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The Shadow Queen
Bertrice Small


Mourn me but briefly. Then find your destiny, Lara, my love, my life. Now let me go…With those words, the spirit of Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, departs his body–leaving the fate of his nation to his wife, the half faerie Lara. While Lara's son Prince Taj is well loved by the people of Terah, he is too young to rule, so Lara must obey Magnus's dying command and govern in his stead.Yet some in Terah still believe that a female must never wear the crown…and Lara and her children will face old enemies who are not finished with their schemes for revenge. But one hope remains–Lara has a powerful ally in Prince Kaliq of the Shadows, though never was there a more seductive friend or foe….







Mourn me but briefly. Then find your destiny, Lara, my love, my life. Now let me go...

With those words, the spirit of Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, departs his body—leaving the fate of his nation to his wife, the half faerie Lara.

While Lara’s son Prince Taj is well loved by the people of Terah, he is too young to rule, so Lara must obey Magnus’s dying command and govern in his stead. Yet some in Terah still believe that a female must never wear the crown...and Lara and her children will face old enemies who are not finished with their schemes for revenge. But one hope remains—Lara has a powerful ally in Prince Kaliq of the Shadows, though never was there a more seductive friend or foe....


Praise for the World of Hetar series and New York Times bestselling author






“Readers who enjoyed the first in [this] new series will devour Lara’s latest adventure.”

—Booklist on A Distant Tomorrow

“Small’s newest novel is a sexily fantastical romp.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Sorceress of Belmair

“Rich in colorful characters, brimming over with Small’s unique sense of erotic passion and a plot filled with mystery, the fourth title in the series is another masterpiece.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Sorceress of Belmair, Top Pick

“Small is not only a queen of erotic/adventure historicals, with the fifth book in the World of Hetar series, she is a grand mistress of erotic fantasy.… With this newest story, the author demonstrates that we can ‘have it all.’”

—RT Book Reviews on The Shadow Queen, Top Pick

“The final volume in the World of Hetar delivers a fantasy lover’s delight.”

—RT Book Reviews on Crown of Destiny




The Shadow Queen

Bertrice Small





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Abby Zidle, who began the journey with me through the World of Hetar, and hooked me on The Amazing Race; and to Tara Parsons, who continued the adventure at my side. Wonderful editors, and friends!


Contents

Prologue (#u901f7164-4a78-5c5d-8bc5-fff16a2e4c36)

Chapter One (#u869ae8ae-3c07-5e7d-984f-ac48f7c8476b)

Chapter Two (#u6b2523fc-1b5e-5c49-9f72-3df444c4b2b0)

Chapter Three (#ubde01372-2ba6-5247-857a-7830f6f586a0)

Chapter Four (#u06e5a2e3-ca63-52d2-8937-a839efbd6cb5)

Chapter Five (#u8bfa5bcc-2694-52e3-b9f4-c31e116326c9)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE

MAGNUS HAUK, DOMINUS of Terah, lay dying upon the deck of his brother-in-law Corrado’s new ship, the Splendor. Captain Corrado lay grievously injured nearby. The main mast for the vessel had snapped as it was being installed, hitting both men when it fell. Corrado had been quicker to leap aside, sustaining a shattered right leg as well as several other broken bones, but he survived. The Dominus, however, had been crushed by the great spar. Still, he managed to hold tightly on to the life remaining to him.

“Lara!” he managed to gasp. “Get Lara!”

He did not have to ask. Seeing the disaster unfolding, the ship’s second mate had dashed down the gangway, and hurried to find the Domina. Yet before he had even reached the castle entry itself Lara came running forth past him, and headed directly for the scene of the accident. The second mate swore afterward that her feet never touched the ground as she moved swiftly up the gangway onto the deck of the ship.

As she knelt by her husband’s side one look told her that his grasp on life was tenuous at best. “Magnus, my love,” she said, brushing a lock of his thick, golden hair from his forehead. “I am here.” There it was again staring boldly at her. Death. Damned death! She did not want to lose this man, but even she had not the power to heal such injuries. Only the Celestial Actuary could give life to mortals.

The turquoise-blue eyes opened at the sound of her voice. “Get my mother. Our son, Taj. Kaliq. Now,” he rasped urgently. “I cannot remain much longer.”

“I will sustain you until you must go,” Lara told him. That much she could do. She wanted to rail at the heavens, which were again taking another husband from her.

It wasn’t fair! Wasn’t she supposed to leave him to seek her destiny one day? Or had her destiny come calling upon her at last?

“Lara!” Corrado called to her. “Let me be by his side.”

She shuddered at the sound of Corrado’s pain. Then she transported him painlessly by means of her magic next to where her husband lay. Pushing aside her own grief, Lara used her magic to bring her mother-in-law, Lady Persis; her sister-in-law, Sirvat, who was Corrado’s wife; and her son, Taj, to the deck of the vessel.

“Prince Kaliq, heed my plea. Cease all else, and come to me!” she cried aloud, and he was immediately there by her side.

For a moment the others stood confused. Then Sirvat knelt by her husband’s side casting an anxious glance at Lara. Lady Persis cried out in despair recognizing death was about to claim her only son. Taj, the shock evident upon his young face, put a comforting arm about his grandmother, who was frail and elderly now.

“Hear me!” Magnus Hauk said. “Lara will rule for our son until she deems him ready to be Dominus of Terah. Only Lara! Her word is to be law in Terah.”

“She is female,” Lady Persis quavered. “Never has Terah been ruled by a female, Magnus, my son.”

“Only Lara!” he repeated. “My dying words must be honored. Corrado, Kaliq, you are my witnesses. Swear you will uphold my last wishes.”

They swore.

“Taj, my son, come to me,” Magnus Hauk called, his voice discernibly weaker.

“I am here, my lord father,” the boy said as he came to kneel by his sire’s side.

“Swear to me you will obey and sustain my dying wishes. Your mother is to rule until she believes you are ready. Swear!” The Dominus grew even paler as he spoke.

Taj began to cry. “I am too young to be Dominus,” he wept. “I swear, my lord father. My mother will rule until I am able to take up my inheritance. I will not question your wishes. I will not!”

“Mother, Sirvat, swear!” he demanded weakly.

“I swear, brother!” Sirvat said.

“Mother!”

“I…swear,” Lady Persis said reluctantly. “But it goes against tradition,” she could not refrain from adding.

“Kaliq, protect them!” the Dominus said, his voice beginning to fade away.

“With my own life, Magnus,” the great Shadow Prince swore.

“You are immortal,” Magnus Hauk said with a feeble smile.

“Not entirely,” Kaliq responded. Then he, too, knelt by the Dominus’s side. “Are you ready, my lord?” he asked him softly.

Magnus Hauk looked to Lara, his turquoise gaze locking on to her faerie green eyes. With the last of his strength he said, “I have loved none but you. I have never been happier than when I was with you. Mourn me briefly. Then find your destiny, Lara, my love, my life. You are surely meant for greatness. Now I must leave you.”

Lara pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. She caressed his ashen cheek. Then, bending, she kissed him a final time letting loose her hold on him as she did. Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, died softly, his last breath slipping from between his lips to be caught up by the south wind which bore it away.

Prince Kaliq, the great Shadow Prince, could see the Dominus’s spirit as it hovered above them all, reluctant to depart. Go, my friend, he told Magnus Hauk in the silent language of the magical folk. You know I will keep my word to you. Then he watched sadly as the spirit rose up and disappeared. He looked to Lara, for his greatest concern now was for her. Magnus Hauk had left her with a terrible responsibility. He wondered how the Terahns, a people of ancient tradition, would react to their Domina assuming power for her son.

Without a word Lara stood up, taking Taj’s small hand in hers as together they walked from the ship, returning to the castle to prepare for a funeral, and for the transition that was to follow. Kaliq shook his head. His fears were needless. Lara knew her duty, and the Shadow Princes had taught her well. He would be there for her, but he would not intrude. For all the faerie blood in his veins, her son had no magic about him. He was mortal, but Lara would teach him well.


CHAPTER ONE

LARA HAD BROUGHT the convenience of faerie post to Terah many years before. Now she marshaled the tiny messengers, sending them throughout Terah announcing the unexpected death of the Dominus Magnus Hauk. The leaders of all the villages were instructed to gather at a central meeting place assigned to each of the seven fjords, at a specific time on the day of Magnus Hauk’s funeral. The headmen and -women of the New Outland families were also sent similar instructions. The mountain gnomes were also invited to participate. Her husband’s funeral would be a grand one.

Lara thought back to the time she had managed the funeral of her first husband, Vartan, Lord of the Fiacre. She had been a young girl with two small children then, one a baby. Now her eldest son, Dillon, was a man grown with his own wife. Her eldest daughter, Anoush, was also grown. The three children she had borne Magnus Hauk were still fledglings. Well, perhaps not the eldest, Zagiri. At seventeen Zagiri was fully grown, wasn’t she? Lara sighed sadly. She was finally beginning to understand the curse of being faerie with mortal offspring. Her children were aging. But she was not.

“Mother?” Anoush had come to stand by her side.

“Yes, my darling,” Lara answered the daughter she had borne Vartan of the Fiacre twenty-one years ago.

“I have a crystal that will ease the pain,” Anoush volunteered.

“Nay,” Lara said softly. “Magnus Hauk’s memory is more than worthy of my pain, but thank you.” Reaching out, she patted Anoush’s small, pale, blue-veined hand. This first daughter of hers was so fragile while the other two were healthy. Zagiri might even be called sturdy. How different they all were. There wasn’t a magical bone in Zagiri’s body despite her bloodline while Anoush had the Sight and was an instinctive healer of mind, body and soul. Her gift was both a joy and a sorrow to her, for she was so intuitive and sensitive herself she suffered along with those who sought her help.

As for her youngest daughter, Marzina, she was, like Dillon, extremely magical and had proven so at an early age. Born a twin to her brother, Taj, Marzina had not been sired by Magnus Hauk although it was generally believed she had been. The seed from which Marzina had blossomed was that of Kol, the Twilight Lord, who had forced himself upon Lara on the Dream Plain. For this crime Kol was now imprisoned, his kingdom in chaos. No one had ever questioned Marzina’s paternity but for Lara’s mother, who had been present at the twins’ birth and declared she looked like a Nix relation.

Lara felt a tear slip down her cheek. She rarely wept, but now suddenly the tears flowed for Magnus Hauk, who had been so good to all of her children. Anoush wrapped her mother in her embrace, and, sobbing, Lara accepted her daughter’s comfort as the girl’s hand stroked her mother’s pale golden head. “It isn’t fair!” She voiced aloud her frustration and her despair over her husband’s sudden demise.

“I know,” Anoush agreed, “but when has life ever been fair, Mother? Was it fair when my uncle killed my father, Vartan?”

Lara drew away from her eldest daughter. “Nay, it was not fair then, nor is it fair now, Anoush. I shall not wed again. The men I marry seem to meet with untimely ends.”

“You do not need to marry,” Anoush replied, and suddenly her blue eyes glazed over. “You are loved without the bonds of marriage. And you have your destiny to consider. It draws closer, but you are still not ready to receive it. There is time yet.” Then Anoush slumped against Lara. “Mother?” she whispered a moment later.

“It’s all right, my darling,” Lara comforted her. “It was one of your visions.”

“Was it important?” Anoush wanted to know, for she never recalled these moments when she saw into the future.

Before Lara might answer Anoush her two younger daughters burst into her dayroom shrieking with terrible distress.

Zagiri threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Is it true?” she sobbed. “No! No! It cannot be true! Tell me our father isn’t dead?”

Lara’s sorrow evaporated as her anger arose. “It is true, Zagiri,” she said. “Now who has usurped my right to bring you this awful news?”

“Grandmother Persis,” Marzina quickly replied, for Zagiri was incapable of answering, so great was her grief. She had been Magnus Hauk’s firstborn, and he had without meaning to tended to favor her.

“The old bitch!” Lara hissed softly. “Where is Taj?”

“With her,” Marzina answered her mother. “She is most distraught.”

“Not so distraught that she couldn’t send your sister into hysterics,” Lara said angrily. She turned to the weeping Zagiri, and gathered the girl into her arms. There was nothing she could say that would comfort this daughter of Magnus Hauk, but she cradled and rocked the girl until Zagiri’s sobs subsided.

“How did Father die?” Marzina asked sanguinely, her eyes filled with tears.

Zagiri’s woebegone face looked up at Lara now.

“The main mast of your uncle Corrado’s new ship was being set into place. It shattered, broke and fell onto your father and uncle. Your uncle will survive. Your father’s injuries were mortal. He called for me, for Kaliq, your grandmother and Taj so his last wishes might be heard, and swore us to uphold them.”

“Couldn’t you have saved him, Mother?” Zagiri asked Lara now, pulling away from her mother’s embrace. “You are faerie! What good are all your powers if you could not save the life of the man you love?” she asked angrily, irrationally.

“Aye, I am faerie, but sustaining mortal life is beyond my powers. His wounds were fatal. It was all I could do to help him live long enough to make his last wishes known, Zagiri,” Lara told her daughter. “I am sorry you had to learn of your father’s death in this fashion. It was not up to your grandmother to tell you, and I can see that she did it badly. But we will survive, my darlings. We are together, and your father would want us to honor his memory by living our lives as he would want us to do.”

Zagiri sniffed.

“You are so selfish,” Marzina told Zagiri. “All you think about is yourself. How do you think our mother feels having to have watched our father die, and not be able to help him? Is her grief nothing to you, Zagiri? He was her husband. Her mate.”

“Where is our mother’s grief?” Zagiri said bitterly. “I do not see it.”

“I have seen it,” Anoush told her younger sister. “Before you entered this chamber I held our mother while she wept for Magnus Hauk. And she will continue to grieve in private I know. But now she must take up the duties of the Dominus if Terah is to survive. When word of our father’s death reaches across the sea to Hetar do you think they will remain peaceful knowing my brother, the new Dominus, is yet a boy? Our mother has much to do if Terah is to remain strong. Her sorrow must be private, Zagiri. She needs her strength to save us all.”

Zagiri was suddenly remorseful. “Oh, Mother, I did not realize…” Then she gasped. “A woman ruling Terah? What will the people say?”

“To all intents and purposes Taj will rule Terah,” Lara answered Zagiri. “I will guide him as the Shadow Princes once guided me. When your brother is capable I will step aside, and he will rule without me.”

“You will be a Shadow Queen then,” Marzina said with just the hint of a smile.

Lara smiled. “Aye, I shall remain in the shadows so that the customs of Terah not be offended or disturbed. I promised your father that, and I will honor my promise.”

“Grandmother Persis will not like it,” Zagiri murmured.

“But she will accept it,” Lara responded. “She gave your father her sacred word as he lay dying. So did Kaliq, your uncle and aunt. The last wishes of Magnus Hauk will be honored, my daughters. Now leave me. I have already sent faerie posts to the elders, and the New Outlands, but I must inform the High Priest Arik at the Temple of the Great Creator, and Kemina, High Priestess at the Temple of the Daughters of the Great Creator, of the Dominus’s death. They will conduct your father’s funeral service. Tell your brother to come to me, and see that your grandmother stays out of mischief.”

“Dillon should be told,” Anoush reminded her mother.

Lara nodded as her daughters left her presence. There was so much to do, she thought. And so little time in which to accomplish all that needed doing. By Terahn law Magnus Hauk’s Farewell Ceremony had to be completed within three days. She had already decided that the burning vessel that carried his body out to the sea would be that very one that had been responsible for his death. She knew that Captain Corrado would agree, for no Terahn would ever sail upon the ship that had caused the demise of Magnus Hauk. Lara sighed. How much time had passed since her husband’s death? An hour? Two? She was both numb and aching at the same time.

“Mother?”

She looked up to see her son Taj. His face was full of sorrow. “Come in, my lord Dominus,” she replied to him. “Sit down. We must talk.”

“It is too soon,” the boy said tearfully.

Lara shook her head. “Nay,” she told him. “You are your father’s heir. There is no time for self-indulgence, Taj. You are Magnus Hauk’s son, and you will be, must be, strong in the face of this tragedy. Once it is known that your father is gone, and you rule in Terah, our enemies will gather and plot, and seek to gain an advantage over us. You cannot let that happen. And I will help you with the aid of the High Priest Arik, and others, Taj. But never will I appear by your side. I will stand in the shadows behind your throne until you are old enough and wise enough to rule without me. Terah will see you, accept you as their Dominus from this terrible day forward.”

“I do not know how to be Dominus,” Taj responded.

Lara smiled. “Of course you don’t,” she told him. “It was never expected that you be Dominus so young. Your father and I wanted our children to have a happy childhood without the cares that accompany adulthood.”

“Teach me,” Taj said. “What must I do first?”

It pleased her that he had pushed his grief aside, and begun asking questions. “You will call the chief scribe, Ampyx, to you. Then you will dictate an official announcement of your father’s death, and your right of inheritance. You will then order that it be sent by faerie post to be published throughout all of Terah. I have already notified the elders of the seven fjords, the religious, and the New Outlanders in your name. It was necessary, for by custom the Farewell must be done on the third day. I will bring them all here with my magic,” Lara said.

“What will I tell Ampyx?” Taj asked her. “Will you be with me when I speak to him, Mother?”

“I will not be with you,” Lara replied. “Remember it must appear from the start that you are in total charge, my son. Here is what you must dictate to Ampyx. You will say that it is with great sorrow you must bring the news of your father’s death to his beloved people. That as his only natural-born son you have taken the right of inheritance. Then have Ampyx sign this document in the name of Taj Hauk, Dominus of Terah.”

“I will go to the throne room now,” Taj told Lara.

“Aye,” she agreed. Then they both stood, and Lara embraced her young son. “Go,” she said to him.

The boy strode bravely from his mother’s apartments, and hurried through the castle to the official chamber where his father had formally received guests and dignitaries from other worlds. He climbed the dais to the throne of Terah, and, standing before it, called out, “Send for the chief scribe, Ampyx!” To his own surprise his voice did not tremble. And while the chamber appeared empty Taj knew there was always a servant discreetly in attendance there day and night.

“At once, my lord!” a voice called.

Taj sat heavily upon his father’s throne. He wondered how long it would take for him to think of it as his throne. Then he composed himself, and considered the words he would utter to Ampyx. His mother had laid out the boundaries for him, but she knew he was an intelligent boy, and would want to speak from his own heart. Taj smiled. His mother was a very clever woman, and there was much he could learn from her. His grandmother had told him he should not listen to any woman, but rule in his own right. But Taj Hauk knew he needed his mother’s counsel now. His father had with his dying breath put them all in Lara’s charge. Magnus Hauk would not have done such a thing if he had not felt it was the right thing to do.

“My lord?”

Taj raised his head from his thoughts and stood up. “Chief Scribe, I would dictate to you,” he said.

Ampyx immediately sat down cross-legged upon the marble floor and drew out his writing board, parchment, pen and a small stone bottle of ink. “I am ready, my lord.”

