Lachlan swore silently, stealing a glance at his lover’s profile. Yes, he was sworn to follow certain dictates. Yet he was unable to forswear the dictates of his heart. Especially now that the old Lord was dead and Alastor the new ruler of the House. Everyone knew the Lord had to have an heir of noble blood, and there would certainly be no heir from the union of himself and Alastor. Alastor would be forced to take a wife, and Lachlan would remain at his knightly post, loyal until the end . . .

An arrow suddenly flashed across his vision and struck with an audible thunk into the tree just ahead of the knight. He instantly dismounted—riders were much easier targets than those on the ground –and drew his sword. The other men reined in behind him.

"What happened?" Islwyn asked in a low tone. His brother mentioned to him to be quiet.

"Show yourself," Alastor ordered the hidden archer. His voice echoed across the forest.

Lachlan pulled the arrow out of the tree trunk, inspected it. "Finely made. ‘Tis elves’ work."

"Elves? In my father’s—in my forest?" Alastor was audibly puzzled.

"’Twas their land once," Riordan muttered quietly. He had often found that his profession was often conducive to recording history, and the Elven Wars were not something easily forgotten.

Alastor dismounted, and strode to Lachlan’s side. "I am the Lord of House Pegasus, and you are trespassers on my land," he declared. "I command you to step out." Islwyn was impressed. He’d never heard his brother sound so . . . well, lordly before. Beside him, Tristan raised a bemused eyebrow.

A few seconds passed, and then four figures emerged from the darkness of the surrounding trees. Two men, and two women. Each were dressed in the rough clothing of traveling commoners, but their attitudes indicated they were most likely warriors. One woman held back from the others, preferring to stay in shadow.

"Lord Alastor." The dark-skinned woman spoke evenly. "We heard of your father’s death."

"You know that he is Lord here and you do not bow to him?" Lachlan demanded. She turned her eyes on him and he saw she was sightless.

"We bow to no one," the woman replied.

"Insolent-!" Lachlan snapped, raising his sword. Simultaneously, the two men drew belt knives and the other woman stepped into the light, revealing her delicately pointed ears.

Riordan gasped. Elves were fierce warriors, and the finest archers to boot. He fought down the urge to turn and run, despite the woman’s seemingly fragile appearance.

"Peace, Lachlan," Alastor said, gesturing for the knight to sheath his sword. "You are Tribe Leodegrance, are you not? I believe I recognize you, Elise," he continued, looking towards the elven woman, who scowled slightly.

"Many a House would pay dearly for your protection," Islwyn remarked. Privately he sighed at the thought of mercenaries roaming the land.

"Our contract was finished," one of the men said gruffly. "Now we hire out to anyone who’ll pay." His companion frowned and nudged him sharply in the ribs.

"It is fortunate that we encountered you, Lord Alastor," the blind woman said, quelling her tribesmen with a vague glance cast in their direction. "For once we have information, and not killing, to sell."

"Really," Alastor said. He put one hand on his horse to mount again. "Then by all means, you are welcome in my House."