The carriage went over a rut, flinging the book out of Samantha's hands. "How much further is it to Maine?" Corey complained, picking the book up.

     "We've been in Maine for a while," Samantha said, concentrating a little. "We've been travelling since an hour after dawn, so we should arrive a little before nightfall. From the castle, it was a day's ride to the boarder, and half a day to my mother's family's hold. If I had my way, I'd be riding my horse and would have already been there." She frowned a little. "I always hate this trip to the hold, my mother's family treats me like I'm an infant. And they're so close to the Canadian border, I'm sure their forests are haunted by weird creatures. I don't understand why they moved up there in the first place, they have more claim to the castle than my father's family. But then again, nothing my family does ever makes sense."

     They were travelling through the woods that surrounded the manor, and Samantha felt uneasy. Despite all logic, she had the feeling something was continuously watching her. This was what made the visits so unpleasant - the feeling didn't leave until she was out of sight of the forest. She had asked others about it, but none noticed anything peculiar.

     Then the trees broke, and before her loomed a giant white castle. Corey gasped with awe - it was not as magnificent as Cache Castle, but the way it seemed to grow out of the ground sent a thrill over even Samantha's body.

     The usual crowd was gathered at the front of the manor, and Samantha had to suffer through ten minutes of greetings before getting a chance to introduce Corey. Then they were shown to their rooms, ate a brief meal, and fell asleep.

     Samantha woke in the middle of the night, and opened her sleepy eyes to witness someone sitting on the end of her bed. She sat up, startled, until she recognised who it was.

     "Why are you afraid of the forest?" Jack asked her quietly.

     "I can sense things watching me," she replied. "I don't like being watched."

     "I watch you all the time."

     "That's different, I know you. I don't even know what these creatures are, nevermind why they're watching me."

     "They just want to see if you're worthy. Now go back to sleep, Sammy."

     Before she could ask what she could be worthy of, she fell asleep. When she woke up the next morning, she had forgotten about the conversation, but the presences in her mind no longer scared her.

     "So Samantha, when are you going to settle down and find a husband?" her cousin Joinelle asked. Even breakfast was not too early to discuss such "important" matters.

     "Never," Samantha replied grumpily. Any time before lunch was too early for her.

     Joinelle was shocked. "Why not?" she asked. "You're pretty enough and even if you weren't, you're to inherit that castle once your great-aunt dies. Even that's enough for any many to ignore your personality quirks."

     Samantha didn't reply, but instead immersed herself in her bowl of an almost, but not entirely, rock-hard substance that resembled quite nothing like oatmeal, which she had requested. It was hard for anything to be more unpleasant than her breakfast, but Joinelle's chatter achieved the title. None of Samantha's family, here or at Cache Castle, could understand why she did not want to marry or even have an affair - she herself did not understand. It's as if I'm neutered, she though glumly, and have no sexual inclination. They'd probably celebrate it if I leaned toward the inappropriate side, because I'd at least be leaning toward something.

     She sighed and put her problems in the back of her mind. She was going to spend the entire morning in the library, and nothing would spoil that.

     "Samantha, may I bother you for a moment?"

     Samantha closed her book and looked up at Joinelle. "Is there a reason?" she asked.

     "Yes, there is. I know I may seem like a brainless court lady at times- " Samantha tried not to laugh outright " -but it's truly just an act. I'm this way to keep my family from finding out my secret."

     "Then why are you telling me? I'm part of your family."

     "Yes, but you're not like them. You know about other things that they don't."

     "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Samantha replied, sitting up straighter.

     "But you do. My friends from Canada tell me you've read Lynne's diary - or are reading it." Joinelle glanced suspiciously at the book clutched in Samantha's hands. "But this is no place for discussing it. Let's go down to the dungeons." She grabbed a hand, causing the book to drop to the floor, and then she dragged Samantha out of the library. The other girl silently marvelled at her strength.

     "Hey, where are you two going?" Corey asked, spotting them in the hallway.

     "Girl talk," Joinelle replied and continued to the dungeons. Samantha wondered with horror if she was going to rape her. She tried to convey a picture of panic on her face, but Corey did not interpret it correctly - or at all. "I'm the only person who goes into the dungeons anymore," she continued to Samantha as they walked down the stone stairway. "Jack used to, before he met his end. The dungeon's a place of well-kept secrets. Not even you knew everything about your brother." She lit a torch at the bottom of the stairs and walked over to a wall. "I haven't been down here since, but I've been told you need to be inducted." She pulled on a brick and, to Samantha's surprise, a whole portion of the wall moved toward them. It revealed a cozy, but ancient, room.

     "Welcome," Joinelle announced proudly, "to the room of Sorceress Christine Lynne Haskell Peclan au Floor."

     Samantha loked inside, and saw the room was furnished much like Lynne's except these walls were completely lined with bookshelves. There was a gap in one wall, which led to a wardrobe filled with clothese - and technological devices.

     "We moved them in there so we would have more room to work," Joinelle explained.

     "Work to do what?" Samantha asked.

