Cassandra of Cr'Mere, Book Two of the Lich War Series

By KD Nielson

"Cassandra of Cr'Mere by K. D. Nielson is a gorgeously vivid fantasy...." - GoodbooksToday.com Reviews

Cassandra, the beautiful mage and wife of King Bolinor has been kidnapped by enemies unknown. Bolinor is consumed by rage, determined to turn his world upside down to find her. When he does, he vows to kill those responsible. His hunt for his wife will uncover a conspiracy so great that it shrouds all the inhabitants of Menel Fenn. The small duchy of Cr’Mere seems to be where it all began and where the allies of Amberwine find themselves at war, fighting for their very survival. The victory will determine the outcome of the war, and the existence of everything King Bolinor holds dear. But when the real enemy is still unknown, how can they defeat the true evil that plots to use the mage Cassandra and the three swords to destroy the very fabric of time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KD Nielson
• Release date: May 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476056784

KD Nielson

Fantasy Writer Hi all, this is K.D. Nielson ... and welcome to my .... mind. I am a full time writer in search of a publisher, so I have to work at my day job to pay the bills. I have been writing and telling stories now for over 30 years. Since the 11,000+ earthquakes here in Christchurch, I have been free to indulge in my greatest passion, telling stories, while the city starts to get back on its feet. I have drawn on my experiences these past months (seems like years) of awful earthquakes, the years serving as a prison officer, and my time in the US Navy as part of Operation Deep Freeze, making seven deployments to Antarctica. Yes, in spite of everything, I am still sane. I have drawn on my daily experiences in these jobs and the different facets of everyday life, as material for my books. I have a wealth of intrigue, love, betrayal, war and heroic deeds just waiting for an avid reader. I have finished several books in the world I have created. They are just waiting to be discovered by that right someone, hopefully a publisher. All my books are available on Amazon through Kindle, and Createspace's print on demand. I am married to a lovely English girl, a schoolteacher, and we have three sons, one which seems to keep coming back, kind of cramps my style. My wife has donated (sometimes gang pressed might be more like it) hours of her valuable time helping me with editing and reading manuscripts, and being very patient with all my questions, some of them might be, well ... dumb. I have also been working with a like-minded friend who is a fantasy fan and a very good writer in her own right. She is also a renowned artist and in conjunction with another project connected to my books, she is working on sketches of the characters and creatures of my world. For more information on my books go to http://www.theworldsofkdnielson.com Thank you for bearing with me while I rabbit on ... I challenge you, step into my mind ....you might like it so much ... you may not want to leave. KD Nielson

Book preview

Darkness pushes in from every side. The long, never-ending corridor stretches off before her. Countless doors line each side, vaguely seen in the dim light. Cassandra pads down the hall. Her bare feet make slapping sounds on the wooden floor. The woman come to a cross corridor, and stops at the intersection. She stands uncertain wondering which way to go. Dust drifts upward, disturbed by her movements, and swirls around her. Cassandra hugs herself, as the cold breeze makes her nightgown shift and twist with a life of its own. She shivers, and looks down at her arms, she can see goose bumps rising along her skin. She briskly rubs them with her hands to try and rid herself of the offending prickles. Where is Bolinor? Cassandra opens her mouth, calling for him. But in the strange halls, his name echoes back eerily, taunting her. She hears a rustle of fabric brushing against the wall, drifting toward her from out of the darkness. Cassandra whirls to see who is coming, but her movements are agonizingly slow as if she is in a mire of uncertainty. The whispers come closer, seemingly all around her; the ever-present light from the pendent hanging from the chain around her neck fades, almost going out. Cassandra picks up the pendant, and briskly shakes it, as if that will make it bright again.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, her heart skips a beat, and her body forgets to breathe. It is as if death caresses her body in a lover’s embrace. She turns again to see who touches her. The darkness mocks her. Scrape. She sobs and spins again. Her body seems to move normally once more, but her long hair hangs, suspended in time, slowly moving to wrap, clingingly about her face like a spider’s web; the flowing nightgown also follows in slow motion, the clinging fabric trying to catch her, and entangle her long shapely legs. Now in the dark hall, she can see the vague outline of a figure. Soundlessly she screams Bolinor’s name again. Her lips form his name, but the words echo back, harshly. The figure stops at the edge of her light. The dim outline of a person reaches out an arm. It is pale, unblemished - the slight arm of a woman. Cassandra breathes easier, and starts moving towards the figure, which is still cloaked in darkness. A tall woman filters wraith-like into the light. Justine waits, floating ghoulishly before Cassandra; her features illuminated in the faint illumination, highlighting the bones and sharp planes of her face and body, making her appears skeletal, terrifying. She is suspended, frozen in place for a moment in time, her feet mere inches off the musty and dirty floor. Cassandra can see the only footprints in the disturbed surface are her own. Justine beckons for Cassandra to come closer. The woman is dressed as Cassandra, in a voluminous white gown that falls about her legs, leaving her bare feet appearing to be a separate entity. Cassandra can see small stains of red on the décolletage of the woman’s gown. Justine smiles and Cassandra can see a pair of sharp pointed teeth. A drop splashes from one fang onto bare skin, and trickles down her breast, pooling in the diaphanous material, spreading the red stain a little wider. Justine flings her head back, mouth wide, looking as if she is ready to feed, and laughs, a low throaty laugh, one of pure ecstatic pleasure.