“It is with deep sorrow that I announce the sudden death… No. Write, the sudden and accidental death of Dominus Magnus Hauk, this tenth day in the first month of the planting season. His Farewell Ceremony will be held as custom dictates on the third day following his demise. All of his beloved people who can attend are welcome at the castle.” Taj stopped, and considered carefully his next words as the head scribe looked up at him. Then Taj continued. “As Magnus Hauk’s only son I now formally claim the right of inheritance.” He looked to the chief scribe. “Read my words back to me, Ampyx.”

The tiniest of smiles touched the head scribe’s lips, and then he read back the words that had just been dictated to him.

When he had finished the boy added, “Sign it Taj Hauk, Dominus of Terah.” Then considering again he asked ingenuously, “Have I forgotten anything, Ampyx?”

“Nay, my lord. Your words are just as they should be.” He arose from the floor and bowed to the boy. “May I offer you my own condolences, my lord Dominus, on the death of your great father?”

“You may,” Taj replied formally. “I thank you.” Then, remembering, he said, “See my words are published this day throughout the kingdom from the Sea of Sagitta to the Obscura in the New Outlands.”

“It will be as you wish, my lord Dominus.” And, bowing, the chief scribe backed out of the throne room.

“It was nicely done,” Lara said, stepping from behind the tall throne where she had been hidden listening. “And now Ampyx will gossip among the other scribes about the strength of the young Dominus. And they will gossip to their friends and families. It is a good start, Taj.” She held out her arms to him, and he immediately went into them.

“I am so afraid, Mother,” he admitted to her. “Dictating an announcement was easy. Ruling a land is not. Where do I even begin?”

“You begin where your father left off. Rebuilding our merchant fleet ship by ship. Your father wanted our ships to be able to defend themselves, especially now that the secret of our existence is well-known throughout Hetar. The Hetarians have not yet breached our shores. They tried once and failed, but sooner or later they will attempt it once more, my son. You are a boy ruler. Untried. There will be those even here in Terah who will seek to undermine you. You must be strong from this first day, and show no weakness. You are Magnus Hauk’s son.” Lara felt her voice quiver when she said his name. How long had he been dead now? Two hours? Three? She kissed her son’s cheek. His face was smooth, not yet roughened by adulthood. Then she released him from her embrace.

“Where is my father’s body?” Taj asked.

“It has been taken to the Farewell House to be processed for the ceremony,” Lara answered her son. She found it difficult to look at him now, for Taj Hauk was his father’s image. At thirteen he was already at least three inches taller than Lara. He had his father’s long nose, high cheekbones and thin lips. Like Magnus his short hair was dark gold with lighter gold highlights, and his eyes his sire’s turquoise-blue. Suddenly it hurt her heart to gaze upon him.

“I think we should use my uncle’s new vessel,” Taj said. “It will be considered unlucky now. Better to have it convey my father’s body to the sea.”

“I agree,” Lara answered, keeping to herself the fact that she had already decided upon that course of action. Taj would always recall when he thought of this day that first decision he had made without her. She was proud he was beginning to think like a Dominus. And Magnus would be proud, too.

“My aunts must be informed before the official notification is cried,” Taj remarked. “I would do it myself,” he told his mother.

“I will transport you. Which would you visit first?” Lara asked.

“The eldest of my grandmother’s children,” Taj said. “At this time of day Narda will be in her hall working upon her tapestry while her husband, Tostig, plays an endless game of Herder with his eldest son.”

Lara waved her hand. “So you are there,” she said as her son disappeared.

He reappeared in Lord Tostig’s hall, and the sight of the young boy stepping from a haze of green smoke caused his aunt Narda, the eldest of Lady Persis’s children, to shriek with surprise and drop the needle she had been plying.

“Nephew!” she scolded him. “Could you not come to visit in a more conventional manner? This magical transport you have effected is most disconcerting.”

“I come to bring you tragic news, Aunt,” Taj began.

Lady Narda shrieked again, but this time it was a sound of distress. “Mother,” she cried, a hand going to her heart.

“Nay, my grandmother is in good health,” Taj reassured her. “It is my father who was today killed on Captain Corrado’s new ship when the main mast they were raising snapped, and crushed both my uncle and my father. Corrado will live. My father did not. The Farewell Ceremony is in three days as custom demands. I have claimed the right of inheritance. I am now your new Dominus.”

His aunt stared at him both shocked and surprised. Then she burst into fulsome tears. “My poor, dear brother,” she sobbed, but her tears were only partly sorrowful. She had not been close with her younger, only brother. Then as suddenly as they had begun her tears ceased, and she said, “You are very young to rule Terah, Nephew. You will need the guidance of men like my husband.”

“My father’s Farewell Ceremony will be held at the castle in three days as custom requires,” Taj said, ignoring his aunt’s remark. “Now I must go and inform my aunt Aselma of this news. Mother!” And he was gone from Tostig and Narda’s hall in another burst of pale green smoke.

“He is too young to rule,” Narda said to her husband, who had heard all, but said nothing while Taj was with them. “You must make certain you are chosen to be the boy’s regent. My sister, Aselma, will certainly be encouraging her husband, Armen, to the position. And he dotes upon her. He will do anything to see she is happy. If worst comes to worst we can share the regency, but you must be first as I am the elder. I will not have Aselma and Armen lording it over us. You know how she is.” Narda’s deep blue eyes were concerned. She was an attractive woman who had been some years her brother’s elder. Her dark blond hair was beginning to show streaks of silver.

“It is possible that Magnus made other arrangements,” Tostig said in his quiet and pleasant voice. “We only know your brother is dead. We do not know if he lingered before he died, nor can we know if he had previously made arrangements in case of his early demise. I would not advise you and your sister get into a power struggle over the young Dominus. At least not before we know all the facts. And there is the Domina to consider, my love. You are not foolish enough to think that Lara would allow anyone to interfere with her son’s rule.” He was a gentleman of medium height and build, with fading brown hair, and mild blue-gray eyes that peered out on his world through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

“Women have no place in governance,” Narda said primly.

Her husband smiled. “I am not certain that now is so, my love,” Tostig answered.

Narda gasped. “My lord! What a radical thing to say,” she exclaimed, shocked.

“Your brother valued his wife’s counsel,” he replied. “He told me countless times that there were decisions he could not have made without her. And often it was Lara who suggested the solutions to the various problems a Dominus faced, and needed to solve.”

“Certainly he was teasing when he said such things,” Narda responded.

“Now, my dear,” Tostig said with a smile, “there is no doubt that Magnus loved Lara, but he was not a man to misrepresent the facts. If he said his wife advised him, and gave him answers he could not find, then she did. I have often wondered why women are considered incapable of rule when they so obviously rule their homes, and do it well. Is not a kingdom just an extension of one’s home?” He patted her hand.

“Sometimes you absolutely confuse me, my lord,” Narda said. “But I love you nonetheless. Very well. We will wait to see what happens. But we must leave tomorrow for the castle if we are to be there in time for my brother’s Farewell.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “We were not close,” she said with a sigh. “But he was my blood, and always kind to me, and to our children. Poor Mother! She will be heartbroken. I suppose Aselma knows by now.”

Aselma and her husband, Armen, had been eating their evening meal when Taj appeared in their hall. They blinked in surprise, but then Aselma waved her nephew forward inviting him to join them. “It’s roast boar, Nephew,” she said. “It has been marinated in apple cider and clove.” Aselma was a plump woman who had always had a penchant for good food. Younger than Narda, but older than her brother, she had rosy cheeks, a head of blond hair that time seemed not to have faded and the same bright blue eyes as her siblings.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Aunt,” the boy said, “but I am the bearer of sad tidings.”

Like her elder sister had, Aselma cried out, “Mother!” as her hand flew to her plump bosom.

“Nay, it is my father, Aunt. He was killed this morning when the main spar from Captain Corrado’s ship broke as it was being set into place. The Farewell Ceremony is in three days’ time.”

“You are the Dominus,” Aselma said quickly.

“I am,” Taj responded.

“You are too young,” she said.

“But I am Dominus,” Taj repeated. Then he bowed to her, saying, “You are invited to the castle with your family to pay your respects to my father. Now I will leave you. Mother!” And he was gone.

“You must be regent!” Aselma said to Armen.

“If it will please you, my love,” her husband replied.

“We must leave tomorrow for the castle,” Aselma said as she cut herself another slice of the roast boar and began to eat it. “Narda will certainly be trying to get there ahead of us, and Tostig is too mild a man to be regent.”

“There may already be a regent chosen,” Armen murmured to his wife.

“Nonsense!” Aselma declared. “Magnus was young. He would have hardly expected to die in an accident. It is unlikely he had made any arrangements at all.”

“What of the Domina?” Armen asked.

“What about her?” Aselma said. “She was his wife, nothing more. And she is faerie to boot. I thank the heavens that of the three children she bore my brother two have no magic in them at all. Zagiri is a lovely girl, and Taj as sensible a Terahn as any despite his foreign blood.”

“And Marzina?” Armen said with a wicked smile.

Aselma shuddered delicately considering her large frame. “Do not mention that brat to me, husband. She is a wicked creature if there ever was one. Look what she did to my cat. It was terrible!”

He laughed. “It was partly your fault, my love. You said in her presence that you wished you could keep Fluffy forever, for you loved her so. But you did want to keep her from birding in your garden, for the birdsong delighted you, as well. Marzina was but attempting to please you.”

“She turned my cat to stone as it sat among the roses, Armen!” Aselma said, outraged. “She is a dreadful child!”

He laughed again. “There was no harm done, my love. Lara restored the beast.”

“It has never been the same since,” Aselma grumbled.

“But no longer birds in your garden,” he remarked.

Aselma sniffed. “I do not care to discuss my niece,” she said. “And tomorrow we leave at the break of day for the castle. You will be regent if I have anything to say about it, my husband.”

“You will not,” he murmured so softly that she did not hear him, but his gray eyes were considering as he wondered if his late brother-in-law had made any arrangements for his only son in the event of an unforeseen emergency. He rubbed his bald pate slowly, thoughtfully. As much as he loved his wife Armen did not wish the responsibility of a regency, and he suspected that neither did Tostig. They were both contented landowners with grown children. They were moving, slowly of course, toward old age. This was no time to be saddled with the responsibilities of a government, a nation, a people. It might have been better if things had remained the way they once were, and the men of Terah did not hear the voices of the women. Both his wife and his sister-in-law were always saying that women must be subservient to their men, and yet both of them were supremely ambitious women. It was an interesting conundrum. He wondered if his nephew realized the trouble he had left in his wake.

Taj, however, had returned to the castle as evening was slipping into night. He suddenly felt weary, and saddened beyond anything he had ever known. He was thirteen years old, and he was suddenly responsible for Terah and its people. “I cannot do it,” he said aloud to himself, and his young shoulders slumped as he stood alone in his mother’s dayroom. He felt tears pricking his eyelids.

“It does indeed seem more than one lad can bear,” a sympathetic voice agreed.

“My lord Kaliq,” Taj exclaimed as the great Shadow Prince stepped from the gloom. “What am I to do? I cannot be Dominus! I am but a boy yet.”

The Shadow Prince came forward, and put a comforting arm about Taj. “Let us sit, my lord Dominus,” he said as he led the boy to a settee. They sat. “You are your father’s son, Taj Hauk. And your mother’s son, as well. You have no magic in you despite your bloodlines, but you do have the strength of will that certain mortals have. It is instinctive in people like you. You knew just what to say to your aunts this day, and you did not permit their words to trouble you. You comforted your grandmother. You have already begun taking charge as the man of the family must do.

“There will be some who say you are not old enough to rule. You will not hear their voices, for mortals like that are quick to complain, but slow to put forth solutions. At your birth it was decided that this responsibility be set upon your shoulders at this moment in time, my lord Taj, even as the instant of your father’s death was set out when he was born. And your father was a wise man. He refused to let go of the life force until he had set forth his wishes for you.”

“My mother is to rule for me,” Taj said, low.

“No, my lord Dominus, you are to rule. But you will do so under your mother’s guidance. Her wisdom is great and she respects the customs of Terah. She will never permit it to appear as if you are not in total charge. And in a few years you will be, for you are intelligent, and will learn quickly. Already today you have realized that your uncle’s ship is best used as your father’s funerary vessel. It was a wise decision,” the Shadow Prince complimented the boy.

“I did, didn’t I?” Taj remembered proudly.

“Indeed, my lord Dominus, you did,” Kaliq said. “Now, if you will permit me to direct you, I think you must go to your chamber where you will find a small meal waiting, for you must keep up your strength. Then you will sleep.”

“I will bid my mother good-night first,” Taj said.

“I am pleased by the respect you show her,” the Shadow Prince replied. “I will bid you good-night now, my lord.” And with a bow Kaliq disappeared back into the shadows of the dayroom.

Taj went to the door of his mother’s bedchamber and knocked. Hearing her voice bid him enter, he did, and went directly to her. “I have spoken with my father’s two sisters,” he said. “They both said I am too young to rule.”

Lara smiled almost grimly. “I am certain they have pretensions of a regency, but I suspect their husbands have not. They will be on their way to the castle in the morning, but I shall slow their travels, for I am in no mood to cope with Narda and Aselma.”

“My father said how it must be,” Taj answered her. “I heard him as did others.”

“And it will be as Magnus Hauk directed us with his dying breath,” Lara told her son. “But I will still cause the rain to fall tomorrow, and the road to muddy. A day’s trip shall become two. They will reach us the night before the Farewell Ceremony.”

“Kaliq said that everything has happened as it should,” Taj told his mother. “He said my father’s fate and mine were decided upon the day we were born.”

“Did he?” Lara sighed. “I suppose he is right. He is always right, damn him!”

“Will he help us, Mother?” Taj wanted to know.

“If we need him,” she replied.

“Does my grandmother Ilona know of my father’s death?” the boy asked.

“Aye. While you were gone I went to her,” Lara responded. She did not tell her son that her mother, the Queen of the Forest Faeries, had been less than sympathetic.

“Sooner or later your mortal would have died,” Ilona said sanguinely. “Better it happen now than you be forced to see him become old, and as white-haired and grizzled as his own mother is. You have had your children by the men you have loved, Lara. Now for goodness’ sake embrace your faerie heritage fully, and take no more husbands. Lovers are far more satisfactory, and so easily discarded. A husband is generally nothing more than an encumbrance.”

“Is that what you think of Thanos?” Lara asked of her stepfather.

Ilona’s laughter tinkled gaily as she tossed her pale golden hair, and her green eyes twinkled. “Gracious no! Thanos is the perfect husband. He sired a son and heir upon me, and then found an interest that keeps him away from me most of the time. And bless him, he takes lovers to feed his appetite for passion. But unless you wed a man of the magical realm you would not have such latitude. So better you just take lovers from now on, my daughter.”

“Try to be respectful when you come to the Farewell Ceremony, Mother,” Lara had said dryly. “If not for my sake, for Taj’s.”

“Oh never fear, I shall be properly mournful. Magnus Hauk was, after all, a good mortal, and he loved you completely even overlooking your time with Kol, the Twilight Lord,” Ilona said.

Lara had departed her mother’s home at that. Now she looked at her young son. “Your grandmother Ilona was shocked by the accident, and she will be here for the Farewell Ceremony, Taj,” Lara told her son.

The boy nodded. “I am weary,” he told her.

“Go and eat, and then sleep,” Lara said to him. “I will see you in the morning, my darling. While it is my duty to make all the preparations for the Farewell Ceremony, I should appreciate you being by my side, and approving my actions.” Lara put an arm about her son and kissed him softly on his cheek. “Good night, my dearest Taj.”

The boy hugged her hard. “Good night, Mother,” he said and then left her.

Alone. She was alone. How long had Magnus Hauk been dead now? Ten hours? Eleven? Lara felt the tears come again. She had been wed almost twenty years to Magnus Hauk. Her life had become a comfortable round of seasons that had blended into one year, and then another, and another. She had never been bored, and while she waited for the destiny foretold for her to unfold she had been happy. She had been content in his arms, and in this life. Oh, there had been an occasional adventure. But Magnus Hauk was always there waiting when the adventure was over. But now she was alone. Lara sank down upon their bed, and wept bitterly once more.

* * *

KALIQ WATCHED HER from the shadows, and fought back his urge to go to her. To take her into his arms and comfort her. But now was not the time. She needed to vent her grief in this lonely privacy, and then reach deep down into the well of strength he knew she possessed. She would need to be strong for her son. She would need to be strong to convince Magnus Hauk’s family and the religious community of Terah that her late husband’s wishes must be followed at all costs. She was the only one who could aid the young Dominus so that when the danger came he would be strong enough to withstand it.

Still her weeping clawed at his heart. It was rare that a Shadow Prince fell deeply in love, but Kaliq of the Shadows did love the faerie woman, Lara, with every fiber of his being. He had for years. She was his single vulnerability. He wished he might transport them immediately to his desert palace of Shunnar to console her, but, cloaked in his invisibility, he instead stepped near to the bed where she now lay sobbing with her grief. Moving his hand gently above her body from her head to her toes, he set her into a deep and dreamless sleep. Her sadness would not abate, but at least come the morning she would awaken rested, able to face the responsibilities that were now hers.

Her body relaxed. The pitiful sounds of her mourning suddenly ceased. Her breathing grew regular and even. Kaliq smiled to himself as he stood next to Lara’s bed watching her sleep. He considered what would happen next. Hetar, of course, would be involved somehow once word of Magnus Hauk’s death reached them, but how quickly he was not certain. He had already set a watch to see if any among the tiny faerie post folk was a spy, for he was certain there would be one or two subverted by Hetar’s rulers.

Kaliq frowned thinking of Hetar. They had been making great strides toward the equality of its citizenry until recently. The two Shadow Princes currently serving on the High Council had reported that something was disturbing the rhythm of Hetar’s being of late. They had not yet been able to pinpoint it, but they were listening. Still, even unsubstantiated rumors had been scarce. A sure sign that something wicked was being brewed, Kaliq thought. He would speak with Lara soon about this latest development. Neither Terah nor the young Dominus needed to be dragged into Hetar’s problems whatever they turned out to be. The great Shadow Prince bent and kissed Lara’s cheek as she lay on her side, her pale golden hair tousled and spread across the pillows. Sleep well, my love, he told her in the silent language of magical folk. Then he was quickly gone from the chamber.

When the morning came Lara awoke. Her heart ached. With a sigh she encased it in ice. She could show no weakness now. She was faerie, and yet magic had little to do with what she was about to undertake. She arose from her bed feeling well rested, to her surprise. She had dreamed no dreams in the night. Indeed nothing had disturbed her slumbers despite her great grief. How had that happened? And then she smiled to herself. Kaliq, bless him! She had sensed him as she wept for Magnus Hauk, but had not wanted his company. He had understood, of course, and had not intruded upon her physically. But he had, she was certain, given her the gift of restful sleep and Lara was grateful to him for it.

“Mila,” Lara called to her serving woman. “I am ready to bathe.”

Mila appeared looking properly somber. “They are ready for you, Domina. Shall I lay out your garments?”

“Aye. Does everyone in the castle have purple mourning bands for their arms?” Lara wanted to know.

“Aye, Domina, and there are enough for any who come,” Mila informed her lady.

