"NO, thank you, Gii. I'll be fine. I'm going to eat a quick dinner and go straight to bed. I'm totally exhausted, and tomorrow will be another busy day." Mikki smiled brightly, telling herself she wasn't really lying to Gii. She was just failing to tell her everything.

"But, Empousa, are you quite sure you wouldn't like me to help you into your nightdress?"

"No need." Mikki glanced down at the simple yet elegant butter-colored dress. "I think I'm finally getting the hang of the way these chitons wrap."

Gii smiled, "Did it serve as proper work attire for you today?"

"Actually, it did." And Mikki meant it. After some initial awkwardness at getting used to tucking in the trailing skirts, she found that the outfit was comfortable and easy to work in, even if it had required some help from the Guardian to stay on straight. Actually, maybe it was because it had required his help that she liked it so much . . .

"So you like it better than the . . . jens?"

"Jeans." Mikki laughed, forced her thoughts back to the girl beside her and gave Gii an impulsive hug. "You know, I think I do like chitons better than jeans."

Gii returned the hug with an affectionate squeeze. "Then rest well, Empousa."

"You, too, Gii. Why don't I call you and the other handmaidens as soon as I wake up, and we'll all have breakfast together? I have some new ideas I want to discuss with you."

"As you wish, Empousa." Gii curtseyed, and then skipped lightly to the balcony steps and away into the night.

Alone at last, Mikki had time to be nervous about the next part of the evening. As it had been last night, the little table was placed just outside the glass doors to her bedroom. It was, again, laden with meats and cheeses, bread and wine. Only one place had been set, but tonight there were two chairs instead of one.

Mikki frowned. He wasn't going to get away with this. She'd invited him to dinner, and dinner it would be.

She closed her eyes and thought about the servants who had magickally appeared when she'd wished for wine and soap and clean clothes. "I need another place setting. Please," she said.

In less time than she could count to ten, she heard two sharp knocks on her bedroom door. She stuck her head inside her room and called for them to come in, and one of the women she recognized from the hot spring hurried in, carrying a tray on which was another complete place setting. Mikki met her halfway across the room.

"I appreciate you coming so quickly." Mikki held out her hands for the tray.

"I apologize, Empousa. Had I known you were not dining alone, I would have made certain the table was already set for two."

"Don't worry about it. Actually, these are last-minute plans," Mikki said quickly, hoping the servants could just tell when she wanted something and not when she was lying. "I'll take it from here."

The woman looked confused, but she nodded. "Of course, Empousa. Shall we bring you more food and wine?"

"No. There's plenty. No need to bother."

"It is never a bother to serve you, Empousa."

Mikki reminded herself not to sigh. It might not be a bother for them to serve her, but she could already tell that such diligent service could very easily become bothersome.

Changing tactics, Mikki asked her, "What is your name?"

The servant blinked in surprise. "Daphne."

"Daphne - that's pretty."

The servant blushed.

"Daphne, I'll be fine carrying this to the table myself." She took the tray from the disconcerted Daphne. "But I'll definitely need you in the morning. I'm going to have breakfast with the four Elementals. Could you be sure to bring enough for all of us?"

"Yes, Empousa."

"Wonderful! Now, you and, um, the rest of the women can relax tonight. I won't need anything else." Daphne opened her mouth for what Mikki felt sure would be a protest, so she added firmly, "Good night, Daphne. I'll see you in the morning when I call for breakfast."

Reluctantly, Daphne curtseyed and left the room.

"A pain in the ass . . ." Mikki muttered to herself as she set the table. "All this 'Yes, Empousa, what can I do for you, Empousa?' might sound like a good idea in theory. In practice it is a pain in the ass." Of course it probably wouldn't be if I wasn't sneaking around like a teenager meeting a thug boyfriend against her parents' rules. "I'm not a teenager," she told her reflection as she brushed through her drying hair. "And he is not my boyfriend. This is no different from a business dinner." She pressed a hand against her fluttering stomach. "So stop being so damn nervous!"

The table was ready. She was ready - or as ready as she was going to be. Mikki walked to the balcony and sat down. She put her hands in her lap, closed her eyes, and thought about the Guardian . . .

. . . The way he had kept such careful watch over the women today . . . his laugh . . . the heat of his body when he was near her . . . his touch . . . and how alone he'd looked disappearing into the shadow of the tree instead of being included in one of their groups at lunch . . .

"Empousa, you look sad. Is anything amiss?"

She opened her eyes. He was standing, just outside the pool of light cast by the candelabrum that sat on the table.

"I'm not sad. I was just concentrating. I'm not used to calling someone by just thinking about him."

"It is a gift given to each Empousa by Hecate."

"Oh, I appreciate it - it'll just take some getting used to." She motioned to the chair at the other end of the table. "Please, join me. I don't think I realized how hungry I was until just now when I smelled this food."