Cassandra’s body won’t respond to her shocked, tormented mind. Again, Justine beckons her. Cassandra screams hysterically, over and over. Finally, the shrill scream pierces the terror that freezes her, and she leaps like one scalded, running down the opposite hall, her gown flowing behind her. Cassandra runs, head down, arms pumping at her sides; heedless of her dignity, her gown riding high on her thighs. She pounds down the darkened corridor, in mindless, panic-imbued flight - the small sphere of light following protectively. As she runs, her panic swiftly changes to spine-chilling terror. Cassandra turns to look for Justine. Justine can be seen drifting slowly in the air; her head back dreamily, eyes closed, her billowing nightdress clinging seductively with her every movement as she follows in Cassandra’s wake. The fleeing woman, slipping on the wooden floor stops, and looks around wildly. The cold wind starts again, and Cassandra’s skin crawls with the icy clammy touch of fear. She can hear the voice of Justine on the wind hauntingly calling her name, Ca…ssan…dra, Ca…ssan…dra. Justine’s musical voice is in its sweet and hypnotic. Cassandra’s heartbeat is loud in her ears; she is surprised she can’t see the frantic beating of her heart through her chest. She is suffocating. Where is Bolinor? Why has he abandoned her when she needs him the most?

Justine drifts closer, and Cassandra, petrified, sprints off again, hysterically screaming for Bolinor. She runs head long into a large, broad-shouldered man who instinctively catches her.

For a split second she rests her head against Bolinor's chest, Thank God, I found you, she sobs, her voice quaking. Something is wrong.

Bolinor smells funny, musty. She looks up to tell him about Justine, and stares at nothingness. The elven shaped figure has no face, just red glowing eyes. Cassandra’s starts shaking. For a split second clarity returns, and she turns to flee, when two bony hands grasp her upper arms hard enough to make her knees sag, making her cry out in pain. She desperately pulls away, leaning her shoulders, and head as far back as she can, then the screaming starts; she can no longer recognize her own voice. She begins thrashing to get away. The harder she fights, the tighter the hands close. Panic takes over, her body is shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes glaze over in unspeakable terror. Frantic to get away, her terrified screams echo off the walls, and the hall is plunged into total hellish darkness as her pendent flares, and goes out. The only lights she can see are the red eyes of the undead Lich as they burn into her.

* * *

Cassandra wakes, jerking bolt upright, her breasts heaving, trying to get breath for another cry. Her hands are twisted in the

sheets, the tendons standing starkly outlined on her tightly flexed arms, and she looks wildly around. Bolinor startled, quickly sits up, and reaches for his wife. Cassandra lashes out violently. But unlike last night, Bolinor is ready. He catches her arm, and pulls Cassandra to him. She struggles frantically, still caught up in the terror of her nightmare, trying to escape his grasp.

Grasp her firmly, and commands, Cassie, wake up!

The woman still thrashes, as Bolinor sooths her. She stops screaming, and looks unseeingly at him. Bolinor pushes her wildly strewn hair back, combing it with his fingers. The familiar contact breaks through. With a sob, Cassandra buries her face in Bolinor’s bare shoulder. He holds her close as she cries deep, heart-wrenching sobs. He runs his hand up and down her back gently, soothing her, holding her tightly. Gradually she stops crying.

Cassie, Cassie, are you okay? Her deep shuddering breathes are Bolinor's only answer.

