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The next two weeks brought nights of sweet passion for Tressalara in Cador’s strong arms, and fresh hope for her cause as well.

Word that the princess had escaped Lector’s clutches and was in safe hiding had spread throughout the land.

Dashed spirits lifted, and a new courage kindled the people’s hearts.

The growing influx of rebels forced Lector’s men to retreat to the very edge of the Mystic Forest. They huddled shivering around their fires by night, whispering stories of strange enchantments they had seen within the woods, such as caverns of ice impenetrable to man and a pair of talking swans.

Once more the caravans of merchants traveled along the dusty highways, and life resumed its normal tone in the forest. When Cador next rode out to the Crown and Acorn with Brand, he took Tressalara with him. Not at his wish and not without an argument.

“You cannot mean to leave me behind again,” she had said when they were sharing a private moment alone, her finger trailing a line of fire over the hard muscles of his chest. He had groaned with pleasure, still sated from their lovemaking.

She slanted a glance from beneath her lashes.

“Since you have sworn allegiance to me, you are sworn to abide by my wishes.”

Cador had groaned and taken her face between his hands for a passionate kiss.

“Would that I had never given my pledge, sweetness. I would never have wanted to risk your safety; but now that we are lovers, I find myself singularly reluctant to let you risk your pretty neck in even the slightest way.”

“You are as stubborn and hardheaded as a mule!”

“Good,” he replied. “Then you will see it is no use arguing with me.”

But she had insisted, and he had been swayed, against his better judgment. The tavern had become their unofficial headquarters now that the area was secure. It was safer to meet and appraise new recruits and offers of aid there than to take the newcomers into the secret camp and risk betrayal.

He justified taking her along by thinking that he might hire a room for the night so that he and Tressalara could share a mattress instead of a blanket on the ground. As they wound their way through the forest, he began to feel quite cheerful about it.

There was no sign of trouble at the Crown and Acorn, and they had a hearty meal washed down with tankards of the landlord’s best brew.

A delegation from the southern meadow dwellers came, pledging their support.

Late in the afternoon a most welcome message arrived from Morania, saying that the duke would consider sending reinforcements and arms if the princess were indeed alive.

“Bring me paper and ink,” Tressalara ordered and immediately wrote a response, sealing it with candle wax and an impression of the signet ring, that she wore on a thong about her neck. She hoisted her tankard in a toast. “To the swift arrival of the duke’s men,” she said, “and to swift victory!”

A few more toasts had them feeling mellow and relaxed.

Brand went out to meet with one of his contacts.

Tressalara put her boots up on the bench and dreamed of an early supper followed by a hot bath before a fire, while Cador merely dreamed of a long and cozy night in a feather bed, with Tressalara in his arms.

Then Brand returned. His heavy brows were drawn together alarmingly, and the message he bore shattered their peace.

“Lector has found the Andun Stone. He plans a great reception in seven days’ time, to which he has invited all the nobles and emissaries of the surrounding lands.

He has vowed that he will hold the crystal aloft for all to see and name himself true king. ”

“Evil news, indeed, if he has found the Andun and can touch it without being consumed. I suppose it was naught but a legend,” Cador said, frowning.

Tressalara was dismayed. “I have never seen anyone but my father hold the crystal. The legend cannot be untrue. Indeed, all my life I was warned that even I could not touch it until the day my father handed it to me in solemn ceremony, or risk being consumed.”

“A fairy tale for children and peasants, like most legends,” Brand said. “A pity. It would have solved all our problems if Lector had been reduced to a pile of smoldering ash!”

“A pity, indeed,” Cador replied grimly. “We must strike sooner than you had anticipated, Brand.”

“Yes. But this grand reception will supply us with the perfect opportunity.”

Tressalara looked from one to the other. “But…can you not see? Surely this is a trap!”

Cador shrugged. “Of course it is. But we will find a way around it and twist the scorpion’s tail to sting itself.”

She was unconvinced. “Perhaps the best plan is to avoid his trap entirely. Launch the attack later, when his guard is down.”

Brand leaned forward and whispered something in Cador’s ear. Their two glances flicked at Tressalara and away. A dull knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “You must not have secrets from me,” she said with quiet force. “What new outrages has Lector committed?”

A muscle ticked at the corner of Cador’s jaw. “He plans an entertainment for the people, to take place at dawn following the feast: the execution of your loyal servants. Beginning with the Lady Grette and the Lady Elani.”

He’d expected an outcry of anguish from Tressalara.

She went icy pale, her eyes huge pools of fear and rage and grief; yet she managed to hold her emotions in.

In her quiet dignity she had never looked more royal.

