A/N: Thanks for the review. It was appreciated!

Chapter 2

She was dancing, whirling around, steps light on the black marble below her feet. Her faceless partner twirled her away, but instead of curling her back into his body, he flung her away and was gone. She was alone, surrounded by trees, standing in a shadow of deepest green. Looking up, the moon was gone, she had the feeling it had never been there at all. Feeling uneasy, Edana turned, finding a dirt road winding away before her. She followed, feeling the pull towards the misty turn in the road. The sounds of the night followed in her footsteps, but there was something off about the way things looked, sounded. She stumbled on a stone in the road and fell, winking and closing her eyes in preparation for the blow. She couldn't get her hands up to slap he ground when she hit, they felt glued to her sides.

However, she never felt the blow. Panicking, she felt for the ground, but found only the softness of a feather mattress beneath her body. Opening her eyes, she found herself back on her own bed, in her own room, bathed in the darkness of night, except for the candle, which she thought she had blown out before crawling into bed. Curious, Edana got up from the bed and walked to the table with the pillar candle on it. She closed her hands around the white candle and sucked in a surprised breath as large, masculine hands rested on her hips. The places they lay felt hyper sensitive. Her skin tingled like someone was lightly tickling her where his palms and fingers rested. They snaked their way up her sides and down her arms to cover her hands over the candle. Oddly, she couldn't feel the body which had to be pressed against her back. There was no heat, no weight. It felt more like there was a dark void behind her, pressing into her skin where the gown exposed it in the back, but she knew he had to be there. He lifted one of her hands, her fingers hovering over the flame. Curiose, Edana watched as if detached from her own body, like it was someone else's hand she watched, not her own. He closed her hand over the flame in the candle and she cried out, expecting the sudden, sharp pain of the flame on her skin, but nothing came. She looked, turning her hand over in his grasp. The skin was perfect, unmarred by the candle's flame.

Wonderingly, she touched the flame again, feeling the cool touch of what resembled the dew of an early spring morning. The fire was cool, almost wet to the touch, which was impossible she knew, but yet there it was in front of her: cold fire. Her brushed her hand against the flame, darting each finger in and out of it. He let go of her and put his own hand over the flame and picked it up, cradling it in the palm of his hand. His other hand slid off of her. Edana turned, wanting to see the face of her stranger. There was a body, there was something substantial, but the face was veiled in shadows. She wondered at the affect, but was drawn to her faceless visitor once more. She went to the bed and climbed into it's soft depths. He followed, the flame dancing in his hand, blue and white as she watched. Then he was there on the bed with her, lying next to her. She felt a flutter in her stomach of nerves. He undid the sash of her dressing gown and slithered the tied away from her skin. He first this side, then that of her dress until she lay naked before him, feeling the coolness of the room wrap around her like a blanket.

He sat up, leaning on an elbow, the hand holding the candle's flame hovering over her belly. The air between her body and his hand was this, like if she had reached out, the air would have been like water, more solid. She refrained as he lowered the flamed to her skin. A shiver escaped through her from the spot where the fire lay, happily moving seemingly for her entertainment. He touched the skin of her stomach then and there was something in his touch that ran a line to more intimate parts. He dipped his fingers into the flame, like a painter with his brush in the paint, and traced circles along her skin with it until her skin looked like a spot on a still pond where a rock was thrown in. The tingling her in body rose a notch with each circle he made, making her stomach flutter more. His softly fiery fingers trailed their way down her body until they traced her thighs with fire, moving up into the area even she knew so little about. Then he was touching her and she moved slightly, getting used to the new sense of feeling between her legs. He leaned down to her face and kissed her gently on the lips. His fingers found her previsouly forbidden zone and she gasped as she felt something inside of her body. He moved and she marveled at the sensations pulzing from his circling thumb as one of his other fingers sunk in and out of her in a slow draw.

His lips trailing down her neck found a spot between her neck and shoulder and she shuddered. She felt heat rising from the cool, a warm stirring in her body. She moaned, his hand pulsing in and out to the rhythm of her heart, blood pounding through her veins in a sensual dance inside of her body. His movements quickened, speeding her heart and making her cry out, reaching down, she tried to push his hand away from her, but she ignored her feeble attempt and pushed on, the warmth growing inside of her. He stopped, reached over her for the flame, which enveloped his hand. He went back to his work, moving her body, touching until the flame pushed it's way into her body. Her kissed her and heat poured into her mouth and down her throat as it rushed up her body from his hand. She was burning she was sure. She screamed, writhing as the internal heat scalded her from the inside. Her skin was glowing a pale, white light. And she saw his face as he pulled back from her naked, pained body. Only a glance, but in it she saw a smiling face and, despite herself, beautiful, dark eyes brimming with the tears that threatened to over flow. Then she saw no more, the pain was too much, she was dying. The gods help her, she was dying and she felt a hand stroke it's way down her body over the screaming, glowing body. Then she felt what she supposed was a kiss and felt no more.

Edana awoke screaming, panting, a cold sweat covering her body. She sat up, panting. She was alone, back in her room, the rain pattering outside of her doors. The candle was out, just as she had left it. Calming herself, she examined the skin of her hands and arms, seeing nothing wrong or out of the ordinary. It had all been a horrendous, confusing dream. She shook her head to clear it, and rose to go to the water and basin on a stand by the wall. She splashed a small handful onto her face, cupping her hand to drink some of it. It had all been a dream, yet Edana couldn't shake the feelings of fear it has evoked from her. Quietly, she went back to her bed, crawling in. Thankfully she dreamt no more.