* * *

Revelations

The column of armed soldiers moved slowly through the light swirling snow. The horseman descended from High Pass, in the Cloudmere Mountains. They had spent the last four months wintering at Demere and now that the ice had finally gone, Captain Gerald Hiller decided it was time to move on.

Hiller had thought a lot about the war, the destruction of the kingdom of Dun-lyn, but most of all he thought of Bolinor and Cassandra. He still had regular contact with Amberwine, courtesy of a Koldorian Pathfinder, the cat man who rode the half-lion, half- eagle creature, called a griffin. The flight was made once a week. Things had been quiet the past winter. Everyone was still trying to come to terms with the tragic war. Bolinor had mentioned that the Grand Duchess Cellerun of the Empire of Mularia, more commonly known as the Wild Elves, was sending an ambassador and the Drow Elf, Lartessa, the new Dark Queen also was sending someone to Amberwine in the spring to open official negotiations. Jasper’s new monarch, Queen Stephanie, had already signed a treaty making the two kingdoms allies. But the most important thing that Hiller remembered was what Cassandra had told him; Demere would be cold. She was bloody right. The city was snow bound for almost the whole three months, and the mercenary company had little to do in the way of work.

So now they were headed to the Grand Duchy of Cr’Mere. It was well know that the tiny Duchy was the richest area in the known world. For its size, the country’s people had the best lifestyle there was. Monarchs from realms all over the continent would take their retreats there. New fashions started there, and the ladies were known to throw lavish parties, just to parade their new gowns, and to see all the other new styles. He looked at his wife riding next to him; Mordea couldn’t wait to get there. The scouts had reported that the snow finished a few miles down the road. Hiller was glad. Even though he was still in good health, had all of his inky black hair, and the full beard and mustache; his fifty-year-old body didn’t like the cold as much as it did before.

He kicked the roan gelding gently, and picked up the pace. The sooner they got to warmth, the better he would like it.

* * *

Grand Duke James Joseph Walker walked through his airy palace. He stopped on the wide, column-lined veranda above the marble stair leading to the cobblestone courtyard below. He lifted his face to the sun, and savored its heat. He was a tall man, standing six foot. His trim and lean body was on the skinny side. At forty two he had remarkable health, other than one slight problem. The left sleeve of his opened neck white ruffled shirt, was pinned back just above the elbow. The sun bronzed his face. The tight riding pants were tucked into the polished black boots. He looked at the woman who came up the stairs, and his mood evaporated like the morning dew.

Grand Duchess Mary slowly climbed the wide, shallow steps breathing hard. At twenty-seven she was only five feet four inches but weighed nearly one hundred and forty-five pounds. Her jaded husband often described her as ‘dumpy’; Mary’s extra weight was due to comfort food as she was feeling unhappy with herself. She wore the latest fashion, a dress of red silk, low cut with a rounded neckline, long loose, flowing gossamer sleeves, a tight fitting bodice, a long sweeping embroidered paneled skirt. The whole dress was elaborately embellished with exquisite needle-worked designs. She carried a large fan that was rapidly moving, and the wide brimmed hat that graced her head mostly hid most of her drab blond hair, except for the ringlets that bounced about her shoulders. On any other woman the dress she wore would have looked spectacular. However, she looked frumpy and over done. Her bodice strained a little at the seams, and her full breasts heaved as she mounted the steps. James sighed. How could the woman have let herself go so much in the past six months? It was true he had never loved Mary, but after his parents had arranged the wedding with the King of Blackwell, he had actually found himself starting to like her. He enjoyed the times when she came to his bed. Since the defeat of the kingdom and the disappearance of her parent’s, she had turned into a vindictive shrew. The times they slept together were history.

What brings you out on a pleasant day, my dear? James tried to sound interested, and caring, but it came out stilted.

She stopped at the top, puffing, slightly out of breath, You are going riding, I see!

James thought, ‘I have to, if I want any peace’, but answered, Beautiful morning, don’t you think?

She whined, I suppose so. Have you given anymore thought about sending troops to Blackwell? That upstart Bolinor has my parents’ kingdom. Her tone was nasal, nagging.

James pulled on his glove. He clenched his teeth, grimacing as he walked past her. Yes, I have as a matter of fact, and the answer is still, no. We both know that Bolinor isn’t the problem. He didn’t defeat your country. He occupied it when Dun-lyn, the kingdom that invaded Blackwell had been defeated. If I remember the reports rightly, it was by an allied army lead by the man himself, she scolded.

