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One grunt and the man fell like a sack of rocks.

“Forgive me,” Thomas whispered. He dropped to his knee, ripped the guard's sleeve at the shoulder, and hog-tied him, hands-to-feet behind his back. He tore off the other sleeve and gagged his mouth tightly.

Thomas ran toward the building and flew up the stairs. He spilled onto the roof and crouched behind the railing. Had he torn his garment? He checked, catching his breath. All intact, as far as he could tell.

Speed was now an issue. The guard would wake soon enough and, even bound, might be able to raise enough of a fuss to draw attention.

Thomas ran toward the only stairwell he could see. He pushed the latch on the door. Locked. He studied the latch. It was forest technology. His own design.

He'd designed the lock to secure a door against strong winds, not thieves. A simple bronze bolt held the entire assembly in place. He pulled the pin free. The latch fell into his hand. He set it down and eased the door open.

Dim light filled a narrow stairwell. He slipped in, closed the door behind him, and stood very still.

No sound. The castle slept.

Thomas eased down the steps, pausing with each creak. They may have used forest technology, but the craftsmanship had been hurried.

At the bottom, a balcony ran the perimeter of the top floor. In front of him, a single torch burned between two doors. If he was right, one led to Chelise's bedroom. Only one way to find out which.

He poked his head over the railing, saw the courtyard below was empty, and hurried toward the first door.

Again locked.

Again his design.

Again he dislodged the bolt.

He stepped into the room and pulled the door shut. An oil lamp cast dim light over a large bed. She was in the bed, asleep! Thomas took in the rest of the room with a glance. Doors that led to another balcony. A large armoire on which the lamp sat. A desk with mirror. Long flowing drapes. Horde royalty.

The moment of truth had arrived. If this wasn't Chelise, he might be forced to hog-tie yet one more Scab.

He crept to the bed and leaned over the form under the blanket. She slept with the sheets over her head? He had to see her face to be sure, but the thought of unveiling her while she slept . . .

The floor creaked behind. Something struck his head. He fell forward onto the sleeping form and scrambled to right himself.

The object struck him again, square on the back. This time he grunted.

It occurred to him them, midgrunt, that the form under him wasn't a body at all. Pillows.

The third blow hit his head, and for a moment he thought he might pass out. He managed to find his voice. “It's me! It's Thomas!”

His assailant stopped long enough for Thomas to roll over. There, in the orange lamplight, stood a fully clothed woman.

“Thomas?”

“Chelise!” He sat up, head throbbing. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing!” she whispered. “I'm defending myself.”

“I'm here to help you, not attack you.”

Chelise held an unlit torch in her hands. She glanced at the door. “How did you get in here? You've come to turn yourself in?”

“No. No, I can't do that.”

“Why not? Your escape has landed me in a terrible position. I've been expecting that beast to barge in here all night. I was told that you denied Qurong's demand.”

So it was all true. She understood that her life was in danger.

“If I turn myself in, they'll kill me. Would you want that?”

She lowered the torch.

Thomas stood and faced her. They looked at each other for the first time since she'd last left him in the library. Her face looked beautiful by the lamp's flame.

Thomas stepped toward her and started to lift his hand to her face, then thought better of it. “I've come to rescue you.”

“I don't need rescuing. What I need is for you to turn yourself in to Qurong so that we can put this madness behind us. I should call the guard right now.”

Her dismissal sent a shaft of pain through his chest. His face flushed hot. “Then call the guard.”

“Keep your voice down. You look ridiculous in that morst.”

“You prefer me without it?”

She walked to her desk, set the torch down, and stared into the mirror, which showed nothing in this dim light.

She hadn't called the guard.

“Listen to me, Chelise. You know as well as I do that whatever life you thought you had in this castle is over. Woref will destroy you. If you survive by turning me in, that beast, as you call him, will give you a living death. And if you refuse to cower under his fist, he'll kill you.”

“None of this would have happened without you,” she shot back. “Without you Woref wouldn't be such a pig, and without you I wouldn't be put in this terrible position to choose.”

“Then at least you see that you do have a choice.”

“Between what? Between an animal and an albino? What kind of choice is that?”

He ignored the bite in her words. “Then don't choose either of us. Leave this place and negotiate with your father from a position of strength.”

The notion stalled her. When she spoke again, the edge in her voice had softened. “If I leave with you, Woref would never forgive me.”

“You won't leave with me. I'll take you by force.”

She laughed. “By force? As your prisoner. How can I negotiate with Qurong as your prisoner?”

“We'll think of something. I'll tell Qurong that I want Woref in exchange for you. Something like that. And what would Woref do to possess you?”

“Anything.”

“Exactly. Anything. You see, by leaving you can force their hands. If you stay, your life will be a mess, even if you turn me in.”

A faint smile crossed her face.

“But you have to understand that I have . . .”

How to say this? He suddenly wished he hadn't spoken.

“What?” she demanded.

“That I think I do have feelings for you,” Thomas said. “I can see you feel differently, but I wouldn't feel right taking you out of here without being completely honest about my intentions.”

This time she didn't laugh. “Which are what? To win my love? Then let me be honest with you. I know how you albinos look at us. You find us repulsive. Our breath smells and our skin sickens you. I don't know what kind of adolescent notion has climbed inside your head, but you and I could never be lovers.”

