She awoke alone, the mid-morning light milky and grey as it streamed in through the window. Then it was true. Azura's light never shone fully upon Leoth's realm. It was a memory only.

She could not remember having ever slept so deeply or so well, her bones soft and well-rested. As she sat up, she winced. Her body ached. Inside, between her thighs, across her breasts, her mouth worn and used from his.

Across the chamber, the fire burned soft and subtle in its hearth though it should have been long since dead. Had he kept it burning for her?

Theodan.

His name felt different to her now. It was changed. Heavy. Weighty with importance now.

Like a visitor in her mind she could not ignore the truth of it. From the Gods or from herself.

She had enjoyed him.

She had lain with a male and for the first time, had lost herself to the breathtaking pleasure of it.

She had lain with Galyn many times, of course, but never had she given herself to him so completely that she had forgotten all else. Had forgotten who she was or what she had been before it. For with Galyn, never had she been able to separate what she had done and what she had stolen from him in order to enjoy him as a woman should enjoy a man.

Always she had felt this ever-present, suffocating notion that he would find out all she had done and see her punished for it.

Always she felt this deep-rooted seed of guilt and shame whenever he touched her. She had oft thought it a remnant of Valdr's poison. That she might never be able to enjoy a male the way other women did.

But she had enjoyed Theodan. Had it been this contract of theirs that had allowed her such abandonment? She could perhaps believe it, if all thoughts of negotiation and obligation had not burned to cinders in the blaze of his fire.

Where was her guilt and shame now? Now that she had surrendered her body to Galyn's executioner?

His scent clung to the sheets around her, piney like a forest after rain and deeply male, and there below it: her own. Entwined with his like lovers in an embrace. 

A beast of Leoth she had called him. But in his arms, she had become one herself. Panting and mewling his name as he brought her to the very edges of bliss and back, over and over as the sun rose from the horizon. Her cheeks burned and a sharp quiver of remembrance sang across the space between her thighs. 

She sat upright and took in the empty chamber. So he had not wanted to be here when she woke.

Perhaps her scars had disgusted him in the daylight.

A noise at the chamber door caused her to start. How would he look at her now? She grabbed the sheet pulled it to her breast, her heart hammering in her chest as her mouth dried and flooded at the same time.

The door creaked open and Mor entered carrying a circular metal tray laden with steaming food. As she glanced in Fara's direction she started slightly. 

'Oh, lumiya, I woke you,' she said, apologetic. 'Theo asked me not to rouse you but to be sure to have your morning meal waiting when you did.'

'You did not wake me, Mor,' Fara smiled, awkward. Gods, what would Mor think of her? A princess naked in the bed of the soldier who'd claimed her as his slave.  Mayhaps she would think he forced her here?  Did she want her to think that? Did Theodan want her to think that? Why on Ethis would he send his housemaid to the chamber?

'Ah, well, now you can eat before this gets cold,' Mor set the tray down on the table by the verandah. She then went to the tall chest at the foot of the bed and lifted the lid, retrieving what she wanted quickly before letting it fall closed with a soft thud.

'This will do until I fetch you something more fitting.' She said, shaking out a large white swathe of fabric which would certainly smother her. It appeared to be a male's nightdress. 'Theo told me what happened, makya.'

Fara gulped, her cheeks burning. 'He... did?'

Mor came towards her, soft eyes filled with concern. 'T'was my fault. I should have been more careful. The water is deep and of course one as small as you could become trapped between those devil rocks. Thank the Dark One Theo found you.'

Fara released a breath she did not know she held, and nodded, glancing away from Mor's studious glare. 'Yes... it was my good fortune he too decided upon a swim.'

Reaching out, Mor brushed a hand softly over Fara's cheek. It had been such a time since she had felt this kind of comfort, a motherly comfort. She pressed her cheek into Mor's palm.

'You have met so many dangers here, sweet lumiya. We must take better care of you. And Theo will, I have made him promise me such,' she said sternly. 'Now, come, put this on and then you must eat.'

