* * * * *

It was a long night for Legolas, who found no sleep. Half of his mind worried further on his possible personality defect as the other searched for a memory to place with the face that made it so familiar to him. Will. It didn't sound as familiar as the face to him, though he'd known of several Wills before.

He hadn't spoken long with Will since the man was obviously exhausted, and afterwards throughout the night had paced the library, the dining hall, his room, the halls of the palace. Nothing could be found to occupy his time; he was alone out of bed save for a couple night servants who merely averted their eyes from the nightwalker and continued on.

It was perhaps an hour after sunrise --which Legolas had watched and found no interest in-- before palace life began to stir. Maids, servants, and even slaves, he supposed, bustled about in preparation for the day and several guests rose and wandered around. After being shooed out of the dining hall by a herd of plump little maids, he strayed back to the library, quickly becoming a haunt for him.

He didn't have the concentration to find a book worth reading, much less sit to read it. He was just so restless! He needed to go somewhere, see something new, do something!

"I'll just run away. That would be out of character. How's that for carefree, Brilcor?" he mused to himself. He ran his hand along the table nearest him, stopping as his fingers touched the mystery papers. Out of idleness he glanced down at them and again perused the writing. It was a shame Warian was such a monster, or he could probably help solve the mystery of Alrianto. That book he had, after all, or journal, whatever. If only someone could read it...

Legolas froze. That was where he knew the face from! It was the picture in the book: Bill! A rush of excitement surged through his veins.

Unfortunately, there was nothing it could do immediately with this excitement. First, duty was required of him. Duty, that horrid word that binds even the most free of spirits to dark missions and lonely chambers. Legolas was soon sought out and required to attend to the lords of the court as even more discussions were had. Surely just making friends with a neighboring region didn't require this much planning! Not that he really knew what the planning was; he --maturely enough-- allowed his mind to stray off mere minutes into the meeting and spent the rest of the morning and a good portion of that afternoon wandering the nearby beaches, exploring the Fanghorn Forest, and traipsing the depths of Eryn Lasgalen for spiders.

Finally, in the late afternoon, Legolas was released from his "duties" to the lords and allowed to rocket off through the halls to Will's room. The several times he'd inquired to a servant of the man's health, he'd been informed that he was improving, but still confined to his room, where he'd honestly done nothing but rest. Such was often the side effect of elvish medicine.

Once free, it took all the control he possessed not to sprint over to where Will resided. Indeed, he ran when alone, slowing to a calm walk every time someone came into view. He finally reached Will's room and, pausing as before with his hand on the door, listened for movement inside. It would be rather rude to just barge in without warning. Luckily for him, there were sounds of life in the room other than a pesky nurse.

Legolas pushed the door open a crack and called in, "Will Turner. Are you awake?"

"Yes." Legolas opened the door wider and when Will saw who it was, he invited, "Come in." Legolas obeyed.

Walking over to the bed where the man was sitting, he commented, "You look much improved." Color had returned to his face, shine to his eyes, and his alertness all did to advertise a healthier man than when he'd been found. He was stretching his arms out and examining the damage.

"I feel better, thanks."

Looking for something useful to do, Legolas offered, "Would you like the drapes opened?" Not waiting for an answer, he crossed the room to the window.

Will shoved the covers off of himself and blushed slightly to see that he wore nothing except a long shirt, but saw that his pants had been cleaned and mended and folded neatly on the bedside table. No doubt that nagging nurse. Nonetheless, he was grateful as he quickly slipped them on. Legolas did not turn around until the rapid movement stopped.

When he did, he saw Will carefully standing from the bed, hands on the bed table to steady himself.

At his look of concern, Will assured him, "I'm okay, I think. My legs are, at least. Just a little shaky." He regained balance, though, and was able to make it the short distance to stand beside Legolas at the window. His legs seemed able enough, true; his arm throbbed, though, and his chest and stomach burned. In contrast, the cuts on his face and the one on the side of his neck felt ice cold.

He found the appearance of this Legolas quite out of the ordinary. He was a beautiful man, to be sure; nothing like the rugged, tanned sea-faring men Will was used to being around. His lithe frame didn't look like it could withstand much pressure, yet Legolas carried himself with such mastery and self-assurance that Will figured he was stronger than he appeared. He tried not to stare at Legolas' ears; he'd heard of people born with them pointed like that: fawn's ear, his mother had called it. He'd never actually seen it, though, and guessed it was probably a sensitive subject.

