When she woke up in the lord's chamber, Rosalind's mind replayed the previous night. Fragments of what they had done lingered like fading traces of perfume upon her skin. When he had escorted her to her bedroom, Rosalind had shaken her head and told him she wanted to sleep in his arms. As silent as death, Caspian had ushered her to his own chamber and they lay in each other's embrace until the new day came and spirited him away.

Hoping no one would see her, she rose quietly and tip-toed like a criminal to her room. Rosalind changed from her red gown into a simpler pink one before hurrying downstairs to look for Caspian.

The day outside bore little light. The gloomy house was alight by the flicker of flames. When she saw Agnes emerging from the kitchen, Rosalind felt a faint blush upon her cheeks. "My good maid, where is Lord Caspian?"

Wringing her hands, Agnes no longer knew what words of wisdom to tell Rosalind. Whatever she had warned her about, Rosalind had done anyway. Feeling a gap had been driven between them, she did not know what to say. The maid knew that salvation was long gone yet every night she still prayed. "He has taken one of the horses, my lady, and has left for a hunt I believe."

"There is enough meat, is there not?"

Shaking her head mournfully, Agnes replied, "Perhaps it is not an animal he is after today, my lady." Not wanting to further the conversation, Agnes curtsied and politely excused herself back into the kitchen leaving Rosalind alone.

Upon the maid's departure, no sound ebbed from the walls. Not even Agnes' moving around was heard. Rosalind felt alone and suddenly very cold. Heading for her cloak, she tossed it over her shoulders as a pair of green eyes peered at her from behind a darkened corner of the house, watching her as she exited the manor and headed away.

In the stables, Charon awaited – stiff and still as a statue. When Rosalind hoisted the saddle on him, he let out a faint whinny yet allowed her to finish without moving an inch.

Upon the rotting steed, Rosalind tore into the forest in search of her lover. The snow fell delicately upon her lashes and hair, decorating her as though it were flower petals. Coming upon a shadowy thicket, Rosalind spotted Caspian and Hades. The lord was hunched over someone. The snow around his legs was vermillion and spread towards the awaiting horse's hooves.

Gliding off Charon, Rosalind looked towards the slaughter. A form, long and lithe lay motionless. Thick waves of honey brown hair fanned like a halo. Rosalind took a step forward and felt as though she had just been struck. A throbbing pain slammed against her skull, momentarily blinding her. When she opened her eyes she saw Clairie laying dead. At that moment, everything about her maid's death and Rosalind's return back home came flooding over her like a howling wave. "You murderous beast!" Rosalind screamed, breaking the otherwise hush. Though the thick snow slowed her down, she ran to Caspian and began hitting him with her fists knocking him backward. "You killed her! You fucking demon!" As Caspian lay on his back, she continued to hit, screaming all the while.

As the lord heard her wailing like a banshee, he grabbed her wrists and pushed her off him. "Have you lost your mind?" he growled as they fumbled in the snow.

Using her legs to kick at him, Rosalind tried to push him away. Her rage became a giant, feral thing, dying to consume the lord.

"What are you doing?" Pinning her down, Caspian straddled Rosalind and sat on her stomach. He was careful not to crush her yet at the same time he was trying to save himself from a black eye.

"You killed her!" Rosalind attempted to push herself up yet felt as though she had been nailed to the ground.

Breathless, Caspian said, "I have killed no one, beloved. No person. Look." He gestured with his chin towards his kill. "It is a deer."

"My maid, she is dead," Rosalind cried as she turned and saw it was indeed a young deer, speckle-thighed and lacking antlers. Sucking in mouthfuls of air, she thought her heart would burst.

"Did you think this was a person? I came out here to kill a young deer believing the tender meat would make a good meal for you, as the stag we got yesterday is not suitable yet."

Tears stung her eyes. Rosalind looked from the deer to Caspian and began to cry. "You killed her..." she whispered. "You killed my friend not even a week ago and I came back to into your bed because my foolish heart loves you."

Letting her go, Caspian sat and pulled her up. "I have killed no one," he said softly. "Not for nearly a month. Not since you came to love me."

