Several days had passed since the raiders had left Goblintown in search of the White Horror's hoard. Though she hated to admit it, the advice Fenrir had given Elmeria about staying in their room as much as possible to avoid tempting any of the goblins unnecessarily was good advice and she followed it, only leaving when in company with Mitzi. She still had a lot of looks directed at her when she did go out into the city, some hateful, some lustful, some a combination of the two, but Mitzi's presence at her side seemed enough to deter even the boldest goblins. This apparent respect for her companion piqued her curiosity, leading her to ask Mitzi about it.

  "They not- they do not want ...to make Chief angry," Mitzi expined haltingly. Over the st few days she had begun trying to improve her Kharovian with a single-minded determination by which Elmeria could not help but be impressed.

  "But some of them hate me so much you'd think they'd be willing to take the risk."

  Mitzi shook her head. "I am one of Chief- the Chief's daughters. If I go say they disobeyed order, they in big trouble."

  Elmeria stopped short in surprise. "So you're like a princess in your culture?"

  "What is a princess?" Mitzi asked, cocking her head to one side.

  "The daughter of a king or a ruler, kind of like a chief," Elmeria expined. "They hold quite a bit of power themselves, or at least favored positions in human society."

  "Oh." Mitzi took a moment to think about that. "I not really important like that. Chief Shazrak has many daughters, many sons. It just- I mean, it is just that if I want to talk with Chief he will listen to me. Believe me, usually."

  "Oh."

  Silence fell for a moment. They were on their way back from the dining hall, where they had just had lunch. Elmeria was getting better at ignoring the fact that her outfit made a mockery of the concept of modesty, but she still felt self-conscious in anything approaching a crowd, so they had waited until mid-afternoon to eat. Sometimes Mitzi went alone and brought back food for the both of them, but Elmeria could only stand being cooped up in their room for so long before she felt she needed to get out. There had been precious little to do in the room, though Mitzi had done her best to keep them both entertained.

  They were almost to their room when they heard shouting. Mitzi asked a question in Gobbish to a goblin running past and got a short reply which made her turn on her heel to follow, saying to Elmeria as she did so, "They back!"

  No more expnation was necessary. Together the two women hurried down through the stagmite and out to the edge of the city, where they were just in time to witness the triumphant procession of the raiders down the ledge along the edge of the cavern, returning well den with loot taken from the White Horror's hoard. But though Fenrir should have been instantly obvious, Elmeria could find no sign of him among the goblins.

  "Where is he?" she asked Mitzi, even though she knew the young goblin could have no more idea than herself.

  Mitzi just shrugged, concern shining in her soft blue eyes, and together they followed the horde of cheering goblins into the stagmite. Most of the raiding party split off to take their loot elsewhere, but the crowd, Elmeria included, followed Chief Shazrak into the throne room/amphitheater, where they all took seats in the tiered rows facing the thrones. Mitzi pulled Elmeria to a seat fairly close to the front.

  Shazrak waited until most of the goblins had found their seats, then raised a hand for silence. Gesturing to the few pieces of loot which had been brought into the amphitheater with them and then pced before the thrones, he shouted something in Gobbish. In response, the goblins raised their voices in a cheer which nearly deafened Elmeria. He gave them some time to celebrate, then raised his hand for silence again. After a short speech which raised another deafening round of appuse, his eyes fell on Elmeria and Mitzi, and sighing, he motioned for them to stand and approach.

  Elmeria did not wait for him to speak. "Where is he? What happened?"

  Shazrak's face dispyed honest sorrow as he replied, "Your master did not return from the mountain when he went to distract the White Horror. We waited as long as we dared, but there was no sign of him."

  "He dead?!" This outburst came from Mitzi, who was looking at the chief with horrified eyes.