Lara nodded, and then went to her private bath. The serving women were silent, and she was glad. She was not quite ready to deal with anyone else’s sorrow but her own. But the moment she left her own apartments it would be a different matter. When she had completed her ablutions, she returned to her bedchamber and got dressed. Mila had laid out a pale lilac-colored gown trimmed at its round neck, and the cuffs of its round sleeves with an embroidered band of gold threads and tiny violet crystals. The serving woman fastened the deep purple mourning band about her mistress’s upper right arm as Lara slipped her feet into her flat-soled lilac kidskin slippers. Sitting, she let Mila brush her long hair, and then weave it into a thick single plait. Then, standing again, she left her apartment, hurrying to the small family dining chamber where she discovered her five children and her daughter-in-law awaiting her.

“Dillon! Cinnia!” she exclaimed with genuine delight.

Dillon immediately enfolded his mother into his embrace and kissed her cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked tenderly. “This has to have been a terrible shock for you, Mother. I am so sorry. Magnus was a good stepfather to me. We came as soon as Kaliq came to tell us. He says that Grandmother and Cirillo will be here later today.”

Lara felt a brief moment of weakness, but then she returned her son’s kiss. “My faerie heart has turned to ice, Dillon,” she told him. “I cannot believe any of this although I know it is true. Yes, it has been an awful shock.”

“Tell me what happened?” he said gently.

And she told him quietly, dispassionately, of how Magnus Hauk had died.

Dillon said nothing. He just nodded.

“Magnus made them all swear as he lay dying that they would honor my rule,” Lara told her firstborn. “It shall, of course, appear as if Taj is ruling for you know how the Terahns are about women. I do not wish to change their customs, but Magnus knew what would happen if he ordered a regency.”

Dillon laughed briefly. “Aye,” he agreed. “But how will you placate those who see themselves grasping the reins of Terahn power?”

“I intend forming a special group of advisors for the new Dominus,” Lara said. “It is possible some of them may have good ideas, but of course the last word, the final decision, is that of the Dominus.”

“Clever,” Dillon agreed, “but how will they take to having a woman overruling them, Mother?”

“I will remain as much in the background as possible. Marzina says I will be a Shadow Queen. It must appear publicly as if Taj is in firm control of Terah at all times,” Lara explained. “And eventually the council of advisors will actually forget I am even there which is what I want. Magnus’s elder sisters will, of course, want their husbands involved. And I want Corrado. I think it is better to keep this group small and manageable, don’t you? No one but the Dominus’s three uncles.”

“Agreed!” her eldest said. “Will you tell Tostig and Armen the truth?”

“Aye, I will. Whether they tell their wives is, of course, up to them,” Lara said with a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes. “Now if you are through questioning me let us sit down and eat. We have a busy day ahead of us. I must have everything done by the morrow, for it will be my duty to sit at the foot of Magnus’s bier and accept the condolences of all who come until the burning vessel upon which he will take his final voyage is sent off to the sea.” She turned to her daughter-in-law. “Thank you for coming, Cinnia.” Then she looked to her own daughters, and gave them a small smile. “We are together, my daughters, and that is all that is important for now. Taj, take your place at the head of the family table. You are not just the Dominus of Terah now. You are also the master of this household. I will sit in my usual place opposite the Dominus until the day he takes a bride. You, Dillon, will be at your half brother’s right hand.”

“And I will sit at my twin’s left hand,” Marzina spoke up before her mother might say another word.

“You are the youngest of us all,” Zagiri noted, but she did not complain.

“We all share blood,” Marzina replied, “but I share with Taj what none of you shared with him. I shared our mother’s womb.”

“Sit in your place, Marzina,” Lara instructed her daughter quietly. “Anoush and Zagiri, sit on either side of me, and Cinnia will sit next to her husband. Now let us thank the Great Creator for Magnus Hauk, and the time we had with him, and the wonderful memories we share. Let us thank him that we are all together,” Lara said, and everyone in the chamber including the servants bowed their heads.


CHAPTER TWO

MAGNUS HAUK’S TWO older sisters arrived at the castle of the Dominus within moments of each other. Their ships raced each other up the fjord, beneath the morning sunshine, Narda’s vessel reaching the stone dock but a moment before Aselma’s.

“It is as it should be,” Narda told Tostig. “I am, after all, the eldest of our mother’s children.” She walked regally down the gangway onto the pier. “Hurry! I want to get to the lift before my sister does.” Narda attempted to appear as if she were just strolling toward her destination. Tostig had to take large steps to keep up with her.

The Dominus’s castle was built into and above the great cliffs that bordered the fjord. Of dark stone, it was surprisingly graceful and beautiful for such a large structure. Its tower peaks of gray slate soared high into the bright blue sky. Greenery trailed over, and grew up along its terrace walls behind which were beautiful gardens. At the end of the quay was an entrance into the cliffs.

“Look at her! Pretending she isn’t practically running so she can reach our nephew before we do,” Aselma grumbled to Armen as their own ship was tied fast. “Can they not hurry with that damned gangway?”

Armen hid his smile, for it wouldn’t do to have his wife throw a temper tantrum now. She and her sister might scheme all they wanted. What was going to happen next had already been set into motion. He was as shocked as everyone was at the sudden and certainly unexpected death of his brother-in-law, but he instinctively knew that the reins of power in Terah were not meant to rest in either his or Tostig’s hands. Silently he followed his wife down onto the stone pier and walked toward the castle.

Aselma and Armen walked quickly through the entry but the wooden gate to the lift was closed. They could see the bare hairy legs of the Mountain Giant drawing the wooden platform up to the castle. They could see the bottom of the platform, and Aselma’s sharp ears could hear her sister’s voice as the lift rose higher.

“You could have waited for us!” she shouted, tilting her head up.

Narda’s head looked down over the platform’s rail. “Is that you, Aselma?” she called out in a deceptively sweet voice. “I didn’t realize you were that close behind us. It seemed to me your vessel was still in the middle of the fjord when we disembarked. I’ll meet you in the family hall, dear.”

“Old cow!” Aselma muttered.

Above them the lift came to a stop, and then it was quickly lowered again. Aselma and her husband stepped onto the platform, which was raised once again to the correct level of the castle. The couple exited into the brightly lit corridor, following it to the family hall. Entering, they found Narda sobbing in her mother’s arms. Not to be outdone in her grief Aselma screamed, and ran to her parent weeping. Tostig and Armen shook hands, and would have stepped into the background but that Lara, coming into the chamber, beckoned them from it.

In the corridor again she greeted them cordially. “Please come with me, my lords. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

They followed her down another hallway and into a beautiful library with tall arched windows looking out over the fjord. There they found their other brother-in-law, Corrado, Sirvat and the young Dominus awaiting. They greeted one another. Both Tostig and Armen noted that their sister-in-law looked drawn with her grief. Lara was, it seemed to them, as beautiful as ever. Her faerie green eyes, however, were swollen with her sorrow.

“My lords,” she said to them, “I have asked you here because you should know what my husband’s dying wishes were. Corrado, Sirvat, Lady Persis and my son can attest to the truth of my words.”

“We should never doubt your word, lady,” Tostig said.

Lara smiled. “Thank you, my brother, but Magnus has done something that will shock you. He named me regent for our son.”

To her surprise Armen chuckled. “Shocking by Terahn custom, I will agree, but knowing you both it is not so unexpected.” Tostig nodded in agreement.

Lara nodded, amused. Armen was a far cleverer fellow than he was given credit for by those who knew him. “Taj is certainly too young and inexperienced to rule Terah, my lords, as he will tell you himself. But Terah must believe that he is in full charge, counseled by wise advisors. While I will rule Terah from behind my son’s throne, I am asking the Dominus’s three uncles to serve as the Dominus’s Council. You understand that my word is the final word in all matters, but for the sake of continued tranquility in Terah this will not be public knowledge. I’m sure that both Narda and Aselma will be pleased at this honor you have been given,” she concluded, a small twinkle in her eyes.

“My lady Domina, you have saved both Armen and me from much distress with our wives,” Tostig said with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Lara could not contain her laughter, but then she said, “I cannot blame them for being ambitious for their husbands, my lords. But Terah can only have one ruler. You understand fully what I have told you. I alone will rule Terah for my son. His best interests, and those of Terah, are my priorities. I will not allow this to degenerate into an internecine family war which would surely spill over into Terah itself. Our strength lies in our unity, for be certain, my lords, that when Hetar learns of what has happened they will be considering ways and means of conquering us. The Lord High Ruler Jonah is no fool. He has been to Terah. He knows of its riches. The fever for acquisition runs in Hetar’s blood. In their eyes Terah is a great prize.”

“Lady Domina,” Armen said quietly, “Tostig and I are content being landowners. Corrada we all know loves his ships, and being captain of all captains. Let all of Terah believe we rule for our nephew. We gladly leave that onerous task to you. You are far wiser and more sophisticated than we are. You will know how to hold Hetar at bay.”

“What will you tell your wives?” Lara asked Tostig and Armen.

“Nothing but that we three are the Dominus’s Council,” Tostig said emphatically. “If either of us says more than that Aselma and Narda will quarrel over which of us should have precedence so they may have precedence over each other. Nay, Armen, Corrado and I are equals by the Dominus’s command. But what if the Lady Persis should tell her older daughters of Magnus Hauk’s dying wishes?”

“She will not,” Lara said. “The Dominus Taj Hauk has personally commanded that she keep the secret of his father’s request that there be peace among us. Persis is no fool. She knows the dangers involved in such an indiscretion.”

“And she is used to obeying a male’s orders,” Sirvat said mischievously. “My nephew’s age matters little to her. He is a male, and he is the Dominus.”

Lara smiled at her sister-in-law’s observation. “Then it is settled, my lords. The first day of each month I will bring you by means of my magic to the castle, and we will meet. That will allay any suspicions that your wives may have in this matter. Now, let us join the Lady Persis.”

They rejoined Magnus Hauk’s mother, and her two older daughters. Sirvat went to her elder sisters, kissing each one and greeting them. Lara waited for Aselma and Narda to acknowledge her, but only when Taj spoke sternly to his aunts did they do so.

“You have not greeted my mother, my father’s widow,” the young Dominus said.

“Our brother is gone. What importance can this faerie woman have in Terah now?” Aselma said rudely. “Will she not go from us soon?”

Lara was astounded by the woman’s words. She had never been particularly friendly with her husband’s two older sisters, but the antipathy in Aselma’s words surprised her.

“Where would I go?” she asked Aselma in an icy voice. “Terah is my home. My son is its ruler. Until he weds I am yet the Domina.”

“Aye! Still you have no real importance here now. My brother is dead. But the boy is too young to rule!” Aselma quickly replied. “He needs the guidance of an older man. He must not be corrupted by you as Magnus was. Women are not meant to rule.”

“My son has already in his young wisdom chosen his three uncles to be the Dominus’s Council,” Lara responded. “I will bring them here to the castle at least once monthly to meet with my son and conduct the business of government.”

“Once a month?” Aselma screeched. “One of us should at least live here at the castle to guide the boy each day.”

“And I suppose you think you should be the one chosen,” Narda cried angrily.

“Cease your arguments, Aunts,” Taj Hauk said. “I do not choose to have either of you moving into my mother’s house, and this castle is indeed my mother’s home. Look to my uncle’s injuries. My mother’s magic has managed to heal his bones, but his bruises will take weeks to heal. She left them so that Terahns might see that he, too, was injured. His broken heart may never heal. Two days ago my father was killed. Tomorrow we will bid him farewell. If you cannot keep from your petty quarreling in these sorrowful times then I will send you home today.” The boy had drawn himself up to his full height. His turquoise-blue eyes were fierce with his determination.

Narda and Aselma were suddenly properly cowed into obedience. The two sisters bowed their heads. Like their mother they accepted male dominance.

“Greet my mother properly now,” Taj Hauk said, and they did. “You are all dismissed now but for the Domina. I will see you at the evening meal.” He waved them off with a firm hand.

When the chamber was empty Lara turned to her son. “I can see you have already learned from your father,” she said.

The boy grinned. “Father would have been harder on them for their rudeness to you, but I understand they are grieving, too. Still, I know that had I not shown a firm hand with them at once their behavior would have escalated. They are old-fashioned, but the truth is they are both as ambitious as any for power. They shall not, however, have mine.”

“Nor should anyone, my son,” Lara told him. “I know there are many who think that I ruled over your father. I did not. But your father was willing to listen to what I had to say, Taj. And he was not ashamed to take my advice when it was good. I hope one day you will give your wife that same courtesy.”

“In many cases,” her son answered, “you made him believe your advice was his.”

Lara smiled. “You are clever to have seen that,” she replied. “He never did.”

Taj chuckled. “Of course he didn’t, Mother. He loved you beyond all else.”

The tears came swiftly and unbidden at the boy’s words. Lara turned away quickly, wiping the evidence of her grief with her two hands.

“Mother! I am sorry,” her son cried. “I shall not speak of my father again.”

“Nay!” Lara said. “Nay! You must always speak of him, for as long as people speak of Magnus Hauk he is yet with us. His memory must remain, Taj. He was a great Dominus. Only a great man would have listened to me when I realized the men of Terah had been cursed by Usi. Only a great man would have had the courage to fly in the face of Terahn tradition and trust a woman to correct a bad situation, but your father did. His loss is so new, my son. And I will weep for him easily now. In time I will grow stronger, and my cold faerie heart will be hard once more. I have encased it in ice already, but the ice seems to melt at the mere mention of Magnus Hauk.” She brushed the tears that continued to flow away again. “I suppose it is that small bit of me that is mortal.” She sighed, and gave a watery little chuckle.

The boy put an arm about her shoulders. “It pleases me to see you grieve so for my father,” he said.

Lara almost laughed aloud at Taj’s pronouncement. It was just the sort of thing Magnus Hauk would have said to her. “You are truly your father’s son,” she told him as he hugged her close.

“You must rest now, Mother, for tomorrow will be a big day for all of Terah,” Taj said to her, but she shook her head.

“Nay. I will go and don the finest robes I have. Then I will sit at the foot of your father’s bier in the Great Hall of the castle until the morrow. The people have been coming all day to pay their respects. We must open the doors to them soon,” Lara told him. “It is tradition that a Domina sit at the foot of her husband’s coffin and greet his people as they come to mourn him. I will not neglect that tradition.” She kissed Taj’s cheek. “Come into the hall while I am there, and greet the people.”

“I will,” he promised her.

She left him, and went to her own chamber where Mila, her serving woman, was waiting for her. Lara was surprised to see that Mila had laid out a simple white silk robe, its round neckline and long full sleeves edged in shining gold threads. “You think this appropriate?” she asked the servant.

Mila nodded. “He has been dressed in his finest and richest robes, Domina. You in a simple gown will show all of Terah your respect for Magnus Hauk by your lack of ostentation. It is the Terahn way, Domina, but as you have never attended to the death of a family member before you would not know that. All of them, even the young Dominus, will dress plainly so as not to take anything away from Magnus Hauk, for this is his time.”

Lara felt the tears coming again. She collapsed briefly into a chair and wept softly. Finally drawing a long, deep breath she arose. “I will bathe first, Mila.”

“Of course, Domina,” the serving woman replied.

The women in the bath were ready for their mistress. Lara was too weary and sad for conversation, and they understood. When she had finished her ablutions she returned to her bedchamber, where Mila helped her dress and brushed out her long golden hair. The servant fit a narrow gold band about her mistress’s head. The band had a small bloodred ruby in its center. Mila lastly fit a pair of golden kidskin slippers on Lara’s dainty feet. “Stand up, Domina, and let me see if all is right,” she said.

Lara stood. The silk in the loose gown felt cool against her legs. It would be a comfortable gown in which to sit, she thought. Turning, she looked at herself in the tall mirror. It was indeed a modest gown, and if Terahn custom demanded it then she was content to wear it. “Tell the majordomo that the doors to the hall are to be opened to the people at the noon hour.”

“I’ll go immediately, and you eat something from that tray.” Mila pointed to the sideboard where the tray sat. Then she hurried out.

Lara lifted the napkin covering the tray. Then she let it fall back again. Her appetite was practically nonexistent at this moment. She knew in time that she would eat again, but right now she could not entertain the thought. She did sip a cup of Frine. Then, leaving her apartments, Lara went to the Great Hall, where Magnus Hauk’s body now lay in state. The hall was empty, to her relief, for the coffin and its bier were newly arrived. A single small plain wooden throne had been placed at her husband’s feet.

Lara walked to where her husband lay. They had indeed dressed him in robes of incredible richness such as she had never seen. She did not recognize them at all. From where had they come? Lara looked upon the body. It looked like Magnus Hauk, and yet it didn’t. That spark that had given her mortal husband life was no longer there. His body was but a shell, and Lara sensed if she touched it it might shatter. Reaching out, she straightened one of his short golden curls. His eyes were closed, veiling forever the bright turquoise-blue of his wonderful eyes.

“Ah, my love,” she murmured softly. “It was a cruel and unfair end. What shall I do without you?” Then she bent and kissed his cold lips before taking her place in the throne at his feet. She could hear the bells in the castle’s clock tower tolling the noon hour, and as the last strike sounded the great wooden doors to the hall opened. Lara sat straight up in her chair.

Slowly, hesitantly, the first of the mourners entered respectfully. Their eyes noted the Domina who sat quietly on her throne at her husband’s feet. Looks of approval passed between the people as they noted her simple garb, her swollen eyes. Many of them had never seen Magnus Hauk’s faerie wife before this day, for Terah was a great land of plains, mountains and seven fjords all opening onto the Sea of Sagitta, but they had heard much good of her.

They had traveled from their scattered farms and villages when the word had reached them of Magnus Hauk’s death. Many of them for two days, coming in from the countryside by foot and in carts. Sailing up the Dominus’s Fjord in their small boats. They had waited outside the castle for their opportunity to mourn their ruler. They did not know the Dominus personally, but they did know that in his reign there had been peace, and prosperity, that in the reign of Magnus Hauk the curse of Usi had been lifted from them. It was public opinion that Magnus Hauk had been a good ruler.

Lara sat for the next several hours in silence as the mourners filed by her husband’s bier. Afternoon slipped into evening and evening into night. There was a small stir as Lady Persis entered the Great Hall. The crowd parted for her as she made her way to where Lara sat. Embracing her daughter-in-law she said softly, “You are a Domina to be proud of, Lara. I am glad that my son was so fortunate in his wife.”

“Sit by me for a time,” Lara invited Lady Persis. “You are his mother, and you once wore the Domina’s crown.” She moved from the center of her throne to make a place for the old woman.

Lady Persis’s eyes filled with quick tears. Nodding, she accepted the invitation so graciously tendered and sat beside Lara for the next two hours. An audible murmur of approval had arisen from the mourners at the sight of the two women seated on the single throne at the foot of the coffin. Finally the young Dominus entered the hall, and escorted his grandmother out.

