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and arrow. Doubtless one of the few usable weapons in the room.

Bey had reached the king now. What would he do? Pull him to the ground and cover his body with his own?

Heart pounding fit to burst, she pulled off her bow and nocked one of her silver arrows, wishing she'd had some more training with it. Wishing she'd had more of Carr's lessons in firing under stress.

Her hands were shaking and sweating enough to slip.

Perdition! She wiped them on her linen gown.

The king stood there, inviting the shot, and Cupid drew the string a little farther back. There was a moment of quiet, as if perhaps people suddenly wondered...

Then Bey stepped in front of the king, arms spread, light dancing on his starlight rings. "Your pardon, sire, but I think I have the greater need of love."

A ripple of excited comment passed through the room, cut through with shock. Bey had his back firmly to the king.

"Though in fact," Bey said in apparent good humor, "you are supposed to shoot the goddess Diana, are you not?"

"But you invited me to shoot you, my lord," the Cupid said.

The mask altered sounds to some extent and Diana found herself horribly uncertain. It would be terrible to make a mistake.

With a pistol she might try to knock the weapon from his hands, but she wasn't that good with a bow, and this was a scarcely tried weapon. She could hit a man somewhere with it, she was sure, but that was all.

It must be de Couriac, though. Why else would Bey be shielding the king?

Bey began to move forward, arms wide, inviting the shot, eclipsing the king even more. She silently berated him, but of course he could do nothing else. The king above all must be protected, and no innocent could be allowed to suffer.

By now, the whole room was quiet, as people sensed something strange, but were probably unsure whether it was part of the masque or not.

As Bey moved closer and closer to the dais, he spoke. "I think, perhaps, you are not the god of love, sir, but the god of destruction. Your arrow is intended for me, Monsieur de Couriac?"

The king exclaimed, and other people gasped and questioned. A panicked shift Diana dared not look at told her things were finally happening. But Cupid was drawing back the string of his bow the final few inches and Bey was so close he could not miss.

But not close enough to attack and stop the shot.

Now or never. After a second's terrified hesitation, Diana pulled all the way back, sighted, and with a prayer to heaven, loosed her arrow. It thunked deep into de Couriac's chest, and his arrow flew wildly to quiver in a wall. With a horrid cry, he crumpled upon the false grass beneath his feet.

The actress Diana fainted, and the little cupids ran away screaming, but then Bey was there, hiding the writhing body from the panicked guests. Diana, dazed, saw Bryght, Elf, Portia, and Fort trying to handle the shouting, swirling guests, but some illogically were rushing to escape the ballroom.

Someone was going to be hurt.

The king was behind a protective wall of men, but he suddenly pushed free, helmet and golden breastplate gleaming in the lights.

"See," he called loudly, "it was a solitary madman, and all over now. Calm, calm, my good people. All is safe."

And calm did settle, with everyone turning to face him.

"I am safe, as you see, thanks to Lord Rothgar's courage..." He seemed to falter then, and Diana knew he'd suddenly questioned where the fatal arrow had come from.

She hastily jumped down from her bench, but she knew some people had spotted her.

She heard Bey's voice. "Your Majesty, my deepest apologies for this incident. Supper is laid out below. Perhaps it would be best if everyone retired there now."

The crowd, soothed, shifted, but then someone called out, "Who fired the arrow?"

"The real god Cupid, jealous of being supplanted?" Bey said, clearly attempting to pass it off, but it would never work.

Diana said, "I fired the shot."

A way opened before her, but the guests exploded into chatter again. Enough gossip here to last a twelve-month.

She moved into the clear space near the king, and Bey immediately came to her side. The temple and the grass before it were empty once more, except for a bloodstain.

Blood she had spilled...

"You are skilled with a bow and arrow, Countess?" the king asked, seeming more startled than angry. Yet.

She gathered her composure. This time,