     "I'm a sorceress. Or, I'm at least training to be. Your brother was, too. That's how he died - he was trying a spell in an unprotected area and it backfired. It's safe to practice in here, because many others have used it for magic and added their own guards to Christine's initial spell. But an unguarded place isn't good for a journeyman to learn spells. An adept can, but even then it's not safe."

     "So, run this by me again," Samantha said. "Why are you telling me this?"

     "Well, because you already know a little about magic, and I was practically forced to tell you, and besides, you're Jack's sister. I don't know why he never told you anyway."

     "So why couldn't - or didn't - you tell Corey? He's been reading the book with me, and he's just like a brother to me."

     "I just didn't think of him, but you can tell him if you want to."

     "I do want to," Samantha decided.

     The time in Canada was not entirely wasted (in my parents' eyes, hanging out with Sloan was "unneeded"). The Wednesday of our trip, Christine and I went to visit Saint Mary's University, a college Christine had applied to and gotten accepted. By the time we left the campus, she was in love with it. The next day, we went to look at Acadia University in Wolfville, just a stone throw's away from Halifax. Ricky and I both loved this school. All three of us came home with our minds decided.

     After Canada, Newport was more boring than usual, especially after graduation. My time was spent between packing, buying new school things, and hanging out with my friend before everyone left. Christine divided her time by spending it with Ricky, shopping with her great-aunt's inheritance money, and trying to decide which of her precious books she should take to school.

     About her inheritance money: Christine's mother had an extremely rich aunt who loved to give out money to her great-nieces and nephews, but she never ran out of money. It seemed to collect interest in the bank faster than she could get rid of it. When she died in late February, she gave Katie, Christine and Scott each a million dollars, plus she had funds set up for their education. Since she did not have to worry about college money anymore, Christine did what she had wanted to do since she was little: she bought a horse. Her horse was a six-year old female red chestnut Thoroughbred that she named Jimmies (as a defiance to everyone who called them "sprinkles"). She was beautiful, even after travelling in a dusty trailer for an hour (Christine had gone back to D-R to buy her). Then she spent another load of money on gleaming tack and equipment, and on a phone bill to Halifax to find a stable for the school year. She put the rest in a bank to collect interest and to pay for Jimmie's stabling.

     Among items to be packed into Christine's bags was her father's sword, since she would be serving on her school's fencing team, the only female (there had been another, but she had graduated). I was surprised to find out that Steven would continue to be her teacher - although I don't know why I didn't expect it. He was a wanderer by nature (like Christine's friend Kim's family, whom she called "frickin' nomads") and had been complaining ever since we got back that Newport was becoming too boring. So he packed up with us and on August 27th, four humans, two moving vans, and one occupied horse trailer started the trek up to Canada.

     The Acadia campus looked more beautiful than I had remembered, partly because standing at the entrance to my dorm was a really cute guy. Can anything go wrong after that? No. Ricky and I helped move each other in (he was at one end of the third floor and I was at the other end), walked around campus for a little while, and quickly decided to be seclusive in Ricky's room. When we got there, Ricky's roommate was there - the cute guy standing at the entrance.

     "Oh, 'ello," he said with a British accent (I nearly died!). "You must be Ricky. I'm 'arold Joseng."

     "Yes, I'm Ricky, and this is my girlfriend's adopted sister, Lynne Peclan," Ricky introduced.

     "Pleased to meet you," Harold replied, bringing my hand to his lips and slightly brushing them. "Why is it you're here and not your sister, if I may be so bold?"

     "We dropped her off earlier today at her own school," I replied.

     "And besides, Lynne goes to school here. Her dorm's down the hall," Ricky told him. "So, Harold, which bed do you want?"

     "The right one," he picked. "The sun's less likely to wake me up on that side."

     "Deal. I'll need all the help I can get in waking up for my 7:30 history lecture."

     "Don't worry Ricky, I'll come bang on your door until you're ready," I offered.

     "If you're even up that early." He ducked as I threw a pillow at him. "How's Christine?"

     I checked without even thinking about it. "She's at the fencing court," I answered almost automatically.

     *Lynne?*

     *The very one. Ricky wanted to know how you were doing.*

     *Worried already? Tell him to relax, will you? Is his roommate there?*

     *Yes, and you should see him! Golden brown hair, grey eyes, the cutest British accent...*

     *I wish I was there,* she replied. *Hey, Sloan's playing here on the nineteenth. Do you want to go?*

     *Of course!*

     She sent an apple crunch of laughter and then broke the connection. I turned to Harold, who was staring open-mouthed at me. "What?" I asked.

     "When you said adopted sisters, I had no idea you meant endren'da!" he replied, pointing to my scar. "I thought you meant legally adopted, by the state."

     "We are legally adopted," I replied. "How do you know about endren'das?"

     "I'm British," he replied. "We know all about magic. A lot of Canada does as well, but they can't detect mind-Sendings. Not many people can, though. I only can because your shields aren't properly up."

     I blushed, despite myself. "Yes, I have a little trouble with them, but they seem to work almost perfectly."

     "Yes, but if there was ever an attack on mages, you could be detected and destroyed, although you only have mind-magic. I'll have my father teach you the proper way. End of discussion."