Instead, he averted his gaze to match Legolas' out the window at the afternoon. It was a strange sight --not the time of day, nor the world strolling lazily along in a mid-day slumber-- but the city itself. Built on platforms like this...Will had never seen anything like it in his life. It was pretty, sure, and old, and more orderly and civil than Port Royal.

"What is this place?" he asked, not looking from the window.

Legolas didn't move, either, as he replied, "Kirsoden."

"What country?"

"Country?" Legolas repeated, turning to look at him oddly. "What do you mean,' country'?"

"You know, England, France, Spain. I've never heard of Kirsoden."

"I've never heard of these places you named. This is the region of Alrianto."

"What do you mean you've never heard of them? Surely I haven't sailed that far from the Caribbean...there wasn't an Alrianto on the map...this doesn't make sense."

"The Caribbean?" Will looked back at Legolas with an anxious face.

"You don't know where the Caribbean is? A group of islands off of the Americas..."

Legolas shook his head and explained, "Nor do I know of any America. I know only of Etriena, Eira, Alrianto, and Alronden." Will clenched his jaw and massaged the window frame with his fist. This wasn't right. Alrianto? No Americas, Caribbean, Port Royal. Not unless they'd sailed to somewhere not yet known, but it was civilized, so it had to be known.

"Do you have a map?" he inquired after a couple moments of silence.

Legolas nodded, "In the library. We can go now, before supper, and be undisturbed."

"I'd appreciate that." Legolas turned from the window and had crossed the room in a second, but then had to wait for Will who still wasn't quite back to normal on his legs. He apologized needlessly, and Legolas afterwards walked slower.

As they walked, Will glanced around curiously and shook his head, "I've never seen anything like this."

"This palace?" Will nodded. "I haven't, either. This city. Eryn Lasgalen is quite different."

"That's where you're from?"

"Yes. It's a long ways northwest of here, in Middle Earth. A large, old forest, with a mountain range to break it up. Very dark, with giant spiders to hunt and little to no sunshine. The palace really isn't; it's more a hall, built underground with the help of dwarves."

"Dwarves?" Will's face scrunched up in confusion. That was sort of...rude, wasn't it?

"Yes, back before dwarves and elves despised each other."

"Elves?" Will stopped just inside the library doors and looked at Legolas incredulously. Legolas gave him a similar look back. "There's a lot of explanation needed."

Legolas led him over to the table with the papers, since he'd bring them up eventually, then retrieved a book of maps for Will. He opened to a map of Alrianto and pointed out Kirsoden.

"This is where your ship was," he added, approximating the spot.

Will studied the map. None of it looked familiar, and he knew it wasn't from memory loss. He flipped to the next page; it wasn't either. Nor the next, nor any of the pages.

"No...no, this isn't right," he muttered, shaking his head. "This --none of this is real. It doesn't exist on earth, or we'd know about it."

Legolas watched him flip frantically through the pages, then offered, "If you aren't from here or Middle-Earth, Eira or Alronden, where are you from?"

"I'm from blooming England! But these maps are wrong; according to them, England doesn't exist."

"I've never heard of England."

Will groaned and planted his face in his hands, his elbows on the table. He massaged his temples and tried to breathe deeply to remain calm.

"I'm dead."

"What?"

"I'm dead. That's what this is. I've died and this is some sort of alternate universe where dwarves and goblins and I suppose faeries and unicorns go traipsing about."

Legolas was just as confused as Will, but did comment, "I'm just as real as you are. I'm no dream of yours."

"Then how do you explain me going from Port Royal to this Alrianto, which nobody back home has ever heard of. We're talking two different worlds, here."

"Or two different areas of the world."

Will quit hyperventilating and looked up at Legolas, "What?"

"I've never heard mention of any place other than Arda and Valinor, to the west, but nobody's ever sailed east that I've heard of. Perhaps where you're from is to the east of here."

"But that's impossible. To the west is the Americas, and then Asia. Between there is the Pacific, but we would have had to jump over the Americas, which is impossible."

"Or found a route unknown?"

"An unknown route to an unknown world...it's improbable...but not impossible. Surely we don't know every single area of the world. It's unlikely that this giant land mass would be there without us knowing, but..."