“We could if you drowned.”

“Never.”

Thomas wondered then if he'd made a terrible mistake. But Michal had told him to follow his heart, and his heart was for this woman. Wasn't it? The thought of leaving her terrified him, so yes. His heart was certainly for this woman.

“I don't mean to hurt you,” she was saying. She'd seen his pain. “I'm sorry. But you have your life and I have mine. I'm attracted to men like me. Men with my flesh.”

“Okay.”

“Then you understand?”

“I understand. I don't accept. I think I've seen more in your eyes.”

“Even if there was, I could not act on it.” She stared at him without speaking, then walked to her wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I'm getting what I'll need for a trip to the desert.”

“Then you're coming?”

“As long as you agree to bring me back in exchange for a demand of my choosing.”

“Yes. Agreed.” He suddenly felt antsy again. “You don't need anything. We have to hurry.”

“A woman needs what a woman needs,” she said, quickly placing several items in a leather bag. “There's a tub of morst and some paste on the dresser.”

“Do you really—”

“It's the scented kind I wore in the library. Trust me, you'll be glad I brought it.”

Thomas scooped up the small tub. She walked over and opened her bag. They exchanged a long stare, and he could swear that he was right. There was more behind those eyes than she admitted.

Or maybe not.

“Lead the way,” she said.

He'd been called to the castle in the middle of the night, cause for concern even in peaceful times. Considering the events of the last few days, Woref feared the worst.

This was to do with Chelise; he could feel it. He rode his horse down the street at a steady pace, but his blood was boiling already. There was no greater source of problems in the world than women. They loved and they killed, and even in their loving they killed. Man might do better to remove the temptation from the face of the earth. What good was love at such a terrible price?

He dismounted, walked into the foyer, and drew back his hood.

“Woref.” Qurong waited just inside the courtyard. “So glad my trusted general could make it.”

Woref lowered his head in respect.

“I was just awakened by some very bad news,” Qurong said. He was being too coy for this to be anything but horrible news. “One of your guards was found bound by the back fence.”

Thievery?

“He said that a man pretending to speak like a woman dropped over the fence, claimed to be your concubine, and knocked him out. A little while later, he returned with another woman and knocked him out again.”

“I assure you, sir, he's lying. I have no concubine.”

“I don't care about your lies, General! The second woman was my daughter. Chelise is gone!” He said it slowly and with a trembling voice.

“How—”

“The first ‘woman' was Thomas, you idiot!”

“Thomas of Hunter,” Woref said. “He took her.” Or did she go willingly?

“The guard said she was being forced. Thomas told him to relay that his demand would be forthcoming. He will release Chelise when we comply.”

She's gone willingly,
Woref thought. His face flushed but he didn't show his anger.

“Now it's your life at stake,” the supreme leader said. “If one hair on my daughter's head is harmed, I will hold you responsible. You told her she would be drowned, knowing full well that I would never drown her.
You
said it would teach her a lesson, and
you
leaked a word to call Thomas's bluff. Now she's gone.”

“We aren't without recourse, my lord. I've received word that my men are closing in on his tribe. He won't have the only bargaining chip.”

Qurong looked at him skeptically.

“They're without their leaders,” Woref said. “I've sent reinforcements. They can't escape an entire division.”

“It's Chelise I want, not a pack of albinos!”

“You will have Chelise. But only if I will have her!”

Qurong scowled. “Find her!”

28

H
e tried, but he couldn't sleep. And he wouldn't dream, not until he had won her love, he decided. The virus would likely kill him in a few days' time in the other reality, and he couldn't allow that to interfere with this drama unfolding here. He would simply eat the rhambutan fruit every night. A week, a month, whatever it took. When he finally did dream, only hours would have passed where he now slept at the White House.

He leaned against the rock beside Suzan, gazing at Chelise, who slept ten yards from them.

“For goodness' sake, sleep, Thomas,” Suzan whispered. “It'll be light soon.”

“I'm not tired.”

“You will be. And you're bothering me, sitting like that.”

“You're jealous?”

“Of her? If you were another man, perhaps—no disrespect, but my heart is taken.”

Surprise turned his full attention to Suzan. “Oh? You've never said anything.”

“Some things are best kept quiet.”

“Who is it?”

“I won't say. But you know him.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “I have to say, though, this new Thomas is quite impressive.”

“There's nothing new about me.”

“I've never known you to lie awake gazing at a sleeping woman who doesn't love you. Or act so interested in who I love. I've always thought you cared more about swinging a sword than wooing a woman.”

“Obviously you've never known me. I wooed Rachelle in the colored forest, didn't I?” He looked at the stars. “Those were the days when romance was thick in the air.”

“I was too young to remember,” she said quietly.

“Not anymore.”

“So I take it you're giving in to this impulse,” she said. “Wholeheartedly.”

Thomas avoided a direct response. “We were born for the Great Romance.”

“Of course.”

“I am only following my heart.”

“Maybe I could show you a few things myself, Sir Poet,” Suzan said.

“Then reveal your man to us and let us watch how you court each other.”

“Listen to you. You're even speaking like a poet.”

He grinned. “Nonsense. I always wax eloquent. My word was once my sword, but now it's this song of love for the fair maiden who lies hither. Or is it thither?”