A heavy rainfall made Guelder change her original plan of moving on and setting up camp a little further from the hunting lodge. Steeling herself to put up with a considerable amount of awkwardness, she booked all of the unoccupied rooms to accommodate her team as well as Kesten's militiamen, and ordered everyone to stay away from the priestess's activity in the kitchen. As a result, her entire party was forced into one room, except for Tristian. The baroness instructed him to move in with Kesten, so that he could keep an eye on the militia leader and prevent him from doing anything rash – and so that the cleric remained safe from the love-starved queen cat Guelder currently was. Hazel was adamant about staying by her side, so she could only hope they were sufficiently discouraged by her previous threats.

  After the nighttime adventure, everyone was deadly tired and slept through the better part of the day. Guelder woke from her trance to a gust of wind carrying raindrops. Hazel was standing at the open window with their eyes closed, letting the windblown drops soak their shirt. Although it was not the type of storm they usually relished, just bucketloads of rain, they took pleasure in absorbing the energy of the weather all the same. A stunningly beautiful sight. Guelder felt a sudden urge to tear that wet shirt off their body and explore every inch of them, muscle by muscle.

  "I need fresh air," she whispered instead, very softly, touching Hazel's shoulder. "Let me out."

  "Into the rain?" muttered the ranger absently, leaning their arms against the windowframe. How could they look so hot? And how come Guelder had never noticed that before?

  "Hazel. Step aside and let me out. This is an order."

  Her voice didn't sound as stern and commanding as she wanted it to. More like warm and husky. She touched Hazel's hip where their shirt slipped out of their trousers and left a strip of bare skin above their belt, all the while silently cursing Lamashtu's name, gently coaxing them to leave their post.

  Hazel turned to face her, still blocking the window, and took her by the wrists.

  "Running off to do something stupid, are you, Guel? Headfirst into the witch's trap?"

  This was more than frustrating. The struggle with her obnoxious desires that would place an unwelcome strain on her already complicated relationship with Hazel was taxing enough in and of itself. The last thing she needed was insubordination from an overprotective friend. Another moment and she would snap, rip that shirt off them, sink her claws into their flesh, ravage their body in a crazy mix of pain and pleasure... Hell, was it hard to focus. She needed to get out of here, the sooner, the better.

  "I should not have to repeat myself, now should I?" she growled. It came out as a low, guttural purr. Damn.

  "It is my duty to keep you safe," said Hazel softly, holding onto her.

  "Your duty is to obey."

  "Then give me reasonable orders. I would do anything for you, anything, but I will not have you put yourself in harm's way again. I do not know what that woman promised you, but I can see she has sniffed out your weakness and she is using it against you."

  "I am leaving, Hazel, like it or not. Alone. Do not try to stop or follow me."

  Hazel sighed in dismay.

  "I only say two words to make you think again. Verdant Chambers."

  Guelder breathed deep, in and out, hoping to calm herself, but it turned into the ragged, shaky panting of arousal. Hazel's closeness, their scent, their pheromones threatened to overwhelm her senses. She scrambled to find the cold determination she needed right now. Focus, Guelder. You are a ruler on a quest to explore her own past, not a horny teenager out for her first ride!

  "I appreciate your intention to protect me, Hazel," she said in a hoarse whisper, "but I do not tolerate insubordination. Not even from you. In fact, least of all from you. Let go of me."

  "Guel, please, stay with me. Let me keep you safe. Trust me, just this once. Please."

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  Alarmed, Guelder recognised the same desire in Hazel's low voice. Her racing blood urged her to agree. The idea scared her but also filled her very guts with anticipation. All her nerves, especially those below her belt, yearned to experience what Hazel had to offer in terms of keeping her safe.

  For a long, long moment, their gazes locked onto each other, without words. Then Hazel finally let go of her wrists and pulled her into an embrace. When their lips touched, she didn't protest. Quite on the contrary.

  She kissed them back, passionate and also attentive, learning the moves on the fly. Years upon years spent as a leopard had made her quite skilled in using her tongue in creative ways, and Hazel couldn't get enough of that. The cool touch of their rain-soaked body felt soothing against her feverish skin. Their hands were seeking for a way to get under her clothes.