"But not impossible." Will nodded slowly. After a minute, he conceded, "Okay, say this is all real. I've discovered this new continent...what was this about dwarves and elves?"

"You don't have dwarves and elves in your land? I'm not surprised; they aren't here, either; At least not elves. Elves are...I'm an elf," he stated simply. He wasn't exactly sure how to explain. It wasn't every day you had to describe your race to someone.

"You're an elf? But I thought elves were two feet high, warty skin, scrunched-up eyes."

"No."

"Well, obviously. And I suppose dwarves are seven feet tall with clear complexions and slender figures, as well?"

"Hardly. Short, round, bearded, rather ugly, mostly." Will laughed. "At least my 'land,' as you called it, got that part right." He closed the book and sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath.

Legolas chose the lull in conversation to pose a question, "What exactly happened on that ship?" Will continued staring straight ahead and pursed his lips as if sorting through in his mind what exactly the correct answer would be. He knitted his hands in his lap for a moment, then flattened them out on the table in front of him.

"The captain of the ship disappeared almost a month ago and the crew elected me to replace him. At the time, we thought he'd made off with some of our stores, since a boat and load of cargo was missing --we were carrying goods from England to the Caribbean. A week ago, there was mutinee onboard--"

"Mutinee?"

"Part of the crew betrayed me and rebelled against my authority. They locked me in my cabin and sailed us here, I suppose. They'd kept the mutinee a secret, so as to keep the help of those loyal to me, but...yesterday morning, I suppose, they announced their plans to pillage.

"There was a bloody fight between those loyal and those not. So much...so much blood. I couldn't get out of my cabin; all I could do was listen to men dying to stay faithful to me." He gulped; he was obviously not a battle-hardened warrior. "Then they came into my cabin and demanded a map. They said I had the land map to some treasure of which I know nothing about. When I couldn't present it...we fought. They finally left. I...I was there for several hours, I suppose, when you found me." He shook his head and asked, "There were many bodies?"

"Yes. Less than a dozen, perhaps."

"Then maybe a couple escaped. I'm guessing you didn't find anybody else?"

Legolas shook his head, "You were the only one alive. There was nobody on shore, either."

"They must have gone off searching for this treasure of theirs." He finished with a sigh, "And now, here I am, all but dead with regards to you. Thank you, again."

"Thanks are needless," Legolas assured him. He thought for a moment about the ship, about it's wrecked state, the amount of blood, and the bodies. Will nodded.

"Either way, I owe you. If only I could get back at them...you don't happen to know of a treasure?"

"I'm a visitor here, as well."

"That's right." Will sighed and idly picked up one of the journal papers, looking it over, which reminded Legolas of the whole reason he'd sought him out. Before he had a chance to ask anything, though, Will sat up straighter and looked closer at the paper, brow furrowed. "What the..."

"What is it?"

"These papers --where are they from?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." He quickly delivered a condense version on the mysterious origins of the city. "These papers are from a journal that a local slave-lord has. They're in a foreign language, though, and nobody has been able to decipher them. There's another thing, though..." Will looked up expectantly. "In the journal, there's a picture of a man whom you greatly resemble. Are you in any way related to a 'Bill'?"

Will froze and it was several long seconds before he ventured slowly, "My father's name was William, called Bill."

"And you favor him?"

"I can barely remember. I haven't seen him since I was a small boy."

"Can you read that?" he asked Will, motioning to the pages. Will held it closer and turned his head a little, then nodded.

"It's barely legible writing and I'm not the world's greatest scholar, but I think I can make it out. It's French." At Legolas' blank stare, he explained, "Language of France, another country."

"Ah."

Will looked back to it, then, starting from the top, began translating, "This is a beautiful city. I haven't been here since I was young; not to this specific place. It's changed a lot --the people are poorer and more tired and the big town hall-type building is destroyed. It feels very old, which it is. I remember my father telling me about it, and his father before him, and his father before him. I guess you could say visiting here is a family tradition. I'll bring William here sometime, maybe."

"William. That's you, isn't it?" Legolas guessed.

Will was thoughtful for a moment, then admitted, "I'm not sure. This doesn't look like what I remember my father's handwriting, and he never called me William --only Will." So was it wrong? "Unless...unless my grandfather wrote this, maybe. I never knew him. But you say there's a complete journal?"

