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gems that exactly matched Raina's overblouse.
    She truly was a magnificent woman, Marissa thought in loving admiration, from her sparkling green eyes and flawlessly fair skin with its disconcerting sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, to her slender, whipcord-hard but still femininely curved body. A woman whom many men had looked on with a desire that had never been reciprocated. A woman who most likely would never know or want the affection or devotion of a man.
    The realization saddened Marissa deeply, especially in the past few years since she'd come to know and love Brace, bear his children, and raise their family together. If only Raina would open herself to the possibility of there being a man out there whom she might be able to trust and love. If only . . .
    "Are you going to sit there all day and stare at me, or get on with the purpose of this meeting?"
    Raina's dry inquiry pierced Marissa's romantic haze. The wind, whipping in and out of the vine-twisted bower, plucked at the wavy tendrils of hair softly framing Raina's face, blowing one curling lock loose and into her eyes. With an irritated motion, she brushed it away.
    "Well? I'm waiting, Marissa."
    Marissa swept aside an old, dried uva leaf that had drifted down onto the lap of her gown and sighed. "Yes, I suppose it would be the best—to get it over with, I mean. But where to begin?" She paused, pursed her lips thoughtfully, then plunged in. "We need you to return to Incendra."
    Raina's head jerked around. She went pale. "What did you say? Surely I misheard."
    "Oh, I knew I'd make a muddle of this!" Her friend threw back her head and closed her eyes. Then she exhaled a deep breath and riveted her gaze on Raina. "The Volans. We need a stone from Incendra that we think can be used to keep them away. And two Incendarians must go back to Incendra to retrieve a supply of that stone. You are one, and the other . . ."
    "Go on," Raina urged sharply, when her friend's voice faded. This scenario was taking an unexpected and most distressing turn. "Who is the other?"
    Marissa nervously glanced away.
    "Marissa, who is the other?"
    "A monk," the chestnut-haired woman sighed. "A monk of Exsul, to be specific. He, too, is an exile from Incendra."
    "A monk?" Raina gave a disparaging laugh. "A man? Gods, Marissa, you know how I feel about men, much less some puling monk!"
    "I'd hardly call a fifth-degree Grandmaster warrior monk 'puling'! And especially not one such as Teague Tremayne. Surely even you've heard of him?"
    "Yes, I've heard of him," Raina muttered. "But I still don't care if Grandmasters of the fifth degree are said to possess unusual powers." Her mouth twisted in disgust. "All those tales are but a crock of barsa dung, I say."
    "They're said to be capable, in the proper meditative state, of invulnerability to pain and injury," Marissa offered, beginning to grasp at anything to convince her friend of the monk's worth. "A talent that could well be an invaluable asset."
    "And a lot of good that'll do me if we're set upon and I have to wait for him to go into his meditative state." Raina sighed and shook her head. "Face it, Marissa. We'll be long dead before he becomes invulnerable, much less wakes out of his trance to help me."
    "Well, there are also rumors of his mental powers," Marissa added disgruntedly. "Like mind reading, for one, and some not so savory, like—"
    "An ability to coerce or destroy minds that don't bow to his will?" Raina gave a snort of disbelief. "It's all monkish boasting, I say, and meant to intimidate and control. For all their exalted principles, these monks are no different than any other man. Liars, manipulators, hypocrites!"
    "He is a strange one," her friend admitted, "even for a monk. But one way or another, they are bound by rules that forbid doing harm to further their own needs or desires."
    "How reassuring. Not only is he a man, but a strange one, at that."
    Marissa frowned. "I don't quite know how to explain it.