     My roommate came the next day - Shalia, a London girl who had gone to school with Harold. We quickly solved the problem of not having enough free space in our room: we elevated our beds over our desks, since the posts were of the fashion to fit in each other. We also got rid of one of the free standing wardrobes, since neither of us were terrible clothes-horses. What resulted was a comfortable dorm room, which is rare. Ricky didn't have as much luck, but he never had to make the most space of a Navy barrack as I did in Florida.

     Classes started in mid-September, and there was no greater joy in the morning than waking Ricky up. My alarm would go off, I'd make myself decent, and I'd go down the hall and bang on Ricky's door until he opened it, his hair all tousled from the night's sleep. He'd glare blearily at me, I'd smile, and he'd throw a blanket over me. Then we'd make our way to the history lecture, and I'd amuse myself by keeping him awake and talking to Christine. An hour later, we'd drag ourselves to our rooms and fall back asleep until our classes at 12:30.

     My most interesting class was titled "Astronomy: The Movement of Stars, Moons, and Planets and How They Govern Our Lives." It sounded a bit peculiar to me, and there was a reason. Apparently, Canada was one of those countries that, unlike the US, was aware of magical forces.

     "Of course," Harold said when I mentioned it. "The US just likes to keep its citizens in the dark. How else do you think Hitler got all those followers except by mind-magic?"

     Christine also noticed the change, but that was to be expected. She no longer had to hide her spell-casting from casual observers, and actually got to trade spells with other sorceresses. Her roommatem, Jardinere de Loncrete, was a French girl of old-fashioned customs, mainly from living with her uncle, the Archbishop of France, who not only looked down on magery but nearly condemned it. Jardinere generally defied her uncle and thusshe and Christine got along great, and although I did not meet her until the night of the Sloan concert, I immediately liked her.

     After our last class, Ricky and I took the bus to Halifax and walked to Saint Mary's. We found Christine in the fencing court, sparring with someone I did not know. I could see that there was a definite change in the way she handled her sword and body, which showed that she knew how to use her weapons. We watched silently for a few moments until her competitor noticed us and put his sword down. He took of his helmet, revealing a mass of blonde curls and a soft, angled face. He said something, and Christine turned around, taking off her mask in a smooth motion.

     "Lynne, Ricky!" she shouted, and ran across the court. "It seems like ages since I've seen you two!" She embraced both of us at once, and then stepped back. This is Francis Jaguaxe. Francis, this is my sister Lynne and my boyfriend Ricky."

     "I am pleased to meet both of you," Francis said. "You are a lucky man, Ricky, to hold such a woman's heart."

     "I don't hold her heart," Ricky replied. "I'm not certain who does. You could try."

     "Oh, I do not wish to try to contain anyone whose sword-edge I have felt," he said with a smile.

     "Francis is from Italy," Christine said, "and one of the best fencers in his country. He rarely ever feels the edge of my sword."

     "Then why come to Canada, if you've already made a name for yourself there?" I asked.

     "I would like to expand my horizons," he answered. "There is no Christine to challenge my skills at home."

     "And everyone in Italy is used to elegant flattery," Christine muttered. "Well, I suppose you should meet Jardinere before we leave. Come, and I will also show you my living quarters."

     I was not surprised to see pictures of Sloan, Travis and Rufus Wainwright all over her walls, but at least two of those were accept in Canada. I was shocked to see that their beds were set up like my room.

     "Great minds think alike, huh?" she said with a grin. "Actually, I got the idea from Katie's freshman dorm, when they had to fit three people in one room. It's much nicer this way, if you don't think of the possibility of the bed falling on you while you're at the desk." The door opened, and in stepped a girl with extremely long, black hair. "Oh, this is Jardinere. Jardinere, this is my sister Lynne and my boyfriend Ricky."

     "Allo," Jardinere said with a charming smile. "You are going to see the hunky-dory guys on Christine's walls?"

     I tried not to laugh; she had obviously picked up "hunky-dory" from Christine.

     "Yes, we're going to see Sloan," my sister answered. "Don't wait up. Our party with them was finished early because of curfews last time, and I don't intend that to happen again." She grabbed a jacket, we said goodbye, and then we left.

     "She's a darling," Christine continued as we walked down a street, "but I feel bad for her. Her uncle kept her isolated, always going on about old-fashioned morals. They're okay, but not to the point where you can't associate with people who don't have those same morals. I'm so glad she came here so I could open her eyes a little. Did you know that her uncle has a zero tolerance for magic, even though France tolerates it? I swear, I get shivers down my back every time Jardinere mentions him."

     While she was talking about the Archbishop of France's morals that had no real effect on us, I sent out a thread of thought to Patrick.

     *We're coming tonight.*

     I could tell he was startled. *You came all the way up here to see a Sloan concert?*

     *Don't flatter yourself. We're going to college here, and we were bored and decided to go. Do you really think we'd come all the way up here for a concert?*

     *You did once, didn't you?*

     *Shut up. No, seriously, we had planned in advance to come, but we are up here for college.*

     *So, do you want to come in early or what?*

     *I thought you'd never ask. I'm not used to this cold weather so early.*

     *Wait until January, and you'll think this is summer weather. Come in the side door, there's a crowd in the front.*

     *Great, thanks a lot.* I relayed the message to Christine and Ricky, and we were soon backstage.