She was not Trev, or even merely the Princess Tressalara. She was truly Amelonia’s queen.

As Cador acknowledged for the first time the great gap that lay between them, he had never loved her more, nor realized how hopeless that love was.

“Then we cannot delay. We shall go with your plan,” she said firmly, “and commence our attack during the grand reception.” She shifted the tankards and bread rolls on the tabletop to indicate the castle.

“While you and Brand mass the troops here along outside the wall, I will take a party of soldiers and…”

Cador was appalled. “You will do nothing of the kind! Do you think I would let you risk your life? No, you will be safe in our hidden camp until Lector and his men are vanquished.”

“I will not!” She rose and placed her hands on the table, facing him.

“If I were a prince rather than a princess, you would let me ride to battle at your side. Indeed, you would think me a coward if I did not insist on leading my subjects.” Her eyes flashed magnificently.

“Well, I am no coward, Cador! As Amelonia’s future queen, I claim my right to lead my people! ”

Cador rose, too, towering over her with the width of the scrubbed planks between them.

He was caught in the white heat of fury.

Princess she might be, but she was still his love, and under his protection.

And she was not trained to combat as he had been.

“Do not pull rank with me, highness, or I will tie you to a tree until this is over! As it is, too many will die trying to breach the castle walls! There is not one good reason for you to risk yourself in this venture, and I forbid it!”

Tressalara was every bit as outraged. “You have no authority over me, Cador. And I have every right!” She struggled with her anger.

“You refuse to listen to reason, and my presence is vital to the plan. There will be no reason to breach the gates, with all the loss of life that entails. I can get them opened for you—from inside.”

“You are naive. Those loyal to you are either dead or Lector’s captives.”

“I see how little you think of my intelligence.” Her frustration burst out in blistering fury. “By the saints, when I am crowned queen of Amelonia, no man will tell me what I may do or not do!”

Cador’s face went hard and cold, as if a door had shut. “Yes—when you are queen. For now you are merely another rebel in hiding.”

The ice in his voice tempered her anger. She struggled for control. “I am also the key that will unlock the puzzle for you. I know a secret way into the castle and I know every hidden passage within its walls.”

A cold fist squeezed Cador’s heart. There was truth in her statement.

She did indeed hold the key. By wounding her pride, he had pushed her too far.

He felt as if he had tried to take a step on solid ground and found himself plummeting through thin air.

She would not forgive him for it. Nor could he ever again forget that she was born to be a queen, while he was only Cador of Kildore.

Still, he had to try. “For the love of God, then, tell me the way in. I will go myself.”

“You are needed to lead the assault,” she said coolly.

His anger went almost as deep as his fear for her. “After the way you have taken over,” he said bitterly, “I am surprised that you feel you need me at all.”

She bit her lip and turned away, afraid to let him see how much she needed him, knowing that he could never understand that her duties to her people must come before everything. Even his pride.

Even their love.

“There is no other in whom I would place such trust,” she said simply. “We must return to camp and prepare.” The fate of Amelonia rested upon her shoulders.

The three of them rode back through the forest in constrained silence.

When they reached the open grasslands by the lake, she spurred her horse and galloped across the countryside, trying to outrun their mutually angry words and their potential consequences.

Cador would have to understand that she had no choice. Wouldn’t he?

That night Tressalara made up the blankets on the ground of Cador’s tent.

He and his lieutenants were planning the best route of attack once they were within the castle walls.

Since her identity must be kept secret until then, she had reluctantly agreed to continue in her role as Trev.

His anger seemed to have dissolved, although he had seemed preoccupied upon their return.

She felt that her own anger had been justified, though she tried not to remember the look in his eyes when she had defied him.

If they were to have only this night and so few others together before the battle with Lector, she wanted them to be perfect.

Hours passed, and still Cador did not come to her. She lay with her head upon his pillow, inhaling his familiar scent and filled with thwarted yearning. She ached to feel his strong arms around her, his lips upon hers, and to know that their heated words had not formed a cold wedge between them.

It was almost dawn when she heard a rustling and called out his name. It was only faithful Rossmine, returned from her errand of carrying Tressalara’s urgent warning to Elani.

Opening the tiny tube, the princess saw that the pebble was gone. It had been replaced instead by a tiny pink seed pearl. She smiled. It had surely come from Elani’s ring. That meant her friend had understood the message. Her heart warmed.

Then she saw Cador sleeping a few feet away beneath the trees, rolled up in his heavy cloak. He had slept on the hard dirt like a common peasant, rather than share her bed. Tressalara turned silently and went back inside with leaden heart, knowing that whatever had been between them was over.