"You are cold." Lucian was staring intently at my lips that were no doubt blue and cracked from the cold.

I felt the heat well up into my wind-hewn cheeks. I nodded, but looked hesitantly to where the others had disappeared, into the hall to feed the fat little abbot no doubt. Lucian, ever observant, noticed my unwillingness to participate in entertaining the new arrival.

"Perhaps you'd like to accompany me for a little walk? I'm of a mind to go hawking of a sudden." He smirked mordantly, but I sensed instinctively the irony of it was directed at the balding pate of the monastic little wretch who had, thankfully, disappeared from view.

"Aye, I should like that very much," I smiled diffidently. Falconry was one of the few hunting sports I most enjoyed. Suddenly I was not so cold.

Actually, I was of an irenic mind just now — the mutual dislike of the abbot having somehow sparked a small affinity between us and I was feeling rather disposed toward my husband-to-be.

"Go fetch Diana. I shall meet you at the gate anon."

"You know who Diana is?" I inquired, struck by his perceptiveness. I was surprised that he knew my little merlin's name.

"Aria, I have made it my business to know as much as possible about the woman I intend to marry." I tucked a jetty lock of stray hair behind my ear, nodding my understanding. "Go," he repeated with a nod, though not unkindly.

I rushed to my room, carefully transferred Diana to my gloved wrist, and then made my way to the gate as per our arrangement. Lucian was already waiting for me when I arrived. His large, hooded gerfalcon sat perched atop his wrist patiently, her stunning white feathers speckled with dark brown spots, like freckles, down the back of her crown and back. Her breast and belly was an unblemished alabaster, her talons and nostrils as yellow as Diana's, and the ridge of her beak a strange shade of pearly blue that progressively became black toward the cutting edge of her mandible.

Both the man and his falcon were large and intimidating — a daunting pair — and I hoped my sweet little merlin could keep up with the mighty gerfalcon, for I was sure I would not measure up to Lucian's expectations; my skill as a falconer was nowhere near as impressive as I knew his to be.

We decided to head into the forest on foot. The day was mild and the wind much becalmed since the blizzard that had swept through five days ago. The snow had thinned out a little and we picked our way along a known hunting route. When Lucian was satisfied with the distance we had traveled, in companionable silence, he stopped and carefully deposited his bird on a nearby branch before walking over to me.

He passed me a bladder of watered wine as I too transferred Diana to a nearby bough. As I drank my fill, I watched him run a long finger gently down the length of Diana's back, whispering encouragement to her. Why should it be that I could feel that same finger caressing my own shoulders and his hushed words whispering into my ear? Settle down, Aria! I rolled my eyes at my own absurdity.

"Beautiful," he murmured, twisting around to look at me briefly ere he continued his attentive handling of her.

I studied the plains of his stately profile and grinned sheepishly. "Indeed," I agreed softly.

This was by no means the first time I had so openly appreciated his form, but I realized that I was becoming less vexed each time I caught myself doing so. I could enjoy the graceful curve of a falcon's breast, and the sinewy strength of a stallion's flanks. Why then did I feel like a voyeur each time I appraised the man I would shortly marry.

It seemed that the longer I stood here satiating my thirst with the wine I'd been given, my desire to watch him became proportionately whetted by the same degree. Enough! I shook my head of the silly notion and replaced the water bag into his possession. That done, he removed his falcon's leather hood. Her eyes were large, dark pools that forthwith began adjusting and scanning the surrounding trees and fields.

I too removed Diana's hood and then noticed that Lucian and his bird had became very attentive, both peering motionlessly ahead, like hounds, as if seeing what I could not. In a flash of white the gerfalcon took instantly to the air, her jesses trailing wildly behind her as she shot into the sky. I admired her large wingspan as she surveyed the bright ground from her aerial advantage. She was not as fleet of wing as Godwin's peregrine, but I yet marveled at the sure agility with which she maneuvered herself through the air.

Abruptly she dove headlong toward the ground where she tackled her unsuspecting prey, the high-pitched and terrified shriek of a small mammal rending the silence. The distance was such that I could not, at first, make out what type of animal, though I had my suspicions, she had maimed with her powerful talons, but Lucian and I swiftly attained the top of the snowbank where she sat tearing at a fattened, snowy rabbit.