     "So, how are you enjoying college life?" Andrew asked us. "Have you decided on a major?"

     "I'm majoring in English," Christine announced. "Maybe go on to grad school and get a teacher's degree."

     "I'm going to major in medicine, so if a war breaks out, I can save lives, not take them away," Ricky said.

     "What about you, Lynne?" Patrick asked.

     "I don't know. Right now I'm just taking a variety of courses to see where my niche is," I confessed. "Maybe I'll just major in liberal arts and drift around for a while."

     While we were talking about fencing, Patrick and Ricky walked away. They both came back looking happier, but I couldn't tell why. I tried silently asking Patrick, but he only replied that I'd find out soon enough. When we left for the show an hour later, I still hadn't found out.

     We got right up front for the show and didn't budge the whole time we waited for them, and then they entered to "Ragdoll". They played "Summer's My Season", "Coax Me", "Money City Maniacs" and then...

     "I'd like to bring a very good friend on the stage," Patrick said, and helped Ricky up. "Now, this isn't a usual part of our show, but Ricky here asked me for this favour, and the band could hardly resist. He handed the microphone to him.

     "This is for my girlfriend, who's the sweetest, most intelligent, most beautiful girl I've ever met. I don't know where I'd be without her, and that's why I'm going to sing this song." Patrick started strumming a few chords, and the rest of the band joined in. Shortly after, Ricky started singing.

     Then something extremely special happened. He knelt in front of Christine so he was eye-level with her - and pulled out a little grey box. The entire place went completely silent.

     "Christine Lynne Haskell," he said quietly, yet everyone could hear him. "Will you marry me?" I was breathless, although the wait wasn't long, and I could only imagine how Ricky felt.

     "Of course I will," she replied, and the place erupted in celebration. He slid a gold ring with a small jade - a miniature of her focus-stone - onto her finger, and Sloan broke into "The Good in Everyone".

     The concert went on until the early morning, and I had to listen to Ricky's chatter about my sister all the way back to Wolfville, but I didn't mind. He was happy, my endren'da was happy, so I naturally was, too. It was a night not to forget.

     After this excitement, things settled down and we adjusted to college life. There isn't much to say about this time, so I'll just write the barest details. Christine and Ricky didn't get married in Canada, and I grew closer to Patrick, Francis and Harold. After the first semester break, Jardinere's uncle thought college was having an ill effect on her and forbid her to go back. Christine continued to correspond with her, however, and that proved useful in the later years.

     The years passed, and I recieved my degree in liberal arts while Christine and Ricky went on to graduate school. I inherited a fortune from my grandparents, whom I had not seen since I was little and that was probably why they had favoured me. With the money, I moved close to home, buying a small mansion in Rehoboth. Years later, I named it Cache Castle.

     Patrick came to visit often, and thus our affair began. Affairs were common and not as scandalous as they are at this time, so nothing was mentioned. He was not always around since Sloan was (finally) making it big in the States, but he was very loving even in his absence.

     He introduced me to his Van'iras clan, Tong'aurang, and they taught me to shield my thoughts properly. I was eventually "adopted" into their clan, although there was no reason to because I was not married to Patrick. We never discussed marriage, but I once thought I should mention it. I stood in front of a mirror one morning, studying my figure and contemplating how much a child would change it. Patrick came in, wearing the somber expression he only reserved to tell me he was going away again.

     "I'm sorry, Lynne, but I have to do this. I'm leaving."

     "When are you coming back?" I asked.

     "I don't know. My father's been hospitalized and I have to give up everything, even the band, to help the family back home. It could be years."

     "Then I'll come with you," I decided.

     "Lynne, this is Canada we're talking about. The tabloids here don't pay attention, but they'd be all over us back home."

     "Then marry me, and it won't be as scandalous."

     "It would be just as scandalous, if not more," he replied. "You're almost fourteen years younger than me. Plus, I have to go back now, and I'm going to stay there. You just bought this house a year ago, are you going to leave it already for a fleeting moment?"

     "It's not a fleeting moment," I protested. "I love you."

     "Then hold onto that love and let it grow, but don't change your future for me. We've lived apart before, we can do it again. I'll be back but in the meantime, don't give up on your own life. Goodbye, Lynne." He turned around, picked up his bags, and left without looking back. I did not sleep that night or for many nights to come.

     Christine was the first to talk to me a week later. "I saw Patrick yesterday in Halifax," she said. "He looked sad and would not talk to me. Did you have a fight?"

     "There was not enough time to fight," I told her. "He had to leave to take care of his father and family. He says it could be years before he returns."

     Patrick never returned, and it is a point of my life I did not come to terms with for many more years. It was beyond his power and he didn't know about Cinnamon. Otherwise, I believe he would have come back for at least a little while.

     Christine, being the caring sister she was, sent Harold over to comfort me. It was to him that I first confessed my real plight.

