tired sigh. "One which I have been woefully neglectful of." She smoothed silky hair back from Janet's brow. "I promise you, that's a mistake I won't repeat."

The prisoner took a deep breath, leaving Terreis with the distinct impression she intended to say something only to change her mind before the words left her mouth.

She considered pressing to find out what the other woman was holding back only to decide against it. She didn't want to risk any more confrontations. Janet Fraiser did things to her self-control at all levels, and she wasn't up to dealing with the fallout from another blow up.

The prisoner was silent for a long moment, and Terreis found herself wondering if she was, perhaps, thinking similar thoughts. As the queen lifted Janet's other hand to begin cleaning that wrist as she had the first, she released a soft sigh, staring down at injuries likely to leave at least faint scars.

"What's going to happen to me?" the outlander asked at last.

Absorbing the soft flinch that resulted when the cloth touched a particularly nasty cut, Terreis focused on her task in an effort to gain a moment or two before even trying to answer the question. Finally, unable to delay any longer, she carefully schooled her expression into one that at least approximated professional interest and looked up. "I don't know," she admitted. She looked back down, focusing on a delicate wrist as she carefully wrapped it in a layer of soft bandages. "Much of it depends on you."

The outlander didn't argue, but her answering snort was surprisingly eloquent.

Guilt and pity held any sharp retorts in check, the injuries Terreis was busy treating a visceral reminder that the other woman had some reason for her distrust. After a moment, she reached out, hooking a finger under the prisoner's chin and drawing her head up to stare deeply into her eyes. "You are safe," she said softly, her tone intended to reassure. "And, provided you harm no one in my service, you shall remain so." It was a sizable concession from her point of view. "I can't promise more than that, but on that much, you have my word."

The outlander said nothing to that, simply let her head fall forward, her shoulders trembling gently as she shook her head back and forth.

The queen barely resisted the urge to reach out and brush her hand over glossy hair on her way to stroking a velvet cheek. "What happened before ... I lost control of my anger...."

Janet's chin rose, her eyes glimmering with accusation. She didn't say a word.

Terreis flinched, her gaze momentarily dropping away. She took a deep breath, silently accepting that her actions had been unforgivable, though she couldn't admit that to her prisoner so directly. "The situation got out of hand." She looked up, meeting the outlander's accusing gaze with a tired look. "I hurt you ... but it won't happen again. You have my word."

The outlander didn't say a word, just looked away as though she feared to do anything else.

With nothing left to say or do, Terreis tossed the used first aid supplies aside and pushed to her feet, reaching down to settle one hand on a narrow shoulder. "Come," she said softly. "The temperature is falling and you're not dressed for it." The outlander was wearing a nightgown -- a rough-spun, lightweight, peasant quality garb that Elyana must have found for her -- and an equality light robe; both most likely intended for summer wear and not particularly warm.

The stumble happened as the outlander rose and her bare foot collided with one leg of the chair hard enough to throw her off balance.

Terreis reacted instantly, automatically steadying the smaller woman, one hand fitting to her waist, the other resting along the curve her ribs, painfully aware of the slender hands that landed on her upper chest as the outlander regained her balance. They both froze, and Terreis suddenly became aware of the roaring freight train that was her pulse. Janet started to pull back, but she tightened her grip just enough to keep her from fleeing, and then enough to pull her even closer. "I won't hurt you," she soothed. She ducked her head, fascinated by the sight of her own reflection in velvet brown eyes. Arousal a burning drumbeat in her skull, struck deaf, mute, and paralyzed, she could only stare for a moment. And then she could only taste the temptations that lay so close. The kiss that followed was achingly tender. By turns coaxing and gentle, she only softened the caress when Janet tensed and tried to turn her head away, not letting go, but not forcing things either. Her patience paid off, and at some point, she tasted a tiny groan of surrender as the outlander's mouth softened under her own.

The distant sound of a door slamming followed by the muffled timbre of Maya's voice broke the spell more effectively than a cold shower. Terreis jerked her head back, the color draining from her face as she realized what she'd done. It had lacked the edge of threat of their previous encounters, but the unwanted, confusing passion was there ... perhaps in even greater volume. Pushing the outlander back, she kept her hands close, half afraid the smaller woman would stagger and fall. "I ... I...." She shook her head slowly, unable to think of anything to say, while the other woman peered up at her, her mouth swollen and pink in the aftermath of their kisses, her eyes wide with shock.

The prisoner swallowed, her throat muscles working convulsively, as she drew herself a little straighter and struggled for some semblance of control "What do you want from me?" she whispered at last.

The queen could only shake her head again, totally at a loss for words. "I don't know," she insisted raggedly, though she knew the words were a lie even as they left her mouth. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Janet Fraiser ... enemy or no She wanted to lose herself in soft flesh, hear wanton cries, taste those lips again and again ... then taste everywhere else. "Go inside," she abruptly ground out, hands fisting at her sides as she fought the urge to drag the other woman close once again. She all but pushed her toward the doors, needing to send her away to have any hope of regaining control. "Go," she said again, some of her desperation sneaking through as she picked out Maya's voice again, muffled, but distinctive and annoyed. Probably yelling at the servants. Though technically a servant herself, she'd taken to making certain the others knew that she was a step above them in the pecking order.

Janet paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder, staring at Terreis as if to see through to her soul. It shook the queen to feel that look like an actual touch. It wasn't over and they both knew it, but it also wasn't the time for a drawn out post-mortem of what had just happened. Finally, drawing herself to her full height, the outlander stepped back inside, leaving Terreis alone to gather her wits about her before going back inside. It wouldn't do to show the slightest hint of her inner turmoil around Maya. She was in no mood for the bloodletting that would follow if she did. Finally, back in control, she straightened her shoulders and stepped through the doors.

She was braced for the look Maya threw her way the moment she entered the room and managed to offer nothing more than a cool smile. "You're back, my love," she said softly, well aware of the outlander just at the edge of her peripheral vision, sitting on the edge of the servant's pallet, one hand held out to allow Rubio to latch the new manacles into place.

"And just in time to meet our new guest," her lover said, managing to add an extra dose of venom to the last word, though her tone would have sounded cool to anyone who didn't know her moods.

"Indeed," the queen replied, her tone giving nothing away even as she wondered when her bedchambers had turned into this subtle battleground where she wasn't even sure what the war was about or how to affect some kind of peace.

Full lips curled into a jeering smile. "Indeed," Maya repeated the single word and this time there was no avoiding the sarcasm and resentment in her tone. "And would you prefer to bathe with your prisoner alone ... or am I expected to attend?"