She slid out of the bed and let Mor pull the nightdress over her head. It smelled faintly of him, she thought. Though perhaps it was only that she smelled faintly of him.

'Theodan is... downstairs?' Fara asked as she emerged from the neck of the nightdress.

Mor shook her head.  'Nay, he is gone to Lagraport to meet the ships. Elyon arrived at moonset - and emptied half my larder with him,' she tutted.  'I swear that Leothin will see us all starved.' Mor's face had fallen to a frown but her tone was warm with affection.

'Mor, Theodan's mother's gown!' Fara gasped as Mor adjusted the sleeves of the nightdress. 'I left it by the pool when I - when I went to bathe.'

'Then it will be there still, do not fret. I will fetch it and have it washed and hung to dry. Now come, eat.' She urged Fara across the chamber towards the table by the Verandah, the lengths of white trailing behind her.  As she pulled out the chair for her she smoothed a hand over her hair. 'Gods, I am so glad to have you returned to us. I was certain that upstart Paeris would not have allowed it - he has too much power for one so hateful.'

Fara shot Mor a look. 'Well, then you will be glad to hear that his power has been somewhat... diminished.' Mor's eyes lit with curiosity. 'The High Visier expelled him from the council,' Fara said.

'She did?! Oh, that is wonderful news - just wonderful!' Mor closed her eyes and drew a circle on her forehead, muttering a few soft words that sounded like a prayer. 'She is most just and charitable in all things.'

'Charitable?' said Fara. Terrifying. Divine. Otherworldly. All words which would befit the small terrifying female better than charity, surely. 

Mor nodded. 'She is His most trusted councillor. She speaks through Him and for Him who is most divine.' Her voice was high with devotion. The fierce adoration the Leothine had for their Dark God never failed to dumbfound her. How could they worship such a monster as him and not be monsters themselves? She could not understand it. 

Yet, she knew that Mor was not a monster. And neither was Jhaan. Or Vala. She had never shown Fara any kindness, but neither was she a monster. Even those Leothine who were cruel and who had acted monstrously - Paeris, Vala's brother, the beautiful white-haired female who had spoken so easily of her execution before the court of the moon -  were not monsters in truth.  Had she not known humans who were just as monstrous, just as cruel? Perhaps even more so.

By that reasoning, did it follow that Theodan was not a monster either?

Yet, had he not killed Galyn and helped destroy Azura's temples? Had he not enslaved women and children and felt nothing while doing it?

Neither the sun nor the moon shines as brilliantly as you do.

Yes, I desire you. More than I have ever desired any other before you.

Monsters too could speak words of passion and tenderness. She knew this to be true. Unimaginable cruelty could come from the most delicate of touches.

She also knew that males said and did whatever would best satisfy their own selfish and base desires. 

Theodan was no different.

As Mor began to strip the sheets from the bed, Fara tried not to consider what she might glean from them. Instead, she turned her attention to the food before her.  In an array of various decorative plates and pots, Mor had brought her a morning meal fit for a princess. 

A gilded copper teapot of something hot and fragrant like tea, an ornate basket of warm bread, a small pot of soft whipped butter, a jar of honey infused fruits, and a plate heaped with something mouthwatering and fluffy which looked like eggs.  She poked at them with her finger. The smell was mouthwateringly delicious. 

'Qholle eggs,' said Mor from across the chamber.  'Much like the ducks and geese of your mainland. Only better.' She winked. 

Using the copper spoon, she took a taste.  They indeed tasted like geese eggs, but with a nuttiness and richness to them which coated her tongue and awakened her hunger. They had been flavoured with herbs and salt and at the second mouthful, she was convinced they were in fact better than the geese eggs from Calate or Azura.  Even those bred for the royal household.

She did not notice Mor sneak from the chamber so completely had she succumbed to her hunger. It was unlike any she could remember. As though she had lived only on scraps before now.

The tea was sweet and spicy and the taste of it seemed to change and transform on her tongue depending on what she had eaten before it. The bread was soft and warm, the honey suffused with soft berries and nuts and the butter thick and sweet.  Gods it was the best morning meal she could remember. 

