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until she tested the edges of his power.
     
    She could think of nothing
that she hadn’t already tried.  The only way she would be able to accomplish
her goal, she finally realized, was if he was not attuned to her every move. 
To do that, she would have to lull him into a sense of complacency.  Then she
could slip away before he awakened to her plan.
     
    Her problem in setting her
plan into motion arose when she discovered he was avoiding her.  She couldn’t
fathom why.  He did not return to her room—though, when she wasn’t looking, her
dishes emptied and fresh food appeared both to break her fast, and later on at
noon.  She’d studied the platters thoroughly to discover the source of their
power, and checked the room for secret passages that servants or the like could
pass through, but could find nothing.
     
    His power extended beyond her
comprehension, and she did not like the thought that he could come into her
room so easily with no obstruction and do whatever he wanted.
     
    She could not endure this. 
She had to act, but he was being ... difficult.
     
    With great reluctance, she
dressed in the indigo gown, struggling with the back lacings.  She couldn’t get
them tight enough, and so the neckline slipped low on her breasts, just above
her nipples.  It couldn’t be helped, but, if she was to believe his words of
the other night, it didn’t truly matter.  According to him, he had not the
desires of a flesh and blood man.
     
    Perhaps some memory of his
life before lingered, not a feel of what it had been, but a memory of what he
had once felt, and that accounted for his seemingly lascivious behavior? 
     
    It might be no more than
thoughts to comfort herself with, but it made far more sense to her way of
thinking than to believe a ghostly creature could feel the fire of lust in his
blood as the living did.
     
    Bianca wandered through the
halls, noticing they had changed yet again into some semblance of normalcy. 
Perhaps it was only her hysteria that had made them appear to be a maze the
night before.  She checked doors as she came upon them, but many of the rooms
were barren, and those that were not, did not contain her quarry.  She
continued on to the great hall, but it too was empty save for two hearth fires
and banners streaming the walls.  She stopped a moment to study them, wishing
she could understand why his coat of arms seemed so familiar to her.
     
    Still the memory eluded her. 
Shaking her head, she walked to the opposite side from which she’d come, intent
on finding him.  The corridor was much the same as the other, until she reached
the end.  A shaft of light stretched into the dark corridor through an open
doorway.  She approached cautiously and peered inside.  Warm sunlight turned
the room to gold, revealing a rounded room lined with shelves of leather bound
books.  The pungent scent of oil and parchment pleased her, as did the earthy
scent of leather.
     
    She realized this was the
tower she’d seen when outside, reaching so high to the sky.  Arched windows
broke the walls at regular intervals, disappearing up past her line of vision
from the door frame.
     
    Damian sat in a carved chair,
facing one window, his profile to her.  He slouched low in the chair, legs
extended out, with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown upon his
face.  Dust motes floated in the air like fairy dust, glittering in the
sunlight streaming through the windows, gathering on his armor and hair.
     
    She couldn’t help the wicked
imp that took hold as she looked at him.  “Sulking?” she asked, smiling.
     
    He looked up at her, a
thundercloud on his brow, and the door shut in her face with a resounding thud.
     
    Bianca was taken aback, and
then annoyed by his rudeness.  How dare he?  That was something a ... a child
would do, not a grown man!
     
    “Damian!”  Bianca tried the
handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.  She slapped her palms against the door. 
“’Twas