Obviously the servant who'd glimpsed her with the prisoner that first night had carried the tale to his friends and expanded on it. The gossip had probably made its way through most of the castle by now, and doubtless gained momentum until it recounted how he'd found them naked and making love in the middle of the tub. Terreis' jaw muscles clamped down as she ground her molars together, slightly ashamed herself that she cared more about the outlander's response to the accusation than she did her lover's. "Whatever you think happened, it's not true," she denied simply, though not entirely honestly. It might not have been what the servants thought, but something had happened that night ... something she didn't completely understand herself.

"I suppose I can't really blame you," Maya ignored the denial with an attempt at ironic humor. "It's your right as queen..." she turned a raking gaze on the prisoner, stepping close enough to the other woman that Terreis had to fight the urge to intercede, half afraid her lover meant to do some harm, "and she is somewhat appealing ... in a rather waifish way."

The queen's gaze hardened, the slight angering her more than she would have thought possible. "Stop this," she ground out.

"So, did she beg you to stop ... or for your protection at a price?"

"She begged me for nothing," Terreis denied -- lying again -- certain that the truth was the worst possible answer. A frisson of unease sliding down her spine, she straightened her shoulders and offered a hard glare, determined to nip this as quickly as possible. "Whatever gossip you've heard, it's completely untrue." She glanced at the prisoner, silently willing her not to say anything and relieved to find her expression completely inscrutable. "I removed her from the dungeons for her safety ... and she's here now for the same reason. Beyond that, the matter is none of your affair."

"None of my affair," Maya repeated, her voice climbing at least an octave. "And will it be my affair when I walk in and find you fucking her?"

That went too far and Terreis' already frayed temper snapped, her manner suddenly becoming dangerously calm. "No, that wouldn't be your affair," she answered bitterly. "If that happens, I suggest you turn around and leave. You won't be needed." She didn't flinch from the answering slap, simply reached up and fingered her reddened cheek, then wiped away a drop of blood where one of Maya's rings had nicked her lip. If anything, her manner was even calmer and colder as she continued, "I once promised you that on the day you no longer wished to share my bed, I would see to your future. Shall I make the necessary arrangements?" It occurred to her as the words left her mouth that she actually hoped her mistress would accept the offer. They'd been growing apart and Maya had seemed bitter and angry all the time, while she'd found herself increasingly unable to overlook growing strains of both crudity and cruelty which made her skin crawl. Perhaps Maya was as uncertain as she was as to how to exit a relationship that had become a miserable excuse for what it had been.

Maya, however, responded to the offer by losing all color, the fear in her eyes enough to catch Terreis by surprise when she'd never raised a hand to her mistress nor offered her any punishment if she chose to leave. Quite the contrary, she'd always promised to see that she was set for life the day she moved on. "N-no," she insisted quickly. "I'm sorry." She struggled to catch her breath. "I-I know you wouldn't--"

"These continuing apologies are becominga  tiresome trend," Terreis sighed, not letting the other woman finish her latest effort to make amends for her explosive temper. "And now you feel free to strike me." She shook her head. "Even if I weren't queen, that's unacceptable."

"I'm sorry," Maya repeated, suddenly submissive. Her chin swept upward, eyes soft with the threat of tears. "I lost my temper and my behavior was inexcusable ... but it's only because I love you so much."

Or tired of losing the power being my mistress gives you. The thought occurred unbidden as the queen found herself hit with the same pleading, apologetic look she'd received so many times of late and she found herself curiously unmoved. Still, she reminded herself, barely resisting the urge to glance at the outlander, Maya had some reason for her jealousy where the prisoner was concerned. Pressing the anger and resentment down, she took a deep breath and pushed the decision back. Now was not the time to resolve their relationship. She was too angry, her cheek and lip still stinging where Maya had struck her. Better to leave any decisions to a time when she was calmer and more in control. "I suggest you sleep in the kitchen servant's quarters tonight," she said coolly. "There's always spare room there."

Maya stiffened as though struck. "Are you banishing me from your life then?" she rasped.

Unable to lie, Terreis offered a small shrug. "I don't know." She needed to consider the question when she was calmer.

Maya was silent for a moment, then she glanced over at the prisoner, and back at Terreis, seeing the guilt in her eyes before she could hide it. "For the outlander?" she demanded coldly.

Terreis shook her head. "She has nothing to do with this," she responded, surprised to realize just how true it was. The woman was an issue in other ways, but the problem had begun before her entrance into the equation. "It's between you and I. It's like a poison has entered this relationship ... and I'm not sure there's an antidote."

Maya was silent for a long moment, her hands clenched tightly in front of her as she gathered herself. "Please don't do this," she whispered, emotion apparently making the words difficult.

This time the queen had to fight to maintain her resolve as she was reminded of better times when love had been new and far gentler. She reached up, fingering the cut in her lip, the taste of blood a harsh reminder that things weren't as simple as she would have wished. "I think you should go for now."

Her head tilted downward, her mistress stared at the floor between her feet for a long moment and then finally exhaled a very soft, grim laugh as she looked up, dark eyes searching Terreis' face with almost haunting intensity. "You never.... You never react the way I expect," she whispered at last, then turned. She was gone before the queen could decide what the softly uttered comment meant.

Terreis stood staring after her lover for a long moment, intensely aware of the woman seated in the servant's niche, disturbingly obsessed with wondering what she thought of the scene that had just played out and, at the same time, painfully embarrassed by the whole, sorry mess.

"My Queen?" Rubio murmured worriedly as he drew close.

Bracing herself for the disgust -- or worse, pity -- she fully expected to see in the eyes watching her, she did a slow turn. Her gaze went straight to the slender figure now chained to the servant's pallet, and she was surprised to see neither loathing nor triumph, but an odd kind of sympathy. It left the queen shaken by the sudden desire to go to the outlander and unburden her soul; to kneel before, lay her head in her lap, and simply let the words flow. For just a moment, it even felt as though she would be welcome ... not as queen or captor, but merely as a woman.

Which was insane, she reminded herself. Janet Fraiser had no reason to care for her. They were enemies ... and more than that, she had been harsh to the point of cruelty. She might regret her own behavior, but it changed nothing. Sighing heavily, she look at Rubio, nodding to indicate his charge. "See to her care. I need some air ... I'll be in the gardens below. You need only shout if you need me." With a last glance at the outlander, she all but fled the confines of her apartment in search of a little air.

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

"Did you think the news wouldn't reach me, my love?" The caustic question sent a shiver of apprehension down Maya's spine as she did a slow turn to face her master. He pushed the door to her temporary room closed behind him, his movements slow and precise. "Or perhaps that you could hide from me among the kitchen servants."