     "I do love Patrick," I told him, "but that isn't all of it. I'm carrying his child." Harold opened his mouth. "No, don't even think about abortion. I'm going to have this baby. I just don't know what to do about it."

     So we called Francis, who had taken care of his sister during her first pregnancy. They both moved in, by my side day and night in the later stages.

     "This is the benefit of being like me," Harold proclaimed one day after I had trouble getting out of bed. "We don't go and get ourselves pregnant." He had declared, during the first year of college, that he was tan'garshe, preferring members of his own sex.

     "Yes, but most people see that as more scandalous than my position," I told him.

     "Not in England," he said.

     "We're not in England," I reminded him.

     "Well, that's a slight problem, isn't it?" he replied.

     "Will you two please stop your bickering?" Francis interrupted us. "Harold, go to the store and buy some milk. Maybe by the time you get back from that task, you'll be less inclined to quarrel."

     "Yes, sir," Harold said sharply, and left the room with a salute.

     During this time, I had kept correspondence with Patrick, although it did not look like he would ever come back. His familial problems kept increasing and we were becoming more like friends than lovers. Maybe it was unfair, but I didn't tell him about our child.

     On January 4th in the early morning hours, I went into labour and was brought to the hospital. I endured nearly twenty-four hours of pain until a little girl decided she really did want to come out of me. My doctor (Ricky) cleaned her and handed her to Francis, who gave her to me. Patrick's black eyes stared up at me from the smallest face I had ever seen, and I started to cry.

     We went home the next day, and I recieved a letter from Patrick.

   Dear Lynne: it read

     I know you realise by now that I will never be returnig to the States and even if I did, we wouldn't be able to make it work. You said you loved me. Now I wonder if you love me enough to let me go forever.

     I have met and fallen in love with a charming country girl from PEI, and we are to be married in May. I hope you can find room in that gigantic heart of yours to be happy for us. I will miss you and pray everything works out for you. I hope you will try to come to our wedding.

     Father is nearly at the end of his time, and I'm afraid he will not be among us much longer. But my fiance, Charlotte, brings a laughter to his face when she visits him. I think you'd like her as well. Please say hello to Christine, Ricky, Francis, and of course the irrespectable Harold for me. Goodbye.

Love,
Patrick

     P.S."Sugartune" was written for you, although I didn't know it at the time.

     I wrote back, saying I was truly happy for him and Charlotte but, due to circumstances, I would not be able to attend the wedding and see if I liked her, but anyone who was good enough for him was good enough for me. It was only five and half years since we met, but I had learned to love and let go. I had something bigger in my life to love, something that needed my love.

     For the first couple of years of Cinnamon's life, I devoted myself entirely to her. Every thing I did was for her. She was beautiful, with golden brown hair, ivory white skin, and her black eyes. When she was a little over two years old and I realised she didn't need my constant supervision, along with Francis, Harold and his haske (beloved), Christine, Ricky, the maid and the nanny, I was at a loss for something to do. I would wander the castle aimlessly, until at least Francis dragged me to a cookout he was going to. There I found another purpose in life: Cameron.

     Cameron was a six year old darling with sweet blonde curls (much like Francis') and the most angelic face. His mother had died in childbirth along with his sister when he was a year old, and his father was a member of the Senate and never home. While his father was working, he was shuffled from one relative to the next, where he was abused mentally and physically. As soon as I saw the bruise on his upper arm, I decided to do something about it.

     I found his aunt taking care of her own four children. "Cameron? He's too much trouble, that one," she said. "I've had him for a month and am trying to find someone else to dump him on. Problem is, nobody's in the least willing to take him anymore."

     "Would anyone mind if I took him?" I asked.

     "Nobody except yourself. I don't think his father even remembers he exists anymore."

     So I took Cameron and his few belongings and went back to the castle. The poor boy didn't say a word the whole ride, and closed himself in his newly assigned room as soon as I showed it to him. For the next few days, food was dropped off in front of his room at mealtimes and picked up later, and the only person who entered and left his room was the maid, who insisted on cleaning it. I didn't ask any questions of her, and she didn't give any answers.

     Finally, a week after his unseen addition to the house, I was sitting myself down to breakfast when the big entrance door opened and Cameron's head peeked in. "May I join you?" he asked.

     "Of course," I replied, and he sat down next to Francis. "That bruise around your eye is healing nicely. I hope you'll never have another one of those."

     The healing process began, and I took the liberty of writing a letter to his father. I had become quite good at writing formal letters and even better at expressing my opinion and anger. I informed him that Cameron was in my care and would be for as long as it took him to find a sense of duty toward his son. Furthermore, I was enraged that a member of Congress, which was the backbone of our government, would do this to his own son.

     A week after I sent the letter, I recieved a reply: a $200 check. I immediately sent it back, with a note that said I did not need his funds to provide for his child, and a few other things. I never again recieved a check from him.

     Using my own money, I bought brand new clothes for Cameron and other things to occupy his time. He started school in the fall, but was homeschooled due to an incredible fear of people. He trusted and loved the "family" of Cache Castle, but would not even come out of his room the first time Christine visited.

