Ten minutes later, Kyndran's wrists were tied and he had been shoved to a sitting position by the fire that Tass had built in the center of the clearing. Ryneré was beside him, hands free. Tass had blindfolded her. And had told her to leave the blindfold alone.

He was also the only one remotely satisfied with the present situation. He was roasting some sort of meat that actually smelled pretty good. Ryneré's mouth was watering and her stomach demanded food.

Tass eventually took the meat off the fire.

“Do either of you clowns want sustenance?”

“Either of us what?” Ryneré asked sharply. The word hadn't sounded complimentary.

“Nevermind. You want some?”

“Take this blindfold off me so I can see what you're doing to it.”

Tass chuckled. He sauntered over and pushed the piece of cloth from over her eyes. She jumped. His face was about three inches away from her own. He grinned and turned back to his food preparation.

“This, darling,” he held up a nasty-smelling green plant, “is an herb that puts people to sleep. I'm gonna use it on your sweetheart there, and I'm gonna bring him back to where he belongs.”

Kyndran was doing his best to free himself, despite Tass's repeated warnings.

“You're going to do what?” he snapped. “Bring me back to -listen here, whatever-your-name-is -”

“Tass,” their captor supplied with an amused half-smile.

“I didn't ask! You're the one that doesn't belong here, and you need to get back to whatever freak show you escaped from if you don't want me to break your neck!”

Tass's smile grew wider. “You? Break my neck? I'd like to see you try.”

“You haven't given me a chance.”

“Kind of the point, sugarcakes,” Tass grinned. “Sure, I had the element of surprise in tying you up. But get me into a fair fight and I generally have no chance of surviving.”

“I can believe that,” Kyndran said from between his teeth. “If I had a weapon and if I were free -”

“If, if, if, if.” Tass rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, every day would be Christmas.”

“Every day would be what?” Ryneré asked confusedly.

“Don't worry about it.” Tass handed her a piece of meat.

“Don't eat that!” Kyndran exclaimed as she raised it to take a bite. “How do you know he hasn't poisoned it?”

Tass raised an eyebrow.

“I give my word to your sweetheart, Kyndran, that I will do everything in my power to keep from harming her in any way, shape, or form. That includes drugging her with an herb. You, however, are another story entirely and I'm going to force your portion down your throat if it comes to that.” He turned back to Ryneré. “Eat, darling, it won't hurt you. You have to be in prime condition for your wedding.”

“Her what?” Kyndran's head jerked around to face Ryneré, his face showing complete shock. “You're telling me -what -who -”

“Me,” Tass grinned. “Maybe I shouldn't have told her yet, but she'd have to know sometime.”

“You're what?” Ryneré stared at him incredulously. “Wait a minute. You're gonna be -”

“Most certainly. With pride,” he swept a low bow. “Now, sweetheart, you'll need a good night's rest. See you in the morning. Your darling Kyndran won't be here, so if you want to give him a kiss goodbye -”

Ryneré glared at him.

“I'll take that as a no. G'night.”