"She was cut open...stabbed through the heart and left in the Borgo to bleed." Looking at her trembling hands, she could barely make out her fingers through her tears.

"I do not stab people," Caspian admitted gently. "If she was stabbed it was someone else, beloved. I swear to you, it was not me..."

"Do you swear on my life?"

Caspian pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. "I do swear, beloved."

Believing it could not be him, not after he swore on her life, Rosalind leaned her cheek against his chest and wept for all that was lost and all that she would soon lose.

The blood from the young deer clung into Caspian's hands and clothing. Having held Rosalind, she found herself stained in red, as well. Now back at the manor, they brought death with them.

"It tends to seep under your skin sometimes," the lord commented after the pair had left the animal for Agnes to butcher.

Looking at her hands as they headed up the stairs, Rosalind saw there was blood on the front of her dress as well, she felt it sticky against her body and nodded to Caspian. "I feel like I need to bathe – skin, clothing and all."

Giving her a sly smile, Caspian gestured to his chambers and said, "My tub fits two."

Rosalind paused, around her shadows slithered out of the stones and trembled upon the walls, waiting for her answer. With a nod, she allowed Caspian to open the door for her and usher her inside his room.

Outside, lights played upon the sky. Greens and yellows stole the remainder of the day and whisked it away. When twilight came creeping like some battered wench, the lights licked upon her back until she turned from hazy to deep black.

When the tub had been filled, Caspian lit the candles in the bathing room and called Rosalind in. "I do not know if I prefer you tainted or pure," he said as he created a trail with his finger from her jawbone to her breast.

Looking away from him, Rosalind felt her stomach churn. And I do not know if it was better hating you than loving you. Rosalind thought as visions of Clairie bloody and horrifying came to her. Though she knew Caspian was not the killer, he had killed before...and she had fallen in love with someone she had always feared and many hated. What am I doing? Rosalind winced and then under her breath she said, "My mind, it feels as if it is broken. Perhaps this is unwise."

Tilting her chin up, Caspian saw her eyes storm over. "If you do not want me here," he said gruffly, "I can leave."

She felt as if she had been shattered. A million little pieces scattering. She did not want to go yet she suddenly felt horrible. "This is your bathing room. I must be the one who leaves." Giving him a sad nod, she backed out of the candle-lit room, leaving Caspian among the heat and flames.

Caspian sat in the tub, his gaze lingering on one single flame. He watched it sway hypnotically and in its blaze, he saw Rosalind's face. He felt his heart beat and each thud was connected to her. Though he had loved Calla more than he had ever loved anyone, what he felt for Rosalind was beyond logic or explanation. Through the trickling of time, he felt Calla slip away and Rosalind enter into every bit of whatever was left of his heart.

Bringing his hand to his face, Caspian felt the water trickle over him. He wanted to rush after Rosalind, bring her back to him and make her stay. But he could not bear to let himself be brutal to her. Caspian lowered his hand. He knew that he would do anything for her. "You belong to me," he uttered in his deep baritone expecting no reply.

When a shadow slid into his room and formed into her, Caspian heard Rosalind's voice. She had reentered his chamber, remorseful about every leaving. "And you belong to me, my lord."

Her brief departure had left him aching. When he saw her enter the bathing chamber, he felt as if his heart would crawl its way out of his chest and run to her.

"Come to me," he begged, reaching out.

Rosalind stepped around the flames. She slipped out her clothing then dropped them carelessly as she moved closer. Soon a trail of blood-stained attire led her to the edge of the tub. Standing bare before him, she let him graze his hand over her thigh before she entered the pink-stained water.

The house fell silent as Rosalind straddled Caspian and guided him inside her. The night bore no words. The only sounds came from the pair as they held each other close and Rosalind rode the lord. Small tidal waves bashed against the sides of the tub. The warm water reached out and clawed its way over the edge, splashing over the stones.

In the darkened gloom of the forest, a lone white wolf stood. His head turned up to Lord Caspian's window. He watched as the candlelight quivered, then he turned and ran back into the sanctuary of his forest.