A moment later, he found himself in the awkward embrace of a woman clothed in the uniform of the Royal Guard. His first instinct, to push her away, he decided to ignore, and permitted himself to return the embrace. "'Tis good to see thee, Shaana," he murmured into her length of raven hair.

She laughed, pushed him away, and regarded him with the quirk of a smile that only she could wear. "As if we haven't dueled every night since thy arrival, then drank and talked through to the morn. I have yet to see a solid hour's sleep since the Black Company galloped through Castle Britannia's gates." Her eyes, brown as a doe's, twinkled mischievously. "Yet of all the women who have congratulated thee on thy most glorious of days, I have yet to receive a kiss." She removed a glove and held out her hand.

With a resolute sigh, he took her fingers in his own and lifted her hand, but her grip slipped quickly and tightly to his wrist. Before he knew what was happening, she yanked him forward and down so that her lips touched his. The kiss was quick, gentle, one of friendship, yet the smile she wore, her teeth resting lightly on her lower lip, was one of shyness, and she traced the length of his beard with her finger. "I never told thee how much I missed thee, and how much I miss the childhood we shared in Yew. Thou wert my first and my best of friends, Blackthorn. Please tell me it shall always remain so."

"Of course," Blackthorn replied, who now held her tightly, partly because he did not wish her to step away and see how flushed he was. "Thou art always with me, Shaana, whether thou knowest or not. When difficult decisions need to be made, I often wonder what thou wouldst do."

She squeezed him tighter. "Good. I am glad to hear it. By the way, thou art losing thy touch." She laughed, sliding away from his embrace to reveal the dagger her gloved hand held at his side. "I have never seen thy guard down before."

He returned the laugh, and then with the flick of his wrist, playfully slapped the dagger away with his sword—she had failed to notice him take the hilt in his hand while they had kissed. The dagger dropped neatly into his palm. "I must have been preoccupied," he said.

"I have noticed how thou dost stare at the knight, Geraci," she said, peevishly, but with a smile. "She is a lovely one, is she not?" Then her smile faltered. "But thou truly dost tend to be preoccupied at times, especially when we speak of the past." Her hand touched his. "It has been a long time since the trial, and the events thereafter."

Anger briefly welled within Blackthorn. He had done everything he could to put those events and the feelings they evoked behind him, and now she had drudged them up. No, 'twas not her fault. "These proceedings, the disagreements with the Great Council, this ceremony. That man . . ." He sighed. "'Tis all too familiar."

"Familiar, but not the same, not the same at all. Thy father would have been proud."

The outrage, the fears, the distrust surfaced again, a distinct voice this time, screaming, crying to be freed. Shaana watched him with concern, knowing full well how he might react, but Blackthorn suppressed the cries. As that awful voice subsided, so did the feelings. "Thou art right, of course," he said. "This is different. A different time, a different matter. I shall not make the same mistakes as he." Not with her nearby. Shaana had a way of quelling that voice within him, even after they had first parted ways before his mother's yew tree.

Shaana spoke. "Come, then. Let us return to the tent. Methinks thou dost need another drink or two, especially if thou art to be my partner in the dances later."

"I do not think Captain Geoffrey would approve of his finest knight dancing with me. I know how he feels about me. He has never forgiven me for leaving the Royal Guard."