Damn, that hurt, Jack O’Neill thought, as he stumbled out of the gate clutching his head in his hands. The pain still reverberated under the surface, making his eyes tear and his jaw ache. He cursed himself for thinking, for letting his guard down, for reflecting about something he shouldn’t have. He had known better. Any bad thoughts would be punished—immediately and severely. He knew that.

He’d been so good, able to keep his thoughts from wandering, from meandering to places they shouldn’t. He had found that by thinking about only the present, only the things immediately affecting him, helped. It had helped to keep him focused on the here and now. Just to survive the mind-numbing pain, he had pushed his memories down, shoved them into a box, and locked it tight—or so he had thought.

That last thought, though, had sneaked through. Without warning, it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He decided that that would be the last. No point crying over spilt milk and all those other overused cliches, but he was done. His life from before was finished, completed, dead. He just had to move on and make the best of what had been handed him.

He was used to doing that.

Lady Morgana hadn’t been happy about his slip either, Jack realized. That he could tell just by her general demeanor. She walked stiffly, several steps in front of him, leading the way into the great unknown, her green cloak flying behind her in the strong winds, the gusts kicking up the sand. The muscles in her shoulders, from what Jack could see, were tight, her hands clenched in fists at her sides.

Jack sighed in resignation. He should go and make nice. It would go better later on if he did. Besides, he didn’t have to worry about the Goa’uld anymore. With Morgana, he had a secret weapon. A little groveling was not too much to give up for assured protection, was it?

Jack shook his head to clear his thoughts as he picked up the pace a little, trying to catch up to Morgana, but the wind forced him to push and shove his way forward.

He took the opportunity to glance around, checking what he could see against his faulty memories. There was no one guarding the gate, which was a good sign, Jack thought, trying to squint through the pain in his head and fight the wind. The ocean was still there, several hundred yards from the gate platform, its waters unsettled because of the wind. The grains of sand, although small, hurt as they pelted his body, hundreds and thousands of them, striking his body, getting into his clothes, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. No wonder there was no one here, Jack snorted. It wasn’t exactly the best of weather. The Goa’uld were smart enough to stay inside for this—what did that say about him? The planet was warm, warmer and damper than Ildanach had been, but the windstorm was proving difficult.

According to the limited reconnaissance he remembered, the Stargate on this planet was out in the open with water on one side, sand dunes on the other, and very little of anything else around. The sand eventually gave way to some small vegetation and then into thick foliage and rolling hills. When the MALP readings had come back initially, there had been a considerable force of Jaffa guarding the gate. That report caused General Hammond to put the mission on the back burner.

Apparently, things had changed since then.

As they walked on, nearing the DHD, Jack could see the remains of the original MALP that the SGC had sent almost nine months ago, lying dormant and battered, mostly covered with sand. Leaning down, Jack tried to wipe some of the sand off the machine, but realized only a small part of it remained intact. The cameras were gone, ripped from their sockets, as were the MALP’s robotic arms. Jack was sure that if he dug down far enough into the sand he would find every piece stripped from the MALP that could be salvaged.

"Lady Morgana," O’Neill called, moving again, trying to keep up, trying to yell over the howling of the wind. One of the guards, Eavan he thought, heard Jack’s call and quickened his pace, getting Morgana’s attention. She stopped immediately, allowing the rest of the group to catch up.

To O’Neill’s eye, she was not happy, her eyes flashing, nearly as strong as the winds buffeting their bodies. Her words were tinted with anger. "My love, I thought this world was one to be conquered? Where are the great armies poised to meet us? Where is the city? Were you trying to deceive me, my love?"

Of course she was going to blame the messenger, Jack thought acidly, trying to control his initial thoughts—they would only give him a huge honking headache and he didn’t need anything else to worry about right now. His words of reply were calm, even toned. He was the epitome of patience. "Lady Morgana, I would suggest finding shelter to wait out this storm. There should be a small building several yards from here. It might be occupied, however," Jack said, pointing off in the distance to the left of where they were standing.

Morgana nodded briskly, quickly making a decision, the wind whipping her auburn hair into her face. With a wave of her hand, she indicated to a handful of the guards to lead the way, the rest surrounding her and Jack in a protective circle. Huge steel blades were in the guard’s hands, held at the ready.

