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His last vision of her had been while Rinaldo lay dying.
Astolpho prayed for another vision now.
He had been praying for it since he awoke from his fevered dreams the day before. Dreams that were filled with Bradamante.
They were so confusing when he was younger. Which were visions, which were dreams.
But visions were from his god.
Dreams…
Dreams seemed born of Astolpho’s desires. In dreams he allowed himself to embrace her. Hold her. Kiss her…
His god never brought him a vision like that.
“Show me,” Astolpho whispered again. “Please, my god, show me.”
He sat inside the darkened interior of the tent where Bradamante and Jara used to sleep.
It was just after daybreak. He had made a fire for when Jara awoke, and brought her a bucket of water from the stream.
Then Astolpho had
