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“As you taught me,” Erik said softly, “without risk there is no gain.”

“This isn’t risk. This is madness!”

Erik turned away from Cassandra and looked out over Hidden Lake and its wild fens where myriad waterfowl glided and fed. A lid of clouds concealed the highest reaches of the fells. Below the clouds, the glen was tawny and black, evergreen and bronze, a painted bowl waiting to be filled with winter.

Though Erik couldn’t see the top of Stormhold, he knew that the high peak would soon be veiled with glittering snow. The geese and Cassandra had been right. Winter was bearing down on them, wearing a cloak of icy wind.

The peregrine on Erik’s wrist moved uneasily, disturbed by the currents of emotion seething beneath the man’s calm surface. Warily Cassandra eyed the falcon, knowing that only his wolfhounds were more sensitive to Erik’s emotions.

“This ‘madness,’ as you call it,” he said quietly, “is my best chance of keeping the southern estates until I can find more good knights to take service with me.”

“Your father has many other holdings,” Cassandra countered. “Tend them instead.”

“What are you suggesting, Learned? That I cede Stone Ring Keep to Dominic le Sabre without a battle?”

“Yes.”

The peregrine flared its wings and uttered a sharp cry.

“What of Sea Home?” Erik asked gently. “Shall I give that to the Norman bastard as well? And Winterlance?”

“There is no need. Stone Ring was the only keep mentioned by the English king—and agreed to by the Scottish king, I might add.”

“For the moment, yes.”

“The moment is all we have.”

The falcon shifted restlessly against the leather gauntlet Erik wore. Wind tugged Erik’s rich bronze mantle, sending cloth swirling, revealing the indigo wool tunic he wore beneath. The pommel of his sword gleamed like silver lightning.

“If I hand over Sea Home like a woman’s shoe at a marriage ceremony,” Erik said finally, “then every outlaw in the Disputed Lands will descend in hope of spoils.”

Cassandra shook her head. “I’ve had no vision of such a thing.”

“Nor will you,” Erik retorted. “I will fight to the last drop of blood before I hand Stone Ring Keep over to Dominic le Sabre!”

Unhappily Cassandra looked down at her hands, which were all but hidden by long, full scarlet sleeves. Rich embroidery in blue and green glistened like water threading through fire.

“I have dreamed,” she said simply.

Impatience showed in Erik’s glance.

“Of what?” he asked in curt tones. “Battles and blood and keeps falling stone by stone?”

“Nay.”

Erik waited.

Cassandra looked at her long, carefully tended fingers. A large ring set with three gems shone as brightly as the embroidery. Sapphire for water. Emerald for living things. Ruby for blood.

“Tell me,” Erik commanded.

“A red bud. A green island. A blue lake. Together as one. And in the distance, a potent storm waiting.”

The peregrine opened its beak as though the day were too hot rather than decidedly chill. Absently Erik soothed the bird without taking his eyes from Cassandra’s ageless face.

“The storm swirled out and touched the red bud,” she said. “It bloomed with great beauty…but it bloomed within the storm.”

Erik’s eyes narrowed.