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.Handfasting seemed to be acquiring the elements of a nicely bent rule, to thenew and decidedly not improved Circenn Brodie.If she turned to look at him, she would clearly see his hunger for her, and he wanted herto see it; it was like a volcano inside him hot, far from dormant, and bordering ondangerous.He wanted to see how she would react, if her eyes would widen, her pupilsdilate, her lips part.He gazed at her for a moment, willing her to turn and face him, butshe was stalwart in her stance.* * *Circenn entered his chambers, gliding soundlessly across the floor.He drew a deepbreath and let himself feel the raw power surging in his veins.Why fight it now? hethought sardonically.The past four days had been hellish.Since they'd returned to hiscastle, he'd tried to keep himself busy training, attempting to exhaust himself physicallyso he might sleep at night, but to no avail.At every moment he was exquisitelyconscious of the woman in his keep.And exquisitely tempted.He'd broken every damned rule on his list but two, and now he'd come to this chamberto bend yet another one.He'd come to scry his future.He paused before the brightly burning fire.Perhaps, if he had peered into his future themoment she had appeared, he might have glimpsed the disasters coming and been ableto avert them.Perhaps he should have broken that rule first.Or perhaps he should havepracticed scrying years ago and foreseen her arrival, but he hadn't for two reasons: Hedisliked using magic, and scrying was not an exact art.Sometimes he could see clearly,and at other times his visions were impossible to decipher, more confusing than helpful.Circenn stared into the flames for a long moment, arguing with himself over such thingsas fate and free choice.He'd never been able to reach a solid conclusion aboutpredestination.When Adam had first shown him the art of scrying his future days,Circenn had scoffed, arguing that to believe one could see one's future meant that it wasunchangeable, which annihilated the concept of personal control, something he couldn'taccept.Adam had merely laughed and goaded Circenn that if he refused to learn all thearts, he couldn't expect to understand the few he did know.A bird's eye views the entireterrain over which it flies, a mouse sees only dirt.Be ye free or be ye mouse? Adam hadasked, his mouth curved in that perpetually mocking smile.Sighing, Circenn knelt by the fireplace and ran his hand beneath the crack where thehearth met the floor.A portion of the wall containing the hearth silently revolved ninetydegrees, revealing a pitch-black chamber behind it.He picked up a candle and steppedinto the hidden chamber.With a slight movement of his foot, he depressed the lever thatspun the wall closed.It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the room with nowindows.It was an uncomfortable place for him, a place he sought only in his darkesthours. He passed the small tables, toying idly with the various "gifts" the blackest elf hadbrought him.Some he understood, some he never wanted to understand.Adam hadgiven them strange names: batteries, automatic rifles, lighters, tampons.Circenn hadexplored a few of them, and one he'd found himself drawn to many times over thecenturies.Adam called it a "portable CD player." His usual favorite was Mozart'sRequiem, but today, however, he was more in the mood for a piece called Ride of theValkyries by Richard Wagner.Slipping the device over his ears, he thumbed the gaugeto full volume and sank into a chair in the corner, staring at the candle flame.Paperscrackled in his sporran and he removed them with a wry smile.He'd long ago forgottenstuffing those sheaves in the chest in his study, but he had narrowly escaped a disastroussituation by retrieving them.The last thing she needed to stumble upon was hisscribbled and maudlin introspections.She would truly think him deranged.He knew the first sheaf by heart:~4 Dec.858~I have lived forty-one years, and today I have discovered that I will live forever,courtesy of Adam Black.I can scarcely dip my quill in ink; my hand trembles with rage.He gave me no choice but what matter the wishes of mere mortals to an immortal racethat has lost the ability to feel?He didn't tell me until after my wedding today, and even then he would not tell me all,he merely acknowledged that he had slipped the potion in my wine sometime in the pastten years.Now I shall watch my wife grow old and lose her to death, while I continueon, solitary
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