Perhaps you must try again."

Instead of kissing him, she moved farther down his body. "Yes, perhaps I shall." He watched with amused interest as she let fall a fat thread of her potion onto his manhood. She spread the stuff with her fingers, enjoying his swift response to her touch. "The old wife told the truth it seems."

"So far as it goes, yes." He put no credence in love potions, only in Elaine's presence and what she was doing to him.

"Then must I test it a little more." She bent her head, her mouth enclosing him, capturing his full attention. He lay back with an appreciative sigh and gently stroked her hair, his heartbeat quickening as she worked on him.

Some time later she paused to inspect her results. "Indeed, she told the truth. You do love me."

For this night at least, sweet girl, he thought. He sat up and took the jar from her. She sat up in turn, facing him, smiling. He smeared a few drops onto each of her breasts, then did his best to lick and kiss them clean again, until she shivered and moaned in her need for him.

But he held off, knowing that some delays were better for the wait.

They passed the honey concoction back and forth, laughing, each hushing the other lest someone hear. It would not do to have Elaine's father or brothers bursting in upon them.

Richard cherished the taste of her, the salt essence beneath the honey. Her skin was cloud-smooth, her least reaction to his questing fingers adding immeasurably to his own excitement. How precious it was, how rare, and yet so brief.

These fragile children abide with us but a little while and then are gone.

Sabra's words came to him even as he embraced Elaine. The girl in his arms would die and go to dust while he lived on. He faltered, looking long at her young face, as though to discern if death's shadow already lay upon her.

"What is it, Lord du Lac?"

He shook his head. A thousand words or none were equally inadequate. It was not something she could ever understand. "Time is so short," he murmured. Short for thee, my pretty one. He held her close, as if to keep her mortality at bay by his will alone. Futile gesture, but it made her gasp with joyance for his eagerness.

She will think her potion worked. Perhaps it has, for this night, for this hour.

When their want became near unbearable, they coupled once more. She wrapped her strong legs around Richard, heels locked at the small of his back, her hips rocking hard against his. He kissed her mouth and her eyes, his hands moving on her until the first shudder of her climax began to take her.

Only then did he bite hard into the firm flesh of her throat.

She started to cry out, but he pressed his palm over her mouth, smothering the sound. Her breath came fast and harsh as he supped, drawing out the red ecstasy of her life even as she took his seed from him. He made it last for them both until she lay half swooning in his arms from sheer exhaustion.

"None," she whispered, her head lolling on his shoulder.

"Mm?" He was fair exhausted himself, but not for long. Eyes shut, he savored the heat of her blood flowing within him, renewing his strength.

"None pleasure me as do you," she murmured.

So far gone was she that she'd forgotten her claim that Richard was her first. He smiled and caressed her thick hair, letting the moment be.

He left a few hours before dawn, dropping to land silent in the dewy turf beneath her window, then looking round to make sure no one had seen. He wore no armor, nothing that would make a noise, but the moon was high. Its silver light could be deceptive to normal human eyes, but would serve to reveal an intruder; he kept to the shadows. To Richard it was like a sunny day, and he made use of his advantage, slipping across to the outer wall, his passage unnoticed by the sleepy sentry watching the gate. It was the work of a moment to take the man from behind and persuade him to blind obedience. Blind insofar as Richard's presence was concerned. The guard would have no recollection of letting anyone out through the small door set in the gate.

Richard could have climbed the keep's curtain wall and thence to the dry moat below, but saw no necessity for the extra effort. His powers to influence were harmless to others and most advantageous when he was on the hunt.

Though he could have more safely fed from any number of servant girls, he had yet to tire of the sport of seducing- and being seduced by-their mistresses. Besides, a hasty feeding in some dark corner of a hall with a giggling wench was not nearly as satisfying as a slow loving of a giggling lady. Of course, there had been occasions when he took his time with the wenches as well...

His horse still waited, ground-tied where he'd left it in a hollow just out of sight from the walls. The dogs, Prince and Merlin, kept it company, better guards than the one he'd just influenced to let him out. They yawned hugely, shaking themselves awake for the lope home. He tightened the saddle girth and mounted, kicking the horse to a canter.

The clean night air cooled his face and cleansed his spirit. He would sleep until the forenoon, then ready himself for the coming day's tournament.

Light showed in his tent by the lake. Nothing remarkable in that; his people were accustomed to his night rambles, but as he dismounted and gave the reins to a waiting servant, he saw he had company.

Sabra stood holding open the door flap, smiling, her dark brown hair undone and hanging freely to her waist.

How he loved to play with it.

Prince and Merlin bounded forward to welcome her, tails fiercely wagging.

"Such good boys," she said, petting them before they knocked her over in their excitement. "Did you care well for your master?"

"You've turned them into lap warmers," said Richard affably, watching as his great and deadly hunters fawned upon her like puppies.

Sabra laughed once and pulled him inside, their kiss of greeting long and warming. The dogs snorted and stretched themselves on the tent's carpeted floor to finish their naps.

"I thought you would yet be with the queen's company," he said.

"She decided to see the tourney after all, and the cortege arrived an hour after dusk. She gave me leave to depart. I was told you'd left before then."

"I hungered."

"Ah. Is it still Elaine, or has another caught your eye?"

"Elaine it is. Do you mind?"

Sabra shook her head, not as a reply, but to express fond patience. "Richard, you know well that I don't. There's no need to ask."

"It concerns me, so I will." She kissed away his concern. "You'll want sleep. Come to bed." She took his hand, leading him to the broad spread of furs, pillows, and blankets he was accustomed to resting on during the day. Much wider than a normal bed, he could fair sprawl on it, his big frame unencumbered by the limits of an ordinary pallet. Some thought it a sinful excess on his part, having such an extravagance solely for the repose of his body, but he ignored them. He fought hard on behalf of his new king; it was only his just due to have a comfortable place to recover himself.

