Chapter 1…A Big Problem

It was the evening of my lonely vigil at the Solace Glade. Once the sun went down, the air had turned chill so I pulled my wool cloak tighter around me. My thin robes, made from silk from Kara-Tur and enchanted with every protection I could afford, did not provide much warmth. I poked at the fire until sparks flew up into the sky and then I threw on another log. I should have gathered more firewood earlier. What I had would not make it through the night.

I heard footsteps in the dark. Staring into the flames had destroyed my night vision and I could not see who approached. I stepped back from the fire and put my hand on the hilt of my sword.

"Who is it?" I whispered.

A tall figure stepped into the firelight.

"It is I."

My hand dropped away from my weapon. It was Sir Grayson Corett, the man I had promised to serve as my knight. I was here standing vigil on this sacred ground so that I could be declared his squire. All politics, of course, for the cause I served now was greater than Neverwinter.

He shouldn't have been here. He stepped closer and gave me a grave look. Instead of the armor he had worn earlier when he had left me to my meditations, he was now wearing a simple tunic and leggings that nicely accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He stood before me, his eyes so serious that I became even more alarmed.

"Is there a problem, Sir Grayson?"

"There is indeed a problem," he said in his slow, measured tones. "I find that I cannot take you as my squire after all."

"But why?" I searched my conscience but could not think of anything I had done wrong—that he could have known about.

"This is why," he said and suddenly his arms enveloped me in a passionate embrace. I molded myself to him as his head came down and his lips met mine. He buried his hands in my hair and his kiss, tender at first, became harder and more insistent.

"I love you, Jess," he murmured. "The moment I saw you in Captain Brelaina's office, I knew that you were the woman I had waited for my whole life." He pressed the length of his body against me. He was deliciously warm. My arms went shyly around his waist. I had never touched a man so intimately.

Well, except to kill him, or maybe to loot his corpse.

"I must have you as my wife, not my squire," he said. "Please, my darling, say that you will let me make love to you here under the stars. Let me pledge my love to you with my body."

"Yes," I sighed as his hands dropped to the ties holding my robe closed. I felt his hands warm on my bare flesh…

And then I woke up.

Hells, hells, hells.

Not again.

I had had erotic dreams almost every night lately and the cast of characters had become increasingly…bizarre. Casavir, Bishop, Sand—they were to be expected, I supposed. I had traveled with them for quite some time and they were all, in their own separate ways, very attractive men. But I had also dreamed about Sir Nevalle—Jacoby from the smithy—my childhood friend Bevil—and a handsome Greycloak who manned the front gates, whose name I didn't even know. It was getting to be a problem. A big problem.

And the sad part was that as the King of Shadows grew in strength, it seemed all too likely that I would die as I had lived—untouched. I had never even been kissed. I sighed at the sheer wastefulness of it all.

Getting back to sleep was going to be difficult, I knew from experience. I knew better than to go back to bed yet. I threw an old robe over my nightgown and crept out of my room. It was late and the keep was very quiet. The stones were icy under my bare feet but I was used to that. I paused outside the library with my hand on the door latch. I ought to study awhile. There was a spell I was working on but Sand wouldn't teach me the hand motions until I had the words down perfectly.

I passed the library and headed for the kitchen. I wasn't sure I could concentrate and a snack was a better idea.

The kitchen was dark, the fires banked for the night. A drink was an even better idea than a snack, so I headed for the cellars. I cast a light spell so I wouldn't break my neck going down the rickety stairs that Master Veedle hadn't gotten around to assigning someone to repair. Maybe I should get Kana to give him one of her gentle reminders before we lost a cook. With so many mouths to feed, a cook was more essential than a Greycloak.

The keep's cellars were huge. Between what Lord Nasher had sent us as a 'victory gift', the excess supplies that Sal had ordered for the tavern and had no room to store, and various potables confiscated from bandits and smugglers, there were bottles and kegs everywhere. All I wanted was a damned bottle of wine. There were too many choices and with my luck, I'd end up with something nasty.

"What are you doing here?" a rough voice said behind me. I about jumped out of my skin. It was Ammon Jerro, in the plain robe and leggings he wore around the keep, looking like he had never gone to bed at all. He gave me one of his searching looks.

"I had a dream," I said. "I can't sleep."

"A nightmare? A prophecy?" he asked. He pulled a bottle seemingly at random from one of the racks. "Wine won't help, you know."

