Sholeh arose. “I will show you to your chamber,” she said. “You must share, for my house is full to bursting at the seams. Come!” And she led them up a narrow flight of stone stairs to a small bedchamber with a large bed. “Good night,” she told them.

They slept again, back-to-back, hip-to-hip, in their travel garments without their boots. Lara did not protest this night for to do so would have been ridiculous. She slept quickly and easily, not knowing that he at first did not. Instead he lay simply looking at her. He had waited his entire lifetime for this girl. Until Lara had come into his view he had never been in love. Had never desired a woman for his wife. He knew his mother worried that something might happen to him, and he would die without heirs. Liam did not want the lordship of the Fiacre. He had made that very plain to the elders when his father had died. And Vartan knew his younger brother, Adon, while ambitious for power, was not suited to the responsibility of the lordship. And then he had seen Lara. He wanted her for his wife. He wanted children of her body. He wanted to be her destiny. But she was so intense about it, he did not think she would see it his way. Lara clearly believed, although she had never said it in so many words, that she had something great to accomplish. He sighed. Well, maybe she did. But it did not stop him from wanting her.

When she awoke Lara found Vartan gone from her side. She was surprised but, remembering they had reached Rivalen just before dark, she realized that he was probably conducting the business of his lordship. She could see it was late by the angle of the sun coming through the small window. She lay quietly, her body sore from all the riding she had done since leaving the Desert. It felt good just to be still. Suddenly the door to the chamber opened to admit a serving girl carrying a tray.

“My mistress thought you might be awake, and the meal is long over in the hall,” the girl said, putting the tray down on the empty side of the bed.

“Where is the lord?” Lara asked.

“In the hall holding court, lady. There is a shameful case to be heard. The daughter of the blacksmith had her virginity taken from her by force. The villain is a man she refused when she chose another. Now she is ruined, and it is unlikely her chosen will have her, but she will not have the villain, and has wept for days over it,” the servant girl gossiped.

“Has the lord ruled yet?” Lara asked the girl.

“Nay, the case has not even begun, for the girl will not stop weeping, and the lord will not begin the case until she does,” the servant said. “She is a foolish creature.”

“Tell the lord I will be down to join him quickly,” Lara said, snatching up a small loaf from the tray, and tearing it into pieces as the serving girl hurried out. There was butter in a small crock, and Lara scooped some out with her thumb, and spread it on the bread. There was a hard-boiled egg, and a mug of cider. She ate it all, then washed herself in the basin of water that had been left on the wide stone sill of the chamber’s narrow window. She rebraided her hair, pulled on her boots and went downstairs.

The hall was crowded with probably every inhabitant of Rivalen. Lara worked her way to the side of the hall up near the high board where Vartan and Sholeh were seated. Her gaze took in the people just below the board. An older man and woman. A sobbing girl. Two younger men, one in chains.

“This hearing must begin, for my journey home is a long one,” Vartan finally said impatiently. “Can you not stop your daughter’s weeping?”

“My lord, I apologize, but she is devastated by what has happened. Look at her eyes. Swollen with her grief!” the victim’s father said.

“We must begin!” Sholeh snapped. “Be silent, Kele!”

The girl howled louder, to everyone’s irritation.

Lara moved from her place, going to Kele, and put an arm about her. “I know your grief, for I was used once as you were,” she said. “Crying will solve nothing. Now is the time for vengeance, and only the lord can give it to you, Kele, but he will go if you cannot regain control of yourself. Will you allow your attacker to remain unpunished?”

The girl’s tears began to abate. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Lara, daughter of Swiftsword the Crusader Knight and Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries. The men who robbed me of my virginity were Forest Lords, cruel and brutal men who held me captive for months. But I escaped them and the taint of their actions to pursue my greater destiny. Now you have the opportunity to change your destiny. You can pine away over something that was not your fault, or you can take your revenge on the man who stole what was not his to take. The lord is here to help you, but you must stop weeping. The shame is not yours, Kele. Choose what you will do, but choose now!”

“Will you stay with me until it is over?” Kele asked.

“I will,” Lara answered her, and wiped the tears from the girl’s face with the heel of her palm. “Tell the lord what you want.”

Kele stood straight, looking up at Vartan, and said, “I ask for your justice, my lord Vartan. I have been terribly wronged.”

“Tell me,” Vartan said in a kindly voice.

Kele drew a long, deep breath to calm her beating heart, and then she began. “I had two suitors, my lord. My father asked which I preferred, and I chose Key. We have known each other our whole lives, and spoken often in secret of marriage. So my father agreed, and the betrothal was celebrated. But Lonn, my other suitor, would not accept it. He followed me wherever I would go, harassing me to change my mind. Finally I told him by the village well that I would not have him ever. Even if I had to die an old maid. Then Key will not have you either, he told me. There were witnesses to it, my lord.”

A murmur arose from the spectators, and Vartan said, “You will have your chance to tell me,” he promised them. “Go on now, Kele. What happened next?”

“The next day my cousin and I went to pick berries on the hillside. Lonn came upon us, and told my cousin to leave. He threatened her with his dagger, and she fled back to the village to raise the alarm. By the time my father came, it was too late,” the girl said.

“It is not enough, Kele. I need to know exactly what Lonn did,” Vartan said. “I am sorry, but the accusation must come directly from you, his victim.”

The young girl shuddered.

“Be brave,” Lara said, her arm tightening about Kele.