Legolas nodded, "Yes, at Lord Warian's manor." By the way he said it, Will could guess the man wasn't a nominee for World's Favorite Man.

"Not a good man?"

"No. I think he's hiding the journal from everyone, as well."

"Do you think there's any way I could see it? If it's written in French, too, I could translate it."

"I believe Bill is the author of the journal, whether he wrote these pages or not. The journal doesn't look as worn as these, though that could be from different treatment, and his name appears frequently enough."

Will continued looking at the page and added, "These say nothing important except descriptions of cities, their inhabitants, their cultures. But the journal, perhaps, could explain more. Probably not the history of Alrianto, if it was written by my father, but possible."

"Then we must get you to the journal somehow." Will nodded. "How is the only question."

"We can't simply ask him?"

"I doubt it, and there's no telling whether I can break from my duties long enough to take you."

"I could go by myself."

Legolas vetoed that, "You're even more removed from this land than I am, and he's not likely to take kindly to a stranger. Probably force you into slavery." The pair fell silent as Legolas paced around the table and Will continued perusing the papers.

"I still can't understand why my father never mentioned this place to anyone. And his father, and his father. My family's been coming here for a long time, I guess. That's what this makes it sound like. So why did he never mention it to anyone --At least myself or my mother. Nobody in my world has ever heard of any of these places." He said this out loud, but Legolas didn't bother commenting, since it sounded just like thinking out loud, and he himself was too intent on the Warian problem. "I guess I'll get some answers when I see this supposed journal of my father's."

Legolas was ignoring him, though not to be rude. There had to be a way... They could sneak into the library --unless it wasn't there anymore. No telling what Warian had done with the journal. They could spend days wandering around that mansion of his only to be caught, beaten, and forced to live life as slaves. Not exactly at the top of his to-do list. Yet there had to be a way in. They needed a secret path, yet he knew not how to find one. What they needed was somebody who did know a secret way in, somebody on the inside, somebody...

"A slave," he blurted out.

Will looked up at him, "Huh?"

"A slave. He's a slave-owner. Those slaves probably know all the workings of his house-hold; perhaps one of them could help us," Legolas explained.

"But wouldn't that be a big gamble for them? I mean, if slavery is anything like back in my world, it'd be a very, very unfortunate thing if they got caught."

Legolas nodded, "Here, too. There isn't slavery like this in Middle-Earth, but his plantation is run very strictly and harshly."

"Then what would be the initiative? What slave would risk their life just to help us?" Good point. Legolas' spirit dropped for a second, until he remember her.

He smiled conspiratorially, "There's one, a woman, who seems pretty reckless. She would probably help us."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but it's worth a shot; don't you agree?"

"Might as well," Will shrugged. "So when will we go."

Legolas took to pacing again and thought outloud, "Not today --it's too late and you're strength isn't fully returned."

"If I continue at this rate, it won't be long, though. I wonder that I'm healing so quickly."

"Elvish medicine," Legolas explained. "I suppose your world relies on simple medicine of men?" Will nodded. "Elvish medicine is more advanced."

"That would explain it."

Legolas continued, "Perhaps...I'll ask my lord--" at Will's strange look he added, "--my father if I can be excused from the meetings tomorrow. Do you think you'd be well enough to travel tomorrow?"

"By foot?"

"Horse."

"How far is it?"

"Less than two hours."

"I could do that by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is, then," Legolas smiled. Will returned the gesture.

It was at that moment that a maid entered the library and announced to anyone therein, "Supper is being served."

"Are you up for the dining hall?"

Will rose and nodded, "Lead the way."

* * * * *

Rowan was once again picking cotton in the field alongside Kai when Veelor, sort of a subordinate slave manager --underneath the head slave master, and not nearly as cruel-- approached her. At first she ignored him, trying to get under his skin and annoy him, but he would have none of it. She hadn't been able to upset him yet, much to her chagrin: the girl who lived, it seemed, to annoy people.

"Fine. What do you want?" she asked, not stopping her work. Kai, following her example, continued as well, though his nervous glances towards Veelor showed he wasn't all together comfortable with the rebelling.

"Change of pace for you today," he informed her with a grin. "Don't you feel special?"

"Yeah, something like that," she retorted.

Veelor offered, "Hey, you live for spontaneity. Continue with this for the morning, but you're to report to the main house after lunch."