"This is where she sent me," Maya quickly insisted in an effort to deflect the rage she knew was due to fall on her head. She'd known he'd hear -- even with almost all of the servants replaced in recent weeks, he had spies everywhere -- but she'd expected to have more time to plan her defense. "I thought it best to do as she wished."

His cheek twitched. Never a good sign. "So you left her alone with the outlander?"

"I had no choice. She sent me away," she told him, leaving out her own mistakes in handling the woman, well aware that he would very likely kill her if he knew the truth. "She's undecided about this relationship."

His eyes raked over her, his expression one of disgust. "You should have used your charms, my dear ... enslaved her with that body you use so well."

She shook her head, surprised to find herself no longer so thrilled by his strength and cruelty. The fantasy of finding a man who could wield power over her, instead of being her slave, was rapidly devolving into a nightmare. "The only reason she cares for me at all is because of the lies you implanted in her mind ... and even those ties are rapidly fading."

He grabbed her arm and yanked her close, glaring down at her. "Or perhaps you're doing your best to shred them," he jeered.

Thinking of the explosions of temper and resentment, the accusations, and the attempts to push the other woman into exploring the darker sexuality that she found most arousing, Maya couldn't honestly deny the charge. She'd only gone to the woman's bed to please her master and had hated it and wanted it ended from the first. Not trusting the woman's proclamations of tender love, she'd been constantly looking for the lie and sleeping light, half afraid she was being used against her lover. It was the final irony that she'd finally come to believe the woman honestly believed the things she said and had come to trust her far more than the lover she'd once worshipped. "I've only tried to please her," she said a little desperately as she saw his expression darken when she didn't immediately answer.

"Don't lie," he advised her and shook her hard to emphasize his point. "Now, tell me what happened." His eyes almost seemed to glow, the intensity of his look sending a shiver down her spine.

All she could do was tell him as little as possible and hope that would deflect the worst of his anger. "I returned to find her with the outlander." Tension rippled through her muscles and she was amazed to feel the burn of jealousy as she remembered the look in blue eyes as they'd searched for the other woman. Despite everything Valchon and Lemier convinced their chosen queen was true, they couldn't change that love and need. "She told me to leave for the night." His grip on her arm tightened to punish her for her mistake.

One eyebrow rose high on his forehead, his doubts evident. "Somehow I doubt that's all that happened." He jerked her arm roughly. "Now, tell me the rest of it."

She tried to find a lie that would accommodate but panic robbed her of the ability to plan as needed.

"The truth ... now."

"The outlander came in from the balcony ahead of her ... her mouth swollen ... kissed," she exhaled the last word, her tone deeply resentful. "Then ... my queen followed ... her eyes drawn only to the outlander ... wanting her ... lusting and needing, rife with guilt for her betrayal."

Valchon's grip tightened on her arm while his other one rose to stroke the slender line of her throat. "Should I question your loyalty to me, my love?" he demanded, distrust in his eyes. "Because that sounds like genuine jealousy in your voice." His thumb wrapped around her throat, not pressing, but threatening. "You wouldn't be starting to care for our queen, now would you?"

She shrugged with forced calm. "I thought to use that guilt against her." She lifted a hand to rest it lightly on his chest, struggling to keep the trembling out of her muscles. He despised weakness in all forms and was likely to punish it with considerable cruelty.

"Clearly you failed," he growled, pressing into the underside of her chin ever so slightly.

"This is only temporary," Maya insisted, grasping at straws to appease him. "She was angry, but she's not one to throw people away. When she calms--"

"And what precisely did you say that so angered her?" he demanded. He eyed her, his cool composure almost more intimidating than his rages ... and often more dangerous. When he simply raged, he struck out blindly. When he was calm and thinking clearly, he considered things carefully, saw nuances he missed in his furies ... and was often all the more brutal for it.

Afraid he would learn the truth through other means, she answered the question. "I slapped her."

His lips pulled into a mockery of a smile as he snorted softly. "And she simply sent you here?" he demanded, coldly courteous, then leaned closer, his breath ruffling her hair, fingers tightening on her throat. "I would have beaten you within an inch of your life." His eyes ran over her delicate frame. "You're lucky she's so weak."

Maya shook her head slowly, the sense of death hovering just over her shoulder giving her an odd sort of courage. "It wasn't weakness that held her hand," she whispered. "It was something else." A grim laugh escaped her lips, but involved in her own thoughts, she missed the fear that crossed his face. "Something I think you and I will never understand." She easily withstood the blow that followed, in fact expected far worse, though a low groan escaped her lips. It hurt like hell, but there would be no marks. He was an expert at controlling how and where he hit to keep from marring the flesh he enjoyed. If he weren't, she probably would have been dead long before. She fully expected a beating to follow, but instead he released her, stepping back a pace as he straightened his cuffs.

"There's nothing about her that I don't understand," he hissed, though she had a sense he was trying to convince himself as much as. "Nothing at all." He straightened his doublet. "She's like the rest of the outlanders ... weak ... soft ... easily outsmarted ... and easily beaten." He slid a hand up into her hair, fingers clenching and pulling her head back. "You're right. She probably will take you back ... and I suggest you beg her forgiveness ... and play the perfect ... mewling, clinging mistress that she wants."

Swallowing hard, Maya nodded, completely submissive. Anything else was too likely to get her killed.

"Good," he sneered, then thrust her back. His eyes ran over her, making her feel less than human. "See that you keep her involved this time." His expression smoothed into a bland mask much as he smoothed his doublet and then he slipped out, leaving her trembling in his wake.

Maya shook her head slowly and slid down the wall into a sitting position, leaning forward until her forehead was resting on her upthrust knees. She'd miscalculated at every level ... where Valchon was concerned, where the outlander was concerned ... even her own behavior seemed to be completely out of her control. She ran a hand through her hair, cursing her stupidity for her own efforts to attract Valchon's attention. She'd been Lord Hamstil's mistress then -- recently moved to the castle from his outlying lands when his wife discovered her existence -- and sleeping with both Hamsill's son and Minister Canielli -- both of whom were fond of giving expensive gifts. From the first, Valchon had excited her, his strength and self confidence thrilling her in a way none of her easily dominated lovers ever had. He'd shown little interest at first, which had only whetted her interest, until by the time he took her to his bed, she was willing to do anything to have him, and not merely willing, but eager to beg for every twisted thing he'd done with her.

What a fool she'd been. She'd thought he cared somehow ... thought his using her to affect his ends meant he trusted her. Now death was a steadily growing weight on her shoulder that would make itself known sooner or later if she wasn't careful.

