You're Not Brother Forty-Three

"I'm not Six, and you know it. And you're not Brother Forty-Three."

It was a guess, born of a few moments this evening when there'd been a flash of cool detachment or annoyance that didn't quite fit the circumstances, and a moment at dinner when Sera had locked gazes with Three and felt certain that it wasn't the monk looking back. Three's following them silently as Six fled blindly through the house was . . . off. And when he'd caught up and held Six as she cried, the embrace had felt avuncular.

Now, seeing Three's expression turn absolutely still, with a flicker of almost-concealed concern in his eyes, Sera was sure of it. Sera tilted her head to one side.

"I know why I'm hiding. Why are you hiding?" she asked.

"I'm not hiding," Not-Three answered.

"Liar," Sera returned without force. Somehow the man's expression managed to go even more still, and Sera was put in mind of some large predator about to pounce on its prey. Instinct screamed at her to run and she took a wary step back. She thought about pointing the gun at Not-Three, but that seemed like a dangerous escalation. She might actually have to shoot him. And shooting him might not be enough.

"I'm not hiding," Not-Three said again. He took a slow step forward, eyes flicking down towards the hand that held the gun.

Yep, pointing the weapon at Three would just provoke this man. Sera took another step back, fighting the desire to turn and flee. What was behind her? Trees and bushes. How far? How many more steps before she tripped over a root, or ran into shrub? She didn't dare turn and look. Was she--was Six--fast enough to dart past him on one side or the other? Somehow Sera doubted it. She'd have to be smarter, then.

"Who are you?" Sera asked, stalling for time. She edged a step to the left as Not-Three stepped forward again.

"My name is Brother Forty-Three," answered Not-Three. "Though my family still calls me Oakbranch."

"No, they still call the boy that body belongs to 'Oakbranch'," Sera corrected. "Or 'Obie'. You're not him."

"What makes you think that?" Not-Three asked, stepping forward again. His gaze was strangely compelling. Sera edged to the side again, determined to maintain the distance between them.

"Three is a child," Sera answered. "Spoiled, arrogant, self-centered, and convinced that Six is his inferior and thus embarrassed to admit he's attracted to her. Probably a fairly decent fighter, but if he was in control when we were attacked, he would have blindly flung himself between Six and danger, and he'd be yelling at her now."

"Such a low opinion you have of me," Not-Three said, mouth curving up with a hint of amusement.

"Of Three," Sera corrected. "You though, you're not a child, are you? Probably still arrogant, but you're patient, or you wouldn't be hiding. You're smart, and from what little I saw of your fight with. . . what's-his-name . . . you're the superior fighter. Three would be afraid I was going to shoot him--or hurt myself--with this gun, but you . . . you'd be mildly annoyed if I shot you but it won't actually slow you down, will it?"

The hint of amusement became a small smile, and Not-Three nodded once in acknowledgement. "True. So you might as well give me the gun, right?"

"I don't trust you not to shoot Six," Sera answered frankly, and was rewarded by a flash of surprise.

Then Not-Three lunged forward and to his right in anticipation of Sera fleeing in that direction. Sera bolted to her own right instead, diving back into the trees and bushes. She was under no illusions that she could escape or even stay ahead of Not-Three for long. Her only goal was to lose the gun before she was caught. With that in mind, she curved towards a clump of close packed trees. Pretending to stumble into the trees, she dropped the gun in their midst before pushing off and racing away. She crashed through several clumps of bushes, splashed across an ornamental pond, and was within sight of a door before Not-Three tackled her.

Pain lanced through the injured wing and Sera collapsed to the ground.

But to her surprise, Not-Three threw himself to the side instead of further crushing Sera's borrowed wings. One hand shot out and wrapped tightly around her left wrist. Sera pushed herself up to a crouch and tried to pull free, but the man's hold tightened painfully.

"No more running," he growled. His eyes darted to Sera's free hand, noting the absence of the gun, and he relaxed just a bit. With a tug, he pulled Sera on top of him.

"What are you doing?!" Sera gasped, as Not-Three's free arm snaked around her waist, and his legs wrapped around hers.

Not-Three smirked--there was no other word for the expression--and let go of Sera's wrist so that he could thread his fingers through her hair. "Helping the boy sort out his feelings."

And he pulled Sera's head down and pressed their lips together. For a moment Sera was frozen in shock as Not-Three's lips teased at hers in a surprisingly gentle kiss. A flush of excitement of the sort she hadn't felt for years spread through Sera's borrowed body and she closed her eyes and relaxed into the kiss. Not-Three was . . . not Three, and this was not Sera's body. Not really.

She jerked her head back sharply, then snapped it forward again, headbutting Not-Three in the face. He yelped in surprise and his hold on Sera loosened. She scrambled back, trying to push back to her feet, but Not-Three chuckled and tightened the arm around Sera's waist, keeping her pinned against his body. Three's body.

Dammit, this was confusing. Not least because of the desire to shift closer and kiss Not-Three back. It had been a long time since . . .

Nope, not thinking about that right now.

"Let me—let US--go," Sera demanded, glaring as she met Not-Three's gaze again.

He sighed, and the shifting of his body beneath Sera set things tingling that had no business tingling as he said softly, "I can't do that, Meirys."

'Not. Your. Body.' Sera reminded herself fiercely. She wasn't even attracted to Three. Or she hadn't been until . . . now. Frowning, she studied the man she was sprawled across and what she was feeling. After a moment of her staring, his eyebrows rose.