  Shazrak shrugged. "We do not know. It is unlikely that he could have survived the White Horror, but I myself was once left for dead in that realm and I survived. He is much stronger than I was at that time. Even as I am now, I do not know for certain that I could defeat him in a fair contest, and I admit it without shame. If he lives, he may yet find his way back to us. I have left scouts at the far side of the nd of the Big-Legs, but we dare not search more closely until the White Horror's anger has subsided, and that may take a long time."

  Elmeria barely heard the chief's response. The sinking sensation in her stomach that had first appeared when she had failed to spot him among the returning raiders seemed now to open into a gigantic hole that swallowed her whole, leaving her in free-fall. He had seemed so strong, so self-assured. Sure, she had been worried, but looking back, she had never really expected him to die to the White Horror. More words were being said, but she did not hear. Dimly, she felt someone pulling her away, and she did not resist.

  It wasn't until they were in the corridor outside his room that she became aware that it was Mitzi who was guiding her along. They entered the room and Mitzi guided her to the bed where she sat down woodenly, still trying to grasp the concept of Fenrir's death. There was a strange mist over her surroundings, and when she blinked, something hot and wet spshed onto her hands. She was crying.

  The realization jolted some life back into her. She, Elmeria Levantine, Saintess of the Light, Archbishop of the Church of Marstolle, was crying over the death of a Dark-race? Hastily she attempted to wipe the tears away. Mitzi offered her a clean cloth, and she took it gratefully, gncing up at the goblin's pale, drawn face as she did. Betedly she realized that Mitzi also had reason to mourn the death of Fenrir, far more than herself. The little goblin's fortitude in the face of her loss shamed Elmeria, and she redoubled her efforts to bring herself under control.

  They sat in silence for some time, both wrapped in their own thoughts. Eventually Elmeria roused herself enough to walk over to the washbowl, which had previously been procured at her request, and washed her face. While she was doing this, Mitzi also walked over and id something on the table next to her.

  One gnce was enough to identify the object. There was no mistaking it, even though she had never seen one before. There on the table before her y a Key of Apollyon.

  "It yours," Mitzi murmured.

  Slowly, Elmeria picked it up and examined it, turning it over and over in her hands.

  "The chief find- found it during the raid. It yours now, since..." Mitzi trailed off.

  A small part of Elmeria registered surprise that the goblin chief should keep his word even after the one to whom he made the promise was almost certainly dead, but most of her felt numb and sluggish. It seemed to take a long time for her to realize what the artifact in her hands meant.

  However, eventually it sunk in. She was free now, free to return to Ruyanei and her old life. Fate had even conspired to rid her of Fenrir without her having to lift a finger. But somehow she could not muster any joy or even relief at her fortune. She dropped the Key on the table as if it had burned her. It nded with a dull clunk and did not bounce.

  Tears blurred her eyes again. It was cruel that she should have exactly what she wanted given to her, but only after she no longer wanted it. There was no longer any way to lie to herself. Somehow, in some twisted way, she had come to care for Fenrir.

  She had fallen after all.

  The woman was coming back. She liked the woman; her quiet manner, her gentle and soothing voice, her eyes that seemed to understand. When the woman talked to her, sometimes it reminded her of- no, she didn't like to remember. Instead, she focused on the woman.

  This time she had brought food. She liked the food too, even if it always seemed to be missing something. The woman was speaking to her now. She listened contentedly; her voice was always so pleasant. This time it was edged with worry, but the woman still had the comforting smile, so she didn't worry.

  While she was eating the woman went over to the other woman. The other woman had ears more like hers, only they were even bigger. The other woman also spent all of her time sleeping. She wondered why. Maybe she didn't want to remember either. She didn't remember things when she was sleeping; maybe the other woman didn't either. The other woman also had two tails, which were very soft and very fluffy. She sometimes ran her hands through them just to feel them. Her own tail was soft, too, but it was much thinner and less fun to py with.