Lucian knelt down beside her, unsheathing his dagger, and sliced into the ermine-like pelt. When he had cut out the little heart, he offered the fair share to her — his regal hunting partner — before stowing the rest of the carcass away in a sack. I admired the powerful lines of his back as he worked assuredly at the rabbit. He seemed not aware of my perusal and I thought I could watch him all day when he was this relaxed and intent on his task. Although he both fascinated and frightened me, I believe it was the fascination that held more sway over me these days.

It was the infinite dualism of my betrothed that captured my interest — quite against my will, but a fact all the same. He was both hot and cold, confident and reticent; and then, similarly, fearsome and alluring all at once. No creature confused me more than he!

No sooner had I finished this thought than Lucian turned and smiled at me. He seldom did so with such carefree abandon that I was stunned anew by his winsome features, more accustomed to his smirks and disinterested brevity. But here was a man who seemed finally at ease with himself — a hawk unfettered by jesses and free of his gilded cage. I realized then that he and I shared far more in common than I had scarce allowed myself to comprehend. We were both wild raptors restrained by fate and duty.

"Thank you, Lucian." I was suddenly overwhelmed by the perfect beauty of this moment.

He made no answer except to cock his head bemusedly, which I found at once endearing and charming.

"I cannot remember ever being happier or more content than I am right now."

My words seemed not to affect him at first, but I quickly noticed the subtle change in color as blood suffused his cheeks piecemeal. He never blushed, and that he did so now incited me to strange urges that I quickly squelched. I could not lie to myself; I wanted very much to kiss him suddenly. This thought instantly stained my own cheeks, so that we were now two blushing raptors busying ourselves with the trivial tasks that we suddenly deemed very important.

"You're welcome," he said at last, his mouth curved imperceptibly as he coaxed the gerfalcon back onto his gauntlet while I stood weighing his character distractedly. At the sound of Lucian's voice, I had flushed again unexpectedly which confounded me all the more. Wherefore should the sound of his voice cause my flesh to react? I disliked being confused!

After a short while, we continued on as soundlessly as before through the powder to continue hawking. Diana managed to capture a plump partridge and the larger falcon garnered two more kills, a snipe and a stoat, before we turned back, satisfied with the outcome of our successful hunt.

Though I had been perturbed by the thought of Lucian's bird outperforming mine, Diana had done well and my betrothed had seemed impressed by her agility and form. I decided, therefore, not to consider the gerfalcon as more competent than my little merlin, but that Lucian's falcon had supplemented Diana's lack by capturing the stoat in our stead; as though to honor her master by sustaining his bride. That concept did much to agitate my innards — a welcome but unsettling thought.

The silence had grown taut between us the last hour of our outing, as the sun had descended from her perch in a glorious display of autumnal plumage. The lack of conversation had been understandable — since we had not wished to alert the prey to our presence — however, this acute awareness of him was utterly disconcerting. I wished to attribute it solely to my fear of him, but I knew this to be no longer the case.

I darted a nervous look at Lucian, who had been so taciturn throughout the latter part of our impromptu excursion and was now watching me as keenly as I pretended to study the woods.

"Will you tell me now about the Beast In The Woods?" Being here in the forest with him, moreover, in such a companionable manner, had reminded me of that night in his chamber, before he'd left Nørrdragor all those years ago.

"You still remember that night?" he asked, seemingly pleased that I did.

Little did he know how well I did recall it. He had comforted a lost and lonely girl when she had needed it most. I would never forget it, nor the story he'd told me then. "I do." With a shy smile I went on, "And I am far more fluent now than I was then, do not you think?"

"So you are," he agreed. "A promise is a promise, but I am afraid you will not think it worth the years you were forced to anticipate it." Nevertheless he recited the verse and I listened as his deep voice poured over me the while I walked beside him.

"He stalks o'er the shadowed night;

He is that which calls the moon.

The Wolf devours all the light...

From flesh of men their bone hast hewn.



Guard your kin, but pay the price —

Cede to him thy worldly goods.

In darkness leave yon sacrifice:

For the beast that roams the woods."

It was a morbid verse, but it had been worth the wait. I saw now why it would not have sounded the same in my old tongue, and why he had not told me then.

"I have something for you."

"Oh?" I angled a glance at him and tugged self-consciously at an unruly lock at my temple.

"Tis an early wedding gift," he offered hesitantly, "In sooth, a Christmas present." He then grasped the back of his head in consternation, his manner noticeably agitated. "I suppose it is...a little of both actually."

I compressed my lips to hide my smile. He was always so self-assured that I found it curious to see him slightly flustered. I wondered what it might be; this gift he had in mind.