     I was at the ripe old age of twenty-five, had two kids, no husband but plenty of guys living at my house, and lots of money. I didn't know what else to do for a while.

     Then Cameron's father, Alfred Wedworth, visited. That was a disaster right from the beginning. My maid answered teh door and he immediately demanded, "I want my son." Then he realised he was speaking to the maid and demanded to speak to me. He barged into my study, where I was discussing (of all things) how to overthrow the government by magic with Chrstine. We were joking, of course, since we did this about once a month and nothing ever happened. But he didn't know this.

     "Maybe you could set fire to the White House and I could whisper weird things in their minds," I contributed.

     "We have that on our list from April of last year," Christine replied, looking at a paper.

     "Oh...I suppose all the good plans are thought of." Then I looked up. "Hello, Mr. Wedworth. You're not big on politeness, are you?"

     "Judging from your letters, you're not either."

     "So what brings you here?" I inquired.

     "I'm here to take home the boy."

     "I don't think you're ready to."

     "Why not?"

     "Well for one thing, you can't even call Cameron by his name, you call him 'the boy'."

     "So what if I do? He's my child, I'll call him whatever I want and you can't do anything about it. You have no legal authority over him, I could expose you as a kidnapper."

     "And I could expose you as a child neglecter, leaving him to your relatives to abuse him. You'd never be elected to Congress again."

     "I'm not running for Congress anymore."

     "What, you've made your millions and suddenly realised there's a little boy out here who needs a father? You should have thought about him a long time ago. Do you realise that if Cameron was to walk in here right now, he wouldn't know who you are and, because of you, would be afraid of you? It took him a week to even look at me when I rescued him from his fate. He locked himself in his room when my sister came to visit the first time he was here, and that was a month after he trusted me, and I had warned him about her visit. If I was to introduce you as you really are, you wouldn't be able to take him out of here with a hundred men."

     "Then what do I do? I'm determined to find my son again." There was a pleading in his voice, and I searched his mind. There was a genuine truth in his words.

     "Okay, I'll tell him you're my cousin from California. But you have to act the part, and you'll always be under someone's supervision, even if you don't see them. And I warn you, if you try to take him off this property without his total consent, you will be stopped." I had set magical guards of this kind - with Christine and the Tong'aurang's help, of course - to stop Cameron's paranoia of being taken to another family in the middle of the night.

     "I promise I won't try," he said.

     "Good. Now, do you have luggage for an extended stay with you? Because if not, we'll have to make up a story for that..."

     "My luggage is a little ways away, it can get here tomorrow morning. Everyone knows how lousy travelling is because you always lose it..."

     "Okay. Now, let's give you a room...The second floor is for visiting relatives, and I think you'll like the East wing...I'll have the maid show you while I warn Cameron."

     "Um...will he already know, from your servants?"

     "Oh no, they know not to talk about him at all, good or bad," I assured him. "They hardly talk at all as it is."

     I told Cameron that my cousin Charles was visiting, but he still didn't come to supper. He did, however, come to the library in the eveniing, so I knew he wasn't completely afraid. Three days later, they finally met each other - and as I suspected, Cameron did not recognise his father. When the leaves started to fall, we had an autumn picnic to celebrate his seventh birthday. That day was memorable for one reason: I realised I had fallen in love with Alfred. I still don't know how it happened, but it did. The problem arose of telling Cameron the truth or betraying my feelings - after all, my feelings hadn't given me good guidance before.

     So I kept the charade for a while, until Cameron came to my study one night. "Charles isn't your cousin," he said simply. "He's my father, isn't he?"

     "Yes, but how did you know?" I asked.

     Just little things here and there," he replied. "For one, you're not supposed to look at your cousin that way."

     He was right, and Alfred and I set our wedding date for the next summer. If you've been doing your math as we went along, you should know that the Boyorn Empire attacked before that summer and nobody got married for a long time. Trajedy, however, fell before that.

     It was supposed to be a marriage made by the gods, since we got along, our children got along, and we got along with the children. There can be no wedding though, espeicaly not a perfect one, if there is no groom. In December, Albert fell into the fireplace and burned to death.

     I was carrying his child (again, I know) and Francis wouldn't let me go through another scandal. So, he did the ony thing he could do to save me from it: he married me. I spent days trying to convince him not to, but he was firm. We were married the day I gave in, December 15, 2010. We had a fancy celebration later, and still only a few people knew the truth.

     Patrick came to the wedding feast, making it the first time in three years that I had seen him. His bride had spent all of hi money (which gave his father a heart attack and killed him), divorced him and left him bankrupt with a kid to take care of. His daughter, named Samantha, eventuallly grew up in the Tong'aurang clan and became an Adept mage.

     Patrick's discovery of my family shocked him, to put it mildly. "Who are they?" he asked as they climbed onto my lap.

     "My children, Cameron and Cinnamon."

     "Your...children?" he repeated. "But you've only been married a month! Christine's been engaged longer than that one's been alive. How can you have children?"

     "Cameron's adopted, I was supposed to marry his father this summer but he died."