She discarded the spoon to eat the remainder with her hands, using the remaining bread to wipe the pots clean of honey and butter.  When she'd finished and the plates clean she let out a deep contented sigh and gazed out through the verandah at the empty horizon. 

Theodan had gone to meet the ships. Which meant his men had returned home. His whore too.  She ignored the flare of heat which rose up at the thought of him with her and focussed instead on what his men returning home meant for Azura.

Had Zybar retreated too?  What size of force had Torrik left behind to defend his stolen kingdom?  Small enough that Calate could mount an attack? Small enough that the sea and mountain tribes might beat them back into the ash sea? 

Galyn had told her of them; men trained in war by the Leothine and who lived wild and free from the land in the great southern mountains. They had not been reached before Zybar attacked. Which meant that they could not have been found by Zybar or Leoth's forces either. 

The Corsairs too; skilled mercenaries who sailed Ethis's most isolated islands trading Azura's spices and gold for weapons and goods. Fierce marauders trained for battle and hardened from the sea. Their ships had left port only weeks before Zybar's sigil was spotted on the horizon.

Combined with Calate's armies, it may enough to mount a rebellion.

Hope ignited in her chest. 

Would Leoth return to aid their allies if an attack came from the east or the mountains or the sea? 

If their God bid it then yes, she supposed they would. The order of a God could not be refused. The order of a God could not be debated or negotiated upon. But she also knew that Theodan was tired of war. That he had no care or interest in fighting Zybar's war. She knew he had the loyalty of his men and the ear of the high Visier.

Leoth could not be beaten in battle.  Which meant the only way to save Azura was to rid her of Torrik and his line.  For if he were no longer, then so too was his mindless desire to conquer her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Mor entered the chamber once more. This time not alone. Behind her, carrying a large copper basin filled with steaming water, were three male Leoth - one elder, of an age with Mor, and two younger, closer to Jhaan in age. 

'From the cave pool, makya,' Mor said. 'I will not have you down there alone again.' She pointed towards the fireplace and they set the basin down by the soft flames. They'd carried it all the way up from the bottom of the rock for her?

The two younger Leoth stole furtive glances at her while the older male looked at Mor for further instruction. She waved them all from the room with a shake of her hands, then moved to dip her fingers into the basin.

'Perfect,' she nodded. 'I have brought you a clean gown - and fetched Ishilde's. Now in you go before it cools, childe. I will leave you be.' She came to lift the tray, looking pleased with the show of appetite, before hurrying with it from the chamber.

The bath was deliciously warm. Infused with something milky and floral which lay silken and scented atop her skin. She turned her wrist inward and grazed her fingers across the marks which lay there. Had he found them disgusting in the light, she wondered? They faded more each day from her mind and her body but she knew they would never leave her completely.

With her eyes closed, she found the others. A cruel poem written across her body. Scribed in a language only she could read.

These scars adorn you, Fara but they could never hope to diminish you.

I will not allow anyone to harm you ever again.

How close she had been to speaking Valdr's name under to Theodan under the moonlight. An invocation. Her damnation. The monster she had no choice but to love. The monster she had helped create.

And so she would return to him. To the prison she had given her soul to escape from.

Oh, but your soul was sacrificed long ago, sister mine. There is nought inside you but that which you have made of me.

She swallowed back the bile which rose in her throat.

No. This time would be different. This time there would be nothing but purpose in her heart. This time her sacrifice would save Azura.

Valdr's army, her army, would fight For Azura now as they should have done then. And if Leoth chose to re-enter this war, then it was what the Gods had intended. Whoever stood as victor at the end did so by their will and decree.

She tried to ignore the chill that chased her at the thought of Theodan falling in battle. He was the greatest warrior in Ethis. He could not. He would stand even at the end of the world she was certain.

She could not afford to think on such things. Her only consideration where Theodan was concerned was to ensure that he fulfilled his promise to her.