We deposited the afternoon's plentitude at the kitchen entrance, much to the cook's delight — I suppose the old abbot was already syphoning off the larder's contents. I managed a hasty return to the courtyard, as per prior agreement, once I'd delivered my merlin, and her meaty treats, back to her perch in my chamber.

"This way." Lucian indicated the direction of the stables, and ghosted his hand over the small of my back as we descended the steps of the main entrance.

The stables were a veritable flurry of activity when we arrived; the grooms and farriers were seeing to the new arrivals and the marshal was directing the scene as though he were a master orchestrator — which essentially he was.

Lucian lead me towards his destrier's stall and I stared, in awe, at the large black charger, Cadeyrn. I had always been intimidated by Cadeyrn, rightly so, for he was a fierce and unmanageable beast. He was so unpredictable that he had once knocked his farrier unconscious without the slightest warning. The beast had seemed to purposefully lull the poor man into a sense of trusting confidence, before he got it into his head to wreak mischievous havoc.

The ornery horse had practically sneered with glee as the incapacitated farrier, having taken an iron hoof to the skull, had been hauled away to safety. This I had been told by Thomas not long ago, so I remained uncertain of whether or not the rumor might indeed hold merit. I was glad of it when Lucian lead me past that particular pen and into the one beside it. He opened the stall door and ushered me inside.

Cadeyrn's cheerful neighbor was the polar opposite in both temperament and color. They were as day and night, in fact.

"This is Hagan." Lucian ran a firm hand along the horse's flanks and then took my gloved hand in his to place it against the palfrey's snowy neck. It was a most magnificent creature that stood before me. He had gorgeous lines and a pristine coat which I lovingly ran my hands through, having just removed one glove, to better luxuriate in the creamy softness of his beautiful mane.

"You're a handsome boy," I whispered affectionately to Hagan, who nickered his thanks quietly. "Such a gentleman too."

"He's yours," Lucian murmured. I whipped my head around to him. He stood observing me quietly, a strange sense of wariness tightening his eyes.

"Mine?" I asked uncertainly. He confirmed this with a curt nod.

As I assimilated his meaning, I was beset with a paroxysm of gratitude which I expressed by throwing myself recklessly at him; my eyes welling in elation. It was all so spontaneous that, when I peeked up at him, he was momentarily taken aback — his mouth agape and a confused frown marring his brow.

In that moment I didn't care that he was still so much a stranger to me and that I still understood him but little for I did not care about anything except my having a desperate need to express my impromptu appreciation; however ill-considered.

I pulled away quickly, an embarrassed flush working its way into my moistened cheeks, before I realized he was bringing his arms up to reciprocate, but my awkward reaction — my hasty retreat —ruined the intimate gesture and he dropped his hands to his side uselessly. Hiding my gauche unsophistication, I nuzzled my cheek against Hagan's neck and shut my eyes tightly.

"Thank you, Lucian," I whispered softly. "This truly is the copestone to a perfect day!" I looked back at him a moment later, my cheeks still aflame, and noticed that his cautious gaze of before had now become a curious sort of wolfish expression.

"It is my pleasure, Aria, believe me."

"I..." What did I wish to say? I felt as though I wanted to respond in kind, but I had no idea how I might do so.

"You are not pleased?" Lucian seemed confused by my frown and my swift change of mood. I immediately reassured him.

"No! That is to say, I am! Very much so; I love him! He is beautiful, truly. I only wish I would have thought to..."

"There is something you can give me," he assured me when I did not finish my thought.

I bit my lip expectantly, curious as what he might suggest. I had no special talent that he might benefit from. My needlework was nowhere near as skilled as Anne's, I was only marginally proficient at the harp — those that cared to attend me when I played seemed content enough to listen — and my voice was only moderately pleasant to an untrained ear, if I was being kind. In what way might I possibly reciprocate in kind?

"Tell me," I said enthusiastically. Innocently.

"A kiss, Aria...just a kiss." He regarded me with a curious intensity, as if he expected me to balk at the idea.

But I was never to know what my reaction might have been, for in that instant Caine came barreling through the stable's main thoroughfare; I had never seen him so...anxious.

"Lucian! Come!" he wheezed. "Our uncle has arrived."

I turned back to Lucian, bewildered, and noticed how his face became subtly hostile by degrees; his stony features darkening as if a thundercloud were settling ominously over his countenance.



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