When the golden stranger appears before her, Deirdre is not afraid. She has spent many nights dreaming of this man on his white charger, this errant Faerie prince. He is everything she is not: light where she is dark. He burns like the fiery sun she is forbidden to see, that she longs to feel on her skin. Will his touch be like flame, searing her instantly into dusty ashýor sensual like sunrays warming the morning air? Yet Deirdre knows true joy does not come just from emerging from the darkness to feel the sun. There is more. Like love and passion, light and darkness are two halves of a whole. In their joining is the magic she seeks.