  The woman didn't have a tail, and her ears were small strange things on the sides of her head. Sometimes her hair covered them. She wore big dresses that had made her trip when the woman had tried to put them on her. The woman didn't trip on them though, even when she hurried. Right now she was looking at the other woman and doing the things she always did when she came to visit them. She didn't know why the woman did the things, but it didn't seem to hurt the other woman. She had done the things to herself once as well, exactly the way the woman did it, and it hadn't hurt, but she still didn't know why the woman would do it.

  Usually once she had done the things, the woman would leave again with the empty dishes, but this time she opened the door to let someone else into the room. It wasn't the first time; every now and then a man would come in with her and look at both of them for a while and say things. His voice wasn't as pleasant as the woman's, but it didn't have any of the sharp edges of- no, she didn't like to remember that either.

  This was a different man, one she had not seen before. This new man looked old and tired, even though his hair had no gray in it. He looked as though he were used to being obeyed, and she wanted to hide when he looked at her. He talked with the woman, and his voice was hard and tired, and it sounded sad. Then he looked at her again, and tried to smile. There was something in his face when he looked at her that made a lump rise in her throat and tears come to her eyes. She didn't like it, so she looked at the woman instead. The woman didn't make her feel like that, even when her face was sad. The man didn't stay long though. Soon it was just her and the woman and the other woman.

  The woman was talking to her again. She sounded worried, and her face was worried too. She wished the woman wouldn't be so worried. She liked it better when the woman smiled.

  The door opened again, and two more women came in. They were dressed in clothes with big white aprons, and they helped the woman move the other woman onto a frame with a cloth stretched over it. Two men came in and lifted the other woman with the frame and carried her out of the room. Then the woman put a cloak on her, and led her out as well, following the two men carrying the other woman. They put her in a carriage, and the woman helped her in and got in herself. Then the carriage rolled away, taking them all somewhere away from the big stone building where they had been. She felt a little worried, but the woman was talking again and her voice was calm and soothing. As long as the woman was there everything would be okay.

  The goblins celebrated their successful raid well into the night. Elmeria could hear occasional snatches of celebration, but neither she nor Mitzi made any move to join the festivities. Elmeria sat staring at the Key lying innocently on the tabletop before her. An unreasoning hatred rose within her for it and the dilemma it forced upon her. With it, she could leave. She could go home, back to Ruyanei and the life she had built for herself. But to do so would mean leaving Fenrir behind, never knowing if he really was dead, and somehow leaving Apollyon now felt like giving up all hope that he was still alive, a hope she knew she should not be entertaining in the first pce. But how could she go back without finding out for certain? And if a being as strong as Fenrir couldn't escape the White Horror, what hope did she have, helpless as she was, of finding him under its very nose?

  Unless... A snatch of a conversation she had had with Fenrir came back to her suddenly.

  "If we assume that holding a Key of Apollyon restores that connection, that would solve the problem of magic..."

  She straightened abruptly. Did holding a Key give her her magic back? Almost hesitantly she reached out and picked the Key up again. It felt warm and heavy in her hand. Taking a deep breath, Elmeria attempted to ready a fireball, one of the simplest spells she knew.

  Light and heat blossomed in her free hand as the fireball erupted into being just above her palm. Sitting back heavily and allowing the fireball to wink out of existence, she sent a silent but fervent prayer of thanks to Marstolle.

  This changed everything. With access to her magic restored there was little she need fear, even if her csses were more support based than Citrinas'. The dragon would probably still pose a threat, but she was confident she could elude or defeat it now that she once again had her magic. No longer was she at the mercy of the whims of fate.

  She turned to Mitzi, who was watching her with wide eyes. "You make fire," the goblin managed in a dumbfounded tone. "In your hand."

  "Yes," Elmeria nodded. "I can use my magic again."

  Mitzi's eyes went even wider. "Magic? Like in stories?"

  "I don't know. Probably. A lot of people in Ruyanei have magic," Elmeria expined, a little impatiently. "Listen, I need to talk to your chief as soon as possible."

  Mitzi cocked her head in puzzlement. "Why?" she asked.

