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was brave, and Joryn admired that bravery even though he should not, could not, admire anything about the Anwyn witch. For a long moment her eyes remained closed and then she opened them slowly. Her eyes met his, and she did not even tremble, much less beg for mercy. No, this was a woman who never begged for anything, he imagined. She commanded. She ruled. She greeted death with her chin held high and her eyes dry of tears. There was no pleading, no begging for mercy.
    One flick of his wrist...
    And he could npt do it. He could not kill this maddening, evil woman. Only an evil woman could've done what she'd done, and yet he did not feel malevolence from her. He did not possess psychic powers as she did, and yet he did have inherent instincts. Should he trust the Grandmother, who told him this woman was responsible for the ruination of his people, or his instinct, which told him that she was not washed in the darkness he sought? The Grandmother had told him not to harm the Queen, but if she refused to cooperate, what else was he to do?
    Though he could not see the moon, Joryn felt the change in his blood. It was coming quickly. In moments he would be mountain cat, not man, and his gift of fire would be dormant until morning. This was his last chance—at least for tonight—to be rid of the woman who had cursed his people.
    The fire on Joryn's palms died suddenly, and he dropped his hands. He looked for signs of the moon-induced transformation on his prisoner, but saw none. Since she could change her form at will, as he had already discovered, could she also remain in her womanly shape beneath a full moon?
    Without a word of explanation for his captive, Joryn stepped away from the cell and into the shadows, where he quickly undressed, setting his trousers, boots, and dagger aside moments before his bones began to shift. He usually embraced the transformation, but not tonight. Tonight more Caradon, all of those who'd been bitten since me last full moon, would find themselves infected by a dark evil the Anwyn Queen had made.
    * * * * *
    Keelia didn't move for a long while. In truth, she could not. She'd tried very hard not to show fear, but to be faced so closely with death had shaken her to her very core. Why hadn't her captor killed her? She knew the moon had called him. Had it interrupted his plans for her? Would he simply toss that magical fire her way in the morning?
    A low growl... no, it was more of a deep purr ... caught her attention, and her eyes were drawn to the shadows of the cave beyond the bars of her cell. A large cat, dark blond with one russet ear and a streak of red from that ear down one side, walked into the light of the torch overhead. Even if she did not recognize that streak of. red, she could not mistake those eyes. From facing her captor, from the dreams, she knew those green eyes.
    Caradon. Beast. Enemy. Lover.
    The silver bracelet he always wore also remained, only now it girded one furry limb. It had grown smaller, in order to fit the animal without being loose, which meant there was magic in that bracelet. Was that why she couldn't see into her captor? Of course. He'd said he was protected by the magic of the ancient Caradon, and it made sense that the magic had been channeled into the silver of the bracelet. No wonder she hadn't felt him sneaking up behind her; no wonder she did not see his intentions. The bracelet protected him.
    "What is it going to take to convince you that I didn't curse anyone?" she asked. She felt the wildness calling to her, and cell or no cell, she would change tonight. Moving slowly, Keelia removed her gold gown, taking her time in unfastening the clasps at her shoulders, letting the dress fall and men stepping out of it.
    The cat before her cocked his head to one side, as if studying her naked body. Keelia didn't care that he looked, that in the morning her captor would remember what he'd seen. Many of her guards had seen her prepare for the change by shedding her clothes,