Adara kept the hood of her cloak tucked low over her head as she moved amongst the shadows of the night. The rain was not falling heavily, but in time it would and she needed to free Maia before it did. She made sure to look for signs of any of Warrick’s warriors. They lurked about and could not always be spotted and she worried that her husband left more guards on duty in his absence.

She halted her steps when she spotted a dark shadow slip past Maia. With the guard having just been there, it gave her time to free the woman and hurry her away before he returned again, if he returned at all. If she was lucky, it might have been his last patrol for the night.

Not wasting a minute, Adara rushed to Maia.

“Maia, it is me, Adara. I have come to free you,” Adara whispered, taking the knife to the rope.

The woman did not respond and thinking she might be too late to help the woman, Adara placed her hand beneath Maia’s chin and lifted her head and kept repeating her name softly while she continued to cut at the rope.

Finally, her name fell in a whisper from Maia’s lips, “Adara.”

“Aye, it is me. I will have you free soon.”

Maia struggled to say, “Go. Save yourself.”

“Not without you.” Adara thanked the heavens that the rope was old and it took less time than she thought it would. What she had not counted on was Maia’s weakened state. The hours she had been strapped to the post had left her limbs numb and made it difficult for her to walk.

“Lean on me,” Adara encouraged, slipping her shoulder under Maia’s arm and her limp arm around her neck.

The slim woman did not argue, she leaned against Adara.

With strength born of determination, much as it had the night Espy had freed her from Warrick’s dungeon, Adara started walking, keeping to the shadows. It seemed like forever until they reached the outskirts of the village, having made sure to avoid the area where Warrick’s warriors had camped. Shortly after, the rain grew heavy, slowing their pace, but Adara kept going.

Distance. They needed distance from the village. With each step, Adara expected to hear the tolling of the bell that alerted the village to a problem. Gratefully, it did not sound.

She had to keep going before Maia’s escape was discovered and before anyone realized she was gone. She did not know what her defiance of Warrick’s orders would cost her, but at the moment she did not care. She had to see to Maia, make sure she was well and safe, and she knew exactly where she would take her.

The rain continued, light at times, heavy at others, and as much as the rain made travel more difficult, it also benefitted them. It made tracking more difficult.

No sun rose with daylight only a cloudy sky and more rain. Maia’s escape would have been discovered by now and no doubt the guards would have gone to her bedchamber to make sure she was safe. She wondered what Warrick’s warriors would do when they could not find her. What would they think? That someone freed Maia and then came for her. Would they even consider the possibility that she was the one who freed Maia? No doubt they would send word to Warrick. They would be too fearful not to.

The more she thought on what she had done, the more she questioned her decision. But then the thought of Maia dying slowly day after day and her not doing a thing to help her was something she believed she would have never been able to live with. So her thoughts warred as she journeyed on.

Finally, too exhausted to take another step, Adara stopped and settled them both under a large, old pine tree, it’s branches heavy with growth and spreading wide. A perfect shelter for them and far enough off the well-traveled path for anyone to find them.

Maia’s body sagged with fatigue and Adara worried the woman had no strength left to continue.

“We do not have far to go,” Adara encouraged.

Maia opened her eyes. “I cannot take another step.”

“We can rest only briefly. We must keep moving.”

Adara took some cheese and bread from the sack and gave it to Maia and took some for herself as well. They ate in silence, both too tired to speak as they ate.

“Does my mind play tricks on me or did you tell me that you are wed to the devil?” Maia asked, after finishing the food.

“I am Warrick’s wife and he is no devil.”

“He is the devil,” Maia hissed as if Adara should be ashamed for believing otherwise.

Adara could not believe the flare of hatred in the woman’s eyes or the strength of it in her voice. She did not recall ever hearing such venom spew from the woman when she had known her. Doubt grew, gooseflesh running along her arms as fear began to rise in her. Had she made a foolish decision in defending the woman against her husband?

“At least you got away from him,” Maia said with a bitterness that confused Adara.

“Why do you hate Warrick so much?” Adara asked, fearful that she had left Warrick vulnerable by freeing Maia. And what of her bairn? She had promised herself over and over that she would keep her bairn safe and look what she had done. She had placed the woman’s life above her bairn.