And her efforts to manipulate the outlander he'd made queen had gone no better than her efforts to manipulate Valchon -- though for completely different reasons. She felt the familiar burn of resentment as she considered the woman whose bed she'd shared for several weeks. At least she could understand Valchon. Samantha Carter -- Terreis, she reminded herself -- was completely out of her experience. At first she'd thought her gentleness was weakness, her trust foolishness, and her courtesy even to the lowest servant nothing short of pure stupidity. Given near unlimited power -- or least believing she had near unlimited power -- and her primary concern had been others.

Maya had mistrusted that concern, thinking it was nothing more than a manipulative game, certain she'd see the truth as she played her own game.

But the woman wasn't playing. She wasn't stupid ... and wasn't weak or a coward as Valchon wished to believe. She was something else entirely.

Maya had a sick feeling she'd chosen very badly in siding with the minister. "Terreis" might bore her in bed, but she would never have had to fear the nature of the serpent sleeping next to her as she did with Valchon. She never needed to fear whether or not she would be waking in the morning with the woman. The same could not be said of her lover.

And more than that, she feared that if and when she discovered what had been done to her -- what she had been made to do -- Samantha Carter might well make Valchon's rages look petty by comparison. She wouldn't threaten or wait until Maya was sleeping. She would face her ... and ... Maya feared ... kill her.

And she would deserve it.

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

Terreis automatically reached out, steadying the delicate figure that collided with her as she rounded a corner on her way to the gardens below her chambers.

"My Queen," the sweet voiced, breathless young servant turned an apologetic look her way. "I'm so sorry, I--"

"It was my fault," the queen interrupted as she recognized the young kitchen wench Maya had accused her of wanting to bed some days before. In the soft light, her hair glossed with coppery highlights while dark brown eyes gleamed with adoring sincerity. "I wasn't watching where I was going." She offered an easy smile and watched a blush crawl across the young woman's cheeks. It would doubtless be so easy to take the girl to bed. She would be flattered, probably even grateful. And, perhaps, staring into brown eyes, your hair buried in hair the color of burnished copper, you could slake some of the need for the woman in your possession, a distant part of her brain taunted.

"My Queen?" the girl questioned.

Terreis abruptly realized she was still holding onto her arms. She quickly released her hold and let her arms drop to her sides. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was lost in my own thoughts for a moment." And then she remembered something else ... the flash of awareness that had briefly hammered at her skull ... the memory of impossibly deep, dark eyes and coppery hair suddenly with her all over again. The girl had insisted it was some kind of second sight, but Terreis had discarded and quickly forgotten the entire notion. But, as she considered her reaction to the woman in her apartments, a shiver slid down her spine as she realized she matched that memory all too well. Except in her memory, there had been nothing but tenderness and affection between them. She shook her head, doubtful that such a thing was possible. Yet, as she thought about it, it seemed right somehow. It explained the obsession she was powerless to stop. The maid was still peering up at her -- curious and perhaps a little worried.

"Highness?"

A frown creased Terreis' brow as she considered her own thoughts. "We spoke once before...." She saw the young maid's eyes light up at being remembered. "You said my line was subject to visions ... of our destiny...." She nearly stopped there, hesitant to allow herself to consider what she was considering. "Do you actually believe in such things?"

"Of course," the girl said quickly, eyes shining with innocent faith. "It's part of your genius as a leader ... your ability to know what to do.... You see things in a way no one else can."

The answer only deepened Terreis' frown as it occurred to her that she would prefer to be known for her logic and innovative ideas than for any supposed magic tricks. Besides, to try and relate that vision to the outlander seemed unlikely at best. "And what if what I see makes no sense?"

Slim shoulders dipped in a hint of shrug. "My grandmother always said such things make themselves clear when the time is right."

"I pray your grandmother's right then," the queen said softly, tired and discouraged by the whole mess, "because right now, I feel as thought I'm looking at my life through a fog."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" An inviting smile touched the young servant's lips, her body tipping forward, a gentle thrust of hip and breast making the offer physically as well as verbally.

It would be so easy, Terreis thought, tempted by the thought of a few hours of pleasant release with someone who would demand nothing of her and would offer herself so freely, with no conflicts, no guilt, and no anger. Except when it was done, she would probably feel responsible for this girl and guilty for using her. Yet another stress in a life that already had far too many. Besides, it wasn't really the girl she wanted. She sighed softly and shook her head, gently rejecting the offer. "I fear not. You go on. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble for running late in your duties."

Disappointment shone in the young woman's eyes, but she did a quick curtsy. "Yes, Highness." A moment later, she hurried off, leaving Terreis alone with her own thoughts as she stepped into the welcoming comfort of the gardens.

Tipping her head back, she simply stood on the stairs for a long moment, leaning into the cool breeze that played with her hair and gown. The smell of thick greenery and new flowers -- blooming thickly now that they had enough water -- teased her nostrils, the perfume sweet and soothing. She felt some of her stresses drain away as it occurred to her that her work was doing this, bringing life back into things. They'd deepened the wells and replaced pipe where needed, brought electrical generators back online, and were working on getting both water and power to any of the outlying areas that had lost services. The attacks were playing havoc with her efforts, but despite everything, the repairs were making a difference.

She plucked a flower from a hanging vine as she stepped down the several stairs to the stone walkway that circled the enclosed private garden. The petals were pure velvet against her skin, the scent almost spicy. A faint noise overhead drew her chin upward, automatically searching the different balconies until she found her own. Sharp eyes automatically measured the distance to the stone pavers below, the mental image of the shattered bone and torn flesh that would have resulted from that fall making her flinch in horror as the garden suddenly took on a darker tone. It would have been little better than murder; unplanned and irrational, but murder nonetheless. Staring down at the bright blossom in her hand to look anywhere but at the spot where she'd pictured Janet Fraiser's broken body, she stroked the velvety petals, wincing as a thorn at the very base drew a drop of blood. Bright crimson welled up on her finger ... the color vivid against her skin ... and she found herself frowning, unable to look away, trapped in another place in time.

And then Janet was nodding, an answering hunger in her eyes inviting Terreis to duck her head and taste the softness of full lips, moaning low in her throat as the other woman's mouth opened under her own. Tongues tangled and bodies strained as their breathing roughened, and then suddenly she felt hands on her chest, pressing back, the kiss broken as Janet turned away, gasping for air.

Terreis fought her own muscles as she tried to lean closer only to feel herself pulling back, a pained groan bubbling up from her chest.