  "I need to know how to reach the White Horror."

  Understanding flooded Mitzi's face. "Follow me," she said simply, and turned towards the door.

  They found Chief Shazrak in the main hall, still celebrating, but when Mitzi and Elmeria asked him for a word, he obligingly got up and led them to a retively quiet antechamber. When Elmeria asked him for directions to the White Horror's realm, he understood instantly.

  He gave her a long keen look, then said, "I can see you will not be dissuaded. It seems Fenrir knew what he was about with you and your training. Very well, I have agreed to give you an escort to wherever you may wish to go, and so I will take you to the center of Apollyon, to the portal which leads into the White Horror's realm. But from there on, you will be on your own. Is this acceptable to you?"

  Elmeria bristled at the chief's reference to her training, mostly because of the uncomfortable amount of truth it held, but she did not waste time trying to refute his statement. Instead, she asked, "How soon can we start?"

  "We can leave at eight chimes. It is quite a distance, so I recommend you get what rest you can."

  Elmeria wanted to argue for starting right away, but when she remembered the hostile conditions of the pin above she reluctantly conceded to the chief's pn.

  The conversation seemingly over, Elmeria turned to leave, but then Mitzi spoke in Gobbish. The dark elf gnced back, noted the pleading expression on the small goblin's face as she looked at Shazrak, and stopped. Whatever Mitzi was talking about, it clearly meant a lot to her. While the particurs of the conversation went entirely over her head, she could see that Shazrak seemed at first surprised and then reluctant, as if attempting to dissuade his daughter, while Mitzi maintained the same tones of anxious entreaty. At st Shazrak shrugged helplessly and said something in a defeated tone, and Mitzi's face broke out into a grateful smile.

  Once they were in the halls on the way back to their room, Elmeria asked about Mitzi's conversation with the chief.

  "I want- no, I wanted to come along," Mitzi expined. "Even if he is dead, I want to know."

  Elmeria nodded, and said no more. She understood that perfectly. The fact that she didn't know for certain whether he was dead constantly gnawed at her, a guilty little beacon of hope that was time and again buried under the certainty of despair, only to flicker to life again once her pessimism subsided. It seemed as if her life could not continue until she knew beyond a doubt, one way or the other.

  She and Mitzi packed what they needed quickly. Mitzi had stopped on the way back to their room to grab a satchel for each of them, and it was into these that they pced the items they wanted to take along. Elmeria changed back into the clothing she had been wearing when she had banished Fenrir and herself, and after a moment's hesitation, packed the outfit Fenrir had picked out for her carefully into her satchel.

  Afterwards, she found that she didn't remember most of the journey. The gigantic shelves and their equally titanic books caught her attention, as did the empty city in the center of the bottomless chasm, but most of the time she was too consumed by worry and wild specutions as to what she might find in the realm of the White Horror to notice her surroundings, relying instead on Shazrak and his small party of goblin warriors to guide her and Mitzi to their destination.

  At the edge of the chasm and the bridge which crossed it they found the scouts Shazrak had left there to watch for any signs of Fenrir, and there they found someone else as well. The scouts had pitched their camp back under the shadow of one of the gargantuan shelves where they could still command a view of the bridge and the nd surrounding it without being too easily seen themselves, and when Shazrak's party approached, Fenrir rose from the small cookfire around which he and two of the scouts had been sitting.

  Elmeria caught her breath as the now familiar bck figure turned and rose to meet them. Thanksgiving flooded her heart. He was not dead! Beside her Mitzi gave a gd little cry and ran forward. Dimly, Elmeria was aware of the excited jabbering of the goblins that surrounded her, but she had eyes and ears only for the tall, broad form of the Dark-race she had so recently hated with such a passion.

  Fenrir stooped to receive and return Mitzi's hug, then with a few words to her he disengaged himself and stepped forward to stand some ten feet from Elmeria. His posture suggested caution, and his eyes as they rested on her were keen, but guarded.