Jack felt naked without a weapon. He watched the guards, their muscles poised in anticipation, their swords and knives held high. He didn’t really blame them, though. Who knew what he’d do if he got hold of a weapon—he wasn’t even sure himself.

A few minutes later, fighting for every step along the way, Jack could see the faint outline of the building he vaguely remembered from the MALP video. He sighed quietly, relief flooding over him. He had remembered correctly. At first he wasn’t sure if he was confusing one mission with another. He had prayed that he was right. He wasn’t looking forward to being on the receiving end of Morgana’s displeasure. As long as he kept her happy, he was safe—relatively speaking.

Morgana gestured again and the guards spread out, surrounding the small battered structure. A few seconds later and the building was reported empty. Jack offered another small sigh of relief as they stepped into the shelter and out of the winds. Even within the stone structure, the wind whistled through. There would be no sleeping with that noise, Jack thought acidly, glancing around with a critical eye.

There wasn’t much left standing in the room—a few chairs, most with broken legs or arms, and a pathetic excuse for a table stood along one wall. It was clean, relatively speaking, a layer of sand covering the floor, dust coating most surfaces. No one had been here in some time, probably a few months from the looks of things, Jack surmised.

That was good and bad for a number of reasons. It was good if the Goa’uld had decided to leave, but what exactly had they left behind? Ruins? A plague? The Goa’uld were known to do that—and worse. Now, if the Goa’uld had just gone for a short trip, they could always return, arriving unexpectedly. That was never pleasant. You just had to make the best of things.

"Lady Morgana," Jack said, drawing her attention away from the dilapidated furnishings inside the building. She still didn’t look happy, but it seemed that she was willing to listen and that was better than nothing. "I suggest we wait out the storm and then try to reach the nearest village. If the Goa’uld are still here, that’s where they’ll be. It would help to get some…information about the current state of affairs before we go barging in."

Morgana narrowed her eyes, considering his words. Several minutes passed before she spoke, Jack’s spirits sinking with each second she delayed. Her unhappiness was directly related to how badly she would hurt him later. "Very well. Your…suggestion sounds wise and I can find no fault with your line of reasoning. As soon as the storm passes I shall send Eavan and Cori to scout ahead. They are the quietest of the warriors I brought with me." Her gaze softened and a smile of approval found its way to her lips. Jack sighed silently in relief. "Let us rest and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Adair, take four others and stand guard. I do not want to be disturbed until the storm has subsided."

The young, muscular man nodded, pointed to four others, and stepped back into the gale winds outside. Jack shook his head. How much could they stand guard in that? He didn’t have time to dwell much longer on that thought before Morgana required his undivided attention once again.

"My love, attend me."

"Wha—?" Jack said, turning on his heel to face her, confusion spilling across his face. Morgana had moved silently past him, settling herself on the floor. She was indicating for him to join her. His eyes widened as he realized what she wanted.

"I said, attend me," Morgana repeated, her voice firm, offering no chance of refusal.

"Yes, my Lady," Jack answered, stepping the few paces to where she reclined. He seated himself carefully at her side. She shifted slightly, maneuvering her body to lie between his outstretched legs and leaning against his chest.

Jack held his arms up, away from her body, not sure what to do with his hands. Wherever he put them, he’d probably find himself in a mess of trouble, he thought, panicking slightly. Eventually, he settled for placing his arms around her, resting his hands on her arms in a loose embrace.

Morgana shifted slightly against him, allowing his chin to rest on the top of her head. She sighed in contentment, her eyes closing.

Jack couldn’t believe what was happening. She was going to take a nap. It was almost unbelievable. He was on an alien planet, possibly with a contingent of Goa’ulds or Jaffa hovering in the wings, and she was taking a nap. He glanced up self-consciously. The rest of the group had also settled down to rest, to wait, ever patient, ever trusting of the ones standing guard outside.

In a strange way, it comforted him knowing that she trusted him to watch over her, to hold her, in such a personal way. He knew it shouldn’t, but deep down, a sense of pride rose up. He was wanted, needed even. She needed—and wanted—him.

Jack resigned himself to the situation, allowing himself to relax a little. He’d just close his eyes for a few minutes, he said to himself, as his eyes slid shut a fraction of an inch at a time. Minutes later, his breathing settled into a regular rhythm in time with Morgana’s.