"My Queen?" the soft exhalation broke the spell, and as quickly as it had appeared, the phantasm faded away, leaving her staring at empty space in confusion. She reached out, fingers touching the very space where Janet had stood, but finding only thin air. Terror welled up in her breast as she wondered if she was going mad. It had seemed so real. She had felt the warmth and weight of the woman in her arms, her body stronger than it was now, with a natural padding of flesh the woman in the rooms above was still regaining. For those moments, they had stood dovetailed together, bodies a perfect fit, mouths bound together, hearts beating as one. "Are you all right?"

It took her a moment to process the question and the fact that it was a voice that had dragged her out of the hallucination, then she did a slow turn, focusing on the man standing a short distance away. "Lemier," she said, recognizing the scientist coordinating the weapons building efforts.

He ducked his head in acknowledgment. "I thought I heard you cry out. Are you all right?" he asked again.

"Yes," she said, sounding not at all confident of her answer. "I just...." She didn't finish and instead stood shaking her head, unable to describe what had happened. He was silent, simply watching her closely, his expression worried. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she considered the scientist, wondering if perhaps he would understand what was happening to her. God knew, she was at a loss. "Are there such things as waking dreams that are as vivid as reality?"

If he was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. His head canted to one side. "I've heard of such things ... yes," he said after a thoughtful pause. "Why do you ask?"

She let out a tiny, half-hysterical bark of laughter. "Because I just experienced something like that," she murmured, staring into the distance as she remembered every moment of the fantasy. "And I think I might be going mad." How else to explain her fascination with a woman she barely knew -- one she had no business desiring -- and now she was having hallucinations. That could not be good.

He drew forward a step, frowning as he studied her. "If I might ask, what was this dream?"

She heaved another sigh, turning away and opening her hand as she realized she'd closed it into a fist during the dream. Crushed petals fluttered away from her fingers, trickling to the stones at her feet. "The outlander," she said very softly. "I dreamt of the outlander prisoner." She ran her tongue over her lips, wetting them as it struck her they were painfully dry, though the flavor of the other woman's mouth was still with her. "Not as she is now ... but healthy ... warm ... soft." She turned to face him again, head canting to one side as she struggled to understand her own thoughts. "And welcoming." She swallowed hard, a confusing flood of emotion threatening to be her undoing. "She was smiling ... and when I kissed her, she wanted me."

"You're a beautiful, intelligent, and powerful woman," he pointed out quietly. "Is such a thing so hard to believe?"

A grim laugh escaped the queen's lips as her eyes went back to the spot on the stones where the prisoner would have landed had she fallen. "I nearly killed her tonight," she breathed, shaken once again to realize how close she'd come to, if not killing, then at the very least, seriously hurting the other woman. Lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed the way the scientist tensed.

"Is she badly hurt?" he rasped.

Terreis shook her head, exhaling a deep, shuddery breath before she answered, "She was badly frightened, but not  hurt." Her head tipped back on her shoulders, eyes going to her balcony. "When I saw her on the balcony with one of the servants, I thought she was attacking the woman ... and I just reacted ... pushed her over the railing...." Her eyes slid closed, a horrified shudder sliding through her. "And then I panicked ... barely caught her and pulled her back." Raw terror made her chest ache. "If I hadn't...." She couldn't finish. Janet probably wouldn't have fallen all the way, she reminded herself in an effort to control the horror, but the idea of her wrist slashed and bleeding was scant comfort. And it wasn't out of bounds to think that the lock on the manacles might have shattered under that kind of stress.

"But she's unharmed?" Lemier questioned.

"Yes ... she was badly shaken, but I caught her in time."

"And was she attacking the servant?" he asked quietly.

The question only making the guilt worse, Terreis shook her head. "No. She was completely innocent of the charge. I misread the situation."

He nodded, absorbing the admission thoughtfully. "Why do you think you did that?" he asked at last.

The queen shook her head, struggling to understand her own jumbled and confused emotions. "I don't know why I do anything where she's concerned," she admitted at last, then looked at the scientist, surprised to find herself dumping all of this on his shoulders. "Probably not very comforting to hear your queen admit she may be going mad," she laughed grimly.

He shook his head, brushing that idea aside. "You're not mad," he assured her, his voice oddly soothing, reminding her of something else ... someone else? "But there's obviously something about this woman that bothers you."

"Bothers me?" Terreis repeated. "That barely begins to describe it." She took a deep breath, reaching up to rub the heal of her hand into first one eye socket and then the other, struggling to contain a sudden, violent headache. "It's like she's in my head ... in my soul. I can't think of anything else ... and even knowing what she may have done, hating it more than you know ... when I look at her, I can't believe she's guilty of what Valchon says ... and I find myself thinking that even if she was a part of the killings, she must have had no choice...." She shook her head, wavering dazedly on her feet. "It doesn't make any sense. It's like voices in my head sometimes."  Another dark laugh escaped her lips. "I've hurt her ... frightened her." A throaty whimper escaped her lips as she lost herself in her own fears, sickened by the memories. "I didn't mean to ... didn't even want to ... but I did...." She stood perfectly still except for the harsh shudders that rattled her frame as she inhaled and exhaled. "Sometimes I think I hate her ... and sometimes I think I...." She didn't finish, the impact of the words more than she was able to contemplate.

"What?" Lemier whispered, his voice worried, soothing, almost hypnotic.

She shook her head. "I don't know." She was so tired of it all ... the pain, the suffering, the fear. "I had her moved to different quarters ... with a guard and a servant to see to her care." She looked up, half afraid to see disgust in his eyes as she added, "The anger I was feeling ... it was dangerous. I knew I had to get her away from me ... or risk hurting her."

A frown touched his brow, but he didn't speak, apparently content to allow her to say what she wanted in her own time.

"Then today, one of the assigned servants warned me that Valchon was speaking to her alone." Her molars ground together, rage glittering in her eyes as the scene played out in her head once again. "I went there to protect him ... but I found him ready to do murder ... and I was ready to kill him for touching her." She swallowed hard, struggling to force down some of the remaining anger. She turned a hard look on the scientist. "Still think I'm not mad?" she demanded bitterly.

He shook his head. "No," he assured her, his head canting to one side as he considered what she'd told him. "You said you'd had waking dream."

She nodded. "About her ... wanting me ... unlikely to say the least," she muttered.

"Why?"

"She's my prisoner."

Lemier shrugged. "Twelve generations ago, your many times great grandfather stole his bride from an enemy and founded your line. According to the histories, she eventually fell in love with him and they had a wonderful life and many strong children."

"I wonder if history would say the same thing if she wrote it?" Terreis snorted derisively, though a tiny coil of awareness tightened in the pit of her stomach as she remembered her own temptation to seduce the woman and keep her for her own.