"Nothing like that," I said and I flushed. I couldn't help it. He looked at me a moment and then turned away. I followed him up the stairs into the kitchen, and sat at the kitchen table while he fetched a corkscrew and two mugs. He seemed to know where everything was kept.

"Why are you still up?" I asked.

"I sleep little these days," he said cryptically. His tattoos glowed in the dim light, limning the rather elegant shape of his head. I tried not to stare but I found them fascinating.

"Nightmares?" I asked but he just grunted in response. If anyone was likely to suffer from bad dreams, surely it was Ammon. He had seen things the rest of us could scarcely imagine. And yet, unlike some in our little menagerie, he rarely complained. It was refreshing.

"A young, healthy and active person like you should have no problem sleeping at night," he said, a little condescendingly, I thought.

"Yeah, well, that's the problem actually," I muttered to myself but he heard me. He gave me an inquiring look.

"I spar for hours each day," I said. "I work hard on my spells too. And then there is all the planning for the keep. Not to mention having to go out and kill zombies and bandits and dire beasts every time I turn around. And still, when I go to bed, it seems like all I can think about is…" My brain finally caught up with my mouth and made it stop running. Was I really about to tell Ammon Jerro, the most dangerous man I'd ever met, that all I could think about was sex?

Ammon gave a bark of laughter. Obviously I'd already said enough.

I took a big gulp from my mug and almost choked. Last time I had tasted wine this fine was on a feast day.

"If you have a need, deal with it," he said. "You've got two men squaring off like roosters in a barnyard to bed you. By the Nine Hells, you have a whole keep full of soldiers who think you are a hero, if those two are not to your taste. Pick one."

"Well, there's the problem," I said frankly. "How am I supposed to choose?"

"Take two or three then. You're young and healthy." A beat. "Surely the githzerai can brew you up a contraceptive potion." I flushed yet again.

"It's not that easy," I said. "I'm the Knight-Captain. I can't just order one of my soldiers to report to my bedroom. Can I? I'm pretty sure Kana would be all over me if I tried." He snorted. "Besides, this place is a hotbed of gossip and I really don't want to get another lecture from Sir Nevalle on the conduct expected of a member of the Nine." I sighed. "And then there's Casavir and Bishop. They don't get along as it is and what do you think would happen if I decided to sleep with one of them? Besides…"

He lifted one brow, which made his tattoos shift interestingly.

"I like them both but…not that way. Casavir, well, he deserves someone who can make a commitment and I'm just not ready to do that. I don't know if I ever will be. And Bishop—I don't want the first man I go to bed with to be someone I'd be afraid to actually sleep alone with."

"The first man?" he asked in some astonishment. Ammon's brows rose even higher and my flush deepened. I really hate being fair skinned.

"I haven't had time for all that. I've been busy," I snapped. And it was true. I had been driven all my life to be both a warrior and a wizard, and I had done so, but it had cost me. I had never had time to do the things others seemed to take for granted. I had never gone to parties or courted a fellow. I had never danced. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"I do understand," he said. "Better than you think, perhaps. I would hope you would have the wit not to repeat my errors. Do not get so caught up in your duty that you end up leaving all you fight for behind."

He refilled both our mugs. The wine was strong and dinner had been a long time ago. I took a long swallow and the wine warmed me. I wasn't drunk, of course, but I felt a bit exhilarated. It was such a relief to talk about this, and really, who else could I talk to?

"It's a little late for that," I muttered. "It's too late for me to have a normal life, anyway, and do all the normal things that normal people do. We could die at any time, and probably will. It's a little late to cry about it now. I just wish…" I sighed and then emptied my mug in one long swallow, relaxing my throat like Khelgar had taught me so that it all went down smoothly and quickly. "I wish, just once, I knew what it was like."

"Knew what 'what' was like?"

"You know," I said and then gave Ammon a speculative look. "Hey. You could help me."

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"Yes, I do."

"You could summon up an incubus and send it to my room…"

"That's a very bad idea, Jess," he said impatiently. My mug was empty. Ammon was falling down on the job, so I reached across the table, snagged the bottle, and gave myself a refill.

"I think it's a great idea. I get to satisfy my curiosity and, um, everything else, and no one gets hurt. No upset feelings, no gossip, no issues with the chain of command. Plus you hear all those amazing tales about incubuses…incubi…whatever. Come on, Ammon. Please. Help me out here. I know you can do it."

"No."

"I'm pretty sure I can order you to do this…"

Ammon took the mug out of my hand.

"Go to bed, Jess," he said.