  Guelder was losing this fight. Her gambit would bring about not only Hazel's downfall but also her own. Next thing she knew, her arms were around Hazel's neck, her fingers sunk into their thick black hair, so soft to the touch. Their hands, cool and wet from the rain, were caressing her back underneath her shirt, sending tiny electric jolts along her nerves. She had no idea how long they had been at each other, but she wanted it to last forever.

  "Follow me, Guel," said Hazel softly, catching their breath. "We need some time alone. I know just the place."

  They walked to the door and opened it.

  By the time they realised what was going on, Guelder had jumped out the window on soft paws, landing on the kitchen's roof. Then she continued down to the ground and leapt into a mad dash, eastbound, finally free from those disturbing desires. Thankfully, she sensed no male leopards in the neighbourhood, except for Pangur, who was slumbering peacefully under the bed in the shared room.

  The juiciest Elven swear words came from the open window, reminding her that she would be in for a very awkward apology later on.

  When Guelder arrived at the shrine, Tsanna was already there.

  "You came," she stated, immediately seeing through her shapeshift. "Have you brought the sacrifice?"

  Guelder shook herself and sprinkled a little more rainwater at the priestess, then resumed her elf form. The rain had quieted down to a slow drizzle.

  "Greetings, Tsanna," she said. "I brought the goddess some of the most precious blood she can find across this land. The blood of its ruler."

  The priestess broke a wry smile, flashing a few rotten teeth amongst the healthy ones. Probably trappings of the trade, just like the leg sores. Guelder shoved down her aversion. After all, she wasn't great at taking good care about her own health, either... or so Hazel said.

  "Oh, really?" said Tsanna. "You seem to be the sort that's ready to spill her own blood for others but hesitant to take others' blood for her own good. Which is more precious, then?"

  "My own blood is what I am willing to offer, so that will have to do. However, I stipulate that my body shall remain whole and fully functional. You may wound and bleed me as necessary, but you are not entitled to cripple, mutilate or kill me."

  Guelder hoped very much that she covered each and every loophole that would make her regret her decision later on. The legislation sessions with Jaethal and Valerie usually bored her to hell and back, but at least some tidbits of knowledge got stuck in her brain. Would they be of any use in negotiating the extent of her sacrifice to a demon lord turned goddess?

  "So careful and circumspect, as if you were dealing with a devil." Tsanna shook her head disapprovingly. "You are disrespecting the goddess while asking for her boon."

  The tension between two wills pushing against each other was almost palpable, so much that it lured out Tsanna's two-headed pet rat from under her cloak. The rodent sniffed the air with one snout, while its other head gave a squeak. The grim determination on Guelder's face immediately softened into a heartfelt smile.

  "Oh, hello there! May I?" she said, reaching out towards the animal. Tsanna frowned but didn't intervene. The rat nuzzled Guelder's fingers with both of its snouts, squeaking happily.

  "I might have misjudged you, baroness," said the priestess, producing a dagger. "Luckily for you, Krysa's instincts are infallible. The Mother graciously accepts your offer of blood. Mind you, suffering pleases her, so I will not be gentle, but I will not exceed the scope of flesh wounds." Her normal human voice turned into a ritual chant. "State your business before great Lamashtu, Mother of Monsters."

  Guelder bowed her head in agreement. She knew exactly what to ask. Lamashtu couldn't help with the Bloom, but being a chaotic entity, the mother of nightmares, she could break through barriers. She could help Guelder face the truth about the night her home grove had been destroyed. She could help her remember and clear up the question nagging at her mind: Was she really cursed? Back then, had she done something unforgivable to her own people, dooming herself and all she ever cared for?

  "I humbly request the Mother's help in digging up long-forgotten memories of the past. I want to relive the time the fate of Nightvale Grove was sealed. I want to remember it all and never forget."

  "So be it. Let us give praise to the Mother and appease her with our sacrifice."

  Tsanna held Guelder's left hand above the altar, pressed the blade to her wrist, tracing one of the scars crisscrossing her skin, and with a quick and practised move, she opened a vein. As the first drops of blood fell onto the altar, Guelder was enveloped in darkness. Warm, prickly, suffocating darkness, not unlike raw black wool. The vision began.