The darkness in her mind was pierced by the soft shadowy light of a single candle. Blinking her heavy lids open, she took stock
of the room and her condition.

She was lying on a soft bed covered with white linen sheets. A white linen blanket protected her from the cold air seeping from the window. Her bloody robes now hung from a clothes' peg on a side of the wall. She was dressed in clean silken robes, more luxuriant than her own. The room she was in was just as extravagant. Golden candelabras stood on the huge ebony desk facing the bed. A tall high-backed chair loomed before the desk. A full-length silver-framed mirror stood near the closets. Folded nightblue cloaks sat at the edge of the bed. A lively fire burned in the fireplace. 

Laura stirred up, shivering. It was snowing outside and she would have frozen to death had it not been for the fire. Rubbing her arms, she padded to the door. The room had the lingering fragrance of spices that made her guess that her host, whoever he was, was a mage.

Testing the door, she found it unlocked and open. She hurriedly slipped out, her rapid pulse almost immediately dropping normal. She was mortally afraid of many things and that included wide open spaces. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to walk barefoot down the narrow hallway outside.

She drifted silently down the hall, intent on searching for her sister and Marsilus when she heard a burst of giggling female voices coming from the opposite direction she was heading. More importantly, she sensed keen interested eyes at her back. Out of curiosity, if nothing else, she turned to take a peek at the newcomers.

The first person who caught her eye was a young breathtakingly handsome man who appeared to be running from a throng of totally nondescript women behind him. Laura had trouble hiding the hint of crimson creeping into her pale cheeks. Never could she have imagined a human could look so beautiful as to rival the famed elven grace and beauty!

He was tall, his frame mre wiry than muscle-bound, slender than bulky, the body of a youthful runner. His long wavy dark hair was combed back, though a single lock kept falling over his delicate fine-boned face. His deepset eyes were a dark shadowed gray, and intense, seeming to pierce right through Laura's skin. His bow-shaped lips were luscious, parted in a slight secretive smile when he saw her. 

Looking at him, Laura detected an aura of power, such that she had never detected among ordinary humans. Also, he carried the tingling scent of spices mingled with the cloying scent of decay. The man was the mage and the owner of the room she had found herself in. Indeed he wore one of the nightblue cloaks draped over his strong shoulders, reaching almost to the ground. Beneath it, he wore a clean white cotton shirt that smelled strongly of rose petals. Black velvet trousers were tucked neatly into his soft black leather boots.

Turning to the women, he announced that he must retire to his rooms to study. A wail of disappointment went over the crowd but they retreated anyway. 

Once the last of them were gone, the handsome young man confidently approached Laura who had been so stunned by his appearance that she remained rooted to her spot. He stopped abruptly before her with a smooth courtly bow. 

"Allow me to introduce myself." His words were formal but his tone was nonchalant, as if he were accustomed to such phrases. His voice was the most melodious Laura had ever heard. "I am Lord Amor Firestorm-Amor if you please," he added with a smile so charming it dazzled the young cleric before him.

Laura remembered court etiquette just in time and presented a delicate white hand before him which he kissed lingeringly.

"And I am Laura Illyone, Lord Firestorm."

"Laura." He pronounced the name slowly as if tasting it. "A beautiful name for such an enchanting woman."

Laura had trouble trying to conceal the hint of crimson surfacing on her small white face. "You flatter me too much, my lord. I was only wandering around looking for my sister and our warrior companion."

The young lord frowned thoughtfully. "Ah, of course. The mage and the half-elf. Forgive me if I did not recognize you, Princess Laura of Taylashas. I was going to check on you. My master's orders were that you receive the finest treatment befitting your titles, as a Princess and as a Revered Daughter of Mirrashar."

Laura looked dubious. "I don't think wide open spaces are very fine," she muttered. Amor appeared not to have heard. "How did you know my titles anyway?"

The charming smile once again replaced his thoughtful look, making Laura blush to the roots of her golden hair. "It doesn't matter what I know. Come, my lady, all will be made clear to you in my master's study."

Laura took his hand, expecting to be led down some dark corridor to a hidden study, but Amor did not seem to be going in any direction. Instead, he pulled the bewildered elfwoman closer, an arm around her slender waist.

"You would have guessed by now, Princess, that I am a student of magic, but my teleportation spell works on others only on close contact with me, as you will find out," he explained with a disarming smile. Laura had not the will to object.

The hall began to swim and swirl before her eyes, spinning into oblivion until all she saw were Amor's dark mystical eyes...

The spinning stopped abruptly. Amor's dark eyes twinkled playfully as he let her go. Looking around, Laura found that they were in a room that looked more like a library than a study.

The walls were lined with shelves containing dozens of black leather bound spellbooks and scrolls. Jars of whatever spell components stood at one end of the stuffy room. An expensive-looking hand-woven carpet covered the black marble floor. A polished ebony desk adorned with hand-carved images of hideous gargoyle-like creatures loomed at the center of the room. Behind it sat a pale-skinned platinum-haired man of about twenty-eight years. He looked only slightly older than Amor, who Laura figured to be twenty-two. Jemaine's tall tan figure stood by the shelves, pensively examining the spellbooks.

The fair-haired man cocked an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of the two. "I see you've met my apprentice, Princess Laura. And Amor, did you find the princess all well?"

"Better than you first saw her, master," Amor answered grinning. "But you never told me I would have a cleric for a patient. And a woman besides!"

Master Lord Thom smiled ironically. "You enjoyed caring for her, probably as much as she enjoys having you around." He gave Laura a look that made her blush. Shrugging he turned to Jemaine. "What do you think, Princess?"

Jemaine looked up abruptly from the spellbook she was studying. "He'd better keep his hands to himself."

"Oh I did," Amor answered smoothly. "And where now is my dearest cousin?"

At the moment, a dark-haired woman in her late twenties entered, tagged by a crippled but otherwise living Marsilus. "I am here, Amor."

Thom smiled, gesturing for the others to come closer. "Good. Now we get to business."