Darina stared out the window, watching as tiny flakes of snow stuck to the frigid glass. The full moon was hanging in the sky above the spindly fingers of the dead trees. She thought the sight was strangely beautiful, but not wanting to her waste her time on silly fancies turned away to stir the pot on the stove.

Engin should be home soon, dusk had come and gone and she wondered where he was. She wasn’t sorry he was home late. Perhaps it meant he was actually doing some work for a change. The pot of stew boiling on the stove would wait and so would she. She just hoped nothing bad had happened. After the disappearance of the Sister months ago and the death of that poor peasant woman Nell, everyone was on edge.

She heard a sharp rap on the door and hurried to open it. Who could it be this evening? It wasn’t Engin, he wouldn’t knock, but perhaps the King had come to commission her for another dress for the Queen. Or even to see little Aisling again, he had been quite smitten the last time he had come to visit.

But it was not the King, but a strange man dressed in fine clothes. A large ruby hung around his neck that was reflecting blood red in the candlelight that fell on it when she opened the door. Tearing her gaze from the huge stone she looked at the man. He was not wearing warm clothes despite the freezing temperature outdoors. She was frightened that she didn’t recognise him, he was not one of the inhabitants of the ships. Was he one of Faldorn’s men? Had they managed to find Eallair here on Mhalwae somehow?

“Good evening Mistress Rawtharn”, he said his voice low, “May I ask how you are this fine night?”

How did he know her name? Had they been infiltrated so easily. Perhaps one of the others was a traitor. She must act calm, perhaps if she denounced the King they would let her off lightly and spare her and her family.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I be knowin’ yew sir”, she replied.

“Oh no of course, we have not met. My name is Cebrien de Voire. Very pleased to make you acquaintance. I hope to be knowin’ yew a lot better very soon”, he imitated her rough speech with a snide grin on his face.

She didn’t like the way he spoke to her, nor the way he was mocking her speech. She did not think he was one of Faldorn’s men, he had a thick accent she did not recognise and his skin was very pale.

“I think you should be inviting me in now Mistress Rawtharn, it’s cold out here and it would be the hospitable thing to do”, he said again with the same chilling smile.

She clutched at the doorframe for support. She would be strong, she must be for her daughter sleeping quietly in the next room.

“I don’t think I will be doin’ that Sir deh vwah. I don’t think I’ll be doin’ that at all. I think yew should just be on yer way and go and speak wif someone in charge. My husband will be comin’ home any minute now and I don’t think he’ll be bein’ pleased to find yew here”.

“Of course”, he said with a throaty laugh, “but I still think you will be inviting me in”.

He reached out his hand to her as she stood in the doorframe. She tried to move, to slam the door in his face and throw the bolts across but she was frozen to the spot.

His hand moved up to softly stroke her face. His touch was icy, so cold her skin burned with it. His eyes were on hers and she was horrified to see they were blood red too, the colour of the ruby that hung around his pallid neck. She tried to look away but his gaze held her head in place.

“There now”, he said in an oddly comforting voice, “I think you will be inviting me to come inside after all.

He continued stroking her face but she felt as though his frigid hand was closing around her heart and squeezing tightly. His face was so close to her’s now they were almost touching. She could feel the chill of his breath on her lips, almost taste its metallic tang. She finally reached up a trembling hand to weakly push his away.

“Yes, yes… I suppose yew better be comin’ in then”, she said in a shaking voice that did not seem like her own.

Inside some part of her was screaming at her not to let him in, to take the baby and run, but that part was locked away and all that was left was the complying woman that carefully shut the door behind him.

As soon as it was closed with a gentle click he was upon her with a growl, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck. She felt a dreadful pain, mixed with an aching pleasure as she swooned in his embrace. She could feel tears pouring down her face as she moaned at the touch of his cold mouth on her hot neck.

Suddenly he had thrown her backwards so she almost fell to the floor. She looked at him blurrily in suprise. He was rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his tunic, gasping and gurgling with a dreadful hacking noise.

“What have you done you bitch”, he growled at her throatily.

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, her arms hanging useless at her sides.

A high keening noise began to come from the next room. She realised it was Aisling, wailing in terror. Some part of her understood she should do something to protect her child but her mind was clouded and all she could think was that it was strange the little girl was crying. She was usually such a quiet baby.

Cebrien cocked his head at the sound, then glanced down at her still slightly swollen belly, his face contorting in anger and disgust.

He pawed desperately at his face, coughing and spitting up great gobs of what looked like blood. That was very strange, Darina thought, very strange indeed. And she knew men didn’t always like babies but this man’s reaction was a bit over the top. He would probably be just fine if he actually held a little one in his arms. Most men were.

Then he turned and ran through the door, slamming it behind him with a thud.

Darina stood still in the middle of the room, staring at the closed door. How strange that he had left so suddenly, when they had been getting along so well. She should have invited him to have dinner with her and Engin. Oh but of course, the baby crying had upset him so much he had, had to leave. She should tell Aisling to be more quiet next time he visited.

She shook her head slightly. And goodness what a pain she had in her neck. She must have slept badly the night before. Not suprising with the way that her husband snored. She reached her hand up to rub the offending muscles and winced in pain as it came in contact with an open wound.

She pulled it back in shock staring uncomprehendingly at the blood smeared across her fingers.

Suddenly her mind was clear again and she gazed at the door in horror. She could hear poor Aisling crying in the next room, her tiny voice tinged with fear. What had she been thinking to let a strange man into the house when Engin wasn’t home. Oh God he could have hurt the baby. What if he came back?!

She rushed over to the door and slammed the bolt into place and then ran into the room where her little daughter was.

The poor thing was sobbing in her crib, writhing around her little fist clenched and her face stained with tears.

Darina bent down and carefully picked her up. As soon as she was in her mother’s arms the crying stopped and Aisling peered up at her. Her tiny face creased into a worried frown as she gazed at the blood staining Darina’s dress. She reached her little hands up towards her, as tears began to run down Darina’s face.

She clutched Aisling to her chest, her heart pounding, sobs wrenching from her throat until she could scarcely breath. The little girl whimpered patting at her chest until her mother finally stopped crying. They stayed there, Darina holding Aisling in her arms pressing the warm baby tightly to her, feeling her small fluttering heartbeat against her own pounding one until Engin came home.