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turn. The laws that should have been changed centuries earlier had kept her from learning her true identity. She had long since given up trying to discover her roots.
    “Well? Do you want to know?” Queen Annalyn asked.
    “Who am I?” Chas whispered, afraid of what she’d learn.
    “You are Gréagach. Your Gréagach name was Mylena Kolovos,” the queen stated. “Your father was a prominent member of the Gréagach Tribunal. Lord Mykos Kolovos, I believe was his name. He and your mother, Katelina, were killed in a boating accident off Aegia while on holiday. The captain of the boat managed to save you though your twin brothers drowned with your parents.”
    “Captain Charlton Neff,” Chas provided, seeing her long-dead adoptive father in her mind’s eye.
    “The captain’s wife was infertile and they had long wanted a child. Rather than turn you over to Tribunal to be sent to a nunnery until you were of age, they left an Ghréig and immigrated to Meiriceán. Both were vehemently opposed to the Caitliceachs, the True Faith, so they saw no harm in stealing you away and letting your distant relatives think you had drowned with your parents.”
    “But I am Protastnúach,” Chas protested. “Surely your Court will not…”
    “Captain Neff was of the Protastnúach faith and brought you up with those beliefs, but you are of Eastern Caitliceachs heritage. You were baptized in our mutual Faith. Once baptized Caitliceachs, always a Caitliceachs, lass. As such, my Court has no objections to a Joining between you and my son. As a matter of fact, we were able to trace your maternal lineage back to Queen Medea, and that was enough to sway even the most virulent of my councilors.”
    Chas narrowed her eyes. “Gréagach royalty? You can’t be serious,” she managed to say.
    “I am quite serious.” The queen cocked her head to one side. “You are very lovely, so that will suit Ruan’s desire for a pretty wife. The boy can’t have a hag for the mother of his brats. You are shapely with a very fine bust, so that will soothe his baser needs and keep his hands otherwise occupied and off a sword hilt. You are well trained in combat and can hold your own against even a Storian primary assassin, so you won’t be afraid of his quick temper when Ruan feels the urge to display it. That should fulfill my son’s requirement to have a woman who can give as good as she takes.”
    “Your Majesty, I have…”
    “An assignment that I believe will be both to your advantage as well as my son’s,” the queen asserted. “As a Riezell Guardian, you must carry out the assignment you were given. Am I correct?”
    “Aye, but…”
    “And the contract says the assignment must be finished to an end your employer stipulates.”
    Chas pursed her lips. There was no need for her to answer for obviously the queen and her councilors would have inspected the contract inside and out.
    “I particularly like the motto of the Riezell Guardians—’To protect and serve with disregard to personal feelings or beliefs. To give my all, even should it be my life.’” The queen sighed. “That is so terribly romantic, don’t you think?”
    “And when he finds out what you are about?” Chas challenged. “Just how angry do you think he will be? With you? With me?”
    “Oh, pooh!” the queen dismissed. “Let him bluster all he wants, but one bat of those pretty green eyes of yours and a hand placed in a strategic place should calm him down quickly enough.”
    The deep color returned to Chas’ cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. “This can’t be happening!”
    “Do you find Ruan unattractive?” the queen demanded, her chin rising.
    “No, of course not, but…”
    “Do you find him offensive in manner?”
    “Your Majesty, no, but…”
    “Do you prefer Daniel Brock to Ruan Cosaint?”
    Chas shuddered. “No, not at all, yet…”
    “We have your psychological profile.”
    The paleness that washed over Chas’ face made her head