"Whatever for?"

"I don't know. S'not my order to ask questions. Warian himself came and saw me today, told me to tell you."

Rowan rolled her eyes, "He went through all that trouble for little ol' me? Mr. High-and-Mighty himself?"

"Yes. Good luck," he chuckled sarcastically. "Wouldn't want to be you. Though I guess you've not got much to worry about. It seems he's taken a fancy to you."

Rowan let out a gasp, then gagged, "That's disgusting, Veelor. You just ruined my day."

Veelor gave a deep laugh as he walked off to terrorize some other slave, leaving Rowan to shudder at the very idea. She obviously knew that wasn't it at all, that if Warian had any thoughts about her it sure wasn't an adolescent crush.

"What's that about?" Kai asked, scooting instinctively closer. "You're not in trouble again, are you? You don't think...the books..."

"No," she assured him. "They checked my bunk and found nothing. I'm off the hook for that. No doubt he's cooked up some other accusation for me." He was watching her with wide eyes and she laughed at him. "You're a worry-wart, you know that? You worry too much."

"Why, because I'm not willing to throw my life away on a whim?"

"Is that what I'm doing? Throwing my life away? Personally, I think I'm enjoying it more than anybody else here. Spend my days making a couple authoritative figures mad, play a couple pranks, break something. It's all in good fun," she poked at him teasingly.

Kai shook his head and sighed, "That's your problem: you don't take things seriously enough."

"Au contraire, I take all sorts of things seriously. Escape, for instance, and hope. But taking every bit of life too seriously is pointless. If I die, so what. Hey, means I'm out of here, right?"

"That's horrible."

"I know. Just a little sunshine for your day." She rubbed a piece of cotton fluff into his hair. "I'm serious when the time calls for it, but not a moment before or minute after. It's life; we're slaves; nobody makes it out of this alive anyway."

"If nobody gets out alive, how do you plan to get people out of here? Kill them?"

Rowan studied him curiously. His cotton picking had become rough and jarred, his jaw was clenched and his face had flushed. He was obviously not joking around.

"Eesh, sorry, Kai. Don't get all worked up; I didn't mean anything by it. I won't kid around about dying anymore if it's going to get you this upset," she apologized.

He shook his head, "It's nothing. I'm just not like you: I can't joke about dying. I'm afraid to die."

"Everyone's afraid of something."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, truly curious.

"Me? Breaking a nail...no, haha. Um...being stuck here forever, maybe? I don't know. I guess I'm not really because I know how to get out," she hoped her evasive answer would change the subject. Deep dark fears weren't exactly her highlight conversation.

"And how's that?"

"It's a game of strategy," Rowan explained. "You have to wait patiently, study their moves, feel their heartbeat, watch their eyes. Watch for precedents to attacks, then dodge and wait some more. Eventually, they'll mess up and trip and then--" she thrust an imaginary dagger into his stomach, "Score."

"Even thought they're bigger, well trained, with better weapons?"

Rowan shrugged, "Then you fight harder, with everything you've got. Necessity and passion are better allies than greed and vanity. Who always wins in the end of stories?"

"The good," Kai answered. As an afterthought, he added, "But that's only because if evil wins then the people all die and can't make up stories."

"Now who's the gloom-bringer?" He shook his head. "Besides, if evil won, wouldn't they be spreading stories about their victories?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that." Rowan nodded and patted him on the shoulder, the most experience she had in comforting people. Short to say, she'd never been all that good at that emotion stuff.

"You leave all the worrying to me, okay? You just busy yourself keeping your eyes and ears open. You seem to be pretty good at all that espionage."

* * * * *

After lunch, Rowan split off from Kai and made her way to the main house. The servants didn't seem to thrilled to see her walking through the main corridor, but she ignored them, heading straight for the library. She assumed Warian would be in there again, else he would have told her where to find him. She was right.

He sat at the table, empty of everything save some random book he thumbed through disinterestedly. At her entrance he looked up and gave a broad, ghastly grin. A scar on his upper lip altered his smile so that his pearly, vampirical teeth glistened in the highly lit room. The cartilage along the upper rim of his ear looked to have been ripped away and rubbed smooth, almost shiny, completely representing the refined monstrosity of this man. He was disgusting looking.

"Ah, you've made it."

