For as long as I’ve been able, every May 12^th I return to Erelorne, to my Mother’s grave. That is the anniversary of the day Father killed her with heartache and loneliness, and I will not let her be alone on that day even in death. I always bring flowers and a bottle of wine, and I spend all of the day there. I’ve noted, over the years, that Father never bothers to come with me, nor has he ever even asked where I go on that day, and each year he chooses not to show up is that much more fuel on the fires of war. Someday, perhaps, I will have the pleasure of dragging his rotting carcass to that spot and casting it down the hill and over the sea cliffs below. He’s not worthy of being buried in the same ground as she, and is barely worthy of feeding the birds on the rocks.

The first year I ever went there, I was somewhat surprised to see Flora there as well. I didn’t remember ever telling her about it, and I had no idea how she'’ known. I was curious when she didn’t approach me, but seemed to hover just out of the way. I finally realized she was there for support, and I was grateful though I wanted to be alone. She stayed the whole day, leaving, I suppose, when I did, though I never saw her go either. I never noticed her there again.

I do remember one year when dearest Fi went with me. She seemed to actually have some sympathy for what Father had put Mother through, and she wanted to keep me company that time. I was in one of my blackest moods, and I suspected at the time she was worried about me. I learned better.

We talked all day, Fiona and I, and our subjects ranged from family and friends, to esoteric and magic. I remember at one point I confessed to her how very lonely I was, and she was a great comfort as I cried on her shoulder half an hour.

She was understanding and kind all that day, never once mocking or sarcastic to me, and I was so grateful for her company. Come sunset we were walking in the ruins of my mother’s castle, drinking wine from the bottle and talking to the ghosts. Fiona commented on how beautiful it must have been once. I suppose I spoke from the heart, though I don’t remember what all I said, for I suddenly realized she was staring at me quite intently, her attention absolutely riveted. I slowly stopped speaking, self-conscious, and asked her what I’d said. After a while Fi commented about how I must have really loved this place. I nodded slowly, and she answered, "Come, let me give you a present." I must have looked confused, for she said, "Come on" again, and beckoned me to follow. Mystified, I did. Mounting up, we rode for a time, the shadow shifting around us. Eventually we came out of a dark forest into a meadow clearing to behold an exact copy of my mother’s castle in all it’s spender, but constructed entirely of crystalline ice. Fi’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder,

"This" she said, "is for you."

I rode towards it as if in a dream, hardly daring to breathe lest it melt away. The sea beyond was misty, with a dream-like quality, and the clouds floated through the sky like cotton candy.

Ice it might have been, but each room was private from the next, only a hint of indistinct color showed through each wall. There were no people there, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t ready to deal with those sorts of ghosts. Wind chimes sounded in the breeze, and it was a place of magic and beauty.

In the main hall, I was further delighted to find a roaring blue fire. No ice melted, yet it gave off a soft warm glow. In front of the fire was a deep fur rug in variegated shades of blue and green, like a polar bear dipped in dye. I sank down into the wonderful deep fur to stare into the flames, and was not really surprised to feel hands kneading my neck and shoulders, but I felt myself tensing in uncertainty.

"Relax" a voice whispered in my ear, strong hands moving to massage my neck. Soft lips began to caress the side of my neck and every muscle tensed in response like a frightened rabbit.

"Relax" the voice suggested again and with a touch of horror I felt my body comply for me. My eyes betrayed my inner panic, reflected in her smile, as she worked her way to my lips with a kiss that was deep and probing. Her hands slid up the material of my thin blouse, kneading and teasing my nipples erect with an expert manipulation. I shuddered and heard a soft moan escape my lips as my body rebelled against my mind.

The lack of control overwhelming me felt terrifying close to the feeling I’d get when Brand would lose control and that vicious iciness would creep into his eyes. The comparison in my mind left me whimpering like a trapped animal.

I tried to whisper no, but a warm blanket of calm descended over me, fuzzing my thoughts and rendering me immobile. My face flushed hotly as I struggled internally for control and failed, while her lips slid down to join her hands under my blouse, licking and teasing in calculated expertise. White-hot bolts of fire raced down my spine. Her hands moved to my shoulders, gently guiding me down toward the soft fur of the rug. My resistance was a barely noticeable hesitation.

Cold fingers of flame caressed me everywhere, seeming to be kneading my flesh into warm relaxation, then driving shivers of pleasure through me so intense that my breath caught in my throat. A constant alteration of pleasure and pain sensations caused my body to shiver as if in the grips of a strong fever. I moaned again, forcing my mind from this exquisite torture.