  As for Elmeria, she was suddenly unsure of herself. Every half-baked pn she had hatched on the way here had all been concerned with finding him; she had never put any thought into what she would do once she did. Now that he stood before her, she had no idea how to say the things she wanted to say. And why was he being so aloof? It was as if they were strangers again. But she had to say something.

  "So, you're still alive." Even as the words left her mouth, Elmeria inwardly cringed at them. She had never been any good at expressing her feelings, but that had sounded as though she pced no more importance on his life than she did the passing vagaries of the weather, and there was always that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she shouldn't be happy he was still alive.

  The hint of a smile touched the corner of his lips. "Yes. Unfortunately, I didn't quite manage to get myself eaten."

  Elmeria flushed. "Well, good," she said mely.

  A momentary silence rose between them which was quickly broken by Chief Shazrak. "I am gd to see you still live," he said, and he looked it. "We gained even more than I had hoped for due to the distraction you provided. As was agreed, finding the Key you sought was made a priority, and our search was a success. The Key was given to your sve when you did not return."

  Fenrir nodded, barely taking his eyes from Elmeria. "So I have heard. I am gd the raid was a success."

  Shazrak frowned slightly in puzzlement and gnced between the direwolf and the dark elf. Evidently he sensed there was more going on than he knew, because he stepped back to await patiently the outcome of the strange standoff.

  "Well," Fenrir said, "You now once again have the means to destroy me. Shall we renew the duel we started in the dungeon of your Cathedral?"

  Elmeria swallowed. She should say yes. She should destroy him and all the goblins around them. She still didn't actually know what had happened up on the Kharvionas Pass, but she knew an entire company of the Vigil of Marstolle had vanished, and that he had had something to do with it. She knew he had come to the capital and sent his high elf to infiltrate the Cathedral for gods only knew what purpose. And even if none of that were true, the simple fact that he was a Dark-race was enough to condemn him to death in the eyes of many, a number which had included herself not so very long ago. But her lips would not form the words of condemnation she knew she ought to utter.

  She couldn't do it. She knew she had the power to kill him; after all, she had a Key and he didn't. One well-pced spell would be all it would take, but in this moment she realized she would never be able to cast that spell. In a frenzy born of the intensity of the emotion that surged suddenly within her, she tore the Key from where it hung around her neck and threw it at the feet of the one who had so quickly and easily turned her entire life upside down.

  "Take it," she choked out. "I can't- I-" Then words failed her, and turning away, she buried her face in her arms, trying desperately to hold back the tears which threatened to fall.

  An instant ter, strong warm arms were encircling her and a deep and gentle voice was murmuring words of comfort into her ears. It was too much. Turning towards him and burying her face in his fur, she gave way to her anguish of spirit with deep trembling sobs that wracked her entire body.

  It seemed like a long time before she regained control of herself, but if Fenrir tired of holding and comforting her, he gave no sign of it. Eventually, she pushed herself away a little so she could look up at him. "So what now?" she asked, trying to wipe the tears from her face.

  "Now..." Fenrir paused and sighed. "Now I have to do something which I don't much want to do. No matter how I look at it, letting you go back to Ruyanei like this holds too much risk for me."

  "So... what? Will you leave me here?"

  "No, your protracted absence would be disastrous as well. I'm going to brand you with a Mark of Submission."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means you will be unable to harm me or disobey my orders. It also seals away your powers so you can't use them without permission."

  Elmeria drew away a little. "But I don't-"

  "I know," Fenrir interrupted. "What I'll do is give you bnket permission to use your abilities so long as they don't harm me or any of my followers. I also have several other commands, but the short of it is that this is the only way I can be sure that you won't betray me, by accident or design."

  "I wouldn't do that," Elmeria said, frowning.

  "I don't really believe you would either, not anymore, but too much is at stake to leave it to chance. You'll have to go back to the capital and assuage the concerns of everyone who knows about what happened, and the chances of you accidentally slipping up, especially around the other Saintesses, are simply too great."