A light touch woke him along with a quietly demanding voice. It was Adair. Even though Jack couldn’t see Morgana’s face, he could tell that she was also awake. Her body had stiffened slightly, no longer as relaxed as she had been in slumber. "Lady Morgana, the storm has passed and Eavan and Cori have gone to scout the area. There is a settlement not far off. They are hoping to find something quickly," Adair said.

"Very well," Morgana said, her voice strong, without any sign that she had been sleeping. "Wake the others. We will refresh ourselves with food and drink before proceeding. How long were we slumbering?"

"An hour or two at most, my Lady," Adair said, his voice tinged with respect and something Jack couldn’t place, awe maybe. He shrugged to himself, pushing it to the back of his mind. He’d figure it out later, not that it really mattered. Jack pulled himself back to the present, away from his musings, and concentrated on what Adair was saying. "I will wake the others. Shall I bring you your refreshments?"

"No. O’Neill can attend me."

"Very well, my Lady," Adair said, bowing slightly before he stepped into the shadows. Moments later, his subdued voice could be heard waking the rest of the group.

Jack, though, had stiffened immediately upon hearing his name. He wasn’t pleased about the whole idea of waiting on Morgana hand and foot, but it seemed as if that was where this was going. It could be worse, Jack thought, rising slowly to his feet, Morgana allowing him room to move.

"The provisions were left by the door, my love," Morgana said, her hand pointing toward the now closed portal. "Please retrieve food and drink for the two of us. It is time you ate properly. You have become much too scrawny for my liking."

"Yes, my Lady," Jack said with a humorless smile. Of course he was thin, he thought sarcastically. After a few weeks in the dungeon, it wasn’t surprising that he had lost weight. A brief flash of pain crossed his temples, almost bringing him to his knees.

Jack glanced back quickly toward Morgana, taking in her glaring eyes and down-turned mouth. "Please forgive me, my Lady," Jack said, bowing low. He knew how to grovel when he had to. A few moments passed before he dared glancing up from under his eyelashes. Morgana’s eyes were narrowed, but her mouth was no longer encased in a frown.

"Very well, my love. I would recommend you take some time tonight to think about your behavior of late. It is not becoming for a man such as yourself."

"Yes, my Lady. Thank you," Jack said, inclining his head once again before he continued on his way, back toward the door and the foodstuffs. The ever-watchful eyes of the castle guards no longer bothered him. Whatever they thought of him was of no consequence. It was only the thoughts of Lady Morgana that mattered.

Jack was unsure just how much time passed, by the time they ate and repacked. Perhaps an hour, perhaps longer. Without a watch and without any outside indicators, it was difficult to judge the passage of time.

Morgana, of course, used the time to pick more of what was left of the memories of Jack O’Neill. Goa’uld tactics and past histories were explored in detail—or as in as much detail as he could recall. People and faces were fading, becoming an indistinct sea of humanity, of people he had once known, leaving him grateful for the companionship he now enjoyed with the castle guards and with Morgana. He was not alone, and that, in itself, was a comfort to him.

Adair entered the small building, a gust of fresh air following him in. He spoke without preamble, his words rushing together. "My Lady, Eavan returns. He has captured one of the city’s guards. Would you care to speak with this one?"

"Yes, I would, Adair. Yes, I would," Morgana purred, a smile creeping ever more broadly across her face. She rose to her feet, dusting off and shaking her taupe-colored skirts, straightening the belt around her hips, lightly running her fingers across the engraved hilt of her knife. "Where is he?"

"Eavan has him outside, my Lady. Would you care to have him brought—"

Morgana cut him off before he could finish. "No. I shall speak with him outside." Morgana turned to Jack, just before she strode out the door. "Come, my love. This shall be our first act together, bonded as we have become. Lugh must be on our side. Together we are stronger than if we had remained alone, are we not?" She extended her arm straight out, her palm curved up, inviting his hand to join hers. Jack hesitated for a fraction of a second, before he stepped up beside her, his fingers entwining with hers.

"Yes, my Lady. We are much stronger together."

Morgana smiled brightly at him, her green eyes mirthful, her now dry auburn hair framing her face, giving her features a soft glow. At that moment, she was beautiful.