“He is an evil, evil man and needs to die.”

Adara stared at the woman as if she were a stranger, dread rising up in her. The woman had once been good to her or so she thought. Had she been so eager for friendship that she had given thought to nothing else?

A memory stirred of Maia gathering plants near the bank of the stream and dropping them into a basket. Why had she not remembered that? Did the woman know enough to have possibly harmed Jaynce?

Adara had to ask. “Did you kill Jaynce?”

“No.”

Adara let the breath free she was holding.

“Another in our group did.”

Adara’s next breath lodged in her throat and had fear once again prickling her skin. She had made a mistake. A dreadful mistake.

“You will join us. You can tell us much about the devil,” Maia said as if it had already been decided.

Adara stood, leaning down to snatch up the sack.

“You carry the devil’s spawn,” Maia said, pointing to Adara’s stomach that appeared more rounded than it was since she was bent over.

Adara quickly straightened, her hand going protectively to her stomach and as she did she caught Maia’s glance going to the knife, laying a hand’s length away from her.

Everything happened so fast Adara had no time to think only react.

Maia went for the knife, bringing it up swiftly and swinging it toward Adara. She jumped back, but not before swinging the sack she held with as much force as possible and knocking the knife out of Maia’s hand. She scrambled to retrieve it and Adara did not wait, she swung the sack again, catching Maia in the jaw and knocking her backward, but losing her balance as she did and scrambling to stop herself form falling. By then Maia had gotten hold of the knife again, only this time she got to her feet and looked ready to charge at Adara.

“I thought you were my friend,” Adara said, having trusted only to once again be disappointed. Only this time her ignorance could wind up costing her and her child’s life.

Maia shook her head. “You were an ignorant lass who needed to grow wise, though if I had known your fate, I would have killed you then.”

At that moment, a courage born of fear rose in Adara. She had made a horrible mistake but she would not let her foolishness harm her bairn or her husband. She would fight for both.

“I thought the lessons I had taught you would help you grow, strengthen you to survive, make you wise enough to ask questions, particularly why you were sent from family to family. There had to be a reason for it, even I could see that. You accept your fate far too easily, but then you lack the courage to do otherwise.”

Adara had no idea what she was talking about. Besides, she trusted nothing the woman said. She was far more evil than she claimed Warrick to be. She may have lacked courage before, but now she would do anything to protect her unborn bairn.

“A waste of life.” Maia shrugged, wincing from the pain in her limbs. “I must say, though, my interest in you has served me well. I thought for sure I would rot to death on the devil’s post, but once I saw it was you, I knew I had a chance to escape. You are too kind for your own good.”

Adara never felt more the fool. She had trusted again only this time she had trusted the wrong person. She should have trusted the devil.

Maia chuckled. “Your empty life will have you do anything to fill it… even bear the devil’s spawn. Better you die now and not release another demon on this earth.” She raised the knife. “I will make it swift, since the time I had spent with you at least made my time here a bit more bearable. You listened to all my stories, though in the end another reason to kill you.”

Maia lunged at Adara and once again she swung the sack. This time, however, Maia expected it and dodged her swing while bringing her other hand around to yanked the sack away from Adara.

“Nothing left to defend yourself with,” Maia said with a sense of victory close at hand.

Instinct took hold, though more so Espy’s words before freeing her from the dungeon.

Do not let fear freeze you. Use anything you can to defend yourself, and never ever surrender.

“I think I will cut the bairn from you and let Warrick know before he dies if it was a son I took from him.” Maia grinned, then pounced like an animal on its prey.

No weapon at hand, Adara did the first thing that came to mind. She whipped off her cloak and threw it over Maia and hurried around her to pull it tight. She raised her foot and gave a sharp, forceful kick to the back of Maia knees and sent her crashing forward to land with a snap on the ground.

She scrambled to get the knife away from the woman, pulling the cloak off her. But Maia didn’t move and her arms lay tucked beneath her. Adara hurried to get a large rock and, gripping it in her two hands, she made ready to bring it down if necessary. With a hard nudge of her foot, she turned Maia over.