"I don't know," Lemier admitted. "Perhaps ... perhaps not. And what of your outlander, what would history say of her?"

Terreis had it in her to wonder why she was saying all of these things to the scientist, but she had to talk to someone, and she couldn't trust her ministers with the things running through her mind. "I fear it would say she was part of a brutal attack force, slaughtering civilians for nothing more than sport." Her eyes slid closed, the darkness swelling in her chest as she was reminded of all the cruelty the woman had inflicted on others.

"Is that all?" he pressed, apparently unwilling to accept that simple answer.

She thought of the other things; the way Rubio had defended her, the fear in Elyana's eyes when she'd come to get the queen, convinced that Valchon meant no good, the way both of them had taken responsibility for their presence on the balcony, afraid for their charge. "And it would say that she's kinder to the servants than most of the ministers are...."

"And what would you say?" he asked when she didn't continue.

A long moment of silence followed before she quietly spoke up, the words coming in halting syllables. "That she's no monster ... she's human ... frightened ... beautiful...." The last slipped out before she could call it back, and she looked up, startled, half expecting to see censure in the scientist's eyes. After all, he'd seen the damage the outlanders had done, knew how inhuman the destruction had been. But his expression was sympathetic, drawing her to admit, "And seeing her like that ... chained ... frightened ... it horrifies me ... makes me want to protect her ... from anything and everything ... including myself."

He nodded, absorbing her softly spoken words. "Many of the ministers would accuse you of treason for such sentiments. They believe the outlanders are simply mindless brutes...." She stiffened, braced for his condemnations, and was surprised when he continued in the same, ultra-calm voice. "I believe they're wrong ... that whatever the outlanders are doing, they're human ... and perhaps your ability to see them as such is what will finally help us find a way to make peace."

She shook her head, discarding the notion. "I doubt my lusting after one of their foot soldiers will make any difference either way."

He was silent for a long moment before offering a wry shrug. "You know the Book of the Ancients says that each of us is cleaved in two just before our soul enters this world ... and the other half is sent far away ... making it our life's task to reunite with ourselves." He tipped his head back to peer up at the stars.

Terreis eyed the scientist doubtfully, surprised to hear such fanciful thoughts from someone who was supposedly a believer in technology. "Are you suggesting the outlander is the other half of my soul?"

"I don't know, My Queen, but stranger things have happened," he mused out loud.

She shook her head, struggling to dismiss the idea despite any temptations. "Next you'll be telling me that my dreams are visions of destiny," she scoffed.

He considered the comment and shrugged. "Would that be so awful?" he asked, his tone ironic.

Lost in contemplation, she didn't immediately answer. "No," she admitted cautiously when she finally spoke, the idea of that kind of trust and affection existing between herself and the other woman more alluring than she would have thought possible. "I just don't see how it could be possible."

"The legends say the greater the challenge in bringing your soul together, the greater the love that will result."

"If that's the case," Terreis said grimly, "I'm not sure I could survive a love that great."

"Nor could you survive without it...." She flashed him a look and he shrugged defensively. "...according to the legends."

"You mock me," she accused, her tone somewhere between serious and ironic.

Lemier shook his head. "I wouldn't do that," he disagreed, a frown touching his brow. "I respect you too much."

His answer caught her by surprise and she turned away, reaching to pluck another flower, idly stroking the petals as she muttered, "I'm surprised. You've little enough reason for that of late ... as unsuccessful as I've been in protecting our people."

"No one could have done better," he disagreed with her harsh self-assessment. "I've watched you during this crisis ... seen how you care for ... for your people ... all of them, not just the powerful."

She did a slow turn, frowning at him. "I'm not simply queen to the powerful. I'm responsible for everyone," she reiterated the obvious, surprised by his comments. "My people must be my first concern. Nothing can come before their needs."

"There are many within your court who don't see it that way," he said very softly. "Many of the ministers would gladly sacrifice the weak and powerless to serve their own ends."

She shook her head, unwilling to believe his assessment of the men in her service. "You're wrong. I've seen how desperately they're working to come up with ways to fight the outlanders." Not successfully, she had to admit -- they seemed to have more desire than skill -- but they'd been trying. Their sincerity wasn't in question, even if their competence was.

"You've seen them trying to impress you ... and get you to do their jobs ... make their lives easier ... protect them... You haven't seen them caring for their people for the most part." He faced her, his spine straight, braced for her anger. "You're the one who's fought to bring water to the farms not just the city ... to bring military protection, medical care, electricity to the people with no power ... for whom those things are the difference between life and death."

She drew breath to argue, only to come up short as the words dried up before she could utter them. If she was honest, she'd had similar suspicions. "I'm just trying to do what's right," she exhaled

"I know ... which is why..." he began, then trailed off, taking a moment to consider his words carefully before beginning again. "Which is why you must trust yourself to follow the right path where the outlander is concerned."

Terreis couldn't contain a derisive snort as she considered the way she'd treated the woman. "I'm not sure I should be trusted around her in any regard." She ran her bangs back from her forehead, tugging the coronet that was her symbol of office free and ruffling her hair. Deeply disgusted with her lack of control where Janet Fraiser was concerned, she experienced a cold bolt of terror at the thought of what might have happened. She looked up when a hand landed lightly on her forearm.

"You're wrong," he said very softly. "I've seen who you are ... and that's not someone who glories in the pain of others ... not even your enemies." She was caught by the near desperation in his eyes. "And if she is the other half of your soul ... then you cannot truly harm her. Your half of your shared soul would not allow it."

"I told you," she whispered helplessly, frightened by the way some part of her responded to the things he was saying even as part of her argued that they couldn't be true, "I nearly killed her tonight."

"Nearly," he repeated the word she'd used. "But you couldn't do it, could you? And when it came down to it, you fought to save her, didn't you?"

"Yes," she admitted, her voice softening as she remembered that moment when she'd clutched the woman close, trembling and terrified in the aftermath. If only it could be that simple. "But she's my enemy," Terreis added, struggling to find the core of anger at the outlanders that allowed her to maintain some distance from the woman, afraid that, without it, she would be weak before her. "And my prisoner."

"Or perhaps she's simply yours," Lemier offered.

The temptation to believe him almost overwhelming, she pushed the idea back through sheer force of will. "I doubt she would agree with that."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "She'll fight it ... just as you're fighting it ... but neither of you will be able to resist the need for your soul to reunite."