They walked outside hand-in-hand, and soon came upon the prisoner about whom Adair had spoken. A young man, no more than twenty, knelt before Eavan. Fear creased his face, his eyes were wide, the whites of his eyes clear and bright even against his quickly paling face as he watched Jack and Morgana approach. Even though his skin had a slight waxy appearance, Jack could tell that the boy was deeply tanned. The boy also wore loose-fitting long robes—a white undergarment beneath a more colorful long vest of sorts. His sandaled feet were dirty and dusty, as were the edges of his light-colored clothing.

An unfamiliar sword hung from Eavan’s side, longer and more delicate looking than the wide broadsword Eavan—and many of the Meath castle guards—preferred. Either way, it got the job done, Jack thought, eyeing the prisoner with interest. The young man was not Jaffa. That much was obvious due to the distinct lack of a tattoo—in either ink or gold—on his forehead.

Morgana approached the quivering form slowly, deliberately, radiating power and authority. She had released Jack’s hand a few paces back, as soon as the boy had come into sight. This would be an easy interrogation, Jack thought, observing the fear in the young man’s face. Jack stood silently toward the back of the crowd, giving him the opportunity to watch Morgana’s every move.

She circled the boy, her eyes roving his body from head to toe, taking in every muscle, every inch of his youthful appearance. Her unwavering gaze just increased the boy’s apprehension.

"What is your name?"

Morgana’s quiet question jerked Jack’s head up, his eyes narrowing in displeasure, as Morgana bent to speak with the young man, her head mere inches away from the shuddering form. Eavan and Adair stood at the ready, their swords drawn.

Morgana’s kindness and her gentility were all wrapped up in that one question. To Jack though, the tone was too light, too kind. She shouldn’t use that tone with a sniveling boy.

That tone—that kindness—was for him alone.

"Paebel," was the boy’s shaky reply.

"Well, Paebel, there’s really nothing to worry about as long as you can tell me what I need to know," Morgana said, smiling insincerely. Her voice was soft, clashing harshly with her cool gaze.

Paebel nodded, his body slumping in relief.

"Who rules here?" Morgana asked, getting to the heart of the matter at hand.

"Yam. Our god Yam rules Ugarit. He is a great and powerful god."

"Where is Yam now?"

"He has journeyed far away to battle with Baal. We await his return," Paebel said, basking in Morgana’s smile.

"When did he leave?"

"Many moons ago."

"When do you expect him back?"

"I do not know. Perhaps many moons more." Paebel looked at Morgana quizzically, gaining a little of his composure. "Who are you? Were you sent by Yam?"

"Yes, we were sent by Yam," Jack said, as Morgana hesitated in her answer. Her eyes flashed angrily at Jack as he stepped forward, but she permitted his outburst.

Paebel looked at Morgana in awe. "Then you must be Athtar," he said before turning his attention back to Jack. Paebel stared for several seconds before fear crossed his features once again. Paebel dropped to all fours, his head pressed into the sand. Paebel’s voice was muffled, but Jack could hear him. "Great god Mot, please forgive me for not recognizing you and Athtar. Please forgive this one for his sins and errors."

Jack glanced quickly at Morgana, embarrassment crossing his features. She was not pleased, but this would get them into the city—and probably into the good graces of the current city leaders—with little trouble.

"Rise, Paebel," Jack said, trying to put steel in his voice. "Who has been assigned to rule while Yam is traveling?"

"Ibiranu has, my Lord." Even though Paebel was on his feet, he kept his eyes lowered in humility.

"Bring us to him," Jack ordered.

"Yes, my Lord God and Goddess. Please follow me." Paebel stepped forward, leading the way past the small broken down building toward the plains beyond.

Morgana nodded to the guards, gesturing for them to follow the young man back to the village. She took Jack’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently, a smile on her lips.

Jack returned the gesture with a smile of his own.

"My love, you have done well. We have won this city without a battle. You are masterful in the art of war and deception."

"My Lady, we have yet to meet Ibiranu. Young men and boys are easily deceived. Older men and warriors are not."

"True, my love. Your words are true. But with you at my side, who could stand against us?"

Jack thought for a moment before replying. When he did, his eyes smiled with hers. "No one, my Lady." Jack took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, strength and confidence remaining.

Morgana gazed deeply into Jack’s brown eyes, searching his very soul. "Now do you understand, now do you see, the power about which I spoke?"

Jack returned her gaze unwaveringly. "Yes, my Lady. All that you have promised has come true."