The night deepened. And then among the mourners there appeared familiar faces as the clan chiefs of the New Outlanders came into the hall. Liam of the Fiacre, Vanko of the Piaras, Imre of the Tormod, Roan of the Aghy, Floren of the Blathma, Rendor of the Felan, Torin of the Gitta and Accius of the Devyn. Floren had brought with him a magnificent display of flowers from his own fields, which he now set about the bier. Lara wept at the tribute, unable to help herself. With Magnus’s permission she had brought these clans from Hetar where they had been preyed upon by the government there. They had been resettled on the far side of the Emerald Mountains where there had been no inhabitants. The clans of the New Outlands had made the land their own, and had been ever grateful and loyal to Magnus Hauk for his generosity. Now they came to mourn him.The native-born Terahns again nodded at one another favorably.

The night began to wane, and during a brief lull Mila came bringing a cup of Frine Anoush had mixed with strengthening herbs for her mother. Lara was numb with her weariness and sorrow. She went to wave Mila away but then the voice of her guardian spirit, Ethne, chided her gently in the silent language from the crystal star she inhabited that hung around Lara’s slender neck.

You are far from death yourself, my child. You must keep your courage high at this time. You have done well so far but a new day is dawning, and at its end you will bid a final farewell to Magnus Hauk. But with every ending comes a new beginning. You know this to be so. Now drink the Frine that your daughter has prepared for you.

Lara took the carved silver goblet from Mila. “Thank you, and tell Anoush I thank her, as well,” she said. Then, putting the cup to her lips, Lara slowly drank its contents. Almost immediately she felt her spirit lighten, and the strength pouring back into her. She almost smiled. Anoush did not have her magic, but she certainly had her own where herbs were concerned. That and the special sight she possessed made the girl very special. But Anoush had a fragile spirit that concerned her mother.

The sun rose. It would be a beautiful day. The crowds of mourners began to thicken once again. And then as the bell tower struck the midday hour sixteen men came to carry the open coffin of the Dominus down to the ship that would carry him on his final journey. The men chosen as coffin bearers were the eight clan chiefs of the New Outlands; Magnus Hauk’s four brothers-in-law Corrado, Tostig, Armen and his wife’s brother, Prince Cirillo of the Forest Faeries; the great Shadow Prince Kaliq; Master Ing, Corrado’s older brother; Fulcrum, Chief of the Jewel Gnomes; and Gultopp, Chief of the Ore gnomes. Each was dressed in deep blue and sky-blue striped breeches topped with tunics of grass-green and short capes fashioned from cloth of gold and cloth of silver. The colors represented the sea that surrounded Terah, the sky above it and the green of its mountains and plains. The cape colors depicted the sun and the moon that shone on Terah. Beside each of the coffin bearers walked a representative from the villages on the seven fjords.

The bearers hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders. Then, led by Lara and the young Dominus, Taj Hauk, they walked with measured cadence to the lift. The wooden boards of it creaked as they all stepped on it. Then the Mountain Giant who operated the lift began to slowly lower the platform. It was so heavy they could hear him grunting with his effort, but finally the platform came to a smooth halt. The coffin bearers stepped from the lift and, led by Lara and Taj Hauk, moved with a dignified rhythm down the long stone quay to the vessel that was tethered at its end.

Lara hardly recognized the ship as the one that had killed her husband. The cracked main mast had been replaced by a straight new spar that was hung with fresh sails. They were not the lavender-colored sails that Terah’s Captain of all Captains, Corrado, favored. These sails were deep purple with starbursts of silver and gold. It was a beautiful boat, and Corrado had personally overseen its construction. Its color was a sparkling white. The glass in its bow cabin window sparkled in the sunlight reflecting the water below it. Its brass railings were polished to a high sheen. And on the prow of the ship had been affixed the figure of a winged faerie in a lavender gown, the fabric of the garment carved to appear as if it were blowing in the wind.

The bearers solemnly marched up the gangway and set the coffin down on the deck midship. The stone quay had been lined with mourners. There were many others crowding the hillsides on both sides of the fjord. Waiting at the gangway had been Lady Persis and her three daughters, along with Lara’s mother, Ilona, Queen of the Forest Faeries, and her consort, Thanos, Arik, High Priest from the Temple of the Great Creator, and his female counterpart, Kemina. Each reached out to touch the body in a final farewell as it passed them. Once the open casket bearing Magnus Hauk’s body had been delivered to the vessel, those accompanying it left the ship. Lara and Taj came to escort Lady Persis back up into the castle. They would be hosting a feast in the Great Hall for all who had come to bid their Dominus goodbye.

In the Great Hall they celebrated the life of Magnus Hauk. Accius of the Devyn, whose people were bards, had written a saga of the Dominus’s life. Now the New Outlander entertained everyone gathered by singing his creation. He sang of the Terahns who believed their women mute, and had never heard a woman’s voice until Lara arrived. He sang of how she had captured the heart of Magnus Hauk, and lifted the curse of Usi, which had really been on its men, and not the women. He sang of the Dominus’s generosity in saving the clan families from enslavement in Hetar; of how Magnus Hauk’s heart and mind had come to be open to change; of how he had become a strong leader for his people. He had been a good son to his mother; a good brother to his sisters; a sire to all the children who called him Father; and a great lover and husband to his faerie woman wife. Now the era of Magnus Hauk was ended. Accius of the Devyn sang of how Magnus Hauk’s son, the Dominus Taj, was a young man of great promise. A true tribute to his noble father.

“May he rule in peace and prosperity as did his sire before him,” Accius ended his tribute, bowing first to the young Dominus, then his mother and the rest of the guests.

There was much appreciative clapping as the Devyn bard took his seat again.

“There is something I must do before we conclude this,” Lara said softly to her young son. “I will leave my image behind so that no one knows I am gone.” She touched his cheek gently, and then was gone. Materializing first in her own chambers, she took down her sword, Andraste, which hung above the hearth. Then she reached for her staff, Verica. Verica had been away from her for a few years while he accompanied Lara’s eldest son to the desert kingdom of the Shadow Princes. Kaliq had returned him to her when Dillon had gone to Belmair. Her two companions in her firm grasp, Lara magicked them into the stables, where she hurried to the stall of her great white stallion, Dasras. Browsing in his oat bucket, he looked up, recognizing her footsteps.

“Mistress, my condolences,” he said, and bowed to her.

“Thank you,” Lara said. “Now you three must go and pay your farewells to Magnus Hauk. He has sheltered you all these many years.”

“Indeed,” Dasras replied. “It is only right, Mistress.”

“We must hurry, for his vessel will set sail at sunset,” Lara told them. Then, grasping a handful of the stallion’s thick, silvery-white mane, she vaulted onto his back, reaching for her sword and staff, which she had leaned against the stall wall.

There was no one in the stables as all were at the feast, but had there been no one would have been startled by the stable doors which opened before them. Lara rode out onto the stone quay, and up the gangway onto the deck of the ship. It bobbed gently in the flat sea about it. Lara slid off Dasras’s back.

The stallion bent his head, and touched the forehead of the dead man with his velvety muzzle. “May your journey be a safe one, Magnus Hauk. May your destination be all that you could imagine. I thank you for your kindness and your generosity to me.”

The wood staff, Verica, opened his eyes, staring down at the Dominus. “Be at peace, mortal,” he said.

Lara’s sword, Andraste, began to sing softly, her ruby eyes glowing. Usually when Andraste sang it was in a deep voice, and her song was one of threatening terror and imminent doom to all who heard it. Now, however, the voice she sang with was sweeter than honey, her words reassuring. “You have earned your place among those few especial mortals, Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah. Your progeny will honor your name forever. Walk in the light you have made yourself by your good deeds and your good heart. I bid you farewell!”

Lara’s eyes misted briefly. Andraste’s tribute to Magnus Hauk had come from the very core of the magic weapon. Andraste did not suffer fools, or give praise lightly. “Thank you all,” she told her closest companions. Then, using her magic, she sent them back to their places. Alone on the ship Lara sank to the deck next to the open coffin. “I have done everything that was expected of me, and more, my lord,” she told him. “I am not Terahn born, but I have kept Terahn customs better than any Terahn. No one will question our son’s blood, my love. And in these few days I have certainly seen how much like you he really is. Did you see how he put Narda and Aselma in their places?” She laughed softly. “He is pure mortal Terahn, Magnus. He will be a good Dominus, but I would have preferred it if he were older.” She sighed. “I have prevented any challenge to Taj’s rights by appointing our brothers-in-law as the Dominus’s Council. They say they will leave me in peace to do what I must, but I wonder, Magnus. I wonder.”

Lara reached out and touched her husband’s lifeless face. “I do not think I can bear it without you, but I have to, don’t I?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Taj needs me, and so do Anoush, Zagiri and Marzina.” She sighed again. “My mother warned me that giving my faerie heart to a mortal would bring me eventual sorrow. At least now you do not have to grow old while I remain as I am. Oh, Magnus! There wasn’t enough time. There just wasn’t enough time!” And Lara wept.

“You cannot stay here any longer.” The voice of the Shadow Prince, Kaliq, pierced through her grief. “Your image is beginning to waver, and you will cause a panic if it disappears entirely. Your hall is full of mortal beings who are not used to your faerie magic, Lara, my love. Have mercy upon them, I beg you.”

She looked up to see him standing by her side. “Nay, I don’t want them remembering Magnus Hauk’s Farewell as the time his faerie wife disappeared before their eyes.” She stood up. “Return!” she said and found herself back in the hall in her seat. Reaching out, she touched her son’s cheek with her fingertips to let him know she was returned. “The sun is close to setting, my lord Dominus,” she told him.

Taj Hauk stood up, and immediately the Great Hall grew silent. “It is time,” he told them all. Then he stepped from the dais and led his mother from the High Board through the crowds in the large chamber.

“Give us a blessing, faerie woman,” some dared to beg as they passed by, and when they did Lara would smile sweetly and say that they now had it.

“They love her,” Lady Persis said to her daughters.

“I don’t know why they should,” Narda muttered.

“Nor I,” Aselma agreed.

“It is because you do not know her,” Sirvat told them. “If you did you would not be so spiteful, sisters.”

“She bewitched our brother, and held him in her thrall, yet she could not save him from death,” Aselma said bitterly.

“It is not within a faerie’s powers to keep death away for long,” Sirvat responded. “She did what she could so Magnus might make his last wishes known. And she healed my husband of grievous wounds.”

“Well,” Narda said, “at least our husbands will be in charge of directing our nephew’s path. Terah will be as it has always been.”

“Aye!” Aselma echoed.

“How ignorant you both are,” Sirvat answered. “Terah will never be as it was. Not now that Hetar knows us. Magnus knew that, and was wise enough to raise a defense force to keep us strong and safe.”

“And that would have never had to happen if she hadn’t come here,” Narda replied. “She has brought the misfortune of strangers upon us.”

“If Lara hadn’t come our men would still be deaf to our voices, although I imagine there are times Tostig would be happy not to hear your discontented carping,” Sirvat said sharply. “Terah is the better for Lara. Our brother is gone, but she gave him a fine son who has taken his place as our Dominus. Now see if you can both cease your bitterness long enough to honor our brother as he leaves us.”

“Your sister is correct in all she says,” Lady Persis said quietly.

“What, Mother? Do you take Lara’s side now?” Aselma wanted to know.

“When Lara came I will admit I was not happy, for I expected my son to wed a Terahn girl, but the truth is none suited him. Lara, however, did suit him. She has been a good wife to your brother, giving him children, and while she is bolder than Terahn women, it pleased your brother that she was. Look at all that has happened since his death three days ago. Could any Terahn-born Domina have acted more suitably, my daughters? She has honored the customs of this land scrupulously. I know now more than ever how fortunate my son was in his choice of a wife. Now cease your meanness.”

Narda and Aselma were surprised by their mother’s words. They grew silent, and now, joined by their husbands, came down from the castle and walked in procession to the great vessel whose sails had all been raised now. Arik, High Priest of the Temple of the Great Creator, came forward joined by the High Priestess from the Temple of the Daughters of the Great Creator, Kemina. They held their hands up to the evening sky.

“As death follows life, and night the day, we give thanks, Great Creator, for the life of Magnus Hauk,” Arik said in a strong voice that carried throughout the entire crowd, and even across the fjord.

“For three days his essence has hovered near the body that housed it. It is now time for Magnus Hauk to begin his journey into the next life, Oh Great Creator,” Kemina said, her own voice carrying well.

“May he be at peace, and leave us contented in the knowledge that in his time here he did well, and that the fruit of his loins will follow in his footsteps,” Arik said. The High Priest presented the young Dominus with a flaming torch.

A small cry of surprise arose from the crowd when Taj Hauk handed the burning brand to his mother. A murmur of approval followed as Lara reached out to take her son’s hand and place it on the hand that held the torch. Together they stepped forward setting the coffin of Magnus Hauk afire. Priests from the temple quickly came aboard to see that the entire ship was torched. Taj Hauk sliced through the ropes holding the boat to the stone quay. A light wind sprang up, and the flames began to leap higher as the vessel slipped out into the fjord and began to move downstream.

The young Dominus in the company of Corrado, the men of the family and specially chosen male guests would follow the ship out to sea, escorting it until it was burned to the waterline and sank. Lara invited the women of the family to return to the castle and watch the burning boat until it was no longer visible. They came, of course, but only Lara stood watching from a garden terrace until the flames were no longer visible. She struggled to sense his presence, but Magnus Hauk had truly gone for good. He had not lingered. Once more she wept softly, alone, for she wanted no comfort now. She needed to release her grief entirely so that she might be clearheaded, and better able to aid her son as he began his rule.

Corrado’s ship did not return that night. The mourners began to return to their own homes. Aselma and Narda would have remained waiting for Armen and Tostig, but their mother told them no. She promised them that Lara would return their husbands to them by means of her magic, but they must go. “I am going, too. And Sirvat, as well.”

As she saw her mother-in-law off Lara thanked her.

Lady Persis smiled the first kind smile she had ever smiled at Lara. “You need time to gather your strength, my daughter. Remember I know the truth of my son’s last wishes, and will keep your secrets. I will return when Taj is formally crowned.” Then she kissed Lara upon both cheeks with her cold, dry lips.

“She puts me to shame by her example,” Lara’s mother, Ilona, said sourly. “Come back to the forest with me. The old witch is right. You do need to gather your strength.”

“Your realm has never given me strength,” Lara replied. “I need to be here. Terah is from where I take my strength.”

“Let me have Marzina, then, for a brief time,” Ilona said.

“Not yet, Mother. Marzina needs to be with her brother and sisters now. I will send her to you in time,” Lara promised.

“You are so protective of that child,” Ilona complained. “I am her grandmother, after all. She is pure magic, and I have much to teach her, Lara.”

Lara felt a stab of irritation. “I wish you had been as thoughtful of me when I was her age,” she said. Then she relented. “Marzina is fortunate to have you, Mother.”

“Of course she is,” Ilona said calmly. “Do you think Persis can teach her anything of value? Persis would teach her to be obedient to male domination, and how to make conserves, and sugared violets. Bah! Marzina is magic, and I will teach her how to use it. With her bloodline she will be a great sorceress when she is grown.”

“She is Magnus’s daughter, a Terahn princess,” Lara replied in an even voice.

Ilona laughed. We know better, you and I, she said in the silent language.

Lara grew pale. You are cruel to remind me, Mother. Marzina must never know that the Twilight Lord violated me upon the Dream Plain when I was carrying Taj, and set his seed to bloom in me so that she was born when Taj was. You told everyone who would listen when I birthed her that she favored a Nix ancestress. No one has ever questioned her birth. Aye, magic courses through her veins, but the Twilight Lord was an evil being. I will not deny Marzina her talent, but I want it used only for good. Once you begin to teach her serious magic who knows what will be unleashed in her, Lara said.

And only you or I can educate her to control any wickedness that may arise in her, the Queen of the Forest Faeries replied.

“She is still too young,” Lara answered.

“She is thirteen,” Ilona responded.

“Let our lives settle themselves back into a normal pattern. I will send her to you before the next Icy Season,” Lara promised her mother.

“It is agreed, then,” Ilona said. “Farewell, Daughter.” And she was gone in a burst of purple smoke.

Lara sighed with relief. But for her daughters the castle was now empty of all guests. Everyone had returned home but for those with Corrado. She sought for her daughters, finding them in her private garden. It was a small, pretty space on a promontory that overlooked the Dominus’s Fjord. On three sides of the garden high, vine-covered walls offered a view of the water. On the fourth side a castle tower soared into the skies above. Lara slipped off her shoes before walking out onto the fresh green grass where Anoush, Zagiri and Marzina were now seated near a bed of bright yellow and white spring flowers. A small nearby miniature almond tree was in bloom, its pink blossoms delicately scenting the air. Lara came and sat with them.

“It seems strange without Father here,” Zagiri said softly.

“I cannot sense him at all,” Marzina agreed.

“He has gone,” Lara told them. “Sometimes spirits will linger, but his did not. I do not know why that is, but it is.”

“It hurt too much to stay,” Anoush told her companions. “He told me that before he went. He did not want any of us to stand still as if waiting for his return. He wanted us all to move forward with our lives.”

“Can you sense him at all?” Lara asked her eldest daughter.

Anoush shook her head. “He is gone, Mother.”

“His vessel must have gone far that those accompanying it are not yet back,” Zagiri noted. “It was a magnificent Farewell. I wonder that more Terahns do not do it.”

“Not all Terahns have access to the sea, or have vessels to burn,” Lara replied. “Usually such Farewells are reserved for a Dominus and his family.”

“What will we do now?” Marzina wondered.

“Our lives will continue as they always have,” Lara told her daughters.

“How can they without Father?” Marzina responded anxiously. “Nothing will ever be the same again, Mother! Nothing!”

“You are correct,” Lara said. “Nothing will ever be the same as it has been with Magnus Hauk in our midst. It will be totally different, and yet it will also be familiar. Although your father has left us, it does not mean we will change the pattern of our days. Tomorrow you and Zagiri will begin your lessons once again, and Anoush will prepare for her annual trek to the New Outlands to visit her father’s family. If Taj is back then he will resume his studies once more. Your father would not want us to stop living because he is no longer living.”

“Taj is the Dominus now,” Marzina replied. “Why should he need to continue studying? He is his own man.”

“Taj is still a boy, and his capacity for knowledge will never be satisfied, for he is like his father,” Lara said. “Besides, no man, or woman for that matter, should rule from a position of ignorance, Marzina. And none of us should ever stop learning.”

“You don’t know half of what you will need to know to be a good Terahn wife,” Zagiri remarked. “Even I still have much to learn, and I am four years your senior.”

“I do not need to know any more about cooking and soap making,” Marzina said scornfully. “I want to learn more magic. Grandmother Ilona has promised to teach me.”

“And provided your behavior is exemplary over these next few months I shall allow you to go to her just before the Icy Season,” Lara said quietly.

Marzina’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Oh, Mother!” she gasped. “Really? Truly? I can go to Grandmother soon?”

“If you show me that you are mature enough to be taught by your grandmother, Marzina, then just before the Icy Season begins you may go to the Forest Kingdom. But not a moment before. If, however, you act the spoiled princess as you sometimes do, if you play wicked magic tricks on the servants, then I shall decide that you are not yet old enough to be away from home. Your grandmother will not be an easy taskmistress.”

“I will be good,” Marzina promised.