Rowan took on the same chilled air and tone of superiority she always took when dealing with him and replied shortly, "Yes."

"I'm so glad. I have a little job for you," he informed her.

"I already told you, I'd rather--"

"Oh, not that," Warian waved his hand as if the idea was of no concern. Under his breath, he added a mumbled, "At least not now," before continuing, "I have some important peers coming over tomorrow, other lords as myself. They'll be here for dinner and you, my pretty one..." He stopped for a moment, obviously pleased by this new nickname. Rowan turned her head to keep from gagging. "You are going to provide the entertainment."

"Really. You think so."

"Don't contradict me like that," he chided.

Rowan looked back at him, "Quite the opposite, my dear Warian. I wouldn't dare contradict you. I corrected you."

To her surprise, he didn't slap her or strike her with his cane or call in guards. He didn't even make a move towards her. He merely leaned back in his chair and chuckled as if he knew something she didn't. That made her slightly nervous, though she worked to hide it. Knowledge was the most dangerous weapon of them all.

"Listen to my idea, first, and then maybe you will feel different." He stood from his chair and leaned against the table, putting her more on guard. He noticed this and grinned. "I'm the handsomest, wealthiest, smartest, most powerful person in Alrianto --save the Royal Bureau themselves, perhaps in theory-- with the biggest plantation, the most gold, the most slaves, and the best library. I'm missing one thing, though."

"An ego?" Rowan supplied sarcastically.

He 'tsk'ed, then finished, "The only thing I'm missing is the most beautiful lady by my side." He stood closer to her and ran cold fingers down her face and neck. "And you, my pretty one, are it."

"So you want me to play wife?" she inferred, trying to ignore his intrusive hand and the bile rising in her throat.

Warian shook his head, "No, no, girl. I wouldn't ask that of you. You'll have to calm your desires to wed me; it would be a marriage below my station. Me calling a slave 'wife'. Ha! No, no." He bent his face closer, taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't looking at him, and kissed the side of her neck. "You're going to be my mistress." At the touch, Rowan startled and jumped away, slapping at her neck with out even thinking about it to wipe at the now poisoned area.

"Are you insane?! You actually think I would ever agree to be your mistress. You disgusting, slimy, wormy bastard of a man. There's isn't anything in this entire world that you could do to me that would be worse than letting you touch me. Nothing!"

"I'm not so sure I would decline so quickly if I were you. I told you I have my ways of getting what I want, when I want it," he admonished.

She glared hard at him, "There's nothing you could do to me--"

"Ah, but there's the trick. See, I wouldn't need to do anything to you." He grabbed her and forcibly dragged her over to the window and pointed outside. "If I'm not mistake, you seem to have formed some type of attachment with a certain young slave boy here." Rowan felt her heart jump as she followed his finger to were Kai was leaving their barrack.

She lied, "I care nothing for him."

"Really now. Good. Then you won't mind me doing away with him. One less head to feed." Warian waved his hand at the slave master standing right outside the barrack. In a second, the slave master had grabbed a completely confused Kai. This would be why she didn't form bonds. The slave master drew a sword. She could almost hear Kai cry out.

"Wait!" Warian held up his hand as an order to the slave master.

"Yes? I believe you're seeing things my way now?" She looked out the window at Kai again; he couldn't see her, holding his life in her hands.

Rowan jutted her jaw out but consented, "You give me your word that he's unhurt. Give me your word that you will never lay a hand on him."

"And I would do this because..."

"You give me your word or I will ruin your in front of your peers." Warian's face broke out into his sickening grin again. He waved his hand at the slave master who shoved Kai away and stopped off. Well she'd ruined his fun.

"We'll see. If you do well, I'll give you my word. If I don't fell you've...performed up to standard, I'll cut his chest open and let him slowly bleed to death."

Warian grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck with his grisly face. He kissed her neck again as she resisted the urge to vomit all over him.

"I told you I get what I want," he whispered to her. She vocally growled. "Yes, that's what I want to hear," he winked. Stepping away, hobbling towards the door, he called back at her, "I'll send someone to get you tomorrow to clean you up."

Rowan looked back out the window where Kai was making serious time out to the fields and away from the slave master who, for all he knew, had just randomly grabbed and threatened him. She shook her head and sighed: sentiments screwed up everything.

Chapter Three || Main || Chapter Five