With an effort, Michel started toward the other djinn. He's no longer Menelaos, as I am no longer Honoria. And both of us must make peace with that. As he came close, the great bronze wings of Dominic's aura drew in protectively. Michel realized that he, too, had drawn in his wings, and with an effort, relaxed. He came within touching distance and reached out, palm up.

"Hail, Ninshubur," Michel said, in the ancient language of the House. Like so many things in the past two weeks, it felt strange and at the same time utterly familiar. "It is good to meet again."

Dominic's aura pulsed, and then, slowly, as if he expected Michel to attack, he grasped the proffered hand. "Hail, Ea, and the morning light shine upon you. It is, indeed, good to meet again." His fingers curled around Michel's hand and would not let go.

Michel felt a surge of pity. Dominic looked hopeful, desolate, and very lonely. "Peace be with you," he said. Surprising himself as well as the other djinn, he leaned forward to give a quick, chaste Kiss of Peace.

Dominic flinched. "Don't feel sorry for me."

"I don't. In fact, I'm very angry with you," Michel snapped. "But I hope we can come to a truce."

"Truce?"

"Can we live amicably?"

"I mean you no harm," Dominic said, touching the spot on his cheek where Michel had kissed him. His gaze was hungry.

Michel stepped back. "Not any more than you have done?"

Dominic forbore saying whatever else he had planned, and said instead, "Very well, if it is a truce you want, I will make a truce with you. Furthermore, I beg your pardon, most humbly, for forcing your consent to be Transformed, Michel de la Roche-en-Ardennes."

Michel dipped his chin, his back rigid. "Then we have a truce between us, for the good of the House. And I--" The next words were difficult to speak. "I beg your pardon for--" kissing you, "--attacking you unjustly, when I awoke. I was...confused."

"Has your confusion passed?" Dominic asked, ironically.

Michel, stabbed by Honoria's memory of Menelaos, who would never have shown such raw hurt or anger to her, did not reply.

Dominic's nostrils flared. Then he said, "I accept your apology." As if he couldn't help himself, he went on. "I have one question for you. Have you chosen simply to deny that you were once Honoria?"

"Honoria is dead," Michel grated. Liar, she whispered in his mind.

"Dead to me, I see," Dominic said, his face averted. "Well, but you are alive, and that is worth more than any penalty I might be called upon to pay."

"Even your own life?"

"There is no torment in the Underworld, nor any care, nor love. I would die for you with more joy than I have lived without you." His aura fluttered like a dying heart.

Michel covered his eyes. He could not bear the other's suffering, nor dredge up any part of the fury he had felt on waking and realizing the luck of the Underworld had deserted him. Them.

Damn, agreed Honoria.

Author BIO: Michaela August is a writing team composed of two Northern California authors, Marian Gibbons and Karin Welss. Despite living 90 miles apart, they've been collaborating for many years, using telephones and the Internet.

Marian. a native of Northern California, lives in Santa Rosa, heart of the wine country, with her multi-talented husband (who after many years has gotten used to hearing, "Honey, we have some wall space left for another bookcase, don't we?") As well as being able to make plum jam and chocolate chip cookies, she is a member of Romance Writers of America, and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.

Karin was born in Montreal, Canada. She grew up in California and has traveled extensively in Europe, Southeast Asia, and Australia (including a stint in Sydney for two-and-a-half years, first as a university exchange student and then while working for a well-known database software company). Besides traveling, Karin's other great interests are reading, history, and archaeology. Family members accuse her of writing historical fiction as an excuse to buy books and do research! Karin currently resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she is owned by a small but very bossy parrot. She pays for the birdseed by working as a technical writer.