Sabra put out the oil lamps and helped him undress, her hands lingering familiarly over him. He caught them, bringing them up to kiss.

"I've sorely missed you, my lady." And he wanted her. Always.

"And I, you, but you've much to do on the morrow."

Regrettably, she was right, but the weeks she'd been away traveling with the queen's party had been weary to him for lack of her company. No matter whom he bedded, or how many, none could fill his heart as Sabra did.

"Do you hunger?" he asked, slipping her loose robe from her shoulders and drawing her onto the bed with him. He pulled a coverlet over their nakedness, to protect them from the cool of the late spring night.

She nestled comfortably against him. "I've fed."

"Who was it?"

She chuckled. "In truth, I know not. Some lad whose duty was to fetch water for the horses. On one of his trips he took a little longer than usual to complete his errand, and he will not be able to say why."

"Handsome?"

"Oh, yes, like a young god he was."

"Do you love him?"

"No more than you love Elaine."

He took the gentle point with good grace and kissed her brow. Once upon a time he'd have burned with inner rage, but no more. This was how life was for them, and he'd dealt well with what had been his most difficult adjustment to it, rooting out all jealousy over Sabra having lovers to feed from. Certainly she showed none toward him for his conquests. They did have an unspoken rule, though; both took care to keep out of each other's way when on the hunt.

It was one thing to speak of other partners, but quite another to witness the seduction itself.

"What if they were like us?" he asked, staring up at the dim roof of his tent. "Able to live beyond their years, ageless and young forever?"

"What of it?"

"Their lives are short, so we must not love them too strongly, but if they also had the Goddess's Gift, would it make a difference to us?"

"You know it would not."

And she was right. He'd only wanted to hear her say it.

"Were you thinking to share blood with any of them?" There was concern in her tone. They had many freedoms, but bestowing the Gift to anyone they pleased was not one of them. Sabra had made clear to him that doing so was rare; the choosing came from the Goddess herself and no one else.

"No," he quickly assured her. "Nothing like that."

"Why then do you wonder such a thing about them?"

"Because the sadness of it came to me when I was with Elaine. One day she will die. They all will die."

"Ah." Sabra touched her lips to her fingers and placed her hand upon his heart. "Sweet Richard, in that you are not alone."

He took solace in her words and held her more closely.

She murmured and sighed, settling in, but a moment later raised herself on one elbow. "Richard...why do you smell of honey?"

He burst forth with a low laugh. "Elaine tried a love potion on me." "Did she now? Are you enspelled to her, then?" Sabra gave him an arch look, eyes sparkling.

He grinned back. "Oh, yes. I'm quite certain of it."

"How terrible for you. I shall have to break that spell sometime."

"Now would be perfect, before it has a chance to grow in strength." His hand stole around her waist, pulling her back.

"But the tourney... you should rest..."

"Damn the tourney. I can always sleep." He rolled on top of her, pinning her arms.

She struggled briefly against his play, laughing too much to effectively fight off his kisses. Soon she was returning them. "You taste of honey," she remarked. "All over. Just how did she use this potion?"

"You really want to know?"

"Oh, yes. Please acquaint me with-"

And so he did. At first he repeated the course he'd taken with Elaine, but Sabra's reactions and wants were different, and his desire for her urgent. He quickly forgot the game, so caught up was he with the loving of her.

"You speak of growing in strength," she said, stroking him. "I had no idea the spell was so potent."

"There's more, much more," he said, and showed her that as well. God, but he'd missed her. The others were nothing, less than nothing, compared to her. He held Sabra like salvation itself, loving her until at last they both lay spent and gasping from the effort of it.

"You seem to have overcome her magic," she murmured sleepily.

"There is no magic for me but yours."

"None?" She unknowingly echoed Elaine, but made a question, not a statement.

"Were they all changed to be as we are, not in a thousand times ten thousand women could I find any like to thee.

All that is life to me is the world in your eyes."

"Ah."

"You are my heart, Sabra, my soul, and I love thee more with each breath I take."

At this, Sabra made a small noise in her throat. An instant later he felt a wetness on his chest where she'd lain her head.

"Why do you weep?" he asked.

"For the happiness you give me, my Richard. No one can, has, or ever will move me as do thee. Your love is the breath in my body."

They clung tightly to one another in the darkness.

It was yet dark in the noontime, for the day of the tourney had but a feeble dawn. Gray clouds shrouded the spring sun, and the air was damp and cool, but so far there had been no rain.

"Is that your doing?" Richard asked with a short nod to the ominous sky.

Sabra only smiled.

"Some are taking it as a bad sign, that there will be death on the field ere nightfall."

" 'Tis only a little weather wizardry," she explained. "This is an important tournament for you. It would not do to have the King's Champion blinded by too much light or fainting from sunburn."

"I'd give you a proper thanks for the boon," he glanced sideways at her, "but neither would it do for the King's Champion to be seen kissing one of his squires."

She erupted into giggles, then hastily smothered them, schooling her face to sober lines as befitted a humble servant.

Her slim form was such that she could disguise herself in boy's clothing and succeed with the deception. For those seeing through it, she had other ways of making them forget their discovery. She stood at Richard's side, dressed in his colors, her coil of hair hidden beneath a close-tied cap. Her delicate features were overshadowed by a thick cowl. She held one of his swords at ready. Behind them, the other servitors looked after the rest of the weapons. Before them lay the tourney field.

It was a wide span of acreage, surrounded on three sides by tilled fields, the fourth by a lake. Elaine's father owned the land and forbade his people to plant on it, keeping it instead solely for the practice of warfare. It increased his reputation to have so many famous fighters gathering here, all with the king's blessing, of course.