"Let us meet this Ibiranu and see what he is made of," Morgana said, turning her head slightly to look ahead, at the city just rising on the horizon, just beyond the rolling hills.

Jack turned as well, following her gaze, greedily soaking up the visage before him. "Yes, my love, let us meet Ibiranu. But I am sure that we shall rule here before the day is done."

Morgana’s words brought a rush of pride and contentment to Jack’s heart. "As am I. As am I."

"So let me get this straight," Daniel said, plodding through the snow at Caedmon’s right. "Lady Morgana is your mother and your brother’s wife? That seems a little…well, for lack of a better word, weird."

They had been walking for about an hour, mostly in silence. Daniel had been going over their earlier conversation time and time again, trying to make heads or tails out of the majority of it. He couldn’t believe that Jack—his Jack O’Neill—would ever pledge his allegiance to anyone, let alone a second-rate, Celtic goddess wannabe.

Caedmon glanced at Daniel, his expression unreadable. "For our people, it is not unusual for the high priestess to be wedded to the Lord of Meath."

"But, when was the last time it was the same woman for two generations?" Daniel argued.

"It has not occurred until this time," Caedmon admitted quietly. "It was years, however, before I found out who my rightful father was. Lady Morgana kept that information close at hand."

"Why would she do that?" Sam asked, leaning in to listen to the answer. She walked beside her father, who had been unusually pensive, meditating on much of what Caedmon had said earlier. Teal’c hung back, his eyes ever watchful of the surrounding woodlands. Even in snow, much could be hidden.

"At the time of my birth and the years leading up to adulthood, she was not wedded to my father. For her, it was better that that information was not known for I stood up to her on many occasions. I was outspoken against her and many of her beliefs. Generally, it is better for the ruling family to be in unity with the druids," Caedmon said, glancing in Daniel’s direction. Daniel met his gaze levelly, listening intently. Daniel could understand much of what Caedmon said based on his own knowledge of various cultures. Even on Earth, for many kings and lords, the church had much say in the way things were done, especially in medieval times. Many times, the kings and priests were one and the same.

Daniel had yet to find such an arrangement beneficial for the people whom they ruled.

"I understand, but your father had to have known something," Daniel said, his forehead creasing in concentration.

Caedmon rubbed his hands wearily across his face, wiping some of the snow and moisture from his brow, before he spoke. "Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the truth about my true father, it was too late to turn him against her. I don’t know how she does it, but he was completely smitten by her, as was my brother Kentigern. He wouldn’t believe a word I said and he ordered my reeducation at the hands of my mother. Things just got worse from there."

"Caedmon, I’m sorry to bring up these bad memories," Daniel said, resting his hand lightly on Caedmon’s rounded shoulder, offering as much comfort as Caedmon would accept from him. "It’s just that we’re confused and a little worried as to what may have happened to our friend."

Caedmon smiled weakly in appreciation of Daniel’s gesture. "Thank you, Daniel Jackson."

"Caedmon," Jacob said, breaking into the moment, his voice edged with concern.

"How can I be of assistance?" Caedmon asked, stopping to allow a brief rest for the group. Daniel was grateful. He didn’t much like hiking in the winter, let alone when it was snowing. Jacob’s expression was curious to Daniel, a cross between confusion and fear. Fear? Daniel thought, a bead of worry sinking into his gut. What could make Jacob afraid?

"Caedmon, you mentioned that the Kyredians were exiled here many years ago because of what they did to other races, other peoples. Who passed judgement on them and what exactly did they do?" Jacob asked, his tone firm and direct. His eyes, though, told more of a story. To Daniel, it appeared as if Jacob was merely asking for confirmation of something he already knew.

Caedmon paused for a moment before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. "Jacob Carter, most of what I am going to tell you is what I have received in bits and pieces through my mother, the Lady Morgana. I do not know how accurate it is or if it is indeed the truth."

"I understand, please continue."

Caedmon looked away briefly, deep into the heart of the forest surrounding them. From the woods and the gently falling snow through the trees, Caedmon seemed to gain confidence. "To the best of my knowledge it was a race known as the Furlings who banished the Kyredians here years ago. The Kyredians were experimenting on other races that they believed to be inferior. They were doing monstrous things, altering the basic building blocks of life, trying to find immortality. They succeeded on some levels, but only at the cost of other lives in a perpetuating circle. It continued here on Ildanach once Lugh brought his people here."