“Hah!” Zagiri said scornfully. “I shall be amazed if you are.” She mischievously stuck her tongue out at her younger sister. “Want to turn me into a toadstool, brat?”

Marzina’s purple eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, “but I might make your careless tongue sprout with toadstools, sister dear.”

Zagiri shrieked, horrified, for she knew Marzina could do exactly what she threatened to do.

“This is not the kind of behavior that will gain you the privilege of going to your grandmother’s, Marzina,” her mother said quietly.

“I didn’t say I would, Mother. I just said I might,” Marzina answered pertly.

Lara had to laugh. “Well, threatening is as bad as doing it, so control your anger in the future. You must learn that or else your magic will control you, and not the other way around.” She turned to Zagiri. “You are happy being what you are, my golden daughter. Please let Marzina be what she is meant to be. You should help one another. Now I would be alone in my garden. Leave me, my darlings.”

They all arose from the soft lawn, and the three sisters hurried back into the castle. Lara walked to the end of her garden, and, reaching a wall, looked down the Dominus’s Fjord and out to the sea. Suddenly she could just make out a faint smudge of lavender upon the horizon. It would be the sails of Corrado’s vessel, and it was headed home. A wave of sadness overwhelmed her briefly. It was finished. Magnus was gone. She felt the ice about her cold faerie heart harden with her admission of fact. The small bit of mortal within her retreated, cowed by the magic thundering through her veins now. There was no time for mortal weakness anymore.

But her brief mourning had weakened her. She needed to go where she might regain her strength again, and she knew just the place. But first she must set her household in order. Taj would return by nightfall. She could not escape until everything was as it should be. She would ask Corrado to stay at the castle while she was gone, for she could not leave her children without proper supervision. But she needed a few days to herself. She needed to draw deep from her well of strength. Even a faerie woman had her limits though few would consider that.

Lara felt a soft breeze touch her face. It smelled of both the sea and the spring flowers that grew on the cliffs around them. She breathed deep, and felt a wave of peace flow over her. A smile touched her lips. She would have a small respite before she would be needed. Her instincts told her that, and Lara was both glad and relieved. Looking out toward the sea, she could see the lavender smudge taking on the shape of sails. The return of Corrado’s ship meant a whole new era was beginning. And once again Lara’s destiny was moving closer.


CHAPTER THREE

THE OASIS OF Zeroun sat amid the rough golden desert sands. Above it was a cloudless blue sky with its bright, hot sun shining down. The sun felt good on her shoulders. Little had changed in the years since she and her giant friend, Og, had stopped at the oasis. The great tall trees with their curving, rough brown trunks capped by crowns of green fronds still towered over it. The stone well still stood at its center. And that wonderful oddity in the midst of the desert, a crystal pool with a soft sandy bottom and a waterfall amid the rocks of the oasis. Lara smiled as she looked about her. There was nothing in sight but desert. Once she had thought the sight both beautiful and frightening, but that was before her faerie powers had fully manifested themselves. Now as Lara gazed upon the world about her she simply thought it beautiful.

A wave of her hand, and a pale turquoise-blue silk tent with a striped turquoise and coral silk awning was erected. Lara stepped inside, and waved her hand once more. A large platform covered with a lime-green silk feather mattress appeared, and above it another awning striped in lime-green and gold. A single low ebony table materialized, a polished brass bowl filled with succulent fresh fruits in its center along with a crystal decanter of Frine. Multicolored pillows in shades of blue, coral and green popped from the air itself, and surrounded the table. An ebony trunk banded in brass appeared at the foot of the bed. Lara smiled. It was perfect.

Shedding her single white robe, she walked from the tent and into the cool waters of the pool. The sand beneath her feet was as soft as she remembered it. She swam slowly about the pool, emerging beneath the waterfall and letting the icy stream soak her pale golden head. Swimming back to the edge of the pool, she emerged to let the sun warm her naked body. Lara sighed deeply. It was perfect. For the next few days she would be free of all cares. Alone. She would rest and regain her strength in this place she remembered so fondly from her girlhood. Returning to the tent, she lay down, and slept for the next several hours.

When she awoke the night was falling. Lara stepped outside the tent and placed a small protective spell about the oasis. She might have raised a fire in the old stone fire pit that was still there, but she chose not to do so. While the Oasis of Zeroun was off the beaten track, she still did not want a fire attracting the attention of anyone wandering the desert at night. She magicked a brazier to heat her tent. Then she conjured a small loaf of warm bread, and a bit of cheese that she ate with her fruit. Having satisfied her appetite, she fell back into bed, and slept until midday of the following day.

For the next three days she followed the same routine. She ate, she slept, she swam, and now and again she let the hot desert sun bake her for a few minutes. Lara could feel the strength flowing back into her from the moment she had awakened that first morning. Stepping through her tent on the fourth evening, she found Kaliq waiting for her. “My lord!” she said, surprised to see him. Lara walked to the ebony trunk, and drew forth a pale green silk gauze gown which she slipped on over her head.

“Did you really think you could come into the Kingdom of the Shadow Princes, and I would not know you were here?” he asked her, smiling his seductive smile.

“Did I need your permission to come to Zeroun?” Lara asked him as she reached for a small bunch of magenta-colored grapes, and began plucking them one by one, putting them into her mouth and eating them.

“Why did you not tell me you were here?” he asked.

“I wanted to be alone. I was worn-out both emotionally and physically with the shock of my husband’s death,” Lara told him honestly. “Sometimes that small bit of me that is mortal overcomes me, Kaliq.”

“I would have had you come to Shunnar,” he said.

“But I did not want to go to your palace,” Lara told him. “I wanted to be alone to regain my strength, my equilibrium. I wanted to be able to think without all the distractions of my family, of my responsibilities, of Terah.”

“He put too much on your shoulders,” Kaliq said. “You are faerie, not mortal.”

Lara laughed, and, walking across the tent, she sprawled down on the bed next to him. “Will you always persist in trying to protect me, Kaliq?” she teased him gently.

“Aye,” he told her. She smelled of sunlight and fresh air. “Will you always persist in trying to tempt me?” the Shadow Prince countered.

“I don’t have to try,” Lara told him boldly. “Do I?”

“Nay, you do not,” he admitted. He touched her shoulder with a single fingertip, and her silk gauze robe dissolved.

Smiling up into his intense gaze, Lara magicked his white robes away. “And now, my lord?” she asked him softly.

His mouth met hers in a scorching kiss that seemed to go on and on and on. He seemed to absorb her with his lips. Her body arched, her full breasts meeting his hard, smooth chest. “Aah, my love, is it too soon?” he asked, ever thoughtful.

“I am faerie, Kaliq, and you know we cannot live long without passion. My husband is dead. He will not return to me. Nor would he, knowing my nature, expect me to deny myself pleasures.” She caressed his jawline, and ran her fingers through his dark hair as his deep blue eyes devoured her. “Make love to me, my lord,” she said softly.

He smiled down into her green eyes. Within the magical realm he was considered a powerful creature. He had his whole existence enjoyed the female race, but never until Lara had he truly given his heart. “Faerie witch,” he murmured against her lips. “Do you think to command my obedience? Remember who I am.”

Lara smiled up into his sapphire eyes. “I know who you are, my lord. You are a deliciously lustful being with whom I have always enjoyed taking pleasures. How long has it been, Kaliq, since you last sheathed yourself within me?” Reaching down, she caressed his hard cock. Her fingers ran up its length, and then back down again.

“You think I do not remember?” His head dropped to one of her breasts, and he licked the nipple slowly, the pointed tip of his tongue encircling the thrusting nub of flesh. “Was it not when I brought you back from the kingdom of the Twilight Lord?” He shuddered as she cupped his sac, retaliating by nipping at the tender flesh of her nipple, then sucking it hard.

“You took shameful advantage of me, Kaliq,” she purred as she slipped from his embrace. Twisting her body about, her charmingly rounded buttocks facing him, Lara grasped his length, and licked its taut head. Then, taking him into the warmth of her mouth, she began to slowly suckle upon him.

His big hands fastened about her hips, and he drew her back just enough so that he might avail himself of her pouting slit. Her nether lips were already swollen with her desire. He ran the tip of his tongue between the twin halves, and Lara whimpered. He licked at her, encouraging her juices to flow copiously. He was already dizzy with the scent of her sex. Pushing his tongue between the puckered flesh, he found with unerring aim the heated source of her sex. Peeling her nether lips apart he gazed on it, watching as it swelled before his eyes. Kaliq licked at the sensitive flesh. Then he sucked upon it, and groaned as she drew even harder upon his love rod.

“Do not milk me dry, my faerie witch,” he told her. “I would release my juices into your hidden garden, beloved.”

She immediately released him, and Kaliq put her upon her back, thrusting two fingers deep inside her. She gasped with open pleasure as the fingers moved slowly at first, then faster and faster within her until Lara cried with her small pleasure. Now he swung himself over her, pushing himself deep. And when he had sheathed himself he grew still more, letting her feel his throbbing male member thicken even further inside her.

“Ooh!” Lara sighed softly. “No lover I have ever had is like you, Kaliq.” She twined her fingers into his. “Give me pleasures as only you can, my dear lord.”

Smiling, Kaliq began to ride the woman beneath him. His lust for her burned so hot he was not certain he could give her what she craved before he took his own release. He had never been celibate, even in the years in which she was unavailable to him. And the females he made love to never had cause for complaint. But something was different when he took pleasures with Lara.

Her head swam with delight as his manroot filled her. Her heated passage enclosed him tightly as he probed her strongly. Her husbands had both pleased her in their bedsport, but with Kaliq it was always incredible. Lara wrapped her legs about his torso so he might thrust deeper, and he did. Her passions flamed, and she raked her nails down his long back.

“That’s it, my faerie witch,” he groaned in her ear. “Mark me with your claws as I will mark you with my kisses.” His mouth closed over hers, and he kissed her deeply, hungrily, his tongue dancing sensuously with hers.

Lara could feel her desire rising more than she believed it could. “Give me pleasures, my lord,” she demanded of him. “I need those pleasures that only you have ever been able to give me! Please, Kaliq! Do not hold back! I need you!”

Deeper and harder. Harder and deeper. The Shadow Prince thrust over and over again into his lover. Her head thrashed back and forth. She crested with a soft scream, and the pleasures came and came and came as she had never known them. Her body arched up against him as her legs fell away. He forced her down as he drove her harder.

Starburst after starburst exploded behind Lara’s eyelids. She wasn’t certain that she was breathing. She was awash in a pleasure that kept coming and coming and coming until she cried out a second time. “You’re killing me, Kaliq!”

His body shuddered briefly, and then as if he had gained additional strength he pushed her further into a world of unbridled passion. “Do you want me to stop?” his voice ground out harshly. “Do you?”

“Nay! Nay! I need more, my love. More!” Lara half sobbed.

He redoubled his efforts. His great manhood seemed to thrust into her so deeply that she was certain it touched her heart. He fell into a hypnotic rhythm that both soothed and excited her further. His kisses covered her face, her throat, her chest. The heat from his lips scorching her, branding her in a way he never had before. Lara could feel her heart beating wildly. Then suddenly it happened. The pleasure surrounding her exploded throughout her body like nothing that she had ever experienced before. “Kaliq!” She cried his name but once, and then she was being pulled down into a throbbing darkness that reached out to enfold her. Lara’s last memory of that moment was the triumphant sound of his voice shouting, and the feel of his creamy love juices rushing forth to cool her heated passage.

When she finally emerged from her stupor Lara found herself within his tender embrace. She could hear his heart beating with a measured rhythm beneath her ear. His big hand was stroking her long, pale, golden hair. She sighed with contentment, realizing that all her sorrow and fears were gone. And she felt strong once again. His passion had given her new strength. She knew this was not something he did for other women. “You still love me,” she said softly.

“I will always love you,” he said quietly. “You do not have to ask me that, for you know it is true, faerie witch.”

“I am not certain I am worthy of such a love,” Lara responded with a sigh.

“The love is mine to give to whom I choose, my darling,” the Shadow Prince told her. “Now sleep. When you awaken I shall be gone. And it is time that you returned to Terah. The young Dominus needs you, Lara. And be warned. Hetar has learned of Magnus Hauk’s death. Even now they consider their options.”

Lara wanted to engage him in conversation regarding this news, but she could not seem to remain awake. She fell into a deep and restful sleep, and when she awoke she was alone once more. From the way the light was falling outside her tent she could see it was late afternoon. They had spent the previous night making love, and she had slept the day away, but she felt wonderful. Arising she went to bathe in the pool with its sandy bottom, stepping beneath the waterfall to rinse her long hair. Then, seating herself on a smooth rock ledge by the pool, she brushed her hair dry in the sunlight, plaiting it into a single thick braid.

Returning to the tent, she opened the ebony trunk, and drew forth a soft cotton chemise, as well as a beautiful high-waisted turquoise-blue silk gown with long, full sleeves, and a deep square neckline. Reaching into the trunk a second time, she pulled out a pair of matching kid slippers, and slipped them on her feet. A small box at the bottom of the chest held the Domina’s ring. Taking it out, she put it on her finger. Other than the chain with the crystal star about her neck she wore no other jewelry.

Lara stepped from the tent to stand beneath its awning. It was almost sunset at the Oasis of Zeroun, which meant it was almost sunrise in Terah. She would be home when her children awoke. These few days away from her responsibilities had given her new strength and a great clarity. Lara spoke a small silent spell. Invisible to all but me, this shelter no one else shall see. Then with a wave of her hand she commanded a golden passage to open that would connect the Oasis of Zeroun with her castle in Terah. Stepping into it she walked a short distance, emerging into a small windowless room in the castle she used for this sort of magic.

“Good morning, Domina,” her servant, Mila, greeted her as Lara entered her apartments. “You appear well-rested. The children are all well.” Mila knew that thought would be foremost in Lara’s mind. “Shall I bring your breakfast?”

“Aye, I am ravenous,” Lara told her. “While you fetch it I will tell the Dominus that I am returned.” She hurried from her chambers to her son’s apartment. Taj was not yet fully awake as she bent to kiss him. “Good morrow, sleepyhead,” she greeted him.

His turquoise-blue eyes flew open. “Mother! You are back!”

“I am, my lord. Did anything happen while I was gone that requires our attention?” she queried him.

“A faerie post arrived late last night from Hetar,” Taj said as he sat up in his bed. “I said I would review it in the morning.”

“To whom was it addressed?” Lara wanted to know.

“To me,” the boy told her.

“Excellent!” his mother approved. “Trust the Lord High Ruler to follow proper protocol. Jonah is taking no chances at offending us, and because he does not know who the regent is he is being careful.” Lara smiled.

“But he knows who my mother is,” Taj replied ingenuously.

Lara laughed lightly. “Aye, he knows,” she responded. Then she gave him another quick kiss, ruffling his dark gold hair. “I must go and have my breakfast, my lord Dominus. Come to me when you have had yours, and we will see what Hetar wants.”

Her energy was high, and Lara could not believe how well she felt. Scarcely more than a week had passed since Magnus Hauk had been killed. While there was an underlying sadness within her, that sorrow no longer absorbed her. She wondered if death affected everyone this way, or was it just her cold faerie heart that allowed her to put the past behind her, and move on? Whatever the answer she was glad, for weighed down with grief over Magnus Hauk, she could not have managed to do what she must do, and her husband had entrusted her with the fate of their son, and of Terah. She would not fail him, but then she never had failed him.

She ate her meal, and shortly afterward her son joined her carrying the message from Hetar. Taj handed the rolled parchment to his mother. “You open it,” he said.

“Nay,” she told him. “You are the Dominus. You will open it, and you will read it first. Then you will hand it to me for my perusal.”

He was still a boy. He knew he was much too young for the responsibility that had been thrust upon him, and he was afraid. But his natural-born Terahn male pride appreciated the fact that his mother would defer to him in this manner. Women in general might be inferior, but not his mother. His father had told him that. Taj knew Lara was seeking to teach him, and so he opened the message from Hetar, his eyes swiftly scanning its contents. Then he handed it to her.

“What does it say?” she asked him without looking at the scroll in her hand.

“The usual diplomatic language of regret on the death of my father,” Taj said.

Lara now looked at the message. It is with great regret we learn of the untimely death of the great Dominus Magnus Hauk, ruler of the Kingdom of Terah, our most valued ally, it began. Please tender our condolences to your mother, the Domina Lara, your siblings and all of Magnus Hauk’s family. If there is any way in which your friends in Hetar may be of help, you have but to send to us. It was signed, Jonah, Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Lara set the parchment aside upon a table.

“It seems a harmless message,” Taj said.

Lara smiled. “It is. Yet there is menace behind it, my son. You will reply, of course. Hetar may be a dangerous world, but they do value manners above all. How one is perceived is most important to Hetarians. Remember that, my son. Now, have you chosen a secretary, Taj?”

“I thought to raise the chief scribe, Ampyx, to that position,” he answered her. “What think you, Mother?”

“I believe him capable, and loyal,” Lara said. “Will you allow me to appoint him to his new post? Ampyx is no fool, and it will tell him without telling him what your father wanted. He is an old-fashioned Terahn, but he is also intelligent and intuitive.”

“Let us go to the throne room,” Taj said. “And you will stand next to my throne.”

They went to the throne room, and Taj sent a servant for Ampyx. The boy sat himself upon the throne of Terah, which was fashioned of gold with a high pointed back, and studded with gemstones. It had a wide seat with a purple silk cushion upon it. He looked so young and vulnerable sitting upon his seat of office. Lara stood half in the shadows to his left. She briefly let her eyes wander to the tall arched windows that looked out over the green cliffs, the fjord and the sea beyond. She had loved this land from the moment she first saw it.

The door to the throne room opened, and the chief scribe entered. Seeing Taj, Ampyx hurried forward and bowed. He did not notice the Domina until she spoke.

“Master Ampyx,” Lara said in a strong and authoritative voice, “my son has expressed a desire that you become his First Secretary. I have approved his wish. You will begin your duties immediately.”

“I am honored by your trust, my lady Domina,” Ampyx said, bowing to her.

“You will be privy to many secrets, and you will have to keep them,” Lara told him. “Can you do this? Answer honestly, for if you fail the Dominus, or me, the punishment will be terrible,” she warned him.

“My late uncle served the Dominus Enjar, our young Dominus’s grandfather, in the capacity of First Secretary,” Ampyx said. “And before him several of my antecedents served in the Dominus’s household. Service to this family is in my blood, Domina. I know how to keep secrets.” He paused. “May I have your permission to speak freely to you, and to the Dominus?”

“You may,” Lara said, wondering what it was Ampyx needed to say to her.

“It is said that the late Dominus put the Kingdom of Terah in your charge alone,” Ampyx responded slowly. He was a tall man of undetermined age with a large hooked nose, and a completely bald pate. His dark gray eyes showed nothing at all.

“Is it?” Lara replied softly. “And yet it was the Dominus who dictated to you the announcement of his father’s death to be published throughout the kingdom, was it not? And I speak to you today only at the Dominus’s request. It is Dominus Taj Hauk who rules in Terah, Ampyx, and you will certainly tell any who ask you that, will you not?”