He watched her fall back into a silent sleep. Wishing he had been able to do more than watch her writhe and scream. But to help, was to give himself away, something he was unwilling to do. When he was sure she was soundly asleep, he crept forward, kissing her softly on the forehead, before padding silently to the balcony and jumping down, down into the garden below. He went for the forest and home. He had caused enough trouble for one night. She was too young to have such dreams that would make her cry out in fear in her sleep. He did wonder what was in such a pretty little head that would cause that kind of reaction. He padded silently through the trees and disappeared into the night.

The sun rose, but remained hidden behind the clouds as the drizzle continued to fall. Edana sat on a seat molded into the wall in the great library of the palace, watching the patterns the droplets made on the glass. Thunder rumbled happily over the forest below her. There was a merry fire crackling in the fireplace to keep away the creeping cold that had collected in the wake of the rain. Quin sat, head down on the table before him, snoring over a book of philosophy he was supposed to have finished already, but had not. A knight had to be strong and intelligent to be affective. Quinn knew this rule, but sometimes had trouble focusing on his tedious book work. Every now and then he would make a noise, move slightly, or yell an unintelligible word or phrase to the nearly empty room. Edana smiled as she moved her attention from the window to the brother. She did love him dearly, but she did not feel she could tell even her brother about her disturbing evening.

The door opened and in slipped a servant who looked smilingly down at the young prince as she passed him, ruffling his hair as she went by, making him jerk and swat at her in his sleep. She pranced up the steps to Edana in which, jaunty little steps of her own. Bowing she set down the tray she held on the cusion before Edana, turned, and left the room as quickly as she had come. So the rumors are true, Edana mused. Quinn has been messing about with the servants. Note to self, tease him mercilessly about it when he wakes up. Her stomach gave a little rumble as the smell of hot tea and cakes met her nose. Tea time, score. There were two large muffin dotted here and there with dark, rich blueberries. A small dish of freshly turned butter sat innocently beside the plate. The small pot of tea with it's pattern of ivy leaves engraved into the silver steamed merrily from its spout. She reveled in the thick smell of a light tea, simmering with a concoction of spices from the kitchen. Two tiny silver bowls sat next to the matching teapot, holding sugar and milk. She loved both in large amounts in her tea. Two china cups sat stacked above the plate on the tray. Edana knew Clarissa, the head cook, had made up the tray with her young mistress in mind when she saw the pattern of mythological creatures around the sides of the cups and saucers.

The smells seemed to have aroused her brother because he was just suddenly sitting on the window seat on the other side of the tea tray from his sister. He smiled sleepily at her as she poured herself a cup, purposely not acknowledging that she, as the lady, was supposed to pour him a cup as well. He smiled at her good naturedly as he poured one of his own. Edana delicately buttered her muffin and bit greedily into the half she had cut.

"Edana, what, you're not going to butter mine for me?" he said in a mock-pitiful voice.

"No, dear brother. You have hands, do it yourself. I would rather tend to my own needs currently than yours, as amused as I'm sure you would be if I did bother to butter your muffin and pour your tea. So, I reiterate. You are not helpless, do it yourself." She took another large bite of muffin, the juice from a particularly juiced berry running past her lips. She caught it with the blue, linen napkin the maid had brought with the tray.

Quinn chuckled softly at her before reaching for the knife and buttering up his own warm baked good. He looked at her for a few minutes, her laughing eyes dancing above the rim of her teacup. His younger sister had grown up before his eyes from the small, giggling child that had followed him around the palace, getting underfoot at his lessons until his parents agreed she could learn too. She had been around ten at the time she began learning the fighting arts. She had certainly changed from the little, slightly boyish looking thing she was, he thought, taking another large bite of muffin. She lightly kicked him with her foot.

"Hey, dreamer, talk to me. I'm not going to sit here and stare off into space forever."

"But you do it so well."

Giggling, she threw a sugar cube at him. In so many ways, she was still so young. She surprised him sometimes. She would say something to wise, so beyond her years, then the next minute to something completely outlandish, well, childish. He loved that she was still childlike. There was no sense in her growing up too fast. Maturity would come with age and responsibility, his mother said, and he agreed with her. There was no doubt in Quinn's mind that if a challenge arose, his sister would overcome it with poise and intelligence, like she did everything she put her mind to. However, he did pity her newest suitor. Edana was full of spirit and he would have his hands full trying to tame her enough to settle down and become a wife and queen. Quinn liked seeing her free as she was. He knew that one days soon she would not be allowed to be young and boundless. Quinn thought back to the winter she was born. The night had been dark, stormy, and filled with a cold that reached to the bone. He remembered his own nursemaid shushing him and ushering him to his room and bed, while he heard his mother's moans through the doors of her chambers. The next thing he knew, his father was waking him up to bring him to the tiny newborn and his exhausted, but radiant mother. It was a good thing Edana got her mother's features. Their father always said he would make an ugly girl. The continued their tea and muffins, enjoying each other's company, for once forgetting the troubles that lay on the horizon for them.