     "And what about Cinnamon? She was born around the time we broke up...Oh." His voice was suddenly quiet, and I didn't look up. "I didn't know we had a child, Lynne."

     "I never told you. I didn't want you coming back here because you thought you had a sense of duty. Francis and I have been raising her perfectly."

     "You should have said something, Lynne."

     "What good would it have done? We're not perfect together, and we know that. I don't even have to settle for perfect, look at my situation now. But I'm happy, and I wouldn't have been if you came back."

     "You and Francis are perfect, you just haven't realised it yet. How many times did he hold your hair when you had morning sickness? He's been here since I left, hasn't he? He hasn't left. He loves you, and he wants you to know it. It's the little things that count in your relationship. Or maybe I'm just crazy."

     "I think you are," I replied. As I said that, Jardinere's uncle was leading ships across the Atlantic Ocean.

     The next few months, only close friends were admitted in the house. I fell sick with a raging fever and they were afraid I'd lose the child. Once the fever was gone, I spent a few weeks recovering, and then I caught the flu. Another week with that, a few more weeks recovering, and then I caught a virus at Christine and Ricky's wedding (it was about time!). A woman is most vulnerable to sicknesses when she's pregnant, and I was proof of that.

     Leon Boyorn, the Archbishop of France, had been visiting Newport with a gift of a hundred ships for the navy. I had been visiting my parents one day (they still lived on the naval base) when Jardinere, breathless from running, ran into their house. "Christine has to leave!" she cried out.

     "What do you mean?" I asked, making her sit down.

     "My uncle's 'present' to the navy is only a hoax," she said. "There are five hundred men hidden in them, not to mention the ones on his ships and those waiting for their signal in France and the Pacific Ocean. He wants to declare war on magery with the US, or conquer it if they don't support him. It's bad new for Christine either way."

     *Christine, are you listening to this?*

     *Yes, and I'm not leaving. I'm a battle-mage, and I'm not going to flee at the first sign of trouble.*

     *Christine, you're being ridiculous! You know how Jardinere's uncle feels about magic, and there's no possible way the US can get defenders ready that fast. You're one of three battle mages in the country, and the others are out in the mid-West. If you get yourself involved, there's no hope for survival.*

     *So? At least I'll have done something to fight for a cause I believe in. Vanyel risked his life to protect Valdemar.*

     *And he was a fictional character in a fantasy world.*

     *But he showed me to protect my country at any stake. It's a sense of honour.*

     *You have no sense of honour for your country!*

     *But if the US falls, every other country will fall. You can't say anything to convince me otherwise.*

     "She's so stubborn," I muttered, and then turned to Jardinere. "She won't leave."

     "If she should change her mind, there's a boat waiting for her in Maine, along with a crew loyal to me to operate it. They're the ones who helped me get here."

     "Thank you, Jardinere. We appreciate you risking yourself to your uncle's wrath to warn us."

     She shrugged. "I must fight for my friends any way I can. It is not to spite my uncle if his plan fails, but to save those who don't deserve it. How many will die because of just accusations of magic? We must protect that. But I must go or my uncle will get suspicious. Au revoir, Lynne."

     "Ke'hara." It was the departure of the Tong'aurang clan, meaning "May your paws run swiftly and silently." It was oddly appropriate for the occasion. I don't think I've mentioned it before, but the Tong'aurang clan is the Children of the Wolves clan, which explains all their phrases having to do wtih wolves.

     I soon left, having concern for my friends. Christine was at her "house", Peppyrock Fortress, in northern Maine, so she wasn't in immediate danger. There was, however, the situation with Harold and his haske. They had no stubborn sense of honour and fled back to England that night.

     Christine came down the next day and we held a conference in the study. "I don't know what you're so worried about," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I've known about this invasion for years."

     "You have?" I asked, shocked.

     "Of course. Don't you remember when I first came into your family, I said that the only modes of transportation would be walking and horses? I knew before that. I just didn' tknow when, which is why I'm unprepared. Frankly, ignoring the war against magery, I see this as a good thing. Once Jardinere's uncle conquers the US, electricity will be gone and there will be far less pollution."

     "But what if the President agrees? He is quite a coward, you know."

     "Oh yes, I know that. Then Mr. Boyorn will rid the country of mages and once they're gone, he will break the agreement and declare war on the US over some minor problem."

     "Then how will you stop him?" I asked.

     "I didn't say I would stop him. I'm merely going to help other mages flee the country. We can all gather in England and unite to keep that safe. You needn't worry about yourself, you've got the most powerful shields on your mind that I know of, and nobody should guess that you have mind-magic." The Van'iras had made me a special shield - probably for this reason. Instead of having my thoughts blocked, there was a screen of "normal" thoughts and reactions. Nobody except the Van'iras knew about a spell of the sort.

     The President sat in conferences with Leon Boyorn for a month, and the entire castle used that time wisely. Christine used the magical threads that went across the country to contact other mages, who immediately went "on vacation" to either Canada, England, or Scotland. I didn't have much to do, being five months pregnant, but I did keep contact with the Tong'aurangs, who helped us get people into Canada without arousing suspicion. We contacted the Canadian and English officials and told them about the situation so they were prepared. Then we waited for the President's decision.