  Elmeria remained silent, thinking. After a moment, Fenrir spoke again. "If you do choose to submit to me, you become one of my own. That means that in return for your loyal service, I will do my best to take care of you, to keep you safe and happy. I will not lie to you, I have never used my Mark of Submission before. There may be effects of which I am not cognizant. I do know it is an ability born of the Light, not of the Dark, but whether being possessed by a Dark-race has changed it I do not know."

  "Do I have a choice?" Elmeria asked. The sound of the Mark frightened her, but in some strange way it excited her, too. There was something very tempting in the thought of giving up all the responsibility that constantly rested on her shoulders and simply obeying the direwolf. He was strong, capable, fearless even, and there was something compelling about him which seemed to pull her towards him and made her trust that if only she submitted, he would protect her from any danger.

  "I will not force you. If you really do not wish to give yourself to me in so complete a fashion, we may be able to find another way."

  Elmeria buried her face in the soft fur of his chest again, thinking. The Elmeria of a week ago would not even have considered accepting such an offer, but the Elmeria of a week ago had not felt these strong arms about her, holding her ever so tenderly, making her feel safer and more loved than she could ever remember feeling. The Elmeria of a week ago had viewed Dark-races as a pgue or a particurly nasty species of insect, not as the people she had come to understand they really were.

  The Elmeria of a week ago, she realized, no longer existed.

  A pang shot through her as she remembered the oath she had taken as a priestess of Marstolle. Would submitting to him be betraying her goddess? Certainly most if not all of the church's clergy would think so. After all, Marstolle stood as the primary symbol of the Light, the first name on any padin's lips when fighting Dark forces. To give herself to a Dark-race would be to make a mockery of her faith.

  ...But no, that wasn't right. In none of her teachings did Marstolle actually say a word against Dark-races. She deplored cruelty and suffering and directed her followers to mitigate it where they could, but it was the church that had twisted her words into an anti-Dark sentiment. Hadn't they? It was hard to separate out from what she had learned the parts which had come from Marstolle herself and the parts which had been added by her followers over the years.

  Still, it was wrong for Marstolle's Archbishop to bend her knee to a Dark-race, right? It had to be. She raised his head to look up at him. His gaze was lifted towards the empty space behind her, eyes veiled in thought, but at her movement he looked back down at her. "I... I want to," she admitted, almost in a whisper. "But it wouldn't be right. An Archbishop of Marstolle shouldn't do such a thing. Even if..." she trailed off.

  "Even if?" Fenrir prompted. His voice was still gentle.

  "Even if I feel more loved here in your arms than I ever did in her Cathedral among her followers. Even if you seem more faithful to the spirit of her teachings than many of them did, ...even me. Even if..." She swallowed. "Even if I love you."

  He said nothing, only holding her a little tighter. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she gave in. He understood her, understood where she had come from and what she had been. With him there would be no need to pretend, to seem to be anything other than herself. She could stop trying to be a Saintess and just be Elmeria, whoever that even was anymore. He cared for her too. Her intuition told her that, clear as the feel of his arms around her. When he said he would take care of her, he meant it, and she could not help but respond to that promise of protection. He would want her body, but her stomach didn't turn at the thought the way it always had at the thought of giving herself to anyone in such a way again. Instead, she actually felt excited. A little uncertain, maybe even a little scared, but that only added fuel to her desire. With him, the prospect of sex carried none of the bitterness it had held for her all the rest of her life. Instead, the thought of it sent the blood racing through her veins and moistened her underwear. She didn't try to analyze why, but she knew it was so.

  Would it really be so bad if she gave in? She would be unable to disobey him, he had said. That meant he could force her to do whatever he wanted. But had that not already been the case? The purple fabric resting in the satchel at her side attested to that. And yet she had brought it along. She buried her face deeper in his fur as she realized what that meant. He had selected it for her. Bringing it along, keeping it near meant that she was ready to don it again if he wished. It meant she was already submitting to him, that her wishes were less important to her than his.