Mary put her hands on her rounded hips, and glared at her husband as he went down to where the groom held his horse.

I bet you haven’t heard from your precious sister either, have you?

Mary involuntarily shrank back, knowing she had gone too far. The look on her husband’s handsome face was murderous. She quickly turned, and fled into the palace past the startled guards.

James turned the black stallion and slowly trotted out of the spacious, manicured grounds. Mary was right on one account; the fact that Cassandra was missing was his fault. He had tried to do what his father couldn’t get done all his life: secure allies to help defend against the Southern Empire. They wanted the mines that made this place rich beyond anyone’s dreams. Three times they had invaded, and three times the natural boundaries of the Shifting Sand Desert, and the Thesation Nomads stopped them. Hundred of skeletons littered the Maze Valley. There was only one way through the valley, among the dozens of empty watercourses, which led to water. If you didn’t know the way, you died. It was as simple as that. So James had married Cassandra to Hayden, of the Royal House of Risebrood, the ruling monarchs of Jasper. He had hoped that such a marriage of convenience would secure the alliance he needed. Too late he found out that all the brothers were depraved. Harold beat Stephanie, Albert liked little boys and animals, and Hayden was just as bad as Harold. Cassandra never told him anything, but the last time they visited Hayden’s estate Cassandra swore never to see or talk to her brother again. James cleared the gardens and gently kicked the stallion, picking up speed. He hoped that his Minister of War could secure the deal with Bolinor's artillery expert for some of the field guns.

* * *

The quarry walls cut off the wind that blew from the Inland Sea, which could sometimes be bitterly cold, especially in the spring. A big towering red-haired man sat on a rock with his gun captains. They nibbled on smoked jerky as they watched the man before them look over the field guns. He was dressed, as far as the watching men were concerned, like a dandy. He wore brown wool trousers and black polished ankle boots. His dark green-frocked coat had flared skirts, and the collar and cuffs were velvet trimmed. He was bald on top surrounded by dark hair and a black mustache and goatee. The watching men could see a white ruffled shirt with a carefully knotted cravat. His black top hat was carried in his hand. The other two men with him were dressed in the same way, just different colors. Donald was still trying to decide whether to laugh or not. The two gun captains whispered to each other, and snickered occasionally.

The Minister came up. Excellent craftsmanship. These guns are works of art.

Donald rapidly changed his mind; these men weren’t so bad after all. We had problems with the first two or three, but now that Master Barrok helped us with the smelting problem we have had a very good run.

Excellent… excellent. How many of these do you have?

I have our four, and we have built another six.

Excellent, I shall take them all.

Donald slipped, and fell off his rock. He had never thought he would sell any of them, much less all six.

Fine, Minister. I'm sure the Commander won’t mind.

Excellent. Now, how much? he dropped his voice and sotto voce, Six thousand gold pieces, would that be enough?

Donald was just sitting repositioning himself on the rock when the War Minister quoted his price. Donald let out a squawk as he missed his rock again.

The closest gun captain said, You still hung over from last night?

Donald growled at him, Shut up.

Both gun captains started laughing uproariously. Any further laughter at Donald’s expense was cut off as four riders swept into view heading for the office building. They saw the group of men, and angled toward them. They all could see three women, and a soldier. One of the girls gave a squeal, and jumped from her mount, and literally threw herself at Donald. The burly man caught his wife, swung her around as she squealed in delight, then warmly hugged her tight. As usually Jazzel wore her leather pants and tunic; her long dark hair was braided and fell to her waist. Her bow and arrows, and a long curved sword were still on the horse. One of the other riders was a tall woman. She had long silky auburn brown hair that fell to her waist, that was adorned with a simple headband attached to her veil which covered the back of her hair. Her dress was a yellow patterned silk. Cassandra rode sidesaddle as did her friend. Both women were remarkably beautiful. Sara had her long mahogany hair braided. Her dress was a light red patterned silk. The other newcomer dismounted, and helped his two companions down; he lingered slightly longer with Cassandra. He was tall, well over six feet, and clean-shaven, his shoulder length blond hair was molded to his head by sweat. He had presence, and the three newcomers knew that this man was Bolinor, the one they had heard so much about.

Cassandra stared at the duchy visitors. There was neither warmth nor hostility, just emptiness.

The Minister bowed deeply. Your Highness.

She in turn said coolly, Minister Goth, this is unexpected.