Ampyx bowed to Lara again. “Indeed, Domina, I will tell any who ask that such is truth.” And his fathomless eyes shone briefly with his admiration.

“You will help your master to compose a reply to the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. This will be your first duty.”

“Will the Domina wish to see a copy of this missive before it is sent off?” Ampyx asked politely even though he knew the answer she would give.

Lara nodded. “Thank you. That is most courteous of you.” She stepped down from the dais. “See to your duties, then. The Dominus must now return to his lessons.”

The letter to the Lord High Ruler Jonah was composed, and, reading it over, Lara had to admit she could not have done any better herself. My lord Jonah, it began. Your condolences are graciously accepted in the same spirit in which they were given. Terah will mourn the unexpected death of Dominus Magnus Hauk for some time. However, we are a peaceable kingdom, and no help is needed from Hetar. Our ships will continue to trade with yours. And Taj had signed it with a flourish. Lara was pleased. Ampyx was going to prove a valuable asset.

A faerie post messenger was sent for, and carried off the rolled parchment to be delivered to the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Scanning it, Lord Jonah’s coal-black eyes narrowed as he attempted to read between the lines, but there was nothing upon which he could fasten. Thank you. We don’t want your help. Our trade continues. Nothing! He walked to his wife’s bedchamber. Vilia had been ill for several months with some kind of wasting sickness, but her mind was still sharp. He handed her the parchment. “Can you make anything of this?” he asked her.

“There is nothing,” she said, reading it.

“Does he really rule Terah, I wonder?” Jonah said.

“Not unless he is some sort of genius, but with Lara for a mother who knows. He is, after all, our Egon’s age. Be glad of that, Jonah, my love. The Terahns won’t let a woman rule them, and so there is certainly some sort of regent’s council overseeing the boy. We need to know who these men are. Then we may set about to subvert them. Terah will be a rich prize, my love, and it is you who will gain it for Hetar.” Then she fell into a fit of coughing that left her breathless and weak. Her beautiful amber eyes were faded, and her dark brown hair had thinned and was lackluster in color.

“Terah is a rich prize,” Jonah agreed with his wife. “Perhaps if we could gain some kind of serious alliance with the Terahns we could stop the talk of the imminent coming of the Hierarch. The rumors have even reached the High Council, Vilia.”

“The Hierarch is nothing more than a fable,” Vilia said. “A tale to make people feel better in the bad times. He doesn’t exist, Jonah.” She grimaced. “Give me some of that Razi, my love. The pain has returned, and is unbearable.”

He poured some of the liquid narcotic into a goblet for her and handed it to her.

Vilia drank deeply. The Razi was quick to work and masked her pain. “Jonah, you must listen to me. I do not have much time left. I must help you plan now, and if you follow my plan you will be victorious,” she promised him.

“You are not dying,” he told her, but he knew better and so did she.

“We must try again to make a marriage between Egon and the Dominus’s twin sister, Marzina,” she said.

“They will refuse us as they did before,” Jonah said.

“Perhaps not this time,” Vilia replied. “Magnus Hauk is dead. The new Dominus is young, and his regent’s council may decide giving us Princess Marzina as a bride for our son is a good way of keeping us at bay.”

“The Domina Lara will never agree to it,” Jonah said, “and no council of mortal men can stand against her will if she says nay.”

“Then,” Vilia said softly, sitting up again, “you must take one of the Terahn princesses for your new wife. The Dominus’s twin is too young, but Princess Zagiri is not. She is seventeen if my memory serves me correctly. And with the parents who bred her she is certain to be very beautiful, Jonah. Would it not please you to have a succulent young thing like that in your bed? And she could give you more children. Children are valuable bargaining chips, my love. Marry them into the right families and if the Hierarch actually is not a myth and came, you would have the power to combat him.”

“Do not speak to me of dying, Vilia!” But she was dying, and even he could not escape the fact. And yet she was looking out for his best interests as she always had. No man could have had a better wife in that respect, Jonah thought, although she had failed him as a breeder, and their only child was physically weak.

“It is a good idea, my love,” Vilia said.

“I know,” he admitted reluctantly, for he did have a certain loyalty to this dying woman who had been his wife, whose wealthy, important family had supported him so staunchly. But the thought of a young, nubile wife caused his cock to twitch beneath his robes. This Terahn princess was likely to be as fertile as her mother. She could give him strong sons, and beautiful daughters. “Does she have magic, I wonder?” he said aloud.

“My spies tell me not,” Vilia replied. “Neither she nor her younger brother exhibit any signs of it.”

“There is an older daughter, Vartan’s get,” Jonah said.

“I am told she is frail, and she has the Sight. While that has a certain value, as does her bloodline, her frailty would make her a poor breeder,” Vilia pointed out.

“You amaze me as always,” Jonah told his wife. “How did you get spies into Terah, my love?”

Vilia laughed weakly but she did not answer him. Instead she said, “The same way the Domina Lara gets her spies here in Hetar, my love. How is not important. My informants have been told that at my demise their loyalty is to come to you. Now, I will personally open negotiations with the Dominus and his council else they think you insensitive. There is nothing wrong with a wife seeking to see her husband is in good hands when she is gone. I believe we have a better chance of obtaining Princess Zagiri for you than obtaining Princess Marzina for our son, Egon.”

“Lara needs no alliance with Hetar,” Jonah reminded his wife.

“Nay, she does not, but Terah’s ruling council may feel differently,” Vilia said.

“And if they refuse us?” he asked.

“Then we must steal your bride, Jonah, for Terah must be bound to Hetar. We cannot afford another war. With the Domina’s magic we have no chance of winning.”

“But if I am forced to steal her daughter she will surely retaliate,” Jonah said.

“If the girl is compromised, and I certainly expect you to compromise her, then the Domina has no choice but to accept you for her son-in-law,” Vilia replied with a cruel smile. “If you steal her you can hide her in your mother’s Pleasure House until a proper marriage agreement can be made between the Dominus and you. She is a virgin, Jonah. She has not taken any lovers yet, I am assured by those who know. You will have her First Night privileges, my love. Think about it, my love. A sweet, tight love sheath that has never known the pleasures of a manly cock. What joy you will bring her, and she you!” Vilia smiled at her husband. She knew from the look he sought to conceal from her, from the way his robes moved, that he was indeed thinking of a new wife. Jonah was an exceedingly clever and ambitious man, but of late he was not as daring in his actions as he had once been. He needed encouragement, enticement, and the thought of a beautiful young wife was certainly that.

When her husband had left her Vilia called her secretary to her, and dictated a letter to the Dominus Taj Hauk of Terah. Several days later the Dominus read her letter to his mother and his council.

“My lord Dominus, forgive me for intruding upon your mourning, but as I, myself, am nearing my end of days, time is very much of the essence. When you and your twin were born my husband sought a marriage alliance between our son, Egon, and your sister Marzina, which your parents wisely refused. Now I propose a marriage between your sister Princess Zagiri and my soon-to-be widowed husband, Jonah, Lord High Ruler of Hetar.”

“Never!” Lara exclaimed. “Why did you not tell me of this communiqué from Hetar, my lord Dominus?”

“It was addressed to me, Mother,” Taj replied, and she was taken aback by his tone so reminiscent of his father’s tone when annoyed. “Let me continue.”

What had happened to the boy who just several weeks ago had cried in her arms, and claimed he was too young to rule? It was obvious that all the deferential treatment being lavished on her son had turned his head. But she would not embarrass him publicly. However, when they were alone she would speak most firmly to him.

“The physicians tell me I will live but a few more weeks. It would comfort me in my last days to know that my beloved husband will have a proper new wife, and my sickly young son a good stepmother. I do not have to tell you, my lord Dominus, of the advantages such a marriage alliance between Hetar and Terah would have for both of our kingdoms. And your sister will have the privilege as I have had of being wife to Hetar’s ruler, a position for which she is eminently suited. I will eagerly await your thoughts on this proposal…”

“No,” Lara said. “Zagiri will not be married to that man. He is old enough to be her father, my lord Dominus.”

“An older husband is no disadvantage for a young woman. Zagiri needs a firm hand, Mother. He’s young enough to give her children, which could guarantee us peace for years to come,” Taj said to his mother.

His council remained strangely silent.

“We have no quarrel with Hetar now. We should have none in the future, and we are strong,” Lara reminded her son. “Jonah is an evil man. He will not love her, and every woman should be loved by her mate. Why would you condemn your sister to such a fate, my lord Dominus?”

“I am Dominus of Terah, Mother. The decision is mine to make,” Taj replied.

Lara could no longer contain her anger. “You are a Dominus by birth, Taj, but your father placed me in your stead until I deemed you old enough and wise enough to rule. What you propose is both foolish and heartless. We will refuse the offer.”

“I have already told Zagiri of this offer of marriage, and she is not reluctant,” Taj surprised his mother by saying. “My sister knows her duty to Terah.”

“Your sister is as foolish as you are!” Lara snapped. “She sees herself as Queen of Hetar, but she will not be. She would be nothing more than a wife whose husband happened to be in charge. This offer will be refused, Taj.”

“Let us hear from my council,” Taj countered, flushing.

“My lords?” Lara looked to the three men.

“The offer is intriguing, especially as it comes from the Lord High Ruler’s dying wife,” Armen said. “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Vilia is even more manipulative than Jonah,” Lara responded. “The idea is hers I am certain. If Jonah had approached us it would seem unfeeling of his wife’s condition. But by Vilia coming to us she portrays herself as a woman seeking to do a final service for the man whom she has loved and to whom she has been so loyal. You are touched by her caring, are you not, my lords? You are meant to be.”

“Why would she approach us at all when there is peace between us?” Tostig asked. “Can this Lord High Ruler not find a wife of his own?”

“There have of late been rumors in Hetar of the coming of the Hierarch,” Lara said. “Many think the Hierarch a myth. Others believe in him wholeheartedly. The Hierarch would, of course, challenge the rule of the Lord High Ruler. Vilia seeks to make Terah her husband’s ally in the event of such an occurrence,” Lara explained.

“Who is the Hierarch?” Taj asked his mother.

“It is said in Hetar that when things change for the worst, and things become too difficult for the people, that the Hierarch will come, and return everything to as it was before the troubles. He is believed to be like the navigator on a ship. He is supposed to put everything back on its proper course.”

“Why now?” Taj said.

“Because Hetar is going through great changes now, but those changes are not responsible for their difficulties. Their troubles have been caused by a previous government that was both corrupt and greedy. The late Gaius Prospero led Hetar into two ruinous wars. His alleged conquest of the Outlands has been a disaster with only the wealthy profiting. The Midland farmland is worn-out. There is a scarcity of food, and Razi has rendered the poor even more helpless. These are not problems that can be corrected easily, simply or quickly. It takes time, and frankly, despite the few women now getting elected into the Hetarian Council, the government is slow to act, which is very frustrating for the women who see the needs of the people and would correct them.

“Now these rumors of the Hierarch have begun among the citizens of Hetar. For the Hierarch to come and return Hetar to the way it was means the women will once again be subjugated. But the myth suggests that he will also return Hetar to its former prosperity and glory. The people believe this will happen with a wave of the Hierarch’s hand. But this creature is not of the magical world. That I know. He is a mortal whoever he may be, and the truth is it is unlikely he can perform miracles. But desperate people in desperate times are apt to believe anything they are told that offers them a way out of the darkness. Lady Vilia seeks an alliance with Terah in hopes we can prevent the Hierarch, if indeed he exists, from toppling her husband from his lofty throne. She believes if your sister were wife to the Lord High Ruler that we would not want her driven from her own small pinnacle of importance, for it would reflect badly on Terah as well as Hetar.”

“We should not put Princess Zagiri in such a precarious position,” Armen said slowly. “With all due respect to you, my lord Dominus, I believe such a marriage alliance would bring nothing of value to Terah. I deem it inadvisable as a member of your council to offer the princess to the Lord High Ruler.”

“Indeed,” Tostig echoed, “it is likely Terah would suffer in more ways than one should we agree to such a marriage.”

“Let us take a vote on the matter,” Corrado, who had been silent until now, said. “All in favor of refusing the Lady Vilia’s proposal speak out. Aye!”

“Aye!” Armen said.

“Aye,” Tostig agreed.

“Your council has declined to give your sister in marriage to the Lord High Ruler, and I concur with them. Now, my lord Dominus, what say you?” Lara asked him.

“I will agree with the council, my lady Domina. I did not know all the facts,” Taj said loftily in an effort to save face.

Lara was not of a mind to let him off easily. “You acted rashly, my lord. You behaved like the boy you are. You saw what you believed to be a golden prize, and you reached for it greedily without realizing there was rot beneath. Never allow anyone to press you into a decision until you have examined all the facts of the situation. Now you must accept the responsibility of your actions. Go and tell your sister of the council’s decision, and why they have made it. Then return and dictate a refusal to the Lady Vilia,” Lara told her son sternly.

The young Dominus arose from his place at the head of the table, and bowed to them all. He was flushed with his embarrassment as he hurried from the chamber.

“Forgive me, my lords, for acting so harshly with my son,” Lara said, cleverly knowing that the three men in the chamber, while realizing she was correct, were still in sympathy with Taj. Males were, after all, in most cases the superior beings in Terah, but in Hetar that was changing, which the Dominus’s Council disapproved of and found threatening. “He must learn, and I could see no other way of making my point. As I have said before, Hetar is a danger to us. But perhaps under these circumstances it is time for us to find a husband for Zagiri. May I rely upon your advice in such a matter?”

Corrado refrained from chuckling aloud. His sister-in-law had just neatly turned the irritation of his fellow council members away from her angry words to her son. He could see her sly flattery pleased them.

“She will need a husband who cannot be cajoled by her willfulness,” Lara murmured. “And of course his birth must be impeccable, and his wealth without question. You will take your time, my good lords, seeking out such a paragon. It would please me if Zagiri could love her husband, and he her. The candidates you present to me will be winnowed down, and then I will invite them to the castle so Zagiri may come to know them, and they her. If something happy should come of it then we may count ourselves fortunate, eh?” She smiled a dazzling smile at Armen and Tostig.

“I think you are very wise, my lady Domina, to consider seeking a husband for Princess Zagiri,” Armen said. “But what of the Lady Anoush?”

“My eldest daughter is fragile, and with her gifts it is better she pick her own husband, for he will understand her, know her, and not be intimidated by her talents. I suspect she will choose a husband from among her father’s people in the New Outlands,” Lara told her companions. “She prefers living among them.”

Armen nodded. “How wise you are, my lady Domina, that you know your children so well,” he said.

Lara laughed. “Your praise, my lord, is appreciated. Now it is time for me to return you all back to your homes. I thank you for coming this day. I believe the Dominus has learned a good lesson, and you have seen how adroit Hetar’s wickedness can be.” She lifted her hand and spoke the spell. “Return, Lord Armen, from whence you came. Lord Tostig, Captain Corrado, do the same!” And they were gone.

Lara sank back into her chair with relief. What on earth had convinced her son to make a decision without asking her first? Had he not realized the seriousness of playing with his sister’s life? Someone had obviously been encouraging him, and she knew it had to be her mother-in-law. Taj was very fond of the old lady, and visited her regularly several times a week. Lara sighed. She would have to speak with her and the sooner the better. And with the thought and the need she found herself in Lady Persis’s hall.

Her mother-in-law was sitting working a tapestry. She looked up, slightly startled, at Lara’s appearance. It wasn’t often her daughter-in-law visited. “Good afternoon, dear,” she greeted Lara.

“Good day to you, Lady Persis,” Lara responded.

“What brings you to my hall, for you visit only with a purpose,” Lady Persis said astutely. But she did smile a genuine smile.

“You have been encouraging Taj to assert himself,” Lara began.

“He is the Dominus,” Lady Persis replied.

“He is a thirteen-year-old boy whose father died less than a month ago, madame. Today he almost gave his sister in marriage to the soon-to-be widowed Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Do you know what a disaster that would have been?”

“I certainly never told him to do that!” Lady Persis exclaimed. “Which of his sisters? Not Zagiri! Not my beautiful golden girl!”

“Well, what did you tell him then, madame?” Lara demanded to know. “And, aye, it was Zagiri. What is worse is that he told her he was making the arrangement. Now I have sent him to tell her it is not so, and she will be furious having already seen herself in such a high place.”

“I did not mean to cause any trouble,” Lady Persis quavered. “But my grandson is now the ruler of Terah. I just wanted him to behave like a Dominus. I still cannot believe that his father appointed you the regent. You are a woman.”

“Persis, I know it is difficult for you to understand that Magnus came to respect my opinion, and frequently asked my advice, but he did. I have appointed Corrado, Tostig and Armen, Taj’s uncles, to advise me and to advise him. There has been no official announcement regarding my position, and there will be none. I respect Terah’s customs far too much although I hope one day we can make some changes. As far as the average Terahn is concerned Taj is Terah’s ruler. And it is his wisdom that will publicly prevail. As Marzina has so cleverly pointed out I am a Shadow Queen. Taj is young, and this is not the same kingdom his father inherited. Terah is no longer isolated and unknown. Hetar looks to us like a greedy wolf eyeing a fat ewe sheep. My son, for, Persis, he is my son, too, needs to learn that a Dominus must be thoughtful, must have knowledge of all that affects his kingdom, must be clever. Taj has the capacity to learn these things, but until a month ago he was a carefree lad. Magnus was just beginning to teach him what he needed to know. Now I must pick up where my husband left off.

“Magnus was not a child when his father died. He had experience because his father had seen to his education as a future Dominus. Taj needs time to cultivate that experience and learn. You have encouraged him to swagger and make decisions he is not ready to make, Persis. If you expect to receive regular visits from your grandson you must cease this behavior. Taj is Dominus in name only right now, but as long as Terahns believe that he alone rules them they are content. Surely you do not want your grandson’s position challenged, Persis? Both of your daughters have sons, and they would gladly plunge Terah into a civil strife to gain power for their own.”

The old woman had become very pale now. “I did not realize…” she began. “I only wanted to see that Taj was confident in his place.”

“He’s still half child,” Lara replied. “He thinks giving orders is being Dominus.”

“Hetar wants Zagiri for their ruler’s wife?”

Lara carefully explained the situation to her mother-in-law.

“And his own dying wife has importuned you,” Lady Persis said. “She must love him dearly to seek another wife for him as she lies dying.”

“Vilia is a clever woman,” Lara said dryly.

“But you will not let Zagiri make this marriage, Lara, will you?” Lady Persis made no secret that Zagiri was her favorite grandchild.

“Your golden girl is going nowhere,” Lara assured her mother-in-law. “The council agrees, knowing all the facts, that it would be a bad idea, and now that Taj knows he agrees, too. I have, however, made him tell his sister of his change of heart. She will not be happy, but I have also asked the council to seek out prospective candidates for Zagiri’s hand in marriage. I think it is time.”

“Oh, that is a fine idea!” Lady Persis responded. “I might even have a few suggestions to make in that direction myself.”

