Ethan was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lost in his thoughts, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He quickly sheathed his sword and stood up from the bed, unsure what to say. The second serious of knocks had stirred him from meditation, and his guest assumed he was indisposed, so they didn’t wait for a response and opened the door before he could say anything. A Tallashite woman entered, still wearing the plain gray robe the supplicants had worn at the welcoming ceremony. It wasn’t Natasha.

“Oh,” she said, startled by seeing Ethan in the room. “Did you not read the note?”

Ethan looked about the room dumbly. He saw a small end table next to a chair and a piece of paper lying in the center.

The woman saved him the effort. “If you want to freshen up, we can wash your clothes and even bring you new ones, though I don’t think we have anything that will fit you. I expected to find you in the washroom. Well,” she blushed a little, “I didn’t expect to see you while you were in the washroom. I mean, not that I don’t want . . . uh, I mean, if you leave your clothes on the chair, I can have them washed for you. There is a robe you can wear while you wait.”

Ethan tried not to smile at her uncomfortableness. He could sense the same deep passion within her, but while the other woman had been at about a 12 on a scale of one to ten, this woman was closer to a five. He knew that for someone attuned to their own desires and able to read the passion of others, his Elemental must be deafening to her senses.

“That sounds nice,” Ethan said. “But I don’t see a fireplace in this room. Is there a way to heat the water?”

“No need,” she replied. “There is hot water on tap in the washroom. We collect snow from the mountainside above the temple and melt it on the top floors. Then heated cisterns distribute water to each room. It is a very convenient system.”

“Who collects the snow?”

“Metal-lined aqueducts extend to several nearby slopes. The physicals go out each evening and scoop snow into the slanted troughs. The metal is painted black, so it is heated by the sun, and the snow melts and slides down to the temple. The scholars designed the system.”

“The physicals? Scholars?” Ethan wasn’t sure if he should already know who they were.

“That is what we call each other. It sounds better than body disciples or mind disciples.”

It looked like she was waiting for Ethan to ask which she was, but it was already obvious to him. “Well, a warm bath sounds nice,” he said instead. “If you return in five minutes, you may collect my clothes, thank you.”

She bowed slightly and left. Ethan sighed and shrugged off his cloak. He looked down at his sword and hesitated. The weapon had been on his hip or in his hands for the past four days, and he knew he wouldn’t bathe with it. With reluctant yet determined fingers, he unbuckled his belt, slowly slid the sheath off, and then laid it on the bed. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he would have the fortitude to leave it behind. He glanced at the small washroom entrance, knowing the sword would only be a dozen feet away. He laughed at himself and quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes. He didn’t want to take too long, or the woman might reenter too soon.

A curtain hung in the doorway to the washroom, and he closed it behind him as he entered. Two spickets hung over a large washtub that he could barely fit in. One was labeled in red, and, true to the woman’s word, scalding hot water came out when he turned it. He tempered it with cold water from the other faucet, and a few minutes later, he was soaking in the tub, trying to put his mind at ease.

Natasha crept down the hall with the hood of her gray robe pulled over her head. She knew a guard should be stationed in the hallway, and maybe there had been initially, but it was over an hour since the mercenaries had been sent to their rooms, and assuming they had stayed put, perhaps the physical that had been charged with keeping watch felt like she was wasting her time.

Being the blessed mother among the impassioned, as they called themselves, gave her a little influence over the other women who shared her discipline, and she had convinced the young woman who had collected the dirty clothes of their guests to allow her to make the delivery once they were laundered, at least for the tall northerner. The girl had agreed, though Natasha could see the reluctance in her eyes. The man had definite power in their sphere, and the woman wanted to see him again, but she yielded to the Blessed Mother.

Natasha stopped before Ethan’s room, having been told which it was. She took a deep breath and opened the door, not thinking of knocking. None of the doors had locks on them. The small room appeared empty, but the curtain was pulled in front of the washroom, and she guessed that’s where the northerner was. Stepping in quietly, unsure what to do, she set his folded and cleaned clothes on the bed. Since they lived in a cold climate most of the year, the scholars had designed a fire-charged drying system that worked efficiently. His clothes had been washed and dried in about an hour.

As Natasha laid the clothes down, her eyes were drawn to the grip of the long sword on the bed, particularly the gem in the hilt. Since it was an inanimate object, she was not drawn to it as she had been to the man who had carried it, but the intense emotional weight of the weapon was nearly as paralyzing. She knew these mercenaries had brought the Elementals into the temple and had been told that the paladins who had hidden them away thought it best to do so within weapons. This was one of those weapons, and Natasha knew exactly which Elemental was stored within this blade.