Dressed in the gown Mor had brought for her - a thick floral fabric of reds and golds that could have been made for her given how well it fit to her body - Fara ventured out of the chamber and down the staircase which wrapped around the inside of the great tree.   On the level below the bedchambers, she came upon a wide set of double doors, black steel handles moulded in the shape of crescent moons, each facing the other, an impressive etching carved deep into the wood.

She stood back to get a better look at the woodcut.

A great tree sat atop an even greater rock, a full moon proud above. Curves of what looked like powerful waves curled up and around the foot of the rock. Teredia. The carving was of the place she stood right now.

She pushed at the heavy door and felt it give a little, and so she slid her upper body through the gap to peer into the room. She almost gasped at the sight.

A large circular room lay beyond the great doors, almost the same size as the entrance foyer below. One wall was made completely of glass, the great grey sea beyond it turbulent and wild. To her right stood a large fireplace easily four times the size of the one in Theodan's chamber. The hearth dormant and dark. To her left, a wall of books, their covers bound in every colour imaginable. It was almost as impressive as the library of Scribes in the Golden Palace. She imagined herself sat comfortably in one of the chairs by the great fire, it roaring deliciously as she read, the winds howling against the glass outside.

As her eye followed the wall of books upward she saw that the ceiling curved up into a glass-covered dome, through which the moonlight would surely pour. She felt a dull glimmer of fear at the thought of it. 

As her eye moved down her mouth fell open in wonderment. She could not understand how it had not been the first thing she'd seen as she'd taken in the great room. For painted on the floor was a mural of magnificent colour and skill. Great wings of Varveh stretched out in flight, soldiers of Leoth with their teeth bared and swords aloft, great streaks of bright yellow piercing through the clouds, the sun and moon both looking down from the sky.

In the very centre of the mural, directly below the moon window, a figure in dark armour stood clutching a female tight in his arms. Her hair blew as wild as the chaos around them. She felt the passion in the embrace, a deep longing and devotion, and it caused a warm shiver to spread up her spine.

With a deep rattled breath, she stole back out of the room and let the heavy door close behind her. This realm. Its moon. Its people. Why did they affect her so? She brought her fingers to the collar about her neck and for the first time felt relief at its presence there, heavy and slightly warm to the touch. 

She found Mor in the kitchen on the lower level stirring a pot which hung on a hook over the coals. By a smaller stove, next to the open backdoor, slept a large grey-furred dog.

The kitchen was a vision of both order and chaos. Pots and jars filled every shelf, various knives and other implements hung from holders on the walls, and plants and herbs arranged by colour and size grew from small trough pots in the ledges of the long narrow windows cut high into the walls.

In the centre of the kitchen was a large counter with a bench running along one side. Various boards for chopping, a wide stone bowl, and an array of cut herbs were arranged upon it. The herbs had been sorted into a number of small trimmed bunches.

'Ahhhh, makya.... come in!' said Mor, turning to her. 'Theo will be back soon.  I am making some dragonroot for Jhaan,'

'Dragonroot?'

'Yes, to quicken his healing.' She gestured for her to sit at the large work table.

'Jhaan is hurt?'

'A wound to his leg and some broken bones. Elyon said he will live. But the injury will be slow to heal until he is fully grown.'

Fara felt her heart shrink slightly. 'Please, let me help.' She expected Mor to refuse, but she nodded eagerly, pointing her spoon toward the cut herbs.

'You can make the root base,' she said. 'Take a handful - nay, two - of the one with the largest leaves, and tear them into small pieces.' Fara pointed at the yellowish plant and Mor nodded confirmation. The leaves had a waxy texture but tore easily. 'Now put them into the bowl and crush them with this until we have a paste.' Mor left her pot to hand her a long piece of narrowed stone, one end rounded and flat like a mallet. She demonstrated briefly how to crush it before handing Fara the stone.

There was a puddle of oil in the bowl which brought a sting to her eyes as she began to crush the plant. Though after a few moments its pungency began to dull, or perhaps her senses did.