"But if the gate was here, why didn’t the Kyredians just use it to gate to another planet?" Sam asked, breaking into Caedmon’s explanation. Daniel had wondered about that as well, but hadn’t gotten the opportunity to voice the question.

"Something was done to the dialing device," Caedmon said. "I do not know what it was, but the Kyredians cannot touch the dialing device in the clearing. Instant death is upon them if they try."

"Why didn’t they just have someone else dial the DHD?" Sam asked.

"There was no Stargate on their planet originally," Jacob said, his voice quiet. "They didn’t know how to use it. They didn’t know what it was."

Caedmon nodded his head in agreement. "Yes. The Stargate was new to them and they did not know how it worked, until now."

"So Jack just opened up the universe to her?" Daniel asked, painfully aware of the answer.

Caedmon nodded grimly. "Yes, he did. He gave her the universe and the opportunity to live forever."

Ugarit was a sprawling, bustling metropolis. The low flat-roofed buildings spread out from the city center, slowly merging to become one with the rolling fields beyond the hard-packed streets. Ugarit was nestled in a small valley, on the shore of a large river. Colorful fishing boats of all sizes could be seen from the hills above, some docked close to the shore, others heading out into the waters, toward the ocean.

As the group approached the village, many farmers in the fields waved their hands in greetings to both Paebel and the strangers accompanying him. Paebel was popular and well liked by many, Jack noted, observing the young man’s confidence growing with every step he took.

They weaved their way toward the city’s center, to the largest building sitting in the midst of a park-like garden facing the calm blue waters of the slowly meandering river. Jack could recognize many of the shops they passed—tailors, smiths, bakers, and the like, by the wares they had in their windows and on tables outside their shops. In the streets around the capital house, an open-air market could be found, where produce and goods of all types could be purchased. The docks were close by as well, and several men could be seen unloading crates and boxes from the hold of one of the larger ships in port.

A light breeze blew in off the water, much different than the howling winds they had been welcomed with when they first stepped through the Stargate.

"My Lord and Lady, please enter into the great house of Ugarit where Ibiranu resides," Paebel said, stopping before two great white wooden doors, leading into the grand palace. Paebel gestured for Morgana and Jack to enter first. Jack nodded his thanks, but permitted two guards to enter before him, just in case. Better safe, than sorry and locked up in the local hoosegow later.

Paebel led them down a long corridor, richly decorated in flowing fabrics, lightly swaying in the breeze coming in off the water. The sound of their footsteps was silenced by the thick carpeting beneath their feet. The hallways and rooms that they could see were oversized, their whitewashed walls adding to the grandeur and majesty. This palace was grandly appointed.

Jack looked at Morgana’s content expression and a wave of pleasure rolled over him. This would be theirs. This palace and these people would bow to them before the day was through.

Word apparently spread quickly in this city, for as soon as they walked into the main chamber, Ibiranu rose to greet them, his arms held wide, and a broad grin on his face.

Ibiranu was an older man, his white beard was neatly trimmed, and his bushy mane of hair pulled tightly behind his head, spilling down his back. His robes were elaborately trimmed with various colors and edged in gold. He wore sandals, much the same as Paebel, and a long white undergarment. He looked regal and appeared as if he floated down the stairs to greet them.

Refreshments were sitting on a sideboard to the right of the dais, and a servant, dressed simply in a long white robe, stood patiently awaiting an order to provide food or drink as requested.

"Welcome to Ugarit," Ibiranu said, bowing low as Jack and Morgana stepped close, stopping just short of the prostrating figure before them. The twenty guards accompanying them, stood back, ever watchful, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their swords. Next to the tanned and lithe appearance of these people, the guards appeared enormous in both size and strength, towering over all in attendance.

"Thank you, Ibiranu," Morgana said regally, her power and authority all rolled into one. "We are here to relieve you until Yam returns himself."

"Very well, my Lady, my Lord," Ibiranu said, slowly rising to his feet. While his words were obliging, his eyes told a different story. He did not want to be relieved of his kingship.

"Ibiranu, I can read your thoughts. Must we make an example of you before the people?" Jack asked, his tone cold and steel-like, his gaze piercing through Ibiranu like an arrow.