Maia stared up at her, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, the knife protruding from her chest.

She struggled to speak. “Devil,”—she gasped for breath— “will kill you.” She gasped again, then coughed. “Like he did to his,” —breath failing her she fought to say— “first wife.”

Adara stumbled back, the rock falling out of her hands.

It could not be. She was lying, putting doubt in her mind about her husband, trying to make her fear him, loathe him, hate him as much as she did.

Adara glared at the lifeless woman, she had believed her friend. A fool. Looking at the woman now, her eyes as full of hatred as they had been when she had spoken her last words, she realized how much of a fool she had been.

Thunder rumbled overhead, causing Adara to jump. She looked up at the darkening sky. Rain was coming again and she was still soaked from last night. She had to get dry, had to rest, had to keep the bairn safe. Something she should have thought of before foolishly defying her husband.

Kill you like he did his first wife.

Adara pressed her hands to her ears, trying desperately to stop the dead woman’s words from tolling like a never-ending bell in her head. She lied. She had to have lied.

Do not let fear freeze you.

She was grateful for Espy’s voice and she scrambled to her feet. She had to reach shelter before the rain started again. She had to get warm, keep the bairn warm and safe. She took off, hurrying her footsteps toward safety.

It was after she had walked for a while that she realized she had left the sack of what was left of the food behind. It did not matter. She was not far from her destination. She would find food there and shelter, and a healing hand.

Adara walked with determination and caution, and attempted to keep fear at bay, but it poked and nagged at her. What would Warrick do to her when he discovered she had betrayed him? That she had put not only him in danger but herself and their bairn. No excuse, no apology would do. She was wrong.

But what of him? Had he been married before he wed her? Had he killed his wife? Should she fear that he would kill her? Her heart ached. She had begun to trust him, to believe that he would keep her safe. But if he had been wed before and he had killed his wife, how did she trust him not to do the same to her?

Her thoughts were so heavy on her mind that she did not realize it had begun to rain. She kept walking, kept thinking, kept wondering what now would happen to her.

When she thought her legs could carry her no more, she stepped out of the woods and spotted the cottage. Each step she took toward it seemed more laborious than the previous one and it felt as if it seemed like forever before she reached the door and tapped on it.

The door sprung open and upon seeing Cyra, Espy’s grandmother who had been so kind to her, Adara burst into tears, collapsing against the woman.

Adara clung to Cyra as the woman helped her into the cottage. There was a comfort in Cyra’s arms that she did not want to leave, at least not just yet.

“It is all right, Adara,” Cyra said soothingly.

Adara felt Cyra’s hand on hers, lifting it. She winced when she saw the blood covering it and how it had cramped from keeping it fisted tightly for so long.

“Slowly, my dear,” Cyra said, her hand remaining on Adara’s.

Cyra helped her ease her fingers open. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

Adara nodded at the wisdom of her words, feeling a chill begin to rush through her. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the woman and gave a cautious glance around, realizing too late that Cyra might not be alone.

“Innis is not here. He is on an errand for me. He will not return until tomorrow.”

Adara felt a sense of relief, glad she was alone with Cyra. Not that she did not like Innis. He was a wonderful man, a physician and friend to Espy. He had fallen in love with Cyra when he had come to visit Espy, and they now resided together in Cyra’s cottage.

Cyra worked quickly in getting Adara out of her soaked garments. Her strength had not diminished for a woman of fifty plus years nor had her nimbleness. Her long, slim fingers had not gnarled like some healers did over the years and her lovely face had far less wrinkles and lines than women younger than her.

Adara stood as Cyra dried her body and wrung the water from her hair. She shivered when a soft wool nightdress fell over her head and down her body and she quickly hugged herself, the warmth of the fine wool chasing the shivers.

“You will get in bed, under the warm blankets, while I prepare a brew for you, but first,” —Cyra placed her hand on Adara’s stomach— “No pain or discomfort?”

Choked with tears she fought not to spill, Adara shook her head. The thought of the damage she could have caused her child over her rash actions, had guilt once again weighing heavily upon her.

“Into bed with you, so you may get warm and gather your strength, then we will talk,” Cyra said, helping Adara into bed and plumping the pillows behind her back so she could rest comfortably against them.