The yellowish plant was Leafmane, Mor explained, to reduce swelling in Leoth skin tissue. Next, Mor instructed her to count eight leaves from the black plant - Moonsylk - and crush it too into the bowl.

'So Jhaan lives here, at Teredia? With you and Theodan?' She asked Mor as she worked the pummel into the bowl.

'Yes. He is Theodan's Malevohara - steward or aprenti as you say.'

'And the others, the males who brought my bath, they also live here?'

'Nay, nay,' she shook her head. 'Only Khalle lives here. He looks after the repairs, the hunting, and the beasts. The other two,' she made a soft puffing noise. 'They come from the port looking for work. Theo oft gives them it, though I say they should stay in the market and leave us alone.'

So only four Leoth lived in this huge mountaintop home that could easily house one hundred.

'Well, I for one am glad they came looking for work today - for the bath was well enjoyed, Mor, thank you.' Fara smiled and Mor's eyes twinkled softly before she returned her gaze to the pot. 'Mor, may I ask you something else?' She said after a moment.

'Of course.'

She swallowed. 'Theodan told me... about his sight.'

Mor made a sound of surprise. 'Did he now? For all know he does rarely talk of it - he likes to pretend much as though he did not possess the gift at all.'

'Yes,' Fara nodded, 'I noticed. He called it a curse not a blessing....' Gods how to phrase this so that she did not sound like some chambermaid fishing for gossip from the kitchenhand. 'One he had stolen from his sister.' She watched Mor carefully. She stopped stirring and turned to Fara wide-eyed.

'He told you of Kirsa?'

Fara could not place the emotion in her eye: Shock. Grief. Abject sadness?

She held Mor's gaze. 'He told me he stole the sight from his sister. When he... when he killed her.'

'Oh, Theo....' Mor whispered. When it looked as though Mor might cry Fara rose from the work table and went to her. 

'Mor, I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you,' She reached out to take her hand and squeezed it tight in hers. 'I have no desire to pry. I only wanted....' what did she want? To know him? For what purpose? '....to understand him... better.'

Mor's gaze changed suddenly, a ferocity seeping into the milk-white that Fara had not seen in them before. Bright. Protective. She saw a decision made and Mor gave a small nod, before reaching across to remove the pot from the flame. 

She moved to the work table and took a seat, gesturing for Fara to sit across from her. She watched as Mor ripped a handful of leaves from one of the untouched bunches and dropped it into the bowl. Steady capable hands began moving in slow practised motions back and forth.

'Theo's mother, Ishilde, was one of The Anointed Twelve.' Mor said after a pause.

'The Anointed Twelve?'

'The High One's closest companions - and those who ascend when the reign of a thousand moons has passed.'

'The High Visier reigns for a thousand moons?'

'Yes, makya, then a successor is chosen from the Anointed.'

'And Theodan's mother, she was chosen?'

'Many said she would succeed, that she would be chosen, but then...' Mor did not stop circling the pummel, her movements unchanging in pace or direction as she spoke, but Fara saw her mind change direction. A shadow passing over her eyes which darkened them.  'Theo's father was a councillor of the court - relations between the anointed and the council are expressly forbidden. But you must understand, the anointed are not like your priestesses, they are not chaste. The anointed are gifted the Menodice as.....' Mor trailed, searching for the word.

'Concubines?' Fara supplied when it was clear she could not find it.

'Yes, like so.' Mor said. The term did not fit completely it seemed, but would do. 'The Menodice are unable to father children, but they are able to perform the function of a male... in all other ways.' Mor blushed slightly.

'I understand, Mor.' Fara recalled the steel-clad soldiers who had led her to the High Visier's gardens. She recalled the small robed female who had called herself Ismene. These powerful males were used to satisfy the needs of the Visier's close circle? Would Leoth's ways and its people ever stop surprising her?