“He ripped my gown half off,” Kele began, and tears began slipping down her face again, but she continued bravely on. “He threw me to the ground. He fell upon me, forcing my legs apart with his knee. He pushed his manroot into me, and though I screamed and begged him not to do it he raped me, my lord. And when he did he ruined my chances for marriage with Key.”

“If she wants a husband I’ll have her,” Lonn said boldly, a grin upon his face.

Kele turned, and looked directly at him. “I would die first,” she said. “You have ruined my life, but I would die before I took you as my husband!”

“Thank you,” Vartan said. “You have been a brave lass. Sit now and I will hear from the others involved in this matter.”

Kele’s parents spoke. Yes, Key and Lonn had sought Kele for a wife. They did not like Lonn, but they left the decision to their daughter, who chose wisely. Since the horrific incident they had kept their daughter confined, seeing no one. The next witnesses were those women who had been at the village well when Lonn had been told in no uncertain terms by Kele that she would not have him.

“You are certain she was firm in her intent?” Sholeh asked. “She was not flirting with him as young girls will do?”

“No, lady,” the witness, an older woman, said. “She could not have made it any plainer, but he kept harassing her. Finally a group of us chased him away, for poor Kele was frightened and trembling. Who knew that he would violate the poor lass?” She shook a fist at Lonn. “Curse you! No decent woman will have you now. May your line die out forever! You are a monster!”

“When did the violation occur?” Vartan asked.

“Almost a month ago, my lord,” Kele’s mother said.

“Has the lass had her flow since?” he continued.

The mother nodded, blushing.

“It is possible then that Lonn has done no permanent damage,” Vartan said. “Where is the betrothed?”

“Here, my lord.” A pleasant-faced young man stepped forward.

“Do you wish to sever the betrothal, Key of Rivalen?” Vartan asked.

“No! But they have not let me see her since it happened, my lord. I have not been able to comfort her, or tell her that I love her no matter,” he said in anguished tones. “We are to be wed at the harvest. Our cottage stands ready and waiting for us.” He turned to the girl. “I love you, Kele! Tell me you yet love me!”

“Oh, Key! I love you, too, but my parents said you would not have me now, and that I had brought this shame upon myself by going berrying with my cousin instead of within a group of girls where I would have been safe. They said I was foolish, and had doomed myself to a lifetime of misery,” Kele sobbed.

Key went to the girl’s side, and raising her up enfolded her in his arms. He glared at her parents. “You told her these things? Without consulting with me? I love Kele and I intend wedding her at the harvest as we have been planning for months. All I want is justice from the lord. You will not keep my betrothed wife from me again!”

“Then it is settled, but for the matter of punishment for Lonn,” Vartan said. He looked at the accused. “We have heard from everyone in this matter but you. What have you to say for yourself, Lonn of Rivalen?”

“I wanted her,” he replied. “And when she shamed me before the village I had my revenge on her.” He leered at the lovers. “Do you want to know how she screamed when I thrust into her, Key? And struggled? It was glorious!”

“You do not deny your guilt, then,” Vartan said, a look of revulsion on his face.

“No!”

“Will you repent of your crime, and make amends to Kele?” Vartan asked.

“No! Why should I? The little bitch got what she deserved.”

Lara felt Andraste quivering within its scabbard as it lay across her back.

“Then I condemn you to death for your crime,” Vartan said. “The sentence will be carried out immediately.”

“Let me!” Lara cried out, stepping forward.

A gasp arose from those in the hall, but a small smile flitted across Vartan’s face. He had meant to carry out the sentence himself, but she had said she was capable of killing. Now he would see if she merely boasted, or spoke truth. “Very well, Lara, daughter of Swiftsword. He is yours, and you will execute the sentence. Take him outside, and make him dig his grave in the hillside first.” He stood.

“Do you think she can do it?” Sholeh asked, rising from her seat.

“She says she has killed before, and if she fails, I am here. Come, cousin, and let us see this matter through.” He stepped down from the dais saying to Kele and Key, “You must witness the execution, my young lovers, for only then will you be free of this tragedy, and able to move on with your lives.”

Sholeh’s hall emptied as the villagers, Lonn tightly in their grasp, moved toward the hillside just beyond the village. Once there the condemned man had his hands unshackled but not his ankles. He was given a spade, and began to dig. He did so, singing bawdy songs, and laughing almost maniacally as he dug. Finally the grave was done. He looked at Lara, and licked his lips leeringly.

“I should like to have you beneath me just once, faerie girl,” he said, and he rubbed his crotch with a dirty hand. “I’ll bet you’d scream and struggle nicely for me.”

Lara eyes grew cold. She slipped Andraste from its scabbard, and the blade hummed quite audibly. She looked at the condemned man, and a small smile touched her lips. “Nay, ’tis you who will scream and struggle for me,” she told him. Then she looked to Vartan. “My lord?”

“Put him on his knees,” the lord said dispassionately.

And at that moment Lonn felt icy fear pour over him, certain the faerie girl had bewitched him else he would never be afraid. But he was. He shrieked like a maiden, and struggled against his captors as they forced him to his knees, but he would not bow his head. Lara raised her sword, and he watched in disbelief as the blade swung toward him. He heard the sword singing even as it began to slice his head from his shoulders.

“I am Andraste, and I drink the blood of evil men!”

Lonn’s severed head fell into the newly dug grave. There was a long deep silence, and then the villagers cheered loudly as Lara wiped his blood from her sword on the slain man’s tunic, and sheathed it neatly in its scabbard. She looked to Vartan questioningly.