My thoughts whirred in a chaotic jumble. It was Fiona’s teachings that allowed me to escape Amber, escape my father, without walking the Pattern. Fiona’s unfinished teachings. It was Fiona to whom I had to turn to continue to learn sorcery. Well, Fiona or Father, which was no choice at all, really. I couldn’t afford to alienate her now. Somehow, though, the logic chain kept getting all twisted and tangled in my mind, and images of Fiona’s kindness and good will towards me kept insinuating themselves in my scattered thoughts.

And then there was Brand. Thoughts of him were a lifeline of sanity, yet so very hard to focus on. Rebuking Fi now would only lead to closer scrutiny of what I was doing. More narrow stares when I slipped out with Brand, perhaps even surveillance. My choice, assuming I had one, was grim. Betray him now, or possibly betray us for good. But if Fiona thought that she’d win the round… This line of thinking seemed to amplify and redouble the sensations playing through my body. I groaned again.

All this flashed through my mind in a few instants, and I closed my eyes as she pushed me softly down. I let my mind wander, insulating myself in images of Brand. His hesitant, almost-shy embraces, his gentle touch, the soft almost child-like wonder in his eyes when he was truly himself. Brand’s cautious, pleasant laughter, in those rare moments when he felt free enough to let go. I thought also of how he was never rough, never forceful, and tears came to my eyes. As this thought crystallized, I felt Fiona’s attentions diminish, fading to a dull, sweet ache.

Realization slowly dawned that Fi was sitting quietly near me, the weight of her gaze almost palpable.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, in a voice like silk and moonlight. "You seem…distant."

I opened my eyes, blanking my mind like a door slamming shut from a sudden gust of wind.

"I was surprised" I answered her slowly, carefully. "I never knew."

Fiona smiled, like a snake with a small bird.

"I just" she purred, stroking my hair, "wanted to share a moment of closeness with you. To show you that you can trust me," she concluded.

Startled, I realized we were both still fully dressed. I had been so intent on blocking out what was going on I hadn’t realized that most of the input was sensory, not physical. I felt a brief moment of panic, wondering how far into my thoughts she’d gone. Almost as if I’d spoken aloud, she responded to my train of thought.

"Of course, you realize it was all pleasure, there was no invasion of privacy made. I would not give you reason to hate or fear me. I only showed you that I can be a friend to you." My mind grasped her words, and they sang in my head with a crystal clarity, feeling oh so very right. It felt as if a link was closing, as if something had been completed, and the color drained from my face.

I stammered something inarticulate, feeling the jaws of a trap closing around me as if I was suffocating. Before I could answer, her hand pulled away and she rose smoothly.

"Shall we? It’s getting late." She extended a hand to help me up and wordlessly I accepted. She spirited us home with no effort and saw me to my room. I was bid goodnight with a gentle kiss, left to find my own confused way to bed.

Come breakfast the next day, I arrived at my normal time, knowing Brand would be there as well. As was our want, he sat vaguely across from me, in line of sight but not overly obvious. I had been seated only a moment, when Fiona made her entrance. She crossed to me, smiling possessively, and took my hand in hers as she joined me. Not to make a scene, I smiled tightly. Father glanced at us briefly, one eyebrow raised in a slightly bitter smile. Brand stared fixedly into his coffee and I felt a lump in my throat at Fiona’s enigmatic smile.

I sat quietly through breakfast, eating sparsely and avoiding the curious glances of various relatives. Fi finished her eating and her patter of conversations. She touched my shoulder briefly as she rose, and I felt a wave of heat run down my spine, the sorcerous energy flashing briefly and then gone. My cheeks flushed and, almost involuntarily, I glanced up at Brand. His head had snapped up at her spell, and he looked faintly alarmed.

His eyes briefly met mine, and I was looking into a mirror. They were equally sad, equally trapped. A flash of insight, and I knew right then that he understood and that there was nothing to regret or forgive. That moment told me more than any other that, had we any options, things would be very different with us. And mostly, I knew then that he felt for me what I felt for him.

Brand’s eyes shifted to Fiona’s departing back, and I saw the shift to something cold and inscrutable. For the first time, it didn’t give me chills.

Nothing ever quite equaled those feelings she’d aroused in me again. Shadows of that scene were, though infrequently, sometimes repeated, but I would not allow it to best me. I was resentful of her intrusion as much as I had been excited by it, for she had stolen something from me with that act and had somehow changed me. Occasionally she would give me, through that connection she’d forged, a faint hint, a teasing glimmer of those physical sensations. I was tortured with guilt for finding myself wanting more. Brand never asked, never spoke of it, but something in his touch was more hesitant than before for a long time. Fiona, this is yet another reason I care for you no more than Caine.

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