     On May 13, 2011, the President was on every tv station in the country. "Archbishop Leon Boyorn of France and myself have made a decision that will affect the future of our country," he said. "It has been brought to my attention that people have been using the Devil's gift of magic to start major events such as the Holocaust and the fighting in Israel. As a result, I have decided to join the cause of excommunicating all mages, starting right now. I'm sure everyone will thank me for taking this step to a better world."

     "Not likely," I muttered. "When are you leaving, Christine?"

     "I'm not," she replied, stroking her equix's hair. Her equix had presented herself in the forest surrounding Peppyrock Fortress a year ago, which had been a startling surprise. Her name was Phyilen, and she was a majestic, white unicorn. "I'm staying as defender to our rights."

     "Christine, you're being stubborn," Francis said. "If you make yourself known, not even the Van'iras will be able to protect you. You've helped every other mage out of the country, why can't you help yourself?"

     "I have to stay and fight for my country."

     "There isn't going to be any war," I told her. "The President's signed the treaty and they're just going to kill all the mages. And since you're the only one in the country, it won't take them long to find you. You'll be dead before the war starts, if there is any. What good will that do?"

     The President came back on the television. "All causes come with sacrifices," he announced. "The first to be hanged for magery is Elizabeth Dower at Newport, Rhode Island in one hour."

     "Isn't that his daughter?" I asked Christine, but she was already mounted on Phyilen and soaring through the window. I was thankful we were on the bottom floor. In a second, they were out of sight, due to the ground-churning pace only a unicorn could maintain.

     In a half hour, they were back, with a blonde-haired girl riding in front of Christine. She looked extremely shocked, which was no surprise since Christine had probably just ridden in, thrown her into the saddle, and ridden back out. We eventually explained to her what would have happened, and there was no end to her gratitude.

     Supper was fairly normal, despite the racing of everyone's hearts. During dessert, Christine looked at Elizabeth and said plainly, "There's no safe place in the country for either of us now, so I've made up my mind. You're coming to England with me. We go to Maine tonight and leave tomorrow morning."

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "And stop calling me ma'am. I'm not much older than you, and I only saved your life. If you keep calling me ma'am, I might throw you over the boat." She grinned. "Now hurry up and finish, I want to get a good head start."

     But in the end, it was Christine who held them back. She honestly didn't want to leave any of us but knew she had to. The knowledge that she wouldn't return only made her goodbyes longer.

     "It's been ten years today since we made that oath," she said to me through tears. "Who knew it would come to this? I'll miss you, Lynne. I'm sorry that I won't get to see your baby. Name her after me, will you?"

     I nodded. "What if she's a he?"

     She managed a small grin. "I've been called Chris enough times before. I was named after my uncle, after all. Keep the love in this family, Lynne. We always had a lot of love. And tell Katie and Scott I said goodbye. They'll understand. Goodbye, endren'da."

     "Ke'hara."

     She only had a fwe words for Francis, and I caught them easily: "Tell her you love her." Then she and Elizabeth mounted Phyilen and Ricky got on Jimmies, and they sped off into the darkness. I never saw them again (or Patrick, for that matter), but I knew they were safe. Thanks to a vow made a long time ago, we still kept contact even after the Boyorn Empire attacked and all electricity was forbidden.

     Alfred's child was actually two girls, whom I named Christine and Lynne. At their birth, Frnacis finally told me he loved me, and we've had three children of our own so far: Patrick, Jardinere, and Harold. I am forty years old at the time of writing this, and I feel too old. I haven't told Christine and Lynne about their real father, though. It just wouldn't be fair if I didn't leave them a scandal for when they're grown.

     Christine, my endren'da, became Queen of England and Scotland when Queen Elizabeth II passed away. Currently, England, Scotland, and Canada are the only countries not under Boyorn rule, due to the uniting of mages to keep their land free. Patrick is the leader of Canada. I miss him, but I'm happy here since I know he's safe. I am also safe. Nobody ever guessed I have mind-magic, and nobody thinks that I was involved in my adopted sister's disappearance. This castle holds many secrets.

-Sarah Lynne Peclan Jaguaxe

     Corey sighed. "That was a good ending. It seemed like a fairy story, but it was your ancestor's life. I mean, even though she never saw a lot of people again, she was still happy."

     The three of them were enjoying the summer day by relaxing in the forest while Joinelle finished reading the diary. Samantha was laying on the grass with her eyes closed, almost dozing. Something tickled her nose and she opened her eyes to reveal a horse's muzzle in her face. She backed up a few paces out of shock.

     *Hello,* the horse - no, the unicorn - said calmly. *I am Fandara. Samantha Rosenburg, I Choose you to be my equix.*

     "I...I agree," she replied.

     Corey stared. "You know what this means, don't you?" he said quietly.

     "What?"

     *You're a mage,* Fandara told her.

     "It means you're a mage," Corey, who couldn't hear Fandara, said.

     "How can that be? I've never shown any powers..."

     *You were shielded. Now come, we must go to England to complete the Crusade.*