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Chapter 35

When the ache in his own loins proved almost too much to bear, Boris had to force himself to release her. If he pleasured her any more, he'd surely surrender to his own desires, and Rossa was a maiden still. Though whoever she married would be a very lucky man indeed.

He reached for her tunic. "This should be dry enough to wear now." He didn't dare meet her eyes as he handed it over. Couldn't even bring himself to watch her dress, though the image of her naked body, writhing with pleasure, would be one of his most treasured memories.

Rossa dressed silently, while he busied himself stoking the fire. He didn't want her getting cold again. He had to tell her, could not waste this opportunity when he had no idea how long he'd remain a man. The last time he'd been himself was the day Vica and Lida died.

"I was once a prince. My father's favourite son, though I had many brothers and sisters, and when he grew too old to defend our borders, he sent me out at the head of our army instead to fight back the raiders who invaded our villages. Then my father died, and my brother…"

He told her everything. How Vica and Lida had died, the potion he'd drunk, before taking the crown jewels. How he'd woken up in a cave, chased by the squire who'd betrayed him…

"I don't deserve any of what I lost, not any more. My family, the throne…even the crown now gathering dust in that bag of things. But I am a man, if only for a night, and I dream of what I do not deserve. A beautiful lady, who permitted me to save her, if only a little, and to love her, as much as I am able, but I am…nothing now. A usurper sits upon the throne that should have been mine, and instead of seeking vengeance for my family, for my father, I fled with the crown jewels, becoming the beast you called Snow. And though I might look like a man now, I am a beast still."

She frowned, then laid her hand on his arm and closed her eyes. Magic tingled at her touch, or maybe it was just because it was her, and then it was gone.

"The spell is still there. I feel it. I…" Her cheeks reddened, and she withdrew her hand.

Ah, she felt guilt for the intimacy they'd shared. Boris knew he should feel it, too, but if anything, he was already damned, so steeped in guilt he barely felt it any more.

"Forgive me. It was my passion, the heat of it that overwhelmed us both. The fault is mine," he said. If he could take her sins from her, he would. Heaven knew a few more wouldn't hurt him.

"No, it's…all through your tale, you kept talking about your squire. The squire who is always watching you, hunting you. Did he see us…?" Her cheeks flamed as red as her name.

Boris shook his head. "No, he could not have seen us. Here, I'll show you." He held out his hand to help her to his feet, then wrapped his white bear skin cloak about her shoulders. He could not allow her to catch a chill. Only when she was properly dressed for the cold did he lead the way outside.

The moon sat high in the sky, casting its light down on the traitorous squire. The body lay beside the pool, but some night-time scavenger had dragged the boy's head several yards away, almost into the bushes.

"He will not bother you again," Boris tried to say, but no words came out. The only sound he could make was a growl.

He'd turned back into a bear.

Rossa stared in horror, her eyes darting from him to Igor and back to Igor again. "You did this? Slaughtered a starving boy I risked my life to save? He was a child – just a child! How could you, Boris? I trusted you – let you into my home, when all the while it was only a matter of time before you killed someone? You're wrong, you know. You're not a beast. A mindless beast, a creature of instinct, only kills for food, for survival. This…is the work of a monster, with the mind of a man. A monster who is not welcome in my mother's lands. If you are still here on the morrow, I give you fair warning, I will hunt you down and slaughter you like the monster you are. And then I will burn your body, for you do not even deserve a decent burial. Goodbye, Boris."

She turned on her heel and marched off into the dark night.

Boris raised a paw, wishing he could beg her to come back, but he no longer had the words. Even if he were a man again, he suspected there were no words he could say that would make her forgive him for what he had done. Even if he'd done it for her.

He wished he could weep, for what he had lost tonight. He'd touched heaven, only to be thrown into the pit for it. But even tears were denied him. It was what he deserved.