Bolinor turned at his wife’s stare and looked at her in confusion. Something important had just happened but he didn’t know what. From the look on his wife’s face she wasn’t happy about it.

* * *

Bolinor sat in his study on the second floor of the keep, the open windows catching the gentle wind. He watched Cassandra pace in front of him. She had angrily kicked off her shoes, scattering them around the room, and walked wringing her hands; a sure sign she was upset about something.

Bolinor decided to give her some kind of opening. Can you imagine Donald was going to take six thousand gold pieces for the field guns? I think he added a thousand or so to the cost of building them

Cassandra turned sharply. They can afford it, believe me.

Then she was off, pacing the floor again.

Cassie, something is wrong. Please tell me, so I can help.

She threw her hands up in despair. I don’t know where to start.

Bolinor stood, and walked up behind her, and slid his arms around her waist. She held his arms, and sank back into him, leaning her head against his shoulder.

He stroked her arm where she held his. I haven’t told you about my life before the day we met. Her voice was so low Bolinor could hardly hear her.

I know one thing; your husband was a bully. Cassandra started, and pulled away. Bolinor continued, Your arms had bruises on them the day we met.

She nodded sadly. My brother is the Grand Duke of Cr’Mere.

Bolinor nodded. That explains the War Minister knowing you.

Cassandra nodded. James isn’t terribly bright, but he means well most of the time. After he married, his new wife came to live at the palace. Then mother and father died when highwaymen attacked their carriage. They went over the side of the road into a deep ravine. Their bodies were never found. The Duchy has been under pressure for years from the Southern Empire so in a misguided effort, as it turned out, James married me off to Hayden, the King of Jasper’s younger brother, in an effort to unite our kingdoms. Cassandra started to pace again, so Bolinor sat down to give her room. At first things were okay. I used the title ‘Lady’ so Hayden wouldn’t be so jealous. My rank where I came from was higher than his rank. After that we got along okay for months. Hayden had strange habits. Sexual ones. Here Cassandra faltered, her eyes filling with tears. At first he just talked about it. We had sexual relations as all couples do. I was young, and I didn’t want to get pregnant right away. I wanted to enjoy married life before I became a mother. As a mage I know a few herbs that help to prevent conception. After a while he was convinced I was infertile. I tried to explain one night but it drove him into a rage. He beat me, and then took me, and … and did the … things to me he talked about before. I tried to stop him, and he beat me some more, and then he … raped me … over and over … it seemed like days.

Cassandra burst into tears. Bolinor stood, and held his wife as she cried her heart out. Bolinor was beside himself with anger, his hands started to shake, and a red haze hovered close by. He fought back the berserk madness, as he knew it would do no good, Hayden was dead.

Cassandra’s voice muffled in Bolinor's shoulder choked on, He … he … hurt me. In the end I could hardly move. When I recovered, I told him if he ever touched me again, I would kill him. Then months later, the attacks started. Hayden blamed them on me, saying I was some kind of spy on the kingdom. One day he lost control, and tired to hurt me again. I told him I would kill him if he touched me. He kept coming, and nearly broke my arm when he grabbed me, but my knife was close, and he didn’t see it coming. Afterwards, I slipped out, and snuck aboard the last ship to leave. My brother and I have never spoken since.

She flopped down in her chair, totally exhausted now that she managed to get her story out.

I'm glad you killed him. I would have done it myself. I understand now how … how hard it was for you to let me touch you?

Bolinor thought briefly about the long journey they had made together. She was so scared that at first she wouldn’t even let him touch her. The few time he had accidentally touched her intimately, she had reacted violently.

It was different with you. You never pushed, and you let me get used to being around you. The biggest difference was that you loved me. I could never be afraid of you. I love you dearly, Bolinor.

Bolinor knelt before her, and pulled her head against his chest, and held her, stroking her hair, running his hand up and down her back. Her body felt so nice through the silk.

He looked out the window, and could see the sun was setting over the mountains. Come on, Cassie. Let’s get something to eat. Then we can have a soak in the lower hot pools. She looked up, and Bolinor brushed away her tears with the ball of his thumb.

She managed a wan smile. That sounds wonderful. Then suddenly she dropped to her knees before Bolinor, hugging him tight to her. I love you so much. I wish it had been you. I wish it could have been you I was with for the first time.

Bolinor just held his wife as all the shame and humiliation poured from her again. As her sobs tore from her slender body, he vowed he would never let another person hurt her as long as he lived.

