I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I have had so many tragedies in my life the past year. I had a terrible breakup with the man i thought i'd spend the rest of my life with, my mother passed away last march from an illness and my older brother recently passed away four months ago. It's been a very hard and troubling time for me. I've been writing randomly, but it took until now for me to finally get this chapter finished. I promise that I wont give up on this story! I love you all!

Chapter Eight

Azalea turned around very slowly and tried to calm the anxiety that seemed to currently override all other senses in her body. She could look at nothing but the ground. He didn't need to speak. Even shaded in the cover of darkness, Azalea would have recognized the brown leather riding boots that she had purchased for Tristan more than two years prior.

The scout's voice was stern when he spoke next. "Are you going to answer me or simply stand there in silence?"

"What do you wish for me to say?" Azalea spoke softly in reply. She was fidgeting nervously and continuing to look over his shoulder, as if searching for something...or someone.

"The truth."

"I wish it were that simple." Finally her eyes looked up and met with his own piercing gaze. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the darkness. However, once it did, Azalea had wished that it hadn't. It was much easier to lie to the one that she loved, when Tristan wasn't standing before her, looking straight in to her soul. It killed her how easily a lie came to her lips. "I needed a breath of fresh air. I have enjoyed myself immensely at the ball this evening and yet I felt as if I were suffocating among so many people."

"I don't believe you."

Of course he didn't. There was no other person in the world who knew her better than Tristan.

Azalea was unable to force another lie. So she tried her hardest to deflect the question. "Believe what you wish."

It was then that Azalea tried to make her escape. She began to walk towards the door of the great hall and was stopped quickly by Tristan's arm that prevented her from continuing forward. She sighed and shook her head. A small curl fell from it's place within the intricate design that Helener had managed to form her brown locks in to for the evening. Tristan could smell the alcohol on her breath. Because of this, he knew that he would get no rational explanation for her behavior this evening and yet he hoped that perhaps Azalea would lose her reserve and open up to him about what had been troubling her for the past few weeks.

He had no such luck.

Instead Azalea wobbled slightly on her feet and Tristan had to catch her in his arms to steady her. She was quite a bit heavier than he had last remembered. Not that it mattered to him. Tristan had always preferred women with a bit of meat on their bones. It was a sign of health and vitality. At least in his eyes.

Queen Guinevere was known as the great beauty of their time. However, Tristan could not agree. She was far too thin and too frail in stature. Tristan desired a women whom he could grab and who he could hold on to without feeling as if he would break her in two.

Azalea was tired of the lies and so she chose a variation of the truth. "I had a fight with Brene a moment ago. I wished to get away to clear my mind and then I saw Guinevere sneaking out in to the garden."

"So you chose to follow her?"

"Yes."

Tristan did not move and looked deep in to her hazel eyes. He was measuring her response. It killed her to see that he did not trust her immediately as he used to.

"You of all people should know how dangerous it is for a woman to be caught off guard in the shadows of the night."

Azalea ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "She is up to something Tristan...I know it."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow and watched her curiously. "Whom do you mean? The queen?"

"Yes," By this time Azalea could hardly stand upright, her voice was slurring and her eyes were closing.

Tristan was tense and had a hand over her mouth before she could utter another syllable. "Be quiet woman, you speak treason!" He removed his hand only when he was sure that she wouldn't say another word. Then he pulled on her arm slightly, guiding her towards the gate that signified the end of the garden. "Come now, we are going home."

However, it was not so simple to keep her quit as he had wished. Azalea whispered low enough to avoid attention and yet loud enough for Tristan's heightened senses to pick up on. "I speak the truth and I will find out what it is."

Tristan scooped her up in to his arms like a child. She kicked and squirmed for a moment before she settled. Her head rested gently against his chest. The obnoxiously large gown that Helener had placed on her now blocked his eye-site and made it hard for him to get a firm grasp around her body. Tristan had to walk down the stone stairs very slowly so that he did not accidentally drop her upon the ground.

When he took the final step down on to the dirt pathway that led to the west wing, he walked over and rested her gently down upon the stone wall to their right. Tristan made sure that they were not visible to anyone and then reached up beneath her dress to untie the lacing of her bodice. He gently removed the underskirt made of layers of taffeta and tossed it behind some shrubbery. Azalea just smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him in to a kiss.

Tristan pushed her back gently and she frowned. "What is the matter?"

"You are drunk." Tristan said as if it was not to be disputed.

Azalea reached up to grab hold of the collar of his tunic and Tristan took her hands gently in his grasp. She protested and pulled away as if she were burned. "Am I not allowed to touch you now?"

"I have never before taken advantage of any woman in an intoxicated state and I do not wish to start now. Especially not with you."

Tristan stepped back, ignoring her protest and observed the current predicament that he was in. He knew that he could not carry Azalea the entire way to their sleeping quarters. So he placed both hands on the side of her face and looked down at her. "You must walk."