"What? Contemplating another head-butt?" he asked, with another of his faint smiles. Sera's inside fluttered in a way they hadn't fluttered since she'd first started dating Rick. No, Sera realized. Even when she'd first started dating Rick, there hadn't been fluttering. Lust, yes, but no fluttering. This was different. This was . . . Sera didn't have a words for it. But she felt herself blushing as Not-Three's smile widened, his eyes twinkling.

"Forgot what if feels like to be mated?" he asked with amusement. "Well, indirectly."

"I remember what sex feels like," Sera said tartly, trying to push herself away. Dimly. It had been awhile. Not-Three chuckled, the sound deeper and more mature than anything likely to come from Three. The tingling was there again, and more compelling this time. Sera scowled and ducked her head to hide her flushing face.

"I remember that too," Not-Three said, his words spreading through her like warm, rich chocolate. "But that's not the same as being mated, is it?"

It was on the tip of Sera's tongue to ask him what he meant, but she swallowed the worlds as she realized the discussion was pointless. Instead she demanded again, "Let me go."

"I can't do that, meirys," Not-Three said with a sigh. "You know I have to take you back to face the Council's judgement."

Startled, Sera lifted her head to stare at the man as she repeated, "Judgement."

Not-Three gave a slight nod.

"For WHAT?" Sera demanded, scowling. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

Not-Three's expression shuttered abruptly, and he said coldly, "Murder is wrong, meirys."

And suddenly Sera realized that 'meirys' wasn't some form of endearment, or mocking nickname, as she'd been assuming.

"Wait. Meirys is a person?" Sera said, eyes widening in surprise. Far from softening, Not-Three's expression turned even harder. "I don't know who you think I am, but I've never murdered anyone."

"Not going to work," Not-Three answered flatly. "You are going to release your hold on Sister Forty-Six and I am going to take you to the Council now. You will answer for your crimes."

"I. Haven't. Killed. Anyone," Sera repeated. "I am not this 'Meirys'. I am Sera Conroy." As Not-Three's expression turned even more frigid, Sera continued, "Why are you convinced that I am this person?"

"I've hunted you for centuries. I know the rotting scent of your magic," Not-Three answered, with a hint of triumph in his voice. He was positive she wouldn't be able to refute that argument.

"You can't have followed me for centuries, I'm only forty-five," Sera snapped. She had little faith he would believe her protest. Rather than make another futile attempt to get free she tried another tactic. "Even if you explain to me how to leave Six's body, I can't leave yet."

"Yes, you can. And you will," Not-Three answered, in a tone that brooked no argument. He sounded just like her ex-husband when he knew he didn't have a valid argument but wasn't willing to admit it.

"Save that tone for someone who's impressed by it," Sera informed him, rolling her eyes. She eyed him for a moment as a thought occurred to her. Testing it out, she said, "You can't force me to leave."

She caught a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, but not surprise. He expected her to realize that. Nodding to herself, Sera told him firmly, "I am not going anywhere until I know Six is safe."

Not-Three gave an irritated growl. It was Sera's turn to give a faint smile.

"But," she said, earning herself a look of inquiry from Not-Three, "I will let you take me to this Council of yours, on three conditions."

The eyebrows skyrocketed.

"You'll give me your oath on that?" he asked. Sera nodded. "A bonded oath."

"I don't know what that means," Sera said.

With an impatient noise, Not-Three answered, "Fine, I'll play along with your game. You will make this promise using the sacred words that will deliver your Final Death if you fail to keep your oath."

"Does Final Death involve spending the rest of eternity in the nothingness between lives?" Sera asked.

"How should I know? I'm not dead," Not-Three said shortly.

Sera put her head down on Three's shoulder while she thought. Final Death sounded like a bad thing. Maybe it meant a true end to her existence. And Sera wasn't ready for that, even if this life she had now wasn't really her own.

But her presence here had put Six in danger. Lady Snowpearl wasn't wrong that the most obvious way to protect Six was to leave her body. But the only way Sera knew to leave was by dying, and Six didn't deserve to die. Nor would she be happy if Sera just left. And simply leaving wasn't going to solve anything, either, not unless the people who wanted to hurt Six knew Sera was gone.

But Not-Three had said he wanted Sera to 'release her hold' on Six. That implied that she could separate herself from Six without the younger woman needing to die.

Which brought Sera back to the question of this oath Not-Three was asking for, and is claim that if she broke her promise she would die completely. Was she willing to risk that?

For Six's sake, she would.

"Fine. I'll make a bonded oath," Sera said, lifting her head to face Not-Three again.

"Name your terms, then," Not-Three said flatly. Almost flatly. There was just a hint of uncertainty at the back of his words. He hadn't expected her to agree, Sera suspected. Good. Maybe he'd figure out that she wasn't this Meirys person. If not, hopefully the Council would explain it to him.

"First, I go nowhere until Six is safe and ready for me to go. Six and I will make that decision. It is not up to you," Sera said.

"And?" Not-Three prompted grumpily.

"You will teach me how to leave Six without harming her. If she's harmed in anyway by what you teach, then I will consider you in violation of our bargain, and not required to uphold my end." Sera said. Hopefully the threat would be enough to keep him honest when it came time to teach her how to leave.

"And third?"

"Tell me your name," Sera said simply.

Not-Three frowned, and for a long moment he was silent. Finally he said, "My name is Gunnar Ulfwyrd."

Sera wondered if it was truly his name. But it would do. It was better than 'Not-Three' at least. So she asked, "Do you accept my conditions?"

"I will agree to them," Gunnar answered stiffly.

Sera nodded. "Alright. Tell me what I have to swear, and let me up."