“I did a foolish thing,” Adara said, unable to stop the tears from rolling down her face.

Cyra sat on the edge of the bed and took Adara’s hand. “Please, tell me you did not use that knife on Warrick.”

Adara shook her head and words began pouring from her mouth as she explained everything that had happened, except the part about Warrick killing his first wife.

“I thought she was my friend,” Adara finished, wiping at the tears that kept trickling out along with her words. “I was wrong to defy my husband.”

“You did what you thought was right for a friend and in a way you helped your husband. He would never have known that she was part of a group that intended to see him dead. What you need to do now is to recall everything Maia has ever told you. But that is better left for when after you rest.”

Adara nodded and nibbled at the corner of her mouth.

“Something else bothers you,” Cyra said.

Adara did not know what to do. Did she speak to Cyra about what Maia had told her about Warrick? A thought had her stop nibbling at the corner of her mouth. Could Cyra possibly know if it was true? Did she take the chance and ask her?

“Do not let what Maia did cause you to distrust others. You have true friends now. They will not hurt or betray you like Maia did.”

Adara sighed, shut her eyes a moment, praying she did the right thing confiding in Cyra and said, “Maia told me that Warrick killed his first wife.” That Cyra did not show shock told Adara that the woman knew something.

“Whether truth or a tale I could not say, but there is talk that Warrick killed a woman he had had just taken as his wife. Some say he killed her on their wedding night.”

Adara stared in disbelief. “Why?”

“That is the mystery of it. Some believe she failed to please him. Others say the demon in him made him do it. Still others believe she got what she deserved for marrying the devil himself. I do not know Warrick so I cannot say nor will I judge him.”

“Does Espy know of this?”

“If she does, she never confessed it to me.”

“She is my friend. Surely, she would have told me if she knew,” Adara said, not wanting to believe Espy would keep such an important thing from her.

“How would that have helped you if she did? You were already wed and had survived your wedding night. What good would it have done to tell you a tale that might very well be false, nothing more than vicious gossip? And why did you not trust Espy enough to tell her you were with child and that you were wed to Warrick?”

“Fear,” Adara said on a sigh. “Always fear. It haunts me like a shadow. I cannot seem to go anyplace without it.”

“It did not stop you from freeing Maia.”

“More the better for me if it had.”

Cyra shook her head. “Not so. You did not let fear stop you from doing something you felt strongly about… saving a friend. And you did not let fear prevent you from saving yourself and your child. You do not think Espy feared when she helped you escape from Warrick’s dungeon? Or feared even more what would happen if he had caught her? She did what she believed was right. Sometimes our decisions are wise, sometimes foolish, learning from them is the most important.”

“I fear what my husband will do when he learns what I did and I do not believe an apology will suffice.”

“There is time to think on that, to think on the husband you have come to know. What you and the bairn need now is food and rest.”

Adara paid heed to Cyra’s words. She ate what food Cyra prepared for her and drank the hot brew that warmed her and when her eyes grew heavy she slipped down in the bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin and turning on her side, she fell asleep.

Adara trembled in fear waiting for her husband to enter their bedchamber. She wished he would hurry. The wait was unbearable as were thoughts of the night that lay ahead.

The door creaked opened and she took a step back as Warrick entered the room. He stood silent for a moment, then crossed the room where food and drink had been left. He filled two goblets with wine and walked over to her handing her one.

It will help make the night easier,” he said.

She took the goblet and drank and, though she did not favor the taste, she continued to drink it. She saw that his hair was damp and his garments clean. He had been thoughtful to wash, not something you would expect from the Demon Lord.

When he finished his wine, he turned and removed his boots, setting them aside, then he pushed the slip of plaid that crossed his chest off his shoulder and freed his shirt to pull over his head and toss on a chair. His hands went to his waist and he began to unwrap his plaid, letting it fall to floor when he finished.

He stood naked in front of her, his body hard, not a bulge or roll on him and his muscles taut. There was no softness to him, no kindness in his dark eyes, and even though he was across the room, she took a step back away from him.

He did not take a step toward her when he commanded, “Remove your garments, wife.”