“Please do,” Lara encouraged her. If the old lady was busy considering husbands for Zagiri she would be less apt to encourage her grandson to behavior he was not yet ready to exhibit. Lara realized that Lady Persis was lonely, and she was grieving Magnus as they all were grieving Magnus. Let her put her energies to something happy. No parent should outlive her child, Lara thought, even though she probably would. “I must return to the castle now, Persis. Taj may need a little bit of help with his sister.”

“You tell my golden girl that I want her to wed in Terah. I cannot lose her,” Persis said. “Goodbye, Lara.” She turned back to her tapestry.

Lara magicked herself back to her apartments. She could hear Zagiri sobbing bitterly, and crying for her as she entered her dayroom. “What are you howling about, Zagiri?” Lara asked although she already knew. Still, Zagiri could be very dramatic when she chose to be, and that was usually when she was not getting something she wanted or thought she wanted.

“Taj said I was to be Queen of Hetar, and now he says I can’t,” Zagiri cried, flinging herself at her mother.

“Hetar has no queen, my darling,” Lara told her as she disengaged her daughter from her person.

“The Lord High Ruler’s wife isn’t his queen?” Zagiri said, surprised.

“She is his wife. Nothing more,” Lara informed her daughter dryly. “And Jonah has a wife who still lives. It would be considered in very bad taste to announce a betrothal while Lady Vilia yet breathes. Besides, Jonah is much older than you are, Zagiri. He wants an alliance with Terah because he stands in danger of losing his throne at the moment. He thinks if he marries you I will use my magic to help him keep that throne. He had no interest in you at all. I want you to wed a man who will love you, and whom you can love. Taj was foolish to tell you he was planning a match with Hetar’s current ruler. He did not understand the entire situation, I fear. Now he does. We will decline Hetar’s offer for your hand, my golden girl. Even your grandmother was distressed to think you might be sent from us. She has begged me not to do it. A request I find easy to accede to, Zagiri. Now dry your eyes. We have already begun a search for a proper mate for you, my darling.”

“I would have liked to be a queen,” Zagiri said slowly, “but I should prefer to be loved, Mother.” The tears were suddenly gone. “I want a man who will love me as Father loved you. Do you think there is such a man out there for me?”

“We shall look for him, Zagiri, but you will know him when you meet him,” Lara promised her daughter.

“Marzina said I was foolish to weep over not being able to marry a man I had never met,” Zagiri informed her mother. “Sometimes Marzina is wiser than I am.”

“Aye, your little sister has good instincts,” Lara agreed.

“Will you find a husband for her one day, Mother?” Zagiri asked.

“Marzina has magic about her,” Lara said slowly. “It takes a special man to love a woman who is magic. Magical women are not easy.”

“Father thought you were wonderful, perfect,” Zagiri answered.

He hadn’t really, Lara thought to herself, but he had been a patient man, for Magnus Hauk had loved her totally and completely. How can I do all this without you, Magnus? She spoke to him in her head and heart once again. I miss you so much. “I am not perfect, Zagiri, and your father knew it. He just loved me, and that is what I want for you, my golden girl. I don’t want a marriage of convenience for you, or for dynastic purposes. I want you to be loved, and to love. When you find a man who can do that, then you will marry. And marry happily. And unless I give you permission to wed, Zagiri, you cannot. Remember that, my daughter.”

“I will, Mother,” Zagiri promised.


CHAPTER FOUR

“THEY HAVE REFUSED us!” Jonah, Lord High Ruler of Hetar, was not pleased. Angrily he held out the parchment to Vilia, almost shaking it in her pale face.

She took it from him, and read the contents, frowning. “The boy was eager for the match I am told,” she said slowly. “It is obvious now that he is not as much in charge as I believed. Nor is his council it would appear.”

“Then it is the faerie woman who rules!” Jonah said. “Has she managed to spread her seditious movement to Terah?”

“Terah would never accept a woman ruler,” Vilia replied. “She manipulates the boy from behind his throne. Any mother in her position would do so. Do you think Egon could rule Hetar by himself if you were gone, my love? I would certainly be behind my son’s throne instructing him, teaching him. That is what the Domina does.”

“Why does she refuse me? It was your first husband, Gaius Prospero, who was her enemy, not I. Her daughter would be wife to a great ruler. Does she think she can do better for the girl? Who, then? Surely she cannot believe the son of some wealthy Terahn a better match for her daughter than me?”

“Perhaps the Domina is uncomfortable with the fact I still live,” Vilia murmured. “Or perhaps she seeks a title for the girl. You are Lord High Ruler, my husband, but I am just your wife. A princess cannot go from being a princess to just a plain wife.” It had always annoyed Vilia that despite all the help she had given Jonah raising him to ultimate power, he had never seen fit to share that power with her. “Or mayhap she does believe the son of a wealthy man who would actually love her daughter would be a better husband to Princess Zagiri than you, Jonah.”

“Then the Domina is a fool, except we know she is not,” he replied irritably.

“Be patient, my husband,” Vilia advised him. “I will try again, and this time I will send a small miniature of your face for the girl to see.”

“They will hardly show her a miniature of me if they mean to refuse me again,” he snarled at her. “Do you enjoy my embarrassment, Vilia? Does it give you pleasure in your last days to see me humiliated by the faerie woman and her ilk?”

“Jonah, Jonah,” Vilia lamented. “Have you learned nothing from me? Offer to give the girl a title. One that will make it appear as if you are sharing your power with her, but that actually means nothing. Princess Zagiri will be known as the First Lady of Hetar. Is that so difficult for you to do? The girl is worth it I promise you. She is very beautiful. Would you like to see?”

His black eyes narrowed speculatively. “What is it you keep from me, Vilia? Of late you have been privy to much information of a sort not available to me. How is this so, my wife?” Reaching out, he took her thin hand in his, his fingers tightening about her fingers.

“Let me go, Jonah,” she said in a suddenly hard voice. She pulled her hand from his rough grasp. “You know of my secret heritage,” she reminded him. “That I descend from Ulla, and the great sorcerer, Usi.”

He nodded.

“When our son began to sicken I reached out to any who would aid me,” Vilia told her husband. “A Darkling—her name is Ciarda—answered my call. On my death Egon will grow strong again, and fulfill the destiny meant for him as a mighty conqueror. Ciarda has a sister among the faerie post who brings her information from Terah, which is how I know the things I do. She gave me a miniature of Princess Zagiri, to show you, Jonah.” Vilia reached beneath her coverlet and drew out the small oval, which she handed to her husband. “Isn’t she lovely?”

Jonah stared at the heart-shaped face with its fair skin and soft, rosy cheeks. The girl’s mouth was lush. Seeing it, he considered the many uses those lips could have. Her eyes were green edged in dark gold lashes. Her hair was a mass of luxuriant golden curls that tumbled over her shoulders. He stared, mesmerized by her beauty. And then before his eyes the small miniature began to change, darkening first, and then growing light once again to show him an entirely different view of the painting’s subject.

Jonah’s mouth fell open with surprise as the picture now revealed the completely naked form of the Terahn princess. Her breasts were small but full with dainty coral-pink nipples. The figure in the miniature frame lifted one of those breasts as if holding it out to him while her other hand moved down her torso to rest suggestively at the smooth junction mounding between her shapely thighs. He licked his lips anticipating what it would be like to have the girl beneath him moaning with her need.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Vilia remarked once again. “She would be worth a fight, wouldn’t she, Jonah? If Terah will not give her to you then you must take her.”

“If Egon grows strong again with your sacrifice, Vilia, then why do I need a young wife to give me more children?” he asked her.

“I have told you that your offspring will be bargaining chips not just to solidify your power, but their brother’s, as well. His best allies will be his kinsmen and -women.”

“Has the Darkling fixed the time of your death?” Jonah asked Vilia. His mind was filled with lustful thoughts of the girl in the miniature. He couldn’t keep his eyes from it, and now the golden beauty was spreading her nether lips open with her fingers to reveal to him her hidden treasures. Her love bud was swollen, and pearly with her juices. The picture was so real that he could almost sense the taste of her on his tongue. Jonah had to turn away, for his lust was close to boiling over. The manhood beneath his robes was swollen and throbbing. He wanted Zagiri as he had never wanted another woman. And he would have her! Nothing, not even the faerie woman, would stand in his way.

“I cannot let go of my tenuous hold on life until I am certain that you will take this Terahn princess for your wife, Jonah,” Vilia answered him. “Bring her to Hetar. Let me see her, and I will be satisfied, but you must not delay, for our son grows weaker with every passing day. We will send your miniature to Terah, and ask once again for Princess Zagiri. If they refuse us then you will take her by force. Who are these Terahns that they dare to deny the Lord High Ruler of Hetar?” Vilia held out her hand. “Give me back the princess’s miniature.”

“Nay,” Jonah replied. “I would keep it.”

She laughed. The Darkling Ciarda had told Vilia that the picture held an enchantment that would make Jonah lust after Zagiri of Terah. And the miniature they would send secretly to the innocent girl would also be enchanted. Zagiri would fall in love with Jonah in spite of herself. She would want him, too, and would become his loyal minion. And the faerie woman Lara would have no choice but to ally with Hetar then. Jonah would be safe against the Hierarch if indeed he actually existed. I will die happy, Vilia told herself. Jonah and Egon will be safe. And Terah will be ripe for the plucking when my son is old enough to take it. Did not my cousin Kol promise me that night on the Dream Plain that Egon would be a great conqueror? “Aye, keep your miniature,” she told her husband. “It will keep your appetite whetted for the girl, won’t it, Jonah?” And Vilia laughed weakly. Then she closed her eyes, listening as he retreated from her bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

He shoved the small magical painting into the pocket of his robes. A young serving wench was sweeping the carpet in the dimly lit corridor. Striding up to her he said in a harsh voice, “Lift your gown, wench, put your palms against the wall and bend over for me.” She did not argue or even speak but obeyed his rough commands instantly. Jonah was grateful that Vilia had taught their servants total obedience. Pulling up his robe, he directed his aching manhood, thrusting into the serving girl, pumping her hard as he imagined her to be Zagiri of Terah. He pushed deeper and deeper. The girl moaned as she shared pleasures with him. Finally satisfied he released his juices, withdrew from the servant and, pulling down his robes, hurried off down the hallway.

The encounter had taken the edge off of his lusts for now. Jonah was surprised by his reaction to the painting of the young princess. He had always been a careful man. A man who retained complete charge over himself, and those about him. But seeing the girl’s beautiful face, and then her even more beautiful body, a body that was obviously filled with passion, he had found himself helpless to his own lusts. He had to regain control of himself again. He would not be like his predecessor, Gaius Prospero, who had found himself ensorcelled by a young and beautiful wife, and lost all of his abilities to rule in his desire to be with her. Nay! This beautiful, royal young wife would bring him prestige among the magnates of Hetar, and the people. He would convince them all that his marriage to Princess Zagiri of Terah would be the beginning of a new and prosperous era for Hetar. He would miss Vilia. But her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Once again the Lord High Ruler of Hetar applied to the young Dominus of Terah for his sister Zagiri’s hand. Taking Vilia’s advice, he told the Dominus that his sister would be known as the First Lady of Hetar, a title created especially for her. She would have a home in The City, and a villa in the Outlands on the sea. She would have vineyards, horses and cattle that would be hers. And all the slaves and servants she desired. He would treat her with respect and honor.

“If this came from any other man,” Lara said, “I should seriously consider it, but not Jonah. The man is wickedness personified. His persistence disturbs me.”

“He has sent a miniature of himself,” Ampyx said, holding it out to his mistress.

She looked at it. “He does not flatter himself,” she noted. “I will give him that. Dispose of it, and send the Lord High Ruler a final refusal. Be less diplomatic this time, Ampyx,” Lara instructed him. “Polite, but firm.”

“I will attend to it, Domina,” Ampyx replied, taking the miniature and bowing himself from her library. In his own small chamber the First Secretary set the miniature down on his writing table and wrote the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Then, calling an undersecretary to him, he dispatched the missive not noticing that the miniature had disappeared from his large writing table.

* * *

ZAGIRI AWOKE THE following morning to find the miniature upon her pillow. Picking it up, she gazed into the dark eyes of the man pictured, and an odd feeling she could not put a name to overcame her. He could not be called handsome. His long face was perhaps a bit too severe, but there was a distinguished air about him. “Who are you?” she wondered aloud, and turned the miniature over. Jonah, Lord High Ruler of Hetar were the words inscribed upon the reverse of the little painting.

Surprised, Zagiri turned the oval in her hand back again to look upon his face. His dark eyes compelled her and when his thin lips twitched with a small amused smile Zagiri gasped with surprise, dropping the miniature in her hand. It fell toward the floor of the chamber, and then jumped back up directly into her palm again. Her fingers closed about it as if to protect it from further misadventure.

Suddenly the picture went dark, and when it grew light once more it pictured the dark-eyed man upon a large bed making love to a golden-haired girl Zagiri recognized as herself. She could not turn away from the tableau playing out before her eyes. The man was slender, but well muscled. His male member was quite large. He reached out to caress the breast of the naked girl and Zagiri could feel that hand caressing her breast. His mouth closed over a nipple, and Zagiri felt the tug of his lips, the swipe of his tongue as he licked the warm flesh of her bosom. She sighed with pleasure as those lips touched hers. She felt the pressure of them, the heat of them. Oh, it was wonderful! She had been kissed before, but never quite like this. A little moan escaped her, and, startled, she turned away from the miniature. When she looked back again it was his face she saw.

Had she imagined that erotic scene? Of course she had! Pictures of people didn’t become alive. Zagiri laughed weakly. How had the miniature gotten into her bedchamber, and upon her pillow? She somehow knew her mother would not approve. Why did Lara dislike the Lord High Ruler of Hetar so much? Oh, she said he was wicked, and indeed the man in the painting did look a bit wicked. But he fascinated her, too. She was seventeen, and not a baby like Marzina who was four years younger. Shouldn’t she be allowed a say in her future?

The search was on for a suitable prospective husband for her. Her mother and her grandmother were both involved in it. They would undoubtedly be parading a group of handsome, wealthy young men before her sooner than later. Suddenly Zagiri didn’t know if she wanted to be married to a handsome, wealthy young man. She glanced down at the miniature again. The Lord High Ruler of Hetar had a seductive face that hinted at a very sensual nature, and while Zagiri was the most mortal of Lara’s daughters she had her mother’s passionate and fierce sexual nature. Jonah of Hetar looked like a far more interesting bed partner than the respectable scion of any wealthy Terahn family.

I want a man for a husband, not a boy, Zagiri thought to herself. Then she wondered again from where the miniature had come. She would ask Marzina about it. Her younger sister was good at keeping secrets, and usually knew everything that went on in the castle.

“Mother got another offer from Hetar for your hand yesterday,” Marzina was pleased to tell her elder sibling. She very much enjoyed knowing what Zagiri did not.

“Why wasn’t I told?” Zagiri said, annoyed. “I am not a child. Why does Mother insist upon treating me like one?”

“There was a miniature with the missive, but Mother told Ampyx to dispose of it,” Marzina cheerfully volunteered.

“This miniature?” Zagiri said, holding it out for Marzina to see.

“Where did you get that?” the younger girl asked.

“It was on my pillow when I awoke this morning,” Zagiri replied.

Marzina looked at the portrait. “He is not young,” she noted. “And I feel the wickedness about him even just looking at his picture.”

“I think he is very attractive. He looks like a man who knows how to rule,” Zagiri said. “I would not mind if they made me his wife.”

“You would have to leave Terah, and go to live in Hetar,” Marzina responded.

“Terah is quiet and dull,” Zagiri answered her younger sister. “Hetar, I think, would be exciting.” She took the little portrait back from Marzina. “Don’t tell anyone I have this. It is probably the closest I will ever get to Hetar,” she said with a sigh.

“You need to take a lover,” Marzina remarked wisely.

“I do not want a lover. I just want a husband,” Zagiri said.

“But if you don’t take a lover or two before you must wed then you will never know what other men are like,” Marzina said. “It is not forbidden to take lovers once we reach the age of fourteen. Don’t tell me you would go to your husband a virgin, Zagiri? If you have no experience, and do not know how to give and share pleasures you will disappoint him greatly. A woman should know how to offer pleasures, sister.”

“There are none who have attracted me,” Zagiri replied. Until now, she thought. “I should like to take pleasures with the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. I think he is probably the only man I should ever want.”

“Oh, you just think that because Mother says you can’t have him.” Marzina chuckled. Then she grew serious. “If our mother says this man is wicked, and not suitable, sister, then she is right. Remember Mother comes from Hetar. She knows these people, and we do not. If she believed this man was the right man for you, Zagiri, she would let you have him.”

“If I married this man I should be on an equal footing with Mother,” Zagiri said. “I should be the wife of a powerful ruler of a great kingdom. Indeed, Mother is merely the widow of a ruler, and parent to a Dominus. I should hold a higher position now.”

“Well, since you aren’t going to marry the Lord High Ruler of Hetar there is no need for us to have this discussion, is there?” Marzina said. She wasn’t sure she liked the attitude that her sister was suddenly taking.

“You will not tell anyone I have this miniature, will you?” Zagiri said.

“Nay, it is harmless enough, and if it amuses you…” Marzina answered.

During the nights that followed Zagiri began to dream of Jonah, the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. To Zagiri’s surprise she found herself upon the Dream Plain each night, and he was always there. The first night it happened she asked him, “How has this come to be, my lord Jonah?”

“Do you think your mother is the only one with magic at her command, my golden girl?” Jonah answered Zagiri.

“Do you have magic?” she asked him.

“I have it at my beck and call,” he told her, “but I am but mortal as you are.”

“But you brought me here tonight,” she reminded him.

“Aye, I did. I want to know you, Zagiri, and they will not allow it. But they do not know, shall not know, that we will meet upon the Dream Plain in the nights to come. And then you shall become my bride, my golden girl.”

“My mother says you are old,” she told him.

Jonah laughed. “I am not a youth,” he admitted. “But I am yet young enough to give you pleasures such as no other man can, and I can give you children.”

“She says you are wicked,” Zagiri continued.

“I prefer to believe that I have done what I must for Hetar,” he said. “I am a man who has never shirked from his duty to himself or his kingdom.”

“Why do you want me?” she asked softly.

“It was my dying wife, Vilia, who has chosen you for me. Vilia has always put my best interests first and foremost. She has been an excellent wife. She says you will take up where she leaves off. That you will put my interests first because you will love me as she has loved me. Is she right, Zagiri? Will you love me?” His coal-black eyes scanned her small face. Then he bent and gently kissed her lips. “Love me, my little golden girl,” he pleaded with her. “Love me!” His arms went around her.

“Oh, yes!” Zagiri whispered breathlessly. “Oh, yes, Jonah!” Her heart was hammering wildly. This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She looked up into his stern face and was lost to him. This was a man! A real man. She sensed the danger about him, but was not afraid. He needed her, and she was going to be there for him. But then she remembered his wife, Lady Vilia. “Your wife?” she said, low.

“Will release her hold upon life as soon as she knows you will come to me,” he told her softly, and his hand caressed her face.

In the nights that followed Zagiri met Jonah upon the Dream Plain. He would kiss her, and he would caress her, but he would not take pleasures with her because she was a virgin.