Bolinor lay next to Cassandra that night. She lay on her side, her back to him. Her quiet sobbing shook her frame. She lay huddled around her pillow, fetus-like, and cried into it. Bolinor was confused as to what to do. Whenever she got upset, as she was now, emotions raged within him. All Bolinor wanted to do was take her physically. Part of him wanted to reach over and hold her, but if she knew what kind of state he was in, she might push him away, thinking he was insensitive. Cassandra lay with her head on her wet pillow. She had given up on the handkerchief a while ago. Her tears flooded the down material she was curled around. She could hear Bolinor’s uneven breathing, and desperately wished that he would reach over and touch her. She longed for her husband to make love to her, to make her world better. Cassandra desperately needed to know he still wanted her. That he needed her as his wife, as much as she needed him.

* * *

Bolinor was worried about Cassandra; she was withdrawn and quiet, like when he had met her that first day. In the end Bolinor sought out Sara. He rode to the tower where she had established her school. She had taught when they had lived in Blackwell, so it was only natural for her to continue when they had come to Amberwine. He was in luck; she wasn’t teaching. Sara came down to her study when one of the students told her the Commander was looking for her. He sat in the chair feeling like a naughty schoolboy. Although he had been in a privileged group as a child getting schooling at the convent, he had spent a lot of time in the Mother Superior’s office. She kept telling him he would amount to no good, that he was too wild, and didn’t finish anything he started. He idly wondered if the woman was still alive, and what she would have thought of him now.

Sara breezed into her study like a breath of fresh air on the morning wind. She looked strange out of her more formal gowns. Instead she wore a blue linen dress gathered at the middle with a full bib apron. Her hair was braided, and pulled tightly around the sides of her head. She saw Bolinor’s look, and smiled.

This is more practical, some of the students make a mess. I ruined two of my best gowns before I settled on this. Sara flopped into an oversized stuffed chair and scooted up to the desk. I take it this isn’t a social call?

Bolinor sat silent for a minute. On the way over he debated how much to tell Sara. The waiting woman sat smiling, as he wrestled with his conscience.

In the end he decided to jump in boots and all. Sara, how much do you know about Cassandra’s former life?

Her smile slipped. I was her lady in waiting in Cr’Mere, I was her companion when she was sent to Blackwell, and I became her best friend when she had no one to turn to during the two years she was married to Hayden. Cassandra was only twenty when she married. Now the last two years she has been learning to love again. Sara gently prodded, Has something happened?

Bolinor nodded. We have the Minister of War from Cr’Mere here. They are buying field guns for the Duchy.

Sara sat back, folding her hands over her stomach looking surprised. Oh, did Cassandra see him?

Bolinor nodded. We had a talk last night about her marriage. He trailed off lamely; feeling like he was betraying his wife.

Sara leaned forward, and her face flushed with emotion. … And dear sweet Bolinor, she told you about what Hayden did to her! You’re worried, and want to know what you can do to help.

He nodded. She is so quiet and withdrawn. I hope she doesn’t do anything reckless. What that bastard did to her was horrible.

Don’t worry about the ‘doing something reckless.’ Cassandra isn’t the type of girl to take the easy way out. Besides she loves you too much for that. She is dealing with a lot of traumatic issues that have haunted her for years. She will partly be waiting to see how you react. She will be thinking, ‘How can he love me after what has happened?’

Bolinor looked stunned. How can she doubt my feelings for her?

Sara sat back. Inside she doesn’t, but a lot of men have a problem about other men’s wives. They are quite happy to conquer, and bed them when they are still married to the other man. But most men don’t want the other man’s ‘leftovers’. Cassandra will be worried you will think she is ‘someone’s leftovers’.

Bolinor sat there thinking. His eyes flooded with tears. How could Cassandra think he wouldn’t want her? Sara watched the play of emotion of Bolinor's face, and tears welled in her eyes too.

Bolinor stood. Thanks Sara. You have given me lot to think about concerning women. I have known a lot of women in the past, of that I’m not proud. Now, being married I thought I knew everything I needed to know. It’s strange, when you come right down to it you don’t know a damn thing after all.

Sara said, Love her. Let her know, and be patient. She is will heal quickly now it’s out in the open, and she knows you’re not going anywhere.

* * *

The next couple of days proved to be busy ones. In the end Donald accepted the six thousand in gold, especially when Jazzel pointed out