  But it wasn't just about her. She had responsibilities, people who depended on her. Friends. The thought went through her like a bolt of ice. What would happen to them?

  Elmeria raised her eyes to look at his face. "What about my friends?" she asked.

  "If they leave me be, I have no quarrel with them," he shrugged. "But do you think they will leave me unmolested if they learn about me?"

  Elmeria considered that for a moment. "I doubt it," she finally admitted.

  "I thought as much," Fenrir said, sighing. "Well, if they do force a fight, you have my word I will do my best not to kill them."

  "What will you do instead?" Her voice came out in a whisper.

  "I think you already know the answer to that."

  She didn't answer. She did know, and to her surprise she found she felt jealousy at the thought. She didn't want to share him. That was stupid; after all, she was already sharing him with Mitzi and likely others still in Ruyanei such as the high elf she had imprisoned in the Cathedral's dungeon. And anyway, that wasn't her choice. He could have as many sves as he wanted. All she really wanted was for him not to forget her, all the rest didn't really matter. She lifted her face to his again. "...I understand."

  "Perhaps some of them can be brought to see reason, but anyway, we'll deal with that when it comes. For now, what is your answer?"

  Elmeria swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry. "I- I'm yours," she whispered.

  Fenrir smiled, and she realized he was relieved. He had not been certain she would say yes, and he really would not have forced her had she refused. Somehow the revetion made her more certain of her choice, and she was able to match his smile with a brave little one of her own. He released her, and it was only when he did that she realized they were alone. The goblins had gone over to the scouts' camp some distance away, though many were the curious looks aimed in their direction.

  Fenrir's voice brought her attention back to him. "Well, let's get this done. Show me your stomach."

  Elmeria bared her midriff as ordered, giving an involuntary shiver when Fenrir id one of his giant palms on her bare stomach. A second ter, she was fighting for her life against something that was trying to take over her body.

  The next moment it was gone again, and Fenrir was giving her a reproachful look. "Don't fight it. You need to give in and let it happen."

  "Sorry," Elmeria panted. "I didn't mean to, it was just reflex."

  "Let's try again."

  Again he pced his hand on her stomach, and this time Elmeria was prepared for what was coming and was able to suppress the instinct to resist the foreign influence that tried to take control of her. It locked down her body first, leaving her unable to move a muscle. Then it moved on to her mind, and then it was too te to resist even if she had wanted to. As the spell reached into the inner recesses of her mind, one ironcd rule gradually became clear. Fenrir ruled her; mind, body, and soul. Disobedience to him was now no more possible than extinguishing the sun.

  She blinked, and Fenrir's face was once more before her, his brow furrowed in concentration. The pcing of the Mark had not taken more than a few seconds. He moved his hand away and they both looked down at the Mark now embzoned on her lower stomach. It was a beautiful rose gold, deepening into true gold at the center, and shaped like a highly stylized depiction of a womb. Graceful lines characterized the majority of it, and looking closer, she could see delicate chains encircling its center. She had to admit, it was beautiful.

  "How do you feel?" Fenrir asked, watching as she traced one of the lines with a finger.

  "Happy."

  Elmeria blinked. She had not meant to say that, but as she heard herself say it, she realized it was true. Despite everything, in this moment she was truly happy, with Fenrir standing before her and the proof of his ownership indelibly marked on her stomach.

  "Good to hear," he replied, a smile in his voice, and Elmeria felt her heart flutter. She had pleased him! Then the rest of her mind caught up with her and she flushed in embarrassment. Happy or not, she was far from accustomed to admitting her true feelings, and certainly not in so open a manner. But Fenrir's hand was under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. He was leaning forward, his face was very close to hers, and then he was kissing her, and there was nothing else in the world but his arms around her and the feel of his lips on hers.

  TheBestofSome