ETAN

Etan did not flinch, he did not react. He held himself as still as the mouse under the eyes of the eagle—but she would be naïve to believe this mouse did not have fangs.

"With all due respect," he said carefully, "I was not being clever. I was ensuring that I did not disrespect my wife—and that no one would be able to take her from me."

The Queen gave a tiny, unladylike snort. "You claim love," she said dryly, dismissing his words. "And yet you hide your relationship, meet her in dark stables and gardens at night for… assignations, and then whisk her away to marry without the knowledge or permission of her father and King.

"Do not mistake me, Etan, your strategy cannot be faulted. Her father is just traditional enough to believe that if the marriage is legal, and has been consummated, that it is real. You have certainly taken what you intended to take. And if I don't step in, you will likely win her—by default, if nothing else."

"If that is the case, why would you step in?"

"Because my daughter means more to me than tradition," she said tonelessly. "And I have yet to hear a reason why I should relinquish her to you. I asked you of love and you spewed vows, secret weddings, and sexual congress."

"You want proof that I love her?"

"Yes."

Etan smiled. "I have taken the blood vow to place her life before my own. And she has vowed in return. We are bound to each other, by blood, to the soul."

The Queen blinked more than once, clearly shocked, but working very hard not to show it. "You gave the Summitran blood vow… to my daughter?"

"On the first night we met. Our connection was… a miracle," he said, breathless. "I understand that this comes as a shock to you, and I do apologize for the subterfuge. But both of us knew from the moment we met that we were intended by the Father of Lights to be together. And we did not wish to throw the Kingdoms into turmoil over it. We intended to wait until the Peace Accord was signed so that our kingdoms would be held to peace while we revealed ourselves and worked to marry."

"Yet, you have already married," she said through her teeth.

Etan nodded. "When my father attempted to call me back, I knew he had likely learned of our relationship somehow. I could not risk being separated from her. And perhaps more importantly, I could not risk dying without giving myself to her fully, as her husband. I would not allow my life to end without her being certain of my love.

"I know this appears to be a play for power. I know you are angry. I assure you if I had seen another way through this without putting either of our lives at risk, I would have taken it. But hear me: Your daughter is more precious to me than my own life. If she were here, she would assure you of the same—but wait, has she not already done so? Isn't that why you're here?"

"Ayleth has no idea that I am here with you," the Queen said. "I awaited your return because I learned of your relationship and wished to confront you before telling my husband of it. I wished to test you so I might know which way to… persuade him."

A spear of both fear and hope plunged through Etan's chest. "How did you learn of this if Ayleth didn't tell you?"

"I'm certain you're aware of my talents, Etan."

"I am," he muttered.

She smirked. "There are many within the Castle that act as eyes and ears for me—whether they know of it, or not. But that is not the important issue for us to address. While I am impressed by your vow, that does not tell me that you are in love. You could as easily have made that vow for political gain as for emotion of the heart."

"I assure you, I did it for no reason except because my love for her is real," he snapped, then caught himself. "I do not know how you would have me prove an emotion of the heart—how else can I give evidence, except by the actions that would demonstrate it?"

"Let me test you," she said, and smiled when he went still. "I am Adept. I can… require the truth of you. If you will allow it."

Etan's eyes narrowed. "If you would use magic on me, why not simply use it without my knowledge? I know it has been used against me at least once before."

"Truth is a tricky thing," she said, still smiling. "It requires awareness, first off. You can believe something to be true, even when it isn't. And then it requires willingness. Willingness to know your own mind and heart, and willingness to show that to others. There is no greater instinct in a man, beyond sheer survival, that is more protective, than to guard one's heart. If I were to compel you, you might tell me what you think I wish to hear. If I were to torture you, you might tell me what you thought would stop the pain. The only way I can be truly certain of your feelings is to lay the words of truth upon you. But they require your submission. Your willingness. So, if you wish to prove yourself to me, Etan, allow me this: Allow me to use the weaves upon you that will require the truth of you."

And then, as he watched, her eyes began to glow with a fierce, white-blue light that circled the irises.

As his skin crawled, she smiled and her voice had changed slightly when she spoke, as if it rang in his head rather than simply reaching him across the room. "What's wrong, Etan? Are you afraid of a sorcerer? Doesn't your God protect you from us?"