She shivered as she remembered the unplanned kiss they'd shared on the balcony and the one from her waking dream. Janet had fought her on the balcony during the first moments, pulling back, muscles taut, but then at some point, she'd released a low groan of surrender and velvety lips had softened under her own. It wasn't the wanton need of her hallucination, but neither was it the terrified struggle that her own abominable behavior had caused. It was tempting to think that maybe it could be, but, realistically, none of it was real ... just a strange obsession. She had a life, a lover, responsibilities that could not be put aside for mere lust. "It's a pretty legend," she said at last, "But my first concern must be my people ... how best to serve and protect them."

"I believe you will find a way to do that ... and discover your destiny as well ... that, ultimately, you cannot do one if you don't do the other." He drew in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "And I believe that if she is your other half, she needs you as much as you need her."

Her eyes slid closed, images running through her that could only be fantasies. "What if it's all a lie?" she breathed. "What if she's manipulating me somehow?"

"Even if everything else around you is a lie, you'll know if what you both feel is the truth."

She turned to stare at him, frowning as her brain toyed with the idea, something she couldn't quite reach tweaking her memory. The knowledge was almost there, but she couldn't quite dredge it up. "Everything around me a lie?" she repeated as though she didn't quite understand the statement.

He suddenly straightened, apparently remembering that he'd interrupted her private musings. "However, I've bothered you long enough. I'm sure you weren't looking for company when you came into the private gardens."

Terreis nodded unsteadily. Suddenly eager to be alone, she didn't argue. She needed time to think, and that was impossible with him there, distracting her. She shook off the momentary haze. "Thank you for your thoughts, Doctor," she offered her gratitude sincerely, genuinely warmed by his kindness, and appreciative of a friendly, non-condemnatory ear. "You're a good man." Involved in her own thoughts, she missed the shadow that passed over his face.

"Thank you, My Queen." He ducked his head respectfully. "You are a fine queen ... and a fine woman. There are many of us who are grateful for your efforts ... and wish nothing but to see you happy."

Terreis lifted the flower she'd picked to her nose, breathing in the sweet scent of the bloom. "I'll be happy when the people in my charge are safe."

He simply nodded to that, then turned and left her alone. Involved in her own thoughts, Terreis didn't notice that the scientist paused on the top stair on his way to reentering the palace, watching her silently for a long time. "I'm sorry," he whispered very softly, "so very sorry."

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

Sitting up in bed, her chin resting on her upthrust knees, staring into the distance, Janet was barely aware of the Elyana and Rubio where they stood nearby, silently watching her. She'd gotten used to being watched constantly during the days since her exit from the dungeons. At first it had driven her crazy, but she'd adjusted and come to accept that the young couple meant well. Besides, it was a huge improvement over her previous berth.

But she wasn't thinking about that. Instead her mind was on the scene on the balcony, vacillating back and forth between the moment of horror when Sam had pushed her over the railing, and the moment when she'd found herself ensconced in a surprisingly gentle hold, unable to summon the strength to keep pulling back when the other woman was behaving so much like the Sam she knew. She'd accepted the kiss at some point, needing some measure of comfort and reassurance, no matter how ill advised it might be. The whole situation was insane and she was starting to fear it was driving her slightly mad.

Or maybe extremely mad.

Or perhaps she was still in that goddamned hole, and had gone completely starkers and everything she was experiencing was nothing more than the conjurings of a sensory deprived mind trapped in hellish darkness.

She shook her head, dismissing that thought. Even mad, she doubted she could have come up with the current scenario.

She ran a hand over her hair, sighing heavily as she struggled to ignore the tingling awareness that remained everywhere Sam's body had contacted her own. It had to stop. She'd held off trying to tell the other woman who and what she was -- what they were to each other -- uncertain she really was Sam and afraid of tipping her hand if she wasn't. But it was Sam ... brain-washed, erratic, and tender and furious in unpredictable turns ... but Sam. She sighed softly, contemplating a method for reaching the other woman and coming up with nothing definitive. There had to be a way to reach her though. She'd been calmer, the mindless fury draining away after the brief burst of violence and subsequent panic. If Janet could just reach out to her when she was in that place, then maybe they could find a way to fight whatever had been done to her. It had to work. It had to.

Because she wasn't sure what was going to happen if she didn't. She lifted a hand to her lips, the memory of the devastatingly tender kiss still with her. The hunger was still there between them, years of sublimating and controlling the intensity of desire stripped away, whatever programming Sam had been subjected to making for a dangerous mix of emotions over which she seemed to have little control. When Sam was caught in the rages, their relationship was quickly forgotten under the barrage of anger and the fear, but when she was calmer -- gentler -- it became harder to remember and much harder to resist the need for comfort and compassion. How much more difficult was Stockholm Syndrome to resist when the captor in question was the same person she'd been hopelessly in love with for years? Someone she trusted more than anyone else in her life, and someone whose merest touch had always been able to inflame her passions? Sighing sadly, she buried her face in her knees, folding her arms over the back of her head and hiding from the world. She was still like that when she heard the outer doors to the huge apartments open and close again. Expecting it to be Sam, she lifted her head just as Valchon entered.

Rubio tensed, stepping between the minister and his prisoner. "Sir?"

"I wish to speak to the prisoner alone," the minister said without preamble.

"The queen has ordered that no one is to be left alone with her."

Janet swallowed hard, grateful for the soldier's protection as Valchon flashed a narrow eyed glare his direction.

"I speak for our queen," the minister sneered.

"By her own word, not in this matter." The young guard was visibly rattled, but determined to stand his ground.

Considering that her survival very probably rested on his refusal to be cowed, Janet could only to be grateful to the young man. For a moment, she thought Valchon was going to argue, then he straightened himself and stepped forward. "Very well then. I'll just speak to her with you here--"

"No interrogating the prisoner without the queen's presence by her own command," Rubio insisted, bracing himself as the minister drew closer.

"Unless you plan on laying hands on me, boy," the minister responded, intelligent enough to know the young guard wasn't likely to push that far, "you've got a problem." He neatly sidestepped Rubio, offering Janet a triumphant smile.

Rubio spun, glaring at the smaller man's back, his hands fisted helplessly at his sides. He didn't dare touch a minister against his will.

"My husband--" Elyana whispered, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

"Any harm to the prisoner will merit the queen's anger," the guard bit out, hoping to warn the minister off if he was planning on trying to attack the woman again.

"Don't worry," Valchon drawled as he leaned down, hands resting on the mattress near Janet's hip and thigh.

She didn't wince at the invasion of her personal space -- that would give him far too much pleasure -- and ignored the guard and his wife, instead focusing all of her anger on the man grinning down at her. "You did this to her," she hissed almost inaudibly and was gratified by the way his grin shifted from triumphant to something far less confident. "Twisted her memories and her emotions ... I don't know why, but I promise you, you won't succeed. Underneath it all, she's still Sam Carter ... and this fiction you've forced on her won't last much longer. She's too strong for it."