Her hand reached slowly for the weapon, daring to pick it up, but as soon as her fingertips brushed against the pommel, a tidal wave of emotion swept through her. It was as if she were back in the great hall, staring into the eyes of the stranger from her dreams, but now he was inside her, not sexually but emotionally. This sword was tied to that man, and, as a conduit for desire, she was drawn into that bond like a kite caught in a whirlwind.

Natasha snapped her hand back quickly as she fell to the floor, her knees too weak to keep her standing. She felt her heart whimpering in her chest as she knelt on the rug, her desire for this man only enflamed now that she had experienced union with him for a brief second. Or was she drawn to the Elemental? But raw emotion could not exist; only inside a human could it have any meaning. Did this mean he already had the Elemental inside him? As her mind and heart argued, she tried to steady herself and gather her senses.

When she finally regained control, she couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Lifting her head, Natasha opened her eyes, saw Ethan standing before her, and screamed.

Ethan hadn’t realized how tired he had been. After a few minutes of soaking, he heard the young woman from before entering his room and leaving shortly after, presumably having collected his clothes. He had looked at the robe they had left for him, but it was too small, and he decided he would stay in the tub until they returned with his clothes or he was called to dinner, whichever happened first, though he didn’t know how he would respond to the second without the first.

Having some distance from his sword offered Ethan a bit of calm in his soul, and he tried to wipe his mind completely clear as he relaxed in the warm water. It got cool quicker than he would have liked, but after draining some of the water, he ran more hot and felt the aches and pains drain from him in the steaming water.

Time slipped away, and when a slight noise from the room stirred him, he suddenly found the water uncomfortably cool. Had he fallen asleep? What had woken him? Was the girl back in his room returning his clothes? Ethan waited for more sound but didn’t hear anything and didn’t think he could stand sitting in the cold water any longer. He stood and quickly reached for the towel hanging on the wall as the cold air bit into his exposed skin. Before his hand reached its target, a hurricane of emotion hit him, and he stumbled out of the tub and onto the cold stone floor.

It felt like someone was trying to rip his heart out, and he writhed on the floor, his mouth open, but no sound coming out. As quickly as it hit him, it was over, and he was left cold and quivering on the stone. Slowly he propped himself to his knees, breathing deeply as one hand went up to feel his chest, expecting to find a gapping wound and his heart missing.

But as his flare of emotion quieted, he analyzed the memory of the attack more closely. It wasn’t as if someone had tried to rip his heart out, but as if a blade was in his chest, and someone had tried to yank it out. The sword!

Ethan scrambled to his feet, took a second to wrap the towel around his waist, and tore through the privacy curtain without pulling it open. His eyes found the weapon on his bed, but they stayed there only briefly as he focused instead on the woman kneeling on the floor before him. It wasn’t the timid girl who had offered to wash his clothes but the captivating woman who had stood behind the Supplanter in the entry hall and entered his heart.

She looked as if she were in meditation. Ethan didn’t know what to say but didn’t have to as she eventually looked up, opened her eyes, and screamed. Ethan recoiled, unsure what to do, but the woman suddenly quieted and stood up.

Natasha gained her composure quickly, the man from her dreams now standing before her. With his cloak and weathered clothes on, she had not recognized him, but now, standing nearly naked before her, often how he appeared in her dreams, there could be no doubt. This was the man she was to give her life to. Whether he would become the Supplanter or the savior of mankind, she didn’t know, but she trusted her heart, and there could be no doubt.

It was suddenly hot in the room, and Natasha threw off her gray robe, standing before her savior in a tight-fitting sleeveless black tunic and leggings. The clothes were designed for the average Tallashite woman, which she was not, and they hugged her generous curves, leaving little to the imagination. Even with the cool air against her bare arms, Natasha was still flushed with heat, and competing emotions within her begged to rip off the rest of her clothes as well. Her gaze worked its way up Ethan’s towel-clad form, lingering on his muscled chest as water trickled down it and finally into his eyes. She could read the passion in his face and was moments from leaping into his arms, but she saw something else in his brown eyes. Concern?

“You’re on fire!” he shouted and ran the few steps toward her.

Using the only thing he had, Ethan ripped off his damp towel and quickly wrapped it around the woman’s arms. Flames rose from her entire body, quickly turning her clothes to ash but not appearing to burn the skin. Ethan tried desperately to smother the fire, but it was a fruitless effort, and the towel quickly burned up in his hands. The closer he got to her, the more the flames grew, and even though they burned through the damp towel as if it were soaked in oil, they didn’t harm him. Ethan felt the heat, but like the bathwater earlier, the warmth had a soothing effect, helping him forget everything but what was right in front of him.

Natasha was right in front of him.

While he still didn’t know her name, he shared her heart. Ethan hesitated only briefly as the image of Sera’s smiling face filled his mind, but the power of the Elemental was far too much to think away. He took the woman into his arms, and they became one as they fell to the floor, their bodies engulfed in an inferno.