'It is so for children of those with the gift are a careful matter,' Mor continued. 'Chosen by Him alone. To ensure the sight is passed only where He decrees it.' Mor's voice had taken on a distant tone, as though she were far away, in another time. 'But Ishilde and Quillan were....' she trailed again, unable to find the word again. 

'In love?' Fara offered.

'Disobedient,' Mor corrected, firm. 'When Ishilde discovered she was with child, well it was of course known she had lain with one other than the Menodice. She was questioned under the plenary moon. For if it was found she had been forced, then he who dared despoil one of His own would suffer the greatest of punishments. But Ishilde confessed to all. For her, it was love.' There were tears in Mor's eyes and Fara felt her own cloud with the same.

'The anointed cannot be banished or harmed, but she was expelled from the Visier's charge and Quillan from the court of the moon. His penalty would have been far greater if not for Ishilde's petition, and the High One's mercy.  But Ishilde was not made for the world outside, makya, and Quillan... well... he was not made for matrimony. He was much as Theodan is, with females...with his desires... with his temper.' She gave Fara a look then, one that could have been apology, or even pity.

Fara lowered her eyes from Mor's as something hot and sharp moved through her. It was followed quickly by a deep wave of sadness.

'So then... how did Theodan come to kill his sister for her gift?' She asked, lifting her eyes once more. 'I still do not understand.'

For the first time, Mor's hands stopped their workings. 'Oh he did not, lumiya, he did not.' Mor shook her head fervently, eyes bright now from unshed tears. 'Ishilde carried twins. Kirsa did not make it alive from her body, and Ishilde, well, she blamed Quill and Theo for it. But twas Theo who suffered most, for she could not love him as a childe. 'The male heart consumes all else into its darkness. We are destroyed. You are destruction. All of you.' She would say. So often that I fear he came to believe it.'

Fara let out a breath she did not know she held. Theodan did not kill his sister. Did not steal her sight. He blamed himself for the workings of the Gods. For the decision of the fates. How similar they seemed to her then. Both carrying blame for things they had no hope of changing, things that the Gods had decided long ago.

'He told me... she threw herself from her bedchamber?' Fara whispered.

Mor looked at her in surprise, her gaze curious and sharp. 'That she did. She had gone half to madness before the babes were born, and when Kirsa was pushed from her body a cold dead thing she did not recover from it.'

Tears wept from Fara's eyes then.  'Gods, what sadness dwells here,' she gazed around the kitchen.

'Too much, makya, too much.'

'And his father? He died also?'

'Given to sweetwine and blackyew - he fell from his Varveh into the Xhor wilds days after Theodan was full grown. His body and mind rotten from poison and guilt.' Mor's face had turned hard, her feelings for Theodan's father long sour.

Many moments passed before Fara found any words at all. Theodan's story vivid and loud and painful in her mind. In her heart too. 'Thank you for your candor, Mor,' she said softly. 'I feel as though I do understand him a little better for it.'

Mor gave her a nod, her eyes warm but cautious. 'Keep it safe, lumiya, for I fear he would not be glad of my speaking of it.'

Fara nodded. 'Yes. I fear you are right, Mor. I fear you are right.'

She felt the air change in the room a moment before his deep voice filled it.

'You are wrong, female, for she is rarely right about anything except the tell of the wind.'

Her heart stalled in her chest as she turned to drink in the sight of him. Theodan stood inside the door of the kitchen, his eyes darkly aflame and fixed hard upon her.

He wore a riding vest of worn brown leather atop a tunic the colour of a forest floor. The shade sat well, too well, against the pale of his skin. His cheeks and nose were flushed pink from the ride through the sky. His hair, ruffled by the wind, was swept back from his face.

He had never looked less like a monster, she thought.

He looked like a man.

Memories assaulted her as he moved toward her, an onslaught of sound and feeling, clear as crystal. Sharp teeth scratching with impossible tenderness across her body. Claws which pressed deep into her skin but did not break it. Eyes of pure starlight which lit a fire in her blood.

She felt the bloom of need between her thighs first, then her tongue flooded with a desperate impossible thirst.

Goddess forgive me, what have I done?