The smile dropped away entirely, shifting to a sneer as he considered her. "I fail to see the appeal," he disparaged, then leaned closer, his voice dropping low so only she could hear. "Such a fanciful tale ... but you should consider to whom you tell it very carefully." A ghost of the smile returned. "After all, were you to convince our queen of such insanity, it would create a very difficult situation ... one which would need to be quickly remedied. After all, in this time of crisis, our people cannot have a mad queen ... nor can they have two rulers ... so she would have to be dealt with."

Janet swallowed hard, the threat clear. If she could convince Sam of the truth, he'd kill her ... and god knew how much power this man had ... enough to create this whole fantasy and either force others to believe it, or go along with it ... she didn't know which. She shook her head. "You went to too much effort to bring her here ... do this to her--"

His hand flashed out, thumb braced against the underside of her chin, fingers along the side of her throat, pressing just deeply enough to emphasize his power over her. "But were she to become infected with your insane rantings, she would be useless to..." he paused for emphasis, "...her people."

"Release the prisoner," Rubio commanded, drawing close, one hand in the air above Valchon's shoulder, fingers spread, not quite making contact but ready to grab.

Valchon ignored the threat, leaning so close his breath disturbed the fluttery hair that fell across the doctor's ear. "One word ... and she dies." He straightened and stepped back, neatly dodging Rubio. "Remember what I told you outlander ... enjoy our queen's ... attentions ... if you wish ... but play games with her mind, and there will a price to pay."

Rubio stepped between them, not understanding what little he'd heard of the interplay, but hearing enough to know he didn't like it. "If you're threatening our queen," he growled angrily.

Valchon offered the younger man a smile. "Me? Of course not, boy." He tipped his head to one side, appearing to consider Janet carefully. "I simply want the prisoner to understand that we will not tolerate any spurious attempts on her part to harm or corrupt our queen in any way."

The message was loud and clear. If she tried to convince Sam of the truth, she was dead.

"Understood, outlander?" Valchon demanded.

She nodded stiffly, hands knotting into tightly clenched fists at her sides. "Understood," she whispered, the word like ground glass on her throat.

"Then we understand one another," the minister said, sounding satisfied. He did a slow turn, smiling coldly at Rubio. "I'll have to inform the queen of just how conscientiously you've seen to your duties. I'm sure she'll be very impressed by your loyalty." His tone made the words a subtle insult. "And now I'll bid you good night." He ducked his head, flashing a last warning look at Janet before stepping out.

Rubio stared after the man for a long moment, then turned to look at Janet. "What did he say?"

She shook her head, noting that Elyana was standing near the balcony doors with a hint of a frown. "It doesn't matter." She slid down on the narrow mattress, pulling the blankets up over herself, suddenly exhausted beyond measure and feeling the physical battering her body had taken. She couldn't tell Sam now, at least not without being very careful ... and very certain about what she was doing. They were both far too vulnerable, but only she was aware of it. "Rubio," she said softly, pushing up on one elbow to peer up at him. "Would you protect her?" They both knew who she meant.

"With my life," he answered instantly.

"Then I'll tell you this much," Janet said, praying she was right in trusting her instincts, "I'd never hurt the woman you call your queen ... in fact I'd lay down my life for her ... but Valchon ... don't trust him."

His frown deepened, then he looked toward the woman poised near the balcony doors, sharing a moment of silent communication before his gaze swung back to touch on Janet. "I trust only Elyana completely."

Janet looked back and forth between the two, the love between them easy enough to see. "Probably your best bet," she admitted, then collapsed into the sheets.

"You should sleep now," Elyana said softly as she moved to stand beside her husband, one hand resting lightly on his upper arm.

"Yeah ... sleep," Janet groaned, folding an arm across her face as though she could block out the dark thoughts running through her brain as easily as she blocked out the lights in the room. She slid into a shallow, restless sleep in moments.

After it was obvious she was asleep, Elyana tugged her husband back, her voice low as she whispered, "You should have allowed me to signal our queen." She peered up at him, not completely understanding his actions. "She should know her minister defies her word."

He shook his head. "We can't afford to make an enemy of him." He glanced over his shoulder as though afraid someone might be listening in. "Especially not now." He tugged her into a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

"You should tell the queen," Elyana whispered peering up at him. "She could help. You said she's praised your loyalty."

He shook his head. "I respect her more than the rest of them, but she's still one of them. She's not likely to take our side if it comes down to it." Curving a hand to the back of her head, he pulled her close again, resting his chin against the side of her head as she nuzzled into the curve of his throat. "We can't take any chances. Not until you're free."

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

It was late by the time Terreis finally returned, driven inside by the steadily dropping temperatures. Elyana was asleep in a huge chair near the fire, while Rubio stood near the prisoner's bed. The queen noted the sleeping prisoner and waved the young guard over. "I think she's safe enough to leave unguarded for the moment," she murmured, her voice low. "If you could wait in the anteroom while I'm readying for bed."

He nodded. "Of course, My Queen." He paused to wake his wife, tenderly supporting her when she staggered, and the pair silently slipped out.

Stripping out of her gown, Terreis slid silently into the bath, the warm water a soothing balm to sore muscles, though it did little for her tattered thoughts. Though she resolutely tried to keep her eyes away from the slender figure curled up, apparently sound asleep in her tiny niche, she couldn't do it. Barely aware of what she was doing, she found herself staring, struggling to make out the faint indications of arm, shoulder, hip through darkness and thick piles of blankets, struggling to ignore Lemier's words even as she found herself wanting to believe he might be right.

Finally finished, she slipped out of the water, barely pausing to pull on a robe before moving to her prisoner's bedside. Deep asleep, Janet never noticed. It was easier when she was like this, and Terreis crouched down to reach out, fingers just barely brushing her bangs, stroking them back from her face. Her face soft in sleep, the outlander appeared younger, more innocent than she had any right to look. Her eyes slid down, touching on Janet's right wrist where it poked out of the blankets, held in place by the length of chain fastening her to the bedframe. Pale bandages peeked out from under the gold circlet, reminding her of far too many things she would have been more comfortable forgetting. "I'm sorry," she breathed at last.

She remained like that for a long time before finally rising and signaling Rubio that they could return. She slid into her own bed, the curtains surrounding it muffling most of the sounds from the rest of the room. She could easily have been alone for all the noise she could hear. Nonetheless, the awareness of the other woman remained with her and sleep was a long time in coming.