When I opened my eyes, I felt immense pain all over my body—like the cuts had been real--but there were none to be seen. I wondered what had happened to them along with my deeply wounded arm. The only sign that I had been through anything trying was that I was absolutely exhausted.

Paris was at my bedside, holding my hand and weeping. I put a comforting hand on his cheek and he stood up, elated to see me awake. He threw his arms about me in joy. “We’re going to hang that black moth for you tomorrow. Do not worry, my sweet. I’m sorry I ever brought that thing in to protect you—I do not know how he hurt you, but I was afraid you would sleep forever.”

I ran my hand through his dark hair and realized that I loved him very much after all. He needed me—he was miserable without me--and that was a beautiful feeling. In a moment, however, I snapped to my senses and said to him, “wait! Please don’t hang him! You don’t understand--!”

Paris silenced me with a kiss before I could continue. I returned it aggressively—forgetting about my troubles for a moment and just wanting him to love me while I still lived. I was grateful to be alive, and afraid to be dead and wanted my husband more than anything.

Common sense kicked in, however, and I said to Paris after pushing him away, “Morgan is being possessed by the lustful god! It was not he who tried to kill me—but instead the evil god of the wild mothmen!”

Paris replied skeptically, “there’s no such thing as moth gods, my dear. You’re merely being chased by phantoms of your old life. You’re safe with me, now. Your new faith will protect you from your nightmares about old false gods; it was merely evil magic that put you to sleep—not a god.”

However much I loved him, I was never safe with him. I got a horrible scar in his care and now I seemed to have phantom cuts all over from the evil moth he had brought into the castle to protect me.

I realized, however, that even in my distressed state I needed to be his perfect woman to manipulate him. I thought of the perfect words to say to please him.

Even though he could not protect me, it pleased him to think he could. “You’re right… I am afraid of this moth blood I am cursed with—I am afraid of these false gods pursuing me and killing me for accepting your civilized human culture. Only you can protect me from my fears.”

“And I shall…” He said and wrapped his arms around me. My body stung when he did—the cuts felt so real, and I seemed to have a phantom pain on my arm. He kissed my forehead over and over again and I giggled affectionately and forgot about my pain.

I asked him, “what time is it?”

“it’s early in the morning, still dark out—nobody else is up.” He replied.

“And the day?” I prompted.

“You were asleep for three whole days… The worst days of my life.” He answered.

I grinned and wrapped my four arms around his torso—trying to pull him up on the bed.

He chuckled and easily struggled free from my grasp, “you need to sleep. I should let you get some.”

He made to leave, but I said to him, “please stay… Just sleep with me. I will have nightmares without you.”

“Are you sure? You need to rest…” He replied.

“I can’t rest without company… The black moth terrified me so much.”

He obliged and crawled in next to me. We faced each other with silent smiles for a moment before his eyes were drawn by Caerwyn’s sapphire and he asked with a dark frown, “what were you doing visiting that slave’s quarters so late at night?”

With my new confidence, I rejected my fear of him and answered teasingly, “are you jealous? You think I’d sleep with a filthy moth slave?”

His eyes did not turn black as he angrily grabbed at my sapphire and commanded, “I want this thing off your neck.”

I looked back at him in surprise and replied a little nervously, “my darling, it is only a gift from Terry—my templar. He’s like my little brother. And I was visiting that slave’s quarters because I was worried about my sister—she seems to be having a… Dalliance with the black moth. I was worried for her safety and didn’t want to bother you about it.”

His fist tightened around the sapphire, but in a moment, he relented with a sigh. “You should have told me… I would have done away with him for you.”

I doubted it; Morgan—or rather, the lustful god—seemed to have a kind of power over men that I didn’t fully understand. “I will next time. Paris, is Julia still at court or has she left?”

“She plans to leave for Auren with her husband in three days. As a matter of fact, she asked permission to borrow Terry because he’s such a fine knight. I gave her permission as a sign of goodwill. I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t told Terry yet, however.”

Inside, I was deathly afraid for both me and Terry—aloud I said, “Paris, may I speak with her before she goes? I want… I want to give her something I crocheted as a sign of goodwill.”

“Of course you may, My Queen. As a matter of fact, we’re going hunting in the afternoon tomorrow as a celebration of Nui’s newfound growth—we’ve finally managed to rebuild it into a fine kingdom with new homes and businesses. You wanted to get out of the castle, so you can come with us—so long as you’re not too tired.” He said, kissing my forehead. “I credit the growth of the kingdom to you. I couldn’t have confronted my duties as king without you to encourage and comfort me.”

I giggled with delight and replied, “you give me too much credit!”

I nearly forgot all my troubles when he kissed me, but in the back of my mind, I worried ceaselessly about tomorrow. I had to confront Julia and get her to leave Terry alone as well as figuring out some way to rescue Morgan from an undeserved death. It was the lustful god who had harmed me, not him.

My plan to rescue Morgan could not involve Paris or I could possibly undo the work I had done with him. The only one I could trust to help me was Terry—and possibly Gerta.

I must think of how I will confront these problems and write again tomorrow.