Azalea looked up at her lover and then nodded her head. She tried to stand up, fell off balance for a moment and then she leaned against his chest. Azaleas forehead rested heavy near the base of his neck.

Tristan put his hand on the back of her head. His fingers were tangled in to her deep brown hair. For a moment he just held her there and wished that she would tell him whatever it was that truly plagued her so. It had been quite a long time since Azalea had last allowed herself enough wine to reach such a state of intoxication.

Azaleas heart was troubled and Tristan was determined to find out why.

The scout put her arm over his shoulders and aided her across the courtyard and as they ascended the flight of steps nearest to their room. The tower was intricately carved from the stone of the mountainside. Large gold framed paintings and fancifully sown tapestries adorned the walls. Every so many steps, there were oval windows carved out of the stone.

Night had long since shrouded the landscape in darkness. However, during the day, a keen observer could look far out in to the distance to where the sandy shore embraced the sea. In many moments of turmoil, Tristan often found himself standing upon the top of this very tower. It gave him a clearer perspective and time to think about times long past...moments in his life that would never come again.

Azalea tripped on the top step and Tristan caught her before she could fall to her knees upon the upper landing. Once she was steady once more, Azalea brushed Tristan's hands off of her. "I am fine."

"Are you?"

"Do not look at me is such a manner, Shaheen. You dare to be claimed a hypocrite."

Tristan leaned his back against the stone wall of the corridor that rose behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "I do not judge your state of sobriety, rather the state of your heart. What is the matter?"

"I cannot tell you yet."

"Do I have not your trust?" Tristan's eyes blazed in repressed anger. The frustration that he was feeling would soon boil over if the source of the flame was not quenched soon.

Azalea reached out to him, but he stepped away. Her hand dropped to her side. The words came out soft when she spoke next. "It is not for lack of trust."

"You lie."

"I do no such thing!"

"If I had your trust then you would speak openly to me as you had in years past. Instead, I receive nothing but silence and deceit." Tristan was pacing back and forth now.

It had been many years since Azalea had last seen him this unsettled.

"I am not deceiving you my love! If you would just understand..."

"Are you not?" Tristan stopped walking and turned towards her. He could hardly see her face through the dimming light of the candles that hung upon the wall. However, he could hear her voice as it trembled with ever word that she spoke next.

"I trust you Tristan. I am just afraid."

"Of what do you fear?"

"I fear of your response. I can not b..." Tristan cut Azalea off in mid sentence.

"I am whom you fear?"

"No." Azalea sighed and threw her hands in the air. "Do not be so sensitive."

"You choose such a moment as this to insult me?" Tristan turned towards the stairs. "I am going to the pub. If you have any sense left, you would go to bed. We will not speak of this any further until the dawn."

Tristan then turned from her and began descending the steps from where they had just come. He could hear her voice calling to him in the distance. "Will you not help me to our room?"

"Help yourself this night!"

And this time...Tristan meant it.

It nearly killed the man inside to hear her choke back a sob. Tristan stopped and listened. For a moment, remorse nearly overtook him and caused him to turn back. However, Tristan knew that he must stand firm. Over the years Azalea had made him weak in his resolve. He could stand many things from her.

However, he would not be disrespected.

Tristan's love her Azalea need not be spoken. It is clear as the sun rises in the east and yet there must be limits. There are boundaries that cannot be crossed. Tristan knew that it was his duty as her partner to trust her and yet Azalea was keeping something from him that was disrupting their lives and their relationship.

This secret was driving a large wedge between them.

Tristan needed to clear his head and found himself walking toward the barracks. Meanwhile Azalea slid down the wall and rested on the floor. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her arms were folded over them. Azalea leaned her head on her arms and sighed. Then she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall behind her.

The ale was making the hallway spin around her and the fight that Azalea had just had with Tristan was making her heart hurt worse than her head. It was beginning to appear that no matter how hard that she tried to fix everything, the whole situation just continued to become worse. It wasn't long before she began to fall asleep.

Azalea had wanted a biological child with Tristan more than anything else in this world. Now that their second chance has arrived, all she felt was fear. Azalea remembered what it had felt like to carry their last child. She still remembered the feel of their baby as he moved and kicked within her. However, most of all, she remembered what it felt like to watch Brene carry their son away still and cold, wrapped in a burlap blanket.

The image of pain on Tristan's face was more than Azalea could ever bare to see again. If she were to lose this child, it would kill the both of them. She was sure of it. She was also sure that she would do everything in her power to bring a healthy child in to this world.

Yet here she was, consuming alcohol to mask the fear that had been making her sick inside for the past two months. Azalea was no fool. She knew that if she continued down a path such as this, she was on a quick route to loosing this child as well. It was time that she got her life under control.

It was time that she told Tristan that she was carrying his child. No matter the outcome, it must be done and they must solve it as one. They would handle this the same way that they had always done in the past. Together they were stronger than apart. Azalea and Tristan had faced slavery and genocide, war and famine and Azalea refused to allow the birth of a babe to be their undoing.

