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“They were without fear.” The masks of the Horsemen hid their features, but even unmasked, their faces showed nothing human, only savage pleasure at another’s pain. Just like all the other raiders she had seen throughout the years—Greeks, Hebrews, Romans, Egyptians, Goths, Manchus, Mongols, Vikings, Crusaders, Cossacks, Japanese, Nazis . every culture, every continent, every century. Over and over again.
Cassandra could watch the sand no longer. She went to the window and stared out, seeing nothing. “They took what they wanted, and left nothing. Hijad, the healer who found me as a baby and raised me as his own; my foster-sisters; the children; my people. Everything I knew and loved was destroyed. It was the end of the world.” John the Apostle had been right; the Horsemen had brought the apocalypse, at least for her. She had died that day, too, in more ways than one. “The end of my world.”
Duncan spoke quietly behind her, his voice gentle. “I never knew.”
She nodded, acknowledging his sympathy, grateful for it, but she did not speak, unable to trust her voice. She had not wanted him to know. She hated telling these stories; she hated remembering those times, reliving that life, those deaths. She struggled to control her breathing, her tears, but she did not seem to have any control anymore—not over her anger, not over her anguish, not over her fear. The only thing she had control over was her hate. Hate would see her through to the end.
“I tried to forget what happened.” She forced her voice to some semblance of calmness, of reasonableness. “Years turned into centuries, then more centuries. I thought I’d succeeded.” She had succeeded, for a century or so, until the Four Horsemen had turned her adopted son Roland against her, and the nightmare had begun again.
Roland stalked her through the ages, capturing her over and over again, keeping her as a slave for a time, then selling her to another when he tired of her. She did nothing to stop him, for she could not fight him. Her own vows to her son Roland and the ancient prophecy forbade her from even trying. She was forced to wait for Duncan, the Highland Foundling, to challenge Roland.
It had been a long wait. She had been so relieved when Roland was finally dead, when the ordeal was over. She had felt happy, free for the first time in three millennia. But that happiness had lasted only a few weeks.
“Then I learned Kronos was alive.” She had not been able to fight Roland, but she could fight Kronos. For over three thousand years she had waited for Duncan to rescue her. She had run; she had hidden; she had suffered and submitted in silence, but no more. Never again. She was never going to let a man to stalk her and hunt her again. This time, she was going to fight back. This time, she would be the one to kill.
And nothing, and no one, was going to stop her.
Duncan was behind her now, his hand lightly stroking her hair, the warmth of his body close by.
Cassandra turned to him, but she could not meet his eyes, knowing she would break down completely if she allowed the gentleness in him to reach her. She needed to be strong. She needed to be hard. “All the hate, all the pain. ” The hate surged through her, and that was good, but the pain came with it, and the anguish left her trembling. “I tried to leave behind. ”
She should have known there was no escape. The memories would never fade, and the nightmares would never end. She closed her eyes and asked despairingly, “It never leaves, does it?”
“Sometimes,” Duncan said, still gentle, his hands caressing her face, her hair. “For a while.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, a simple touch there, nothing more. His arms went about her, and she relaxed against him, feeling safe, for a time at least. They stood there for a moment or two, then his arms tightened, and suddenly she didn’t feel safe anymore.
She stood very still.
“Cassandra?” Duncan immediately pulled back. “Is something wrong?”
Cassandra had asked him the same question once. “Duncan, I’m sorry —” She stopped abruptly and shook her head. Why should she be sorry? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She stepped back from him. “I’m just. ”
He took her hands in his and held them gently. “Are you tired?”
“Yes, but . It’s not just that. I. ” She did not want to do this. Duncan was watching her, waiting for her. Cassandra shook her head in amazement, suddenly realizing that she did not have to go to bed with a man if she did not want to. She could choose.
Duncan was still waiting patiently “Cassandra?”
She took a deep breath. “Duncan, what happened between us in June was marvelous; it was wonderful.” She smiled at him then, a true smile, and was pleased to see him smile back. “It meant a great deal to me.” He would probably never realize just how much. “But, right now, knowing that Kronos is out there, and—remembering. ” She looked at him earnestly, hoping he would understand, not sure what she would do if he did not. “I’m . I don’t. ”
She was incredibly relieved to see him nod. “You don’t mind?” she asked timidly.
“Mind?” He shook his head. “I’m a little disappointed,” he said with a quick grin, “but I understand. It’s all right, Cassandra.” He gave her hands a brief squeeze and let go.

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