The man shriveled under Jack’s unwavering gaze, his eyes lowering in humility. "No, my Lord Mot. It will not be necessary."

"Very well. Have our rooms prepared and vacate the premises. We want you gone from here," Morgana said, gesturing for two of her guards to step forward. "Eavan, see that he follows my request."

"Yes, my Lady," Eavan said, inclining his head to her.

"My Lady," Ibiranu muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. "Must I leave the palace? Yam always kept me close…"

"Yes. He is not pleased with you and has sent us to rule until he arrives." Morgana stepped forward, her eyes flashing angrily, her wrath plainly evident in the tone of her voice and her stiff bearing. "Must I exile you from the city as well?"

"No, my Lady," Ibiranu said, kneeling before her. "I shall do as you ask."

"Eavan, see that he does," Morgana said, stepping around the figure, seating herself in the large throne on the dais. After a few moments, once Ibiranu had been escorted from the room, Morgana turned her attention on Paebel, who stood in the back of the room, clearly at a loss as to what he should do. "Paebel, can you escort us to our rooms? It is growing late and I wish to take my evening meal in my rooms."

"Please follow me, my Lady," Paebel said, bowing before he led the way through the palace, Jack and Lady Morgana walking side-by-side, followed by half the contingent of guards, the other half vanishing into the halls of the palace.

Jack glanced quizzically at Morgana, his head leaning slightly, indicating the retreating forms of the guards.

"They are going to secure the palace to ensure that we are not disturbed. They will return with a report shortly," Morgana answered calmly, her smile quiet. To Jack’s eye, Morgana looked out of place, a dark beauty in an enlightened world. The light airy fabrics and richly draped windows in thick damask in elegant prints, white upon white, were a harsh contrast with Morgana’s hunter green cloak and taupe garments. He could picture her in something softer, the fabric draping and flowing gracefully on her lissome form.

Morgana smiled more broadly, breaking Jack from his musings. Paebel was slowing, apparently they were approaching the royal chambers.

Paebel paused only long enough to push the two doors open, revealing an ornately decorated sitting room, nearly the same size as the main hall in Meath. On one side, the room looked out on the palace gardens and on the other, the riverfront. Several rooms branched out from the main chamber, including an elaborately decorated bedroom and bathroom. Another door led to a series of rooms where Jack assumed some of the guards would sleep. These rooms, while comfortably appointed, were smaller, more economical. This wing also permitted access for various servants to the main chamber and the living quarters beyond.

Decorated in various shades of white and cream, the room was stunningly bright, the huge windows opening out to allow the continuous breeze to lightly caress those inside.

"Will this be acceptable?" Paebel asked, after Morgana and Jack had had the chance to explore, reverently gazing upon the furnishings. Morgana nodded her approval.

"Yes, Paebel. This will be satisfactory." Morgana said, gliding her way back to the main chamber where Paebel patiently waited. "When is the evening meal generally served?"

"Whenever you wish, my Lady. Our Lord Yam generally preferred a large evening meal many hours after the sunset. We would be honored to provide anything you desire."

"I prefer my evening meal to be early, before the setting of the sun. Would it be possible to arrange one for today?"

"Yes, my Lady," Paebel said, bowing slightly. "I shall inform the palace mistress, Hurriya, and she will be able to provide you with whatever you desire."

"See that she attends me immediately. If I do not like her, I will need to find another. I expect you to remain in service to me as well, Paebel," Morgana said, her voice dropping seductively as she stepped closer to the young man.

"Yes, my Lady," Paebel said, his voice betraying his nervousness. "If I may be dismissed, I shall relay your orders to the appropriate persons."

Morgana stopped suddenly, her voice plainly indifferent. Her hand absently waved Paebel away. "Very well. Be gone already."

As soon as Paebel had left, Morgana turned her attention on the handful of guards remaining in the rooms. "See to it that I am undisturbed until the evening meal is served. I also expect a detailed report at the same time."

Eavan inclined his head to her. "Yes, my Lady. We shall settle ourselves into the various chambers. I will come to you when it is time."

"Very well," Morgana said. She paused, looking intently at Jack, who returned her gaze levelly. "My love, attend me," she finally said, holding out her hand to him.

"Yes, my love," Jack said, stepping in beside her, allowing her to lead him into the bedroom beyond, the doors silently but firmly closing behind them.