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drawing breath, which pulled her toward him. So close
     she saw herself reflected in his eyes, felt the heat of his body, she smiled up into
     his face. “Yes, Will. I am your match in all ways. Do we both not know it to be true?”
    The answer of matched longing and desire, transforming the strong bones of his face
     and darkening his cornflower eyes to dark blue, terrified her with its power, yet
     urged her to say more, to hold this forbidden moment for as long as possible.
    Somehow she felt his plea for reason, to save them both from more pain.
    Biting her lip to keep it from trembling, she forced her horse to turn away from him.
     Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement in the woods.
    Three horsemen with swords drawn burst out from between the large oaks and galloped
     toward them. “Will!” she screamed.
    Rapier drawn, he rode out in front of her, ready to attack the thieves before they
     could reach her and Laurel. The clash of steel as his blade met the first rider echoed
     in her ears.
    Beside her, Laurel’s chestnut startled and reared. Unable to stop the horse from bolting,
     Laurel screamed.
    Her cry reached Will, and he wheeled toward them. “Go, Elizabeth! Help her,” he commanded.
    Heart pounding, holding her breath, she watched Will thrusting and cutting with his
     rapier, saw the second rider fall back before him. Only then did she obey.
    Laurel’s chestnut raced wildly across the rough ground. Elizabeth urged her horse
     to greater speed, felt grateful at being within reach of catching them at the bend
     in the creek.
    Without warning, Laurel’s mare again reared up, its eyes rolling in fear. Nearly there,
     Elizabeth stretched out her hand to help. Her face pale with fear, Laurel reached
     for her, missed, and tumbled off the bucking horse, striking her head on a rotting
     tree trunk.
    “No!” Elizabeth screamed as she slid from her horse. She stumbled over the rough ground
     and fell to her knees at Laurel’s side.
    “Laurel, I am here to help you. I am here,” she repeated over and over, stroking her
     face where blood streamed over her still features.
    Elizabeth gathered up the hem of her cloak, pressing it against the gushing wound
     on Laurel’s forehead.
    Blood soaked through the cloth, staining the cream velvet lining, turning it red.
     Sobbing, she pressed harder, desperate to stop the flow which covered her hands and
     wrists.
    Laurel’s blood burned Elizabeth’s birthmark until it began to tingle.
    The scalding tingling seeped through her skin, coursing through her veins, filling
     her mind with images and words. Whispers of old ways and the pagan gods who had forged
     her girdle to protect the women of her line.
    Cybil had told her that someday she would understand the magic which lived within
     her. Elizabeth had feared the moment, wished for it never to come. Yet now, it called
     to her to help Laurel. Still fearful, still not understanding, she knew she must
     follow the commands whispering through her. With trembling fingers, Elizabeth pressed
     one of the jeweled crescents of her girdle against Laurel’s wound.
    In my hands, please let it heal her.
    Slowly the deep cut closed, leaving a moon-shaped scar. As it did, her birthmark blazed
     hotter, glowing bright, until slowly it began to fade and cool.
    The whispers told me true. In my hands the girdle has given me the magical power to
     heal Laurel’s wounds.
    Trembling with the knowledge, Elizabeth cradled Laurel in her arms, rocking her. Tears
     nearly blinded her. “Now please wake up…please wake up…please wake up.”
    Laurel’s fair lashes remained a fan beneath her closed eyes.
    Sobbing, Elizabeth felt for Laurel’s heartbeat and the slow, soft breath coming from
     between her parted lips. She lives!
    Gasping for air between her sobs, Elizabeth rested her cheek against Laurel’s forehead.
     Forgive me. My power is not great enough to awaken you.
    Terror a living force inside her, Elizabeth looked up,