He stepped from the shadows slowly, as if giving her time to readjust to the sight of him. Mikki realized that she shouldn't stare - that she was being rude. But he was such an incredible being she couldn't just smile and make polite conversation and pretend like each new sight of him didn't send shockwaves through her mind. In the silence, his hooves rang against the marble, pulling her gaze down. He was wearing another short, military-looking outfit, which left much of his muscular legs bare. She noted that except for the fact that they were covered with a coat of slick fur, his legs were fashioned more like a human man than an animal. The leather breastplate molded to his chest and abdomen so it clearly outlined the definition of his muscles, which were completely manlike. No, Mikki mentally corrected herself, no normal man could have a chest like that. He's not stone anymore, but he looks like he could have been carved from marble.

She realized he'd reached the table and stopped and was just standing there, letting her study him. Mikki felt her face heat with an embarrassed blush.

"What is that called?" she blurted, trying to cover for her rude staring.

"Empousa?" His wide brow wrinkled in confusion.

"That leather top you wear. I'm new to all of this." She lifted an edge of her own clothing. "It was just this morning that Gii taught me that this is called a chiton. So I was curious about what yours is called." She didn't think she sounded too terribly moronic. Maybe.

He looked down at himself and then back at her. "It is a warrior's cuirasse."

"Cuirasse," she repeated the word. "Is it over a chiton?"

"No, this is a short tunic. A warrior would not wear a chiton into battle."

Because his expression seemed to tell her she was amusing him, she pointed to his bare legs. "I'd think you'd need more covering for battle."

His face hardened. "I would, were I a man. For protection, Greek men go into battle with leather enemides strapped on their legs from ankle to knee." He lifted one massive hoof and set it down with a heavy, dangerous sound. "I do not require such protection."

A little tremor that was fear mixed with fascination shivered over her skin. She looked into his dark eyes and was immensely proud that her voice sounded perfectly normal. "Huh. Built-in protection like that must come in handy in your line of work."

"Being Hecate's Guardian is not my work; it is my life."

Mikki forced a little nonchalant laugh and started to lift a slice of cold meat onto her plate. "You have no idea how many men in my old world say that about their jobs."

"I am not a man," he growled.

This time Mikki did sigh. Deliberately, she put down her fork and met his gaze. "I'm well aware of that. Just like I imagine that you - as well as the rest of the inhabitants of this realm - are well aware that I'm not like any other Empousa. But am I all prickly about it? No. Do I feel the need to constantly remind you that I'm probably a good twenty years older than the norm, and that I'm totally confused by almost everything surrounding me? No. For two reasons: one, because it's annoying and, two, because bemoaning the fact won't change a damn thing. I mean, I could complain constantly about wanting to be taller or thinner, but that wouldn't ever change the fact that I'm five-seven and weigh" - she hesitated and reconsidered - "ten pounds more than I wish I did." She pointed to the chair with a sharp, frustrated motion. "Now would you please sit down and have some dinner. I'm hungry, and when I'm hungry I get grumpy. So let's eat."

To her surprise, he didn't snarl at her or whirl away. He sat.

Mikki picked up the fork and resumed loading her plate with a variety of the delicious selection of meat and cheese. Tonight they had added dark, flavorful olives and roasted sweet peppers as well as fresh, plump figs. She glanced up when she realized he was still just sitting there. Mikki raised one brow at him.

"I am unaccustomed to eating in the company of others," he said slowly.

She didn't have to ask him why. Gii had already answered that question for her. The rest of the realm saw him as a beast, little more than a walking, talking animal. Even the goddess herself had reminded her sternly that he had not ever been, nor would he ever be, a man.

Well, Mikki was different. No, he wasn't a man, but he wasn't an animal, either.

"Where I'm from it's mean-spirited to make someone eat alone while everyone else excludes him."

"And you are not mean-spirited, Mikado."

He didn't phrase it as a question, but she answered anyway. "No. Sometimes I'm selfish and stubborn, and even cynical, but I can promise you that I've never been mean-spirited."

As she spoke, something in his face changed. It was like she had somehow peeled away a protective layer that he kept wrapped around himself, leaving him terribly, unexpectedly, vulnerable. She remembered that awful, lonely roar she'd heard echoing from a dead statue all the way through a modern world and into her dreams. Mikki wanted to reach out and touch him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but she was suddenly afraid, and not of the fantastic beast who sat so awkwardly across the table from her. Mikki was afraid of herself.

She looked away from the raw emotion revealed in his eyes and busied herself arranging the food on her plate. Soon she heard the clanks and rattlings of cutlery, which told her that he, too, was filling his plate. Mikki filled her goblet with the cold white wine that was beading its pitcher and was pleased that it was the same excellent wine she'd had earlier at the springs. She glanced up at the Guardian.

"Wine?"

He nodded, and she poured. Then she lifted her own goblet and smiled.

"To the roses," she said.

The Guardian hesitated. He made a small gesture with his hand and spoke a single word under his breath. Then he, too, raised his goblet. His powerful hand engulfed the delicate crystal, and he held it awkwardly, as if he was afraid of crushing it.

"To our new Empousa," he said.

When she lifted the glass to her lips, she saw the perfect white rose blossom floating in the sea of wine. It hadn't been there before; he'd made it appear - for her. Mikki closed her eyes and drank, inhaling the sweet perfume that was the perfect accompaniment to the crispness of the liquid.

Later, she would remember it as the moment she began to fall in love with the beast.