The decision was made and yet now all that she wondered was how she would make it back to their room without aid. It was then that she heard a welcoming voice call out to her.

"Azalea? What are you doing in these parts?" It was Gawain.

"I believe that I am lost. Are you here to spy on me for the queen?"

"No, I was heading to meet Arthur. It is lucky then that I have stumbled upon you." He leaned down to help the lady to her feet. Then he wrinkled his nose and pulled back with a laugh. "I see that you've been tending to some of Arthur's finest ale. If I may give some unsolicited advice...Brene has mentioned to Helener on more than one occasion, that alcohol is not to be consumed during pregnancy."

"Yes, I have been told and It will not happen again." Azalea reached out her hands to her friend. "Now help me to my feet so that I may find our chambers and rest my head."

"Aye, I think that rest may be what is best for your current ailment."

Azalea took hold of Gawain's outstretched hands and wobbled only slightly as she stood to her feet.

The man wrapped his arm under her armpit and around her back. Azalea leaned her head against his chest. Gawain supported Azalea's full weight as he helped her to the door that belonged to her and Tristan for the time being. "Where may I ask is our sourly scout at such a time? Should he not be the one escorting you to your chambers?"

Azalea would not make eye contact with Gawain. "We had a disagreement."

"Mmm...I had suspected such. Why is that?"

"Tristan knows that I am keeping something from him."

"Aye, Tristan is very observant. Besides...it is true. You are keeping something from him." Azalea closed her eyes tightly. She was so tired of being lectured as if she were a child. "He may have picked up on something."

"My lover has the eyes of a hawk."

Gawain didn't laugh. He looked at the lover of his friend in a very serious manner. "You must speak with him."

"It will be done," Azalea said as she turned towards the doorway.

"I fear that it will not be soon enough."

"You have no faith, my friend."

Gawain laughed loudly and shook his head. "I never knew you to be one to let your fear control you."

"Fear of what?" The voice that spoke these three words had startled both Azalea and Gawain. They turned around to see that Tristan had approached sometime during their conversation.

All that followed his question was silence. They wondered how much Tristan had heard. However, the silence wasn't a shock to him. Tristan did not expect an answer so quickly. Especially not when it has taken so much energy just to keep whatever it may be, concealed from his knowledge. The scout turned to Gawain. "Leave us."

Tristan gave no room for a rebuttal. Azalea had already walked in to their room and the scout followed suit. He shut the door quickly in Gawain's face.

At first Azalea didn't move. She just stood there in silence with her tan arms crossed over her chest. The Persian woman watched as her lover walked slowly across the wooden floor and began to unbutton his tunic. Tristan sat down in the chair before the fireplace and removed his boots. Azalea walked over behind him and slowly she placed her hands on his shoulders. The scout didn't pull away this time, so Azalea gently began to massage the knots from his muscles.

Tristan has been extremely tense all day and her soft yet firm touch eased the stress. After a few moments of staring in to the fire, he reached up and took her hands. Tristan pulled Azalea from behind him and gently guided her to the chair next to his own. She folded her gown beneath her and sat down slowly. All the while, she never took her eyes off of him. Azalea was still off balance from the alcohol.

They sat there quietly for quite awhile. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence and yet heavy accusations weighted down the air that surrounded the couple. Finally Azalea broke the silence.

"Please forgive me." Her voice was soft and heavy with emotion.

Tristan slowly reached out and traced a finger from her temple down her chin. "Always." Then he dropped his hand and looked back in to the darkness. "Do I have your love?"

Azalea was startled by this question. Her dark feline shaped eyes narrowed and she watched him closely. Suddenly she knew what assumption it was that Tristan had been rolling about in his mind. "I have loved no other man but you." Then she reached forward and grabbed his chin. Tristan's beard tickled her palm as she turned his face to meet hers. " I never will."

Tristan nodded his head and yet he was still silent. However, Azalea knew his silence well. He believed her. She knew that Tristan would have never before questioned her loyalty. This secret inside of her was rattling the stronghold that they had built around their relationship.

Tristan was too exhausted to deal with much more that evening. She could see it in his stance. So Azalea stood up and walked towards the bed in silence. It wasn't long before she felt the feather mattress sink beneath the familiar weight of the man who had slept beside her for years now.

Azalea believed that Tristan was angry at her still and in order to give him space, she rolled so that he back was facing him. It surprised her when she felt Tristan's chest and body contour to her body and his strong arms wrap around her waist. A silent tear slid down her cheek and landed undetected upon the pillow below her head.

Tristan was her protector, her shelter when the storm of living bore down too hard upon her head and yet he was the one man whom she feared to open up to about this. She had decided to tell him the truth and yet it was so much harder when he was there beside her. Azalea was surrounded by love and yet she had never felt so alone.

The fear was debilitating and crippled all hope for the future that she had dreamed about for so long.

"Tristan...I am ready to speak."