“We shall have a wedding night like no other,” he promised her. “I shall have from you what no other man has ever had. And you will belong to me alone, my golden girl. You are mine. Mine!”

“But how can we wed?” Zagiri asked him. “My mother has forbidden it. Both my brother, the Dominus, and his council are in agreement that you shall not have me.”

Jonah smiled at her, and it was the first full smile she had ever seen him smile. His teeth were very white, she noted. “How brave are you, my Zagiri?”

“I do not know,” she answered him candidly. “I do not believe I have ever really had to be brave. What is it you are proposing?”

“Tomorrow night you will go to sleep in your own bed. You will join me upon the Dream Plain, but we shall not part. You will awaken in Hetar, my golden girl. I have the magic at my command to make it happen. Would you like that?” he asked her, and he dipped his head to kiss the nipple of her breast.

“Will we marry quickly?” she asked him. “My mother will swiftly realize what we have done. And if she does not her mentor Prince Kaliq surely will.”

“Vilia would speak with you before she dies, Zagiri. She would be certain that you will take her place in my life, and in our son’s life. Then she will die. I will mourn her publicly for nine days. And after that I will be free to wed you, and we shall marry. You will be titled the First Lady of Hetar, my golden girl. Will that please you?”

“How can you be certain that your wife will die after meeting me and satisfying herself that I am suitable?” Zagiri asked cleverly.

“You have told me yourself that your father clung to life with your mother’s help so he was able to dictate his final wishes,” Jonah said. “So Vilia, with the aid of magic, clings to life. She has told me herself that once she sees and speaks with you that her death is imminent. I believe her.” Leaning forward, Jonah kissed Zagiri’s lush mouth. “Will you come to me tomorrow night, my golden girl?”

“I will come,” Zagiri promised him. “And then I will be your wife, and we shall take pleasures together. I hope you are good at giving pleasures, for you shall be the only man I know. My appetites are great, for I am my mother’s daughter in that respect.”

“I will see you are well satisfied, Zagiri,” Jonah promised her. She would come to him tomorrow! The Darkling Ciarda would make it possible as she had made these visits to the Dream Plain possible. “Until tomorrow,” he told Zagiri and then she awoke.

Was it possible? Was it really possible that she could be transported to Hetar from the Dream Plain? Was it really possible that tomorrow night she would go to sleep in her own bed in her parents’ castle, and awaken in a bed in Hetar next to the man she had come to love? Zagiri knew her mother would be frantic, but it was to be hoped that by the time she discovered the whereabouts of her daughter Zagiri would be Jonah’s wife. Lara would be angry, of course, that Zagiri had flouted her wishes, but she would forgive Magnus Hauk’s eldest child. She would forgive her daughter. And Hetar would be bound to Terah by this marriage. She was really doing a great service for her kingdom, Zagiri decided. She was making a peace that would last between the two kingdoms.

The summer was upon them. It was the day Anoush would leave for the New Outlands. Lara had decided to go with her eldest daughter for a few days. They would take Lara’s great winged white stallion, Dasras. Dasras was eager to visit the many mares belonging to the Aghy Horse Lord, Roan. He had sired many a foal on Roan’s mares, and the Horse Lord was always happy to see him visiting although Roan’s breeding stallion was not.

Anoush was eager to leave the castle. Her heart had always been with her father’s people. This time she knew she would have to ask her mother to let her remain with the Fiacre clan family. No Terahn male had taken her fancy. Indeed most of the Terahn men were wary of the girl. Her gifts of healing and especially of sight frightened them. While they found her fair to look at, and gently spoken, she was not the sort of woman a Terahn man wanted for his wife despite her lofty connections.

And Lara knew she would lose this eldest daughter of hers to the Fiacre this summer. But she would not forbid it. She could not. She would see Anoush had her own fine stone house with a garden, and a herd of cattle to call her own. There were serving women eager to serve in the house of the daughter of the great Fiacre hero, Vartan. Anoush had family in the New Outlands. Her foster parents and their children, who were her blood kin, among others. And perhaps there would be a husband for Anoush among the Fiacre. A man who would dare to make this special girl his own.

“I will miss you very much,” Zagiri said to her eldest sister.

“You will come and visit in late summer with our siblings like you always do,” Anoush replied.

“Perhaps not this year,” Zagiri replied.

“And why not?” her mother wanted to know.

“Mayhap I shall have something else to do,” Zagiri answered.

Lara laughed. “I can see your sister is looking ahead to perhaps some young man to come courting her.”

Anoush said nothing, but she was suddenly troubled. Zagiri was hiding something, and that was not at all like her sister. Zagiri was usually an open book.

Lara’s children walked to the stables with her where Dasras was already saddled, and waiting for the two women. The Domina hugged her children, cautioning Taj not to make any decisions in the next few days without her. He grinned and agreed. “Now both of you, do not quarrel with each other, I beg you,” Lara said to Zagiri and Marzina.

“Would it be all right if I went and visited Grandmother?” Zagiri asked in innocent tones. “I have not seen her in several weeks, and I know she gets lonely.”

“That is most thoughtful of you, Zagiri,” Lara said. “Aye, go and visit Lady Persis if it would please you. It will please her, I know.”

Zagiri smiled sweetly, and secretly congratulated herself on being particularly clever. If everyone thought she was at her grandmother’s she would not be missed until her mother returned. By the time they sent for her and the word was returned that she had never been at her grandmother’s it would be too late. Vilia would be dead and mourned her nine days, and she would be Jonah’s new wife. Zagiri almost hugged herself with her delight.

Anoush looked at her sister strangely as she was helped up onto Dasras’s broad back. There was something wrong. She sensed it, but whatever it was her sister’s mind was such a jumble of thoughts Anoush could not get a grasp of it. Should she say something or was it just Zagiri’s usual racing thoughts? Finding herself seated upon the great horse, Anoush suddenly thought of the New Outlands, and how eager she was to get there. Putting her arms about her mother’s waist, she put everything from her mind but the happiness she felt at leaving the castle.

The great stallion unfolded his beautiful wings. He trotted from the stable yard beneath a stone arch, and then began to gallop across a long green meadow until finally his wings began to gracefully flap, lifting him and his passengers into the air. He turned, soaring over the castle and the fjord. Then, crossing the fjord, he set his direction toward the Emerald Mountains, and the New Outlands beyond.

Magnus Hauk’s three children watched them go.

“Anoush won’t come back except for a visit now and again,” Taj said.

“She’s happier with the Fiacre,” Zagiri remarked.

“We have to get back to our studies,” Marzina reminded them, and together the trio walked from the stable yard back into the castle.

That evening as they sat finishing their meal Taj noted, “It is odd without both Father and Mother, isn’t it?”

“They’ve both been away before,” Marzina said.

“But now Father isn’t coming back,” Taj said softly. “I miss him.”

“So do I,” Marzina admitted.

“It is the nature of things to change,” Zagiri told them. “Remember Dillon is gone, then Father, and now Anoush. I will leave you next. Then Marzina. Only Taj will remain here at the castle, for he is the Dominus.”

“You aren’t going anywhere for a long time,” Marzina said.

“She’s going to Grandmother’s tomorrow,” Taj noted.

“But only for a few days,” his twin quickly responded.

“And you and I shall be left alone,” Taj said.

“We shared our mother’s womb. I think we can share a castle without getting into too much trouble,” Marzina said mischievously. “My behavior must remain above reproach for Mother has promised me that if I don’t get into any trouble I shall go to the Forest Kingdom to our queenly grandmother for training in magic soon.”

“I have noticed,” her brother teased, “that you haven’t turned any of the servants into frogs, butterflies and birds of late.”

“I always turned them back,” Marzina said defensively.

“You and your magic are so childish,” Zagiri said. “When are you going to grow up, little sister? Men do not like women who are too clever.”

“Father liked our mother well enough,” Marzina said pertly. “I doubt I shall ever wed a mortal man. I will need a man who understands my great talents.”

“You will need a miracle, then,” Zagiri said and Taj laughed aloud.

Marzina’s face darkened briefly but then she laughed, too. “I’m too young to wed, anyway. But you aren’t, Zagiri. I wonder what kind of husband they will find for you.”

“I will find my own husband,” Zagiri replied.

“Hah!” Her younger sister snorted derisively. “You know as well as I do that our mother must approve any match we make.”

“It is bad enough to be treated like a child by Mother,” Zagiri said irritably, “but to be spoken to like one by my little sister is not to be tolerated!” She stood up from the table. “I am going to bathe, and then go to bed.”

“It is early yet,” Taj noted.

“I am leaving early for Grandmother Persis’s house. As it is not far I shall walk,” Zagiri told her siblings. “When I return I hope you two younglings will have remembered that unlike you I am grown.” Then with a toss of her golden curls she left them.

“What is the matter with her of late?” Taj wondered. “All this talk of being a grown woman while we are but children. I am the Dominus, and she has no respect for my position,” he grumbled. “When she returns we shall have to have a little talk about that.” Then he smiled at his twin. “At least you understand me, but then of course you would even if we are different in so many ways.”

Marzina leaned over and kissed her brother’s cheek. “It would have been wonderful if we had both been given the gift of magic, Taj. Just think what we could have accomplished together.”

“You have the magic of two, sister,” he said. “You will work it for both of us. It is better that I am more mortal, for magic is difficult for many Terahns to accept.”

Marzina nodded, more than well aware of the truth he spoke. “It is early yet,” she remarked. “Will you play a game of Herder with me?”

“Only if you promise not to move the pieces by magic,” he told her. “I prefer to at least attempt to use my own skills to beat you.”

“Oh, very well,” Marzina agreed, and then she giggled. “Remember the first time I moved my pieces by magic. The look on your face, Taj, was priceless.”

The young Dominus laughed at the memory. She had indeed startled him, for they had just been nine at the time. “I wasn’t certain I could believe the evidence of my own eyes,” he said, still chuckling.

“Mother couldn’t believe what I had done, but Father thought it quite amusing,” Marzina recalled. Then her beautiful little face crumpled, and she began to cry. “Oh, brother, I miss our father so much!”

Taj put comforting arms about his twin. “I miss him, too, Marzi. I am too young for this responsibility that has been thrust upon me, and I do not think I shall ever be the Dominus that our father was. And poor Mother walks such a fine line so that Terah may remain safe from all predators. Yet I cannot help but wonder if her natural prejudice against Hetar’s rulers hasn’t blinded her judgment.”

“Nay, Taj, you must believe in Mother completely. She is right not to trust Hetar. Their own recent history does not speak well of their intentions,” Marzina said. She could not tell him of the miniature of the Lord High Ruler that had appeared so mysteriously upon Zagiri’s pillow. She had promised to keep her sister’s secret, but now she worried if she should have made that promise. Her older sister had suddenly changed. She had become defiant, moody and even distracted. Marzina had never seen Zagiri behave in such a manner. She wondered if anyone else had noticed the change, or if she was even imagining it. What had happened to Zagiri? Well, perhaps a few days in the company of their Terahn grandmother would calm Zagiri. The sorrow that had so suddenly overcome her vanished. With a leftover sniffle she said, “You get the game table, Taj, and I will fetch the board and the pieces.”

The twin siblings played several games of Herder, and the evening deepened into darkest night. There were no moons, for the skies had become dense and overcast. Finally Taj and Marzina admitted to one another that they were weary, each going to their bedchamber. Marzina could not help but look in on her elder sister. Zagiri was already abed and sleeping, a smile upon her beautiful face. Relieved to see her so Marzina went to her own bed.

Zagiri had just been about to enter the Dream Plain when she had heard the door to her chamber open. The faint noise had drawn her back briefly, and through slitted eyelids she had seen the anxious face of her little sister. It had caused her to smile. Then Marzina had retreated, and Zagiri had heard her footsteps as they faded down the hall. She concentrated upon gaining the Dream Plain once more.

“Zagiri, my golden girl, where are you?” Jonah’s voice called to her.

“Here I am, my lord!” Zagiri called back to him. Then the mists of the Dream Plain parted, and she saw him waiting for her. Zagiri hurried into his arms.

“Are you ready to be brave, and to come with me, my golden girl?” Jonah asked.

“I am ready!” Zagiri said eagerly. This was so exciting, she thought. She would awaken in Hetar, and she could hardly wait. Her heart was beating wildly with her anticipation. Soon she would be this powerful man’s wife.

“Are you certain, Zagiri?” he asked her. “You must be certain that you are ready to come with me. This must be of your own free will, my golden girl.”

“I am sure, my lord. I love you!” she told him. “I must be where you are!”

“Then come, Zagiri of Terah. Come with me to Hetar. Come and be my bride,” he said to her. His arms enfolded her strongly now. “Awaken now, my golden one! Awaken in Hetar!” And his lips came down on hers, crushing her mouth in a hard, fierce kiss. His body pressed against hers.

Zagiri reveled in the touch of his mouth, the feel of his body against her, but then her head began to swim. She struggled to hold on. She could hear an unfamiliar voice whispering in her ear, bidding her to let go of her reality, and join theirs. The voice was dark and sweet, but at the same time it frightened her. Briefly she drew back, and when she did she felt his lips again on hers. Feeling secure once more, she slipped into the warm darkness beckoning her. Then suddenly she saw light ahead of her. She willed herself toward it, opening her eyes to discover herself in a strange room.

“Ah, my dear, you are with us at last,” an unfamiliar female voice said to her.

Zagiri’s green eyes focused themselves. Turning her head in the direction of the voice, she saw an older woman with ebony-black hair, skin like a gardenia and black eyes rising up from a chair next to the bed where she now lay.

“I am Lady Farah, the mother of the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. You are in my house for your protection.”

“Where is my lord Jonah?” Zagiri asked the woman, attempting to sit up, but falling back when a wave of dizziness overcame her.

“Oh, my child, do not attempt to arise quite yet. You have made a great journey, and will be weakened by it,” Lady Farah advised. “My son is safe in his own bed in his own home. When you are rested I will take you to Lady Vilia so she may see you are safely with us. It is time for her to release her hold upon life. She has lingered overlong.”

“Do you not like her, lady?” Zagiri asked, having recognized a disapproving tone in Lady Farah’s voice.

“I do not dislike her,” Lady Farah replied. “But the truth is she was never good enough for my son. She was the cast-off wife of the late emperor. She seduced him when she saw he was coming into power. She held on to him by giving him a son. Now you, my child, the daughter of a great ruler, will make my son a perfect wife. You have beauty, and you have breeding. And I will be your friend. Did you know that you have blood kin in Hetar?”

“I never thought of it,” Zagiri responded, “but my mother does have half brothers, doesn’t she?”

Lady Farah smiled toothily. “I am delighted that your mother has not forgotten from whence she sprung. Aye, my dear, you have several uncles and a grandmother in Hetar. Your eldest uncle, Mikhail, sits on the High Council as representative from The Quarter. He is a most educated and respected man who represents the finest that Hetar has to offer. You will meet him soon.”

Zagiri attempted to sit up again, and this time her head swam but briefly, and then quickly cleared. “When can I see Jonah?” she asked.

Lady Farah smiled again. “How eager you are for my son,” she purred approvingly. “You will give him many children. There is where Vilia and I always agreed. Children are most valuable commodities. Here in Hetar trade and wealth are most important. When you are wed to my son your mother will, of course, want to turn over your dower portion to him. As a princess you will surely have a great value. But gracious, I am rattling on like some old woman. Let me have the servants bring you some food and Frine. Then I will take you to meet Lady Vilia.” Lady Farah stood up and hurried from the room.

Wealth was important, Jonah’s mother had said. But would her mother turn over a dower portion to a daughter who had run away, and married a man in defiance of her mother’s wishes? Zagiri was suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that her mother would disown her. What had she done in disobeying? And even if she wanted to return home to Terah how could she? What would happen to her? Would Jonah continue to love her if Lara would not provide a dower? They had never discussed a dower.

Servants came bringing her food, and sweet Frine. Zagiri found her appetite had disappeared. Lady Farah returned, and, seeing the girl picking at the food, chided her gently, and asked if she was well.

“I am excited yet weary,” Zagiri answered her not knowing what else to say. She suspected this woman who was to be her mother-in-law would be more than disappointed if there was no dower portion for a princess of Terah forthcoming.

“Of course you are,” Lady Farah said. “I can but imagine how thrilled you must be to be marrying the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. It is a great honor.”

“He should be equally honored to have a princess of Terah for his wife,” Zagiri said, deciding that she had best be firm with this woman as her mother was firm with Lady Persis. After all, she was no longer a child. She would soon be the First Lady of Hetar, and her rank was certainly higher than this woman’s in any case.

“My son tells me you are a virgin,” Lady Farah said, stung and needing to change the subject so she might regain the upper hand over this girl. “That simply will not do, my child. How can you give him pleasures when you have no idea what pleasures are all about? I shall speak to Jonah, and have you properly broken in before your wedding night. You are seventeen, are you not? I was told Terahn girls were allowed to accept lovers once they turned fourteen.”

“We are allowed to accept lovers if we want them. I never did. I wanted no man until my lord Jonah came into my life,” Zagiri said earnestly.

“Shocking!” Lady Farah said. “And your own mother did not encourage you to take pleasures? I cannot imagine what the Domina was thinking.” She tsked.

“Jonah says he wants to be the only man who knows me,” Zagiri said.

Lady Farah looked aghast but then she laughed. “You have turned my son into a romantic. How quaint. It shall pass, however, with familiarity. Still, I shall suggest to him that you be properly trained in the amatory arts sooner than later. After all, as head of the Pleasure Guild I have a reputation to uphold. I cannot have you boring my son too quickly. Well, let us get you properly dressed. Vilia is waiting.”

Silent serving women brought a selection of gowns, and Lady Farah chose a gown of soft peach color for Zagiri. The girl was dressed. Little matching slippers with gold buckles were fitted on her feet. Her golden curls were brushed out, falling over her shoulders and tumbling down her back. Lady Farah nodded her approval. A peach-colored brocade cloak lined in ivory silk was settled over her shoulders, and Jonah’s mother led the way from the bedchamber down the stairs and into the cobbled courtyard where a large gold litter awaited the women.

Zagiri’s eyes widened at the sight of the bearers. They were the tallest men she had ever seen, and they were all perfectly matched blonds. Their totally naked bodies were bronzed and oiled. The muscles of their arms and backs rippled. Their buttocks were tight. Their groins were shaved smooth, and their manhoods were neatly encased in bejeweled golden tubes of considerable length. Around their thick necks they wore collars fashioned from both gold and silver, and studded with pearls. They were barefoot.

“Get in, my child,” Lady Farah said, gently pushing Zagiri into the litter, which was padded in silk, and filled with cushions. When they were both comfortably ensconced she drew the green silk gauze curtains. “I see you like my bearers. If you like I shall arrange for you to have a similar set. They were frightfully expensive, of course, but then you are to be the First Lady of Hetar. You should have nothing but the best. My lads have other talents, as well. Would you like to try one of them?”

“For what?” Zagiri asked.

“Why, for pleasures, you silly girl!” Lady Farah exclaimed, laughing lightly.

“No, thank you,” Zagiri responded, feeling like a fool. Did everyone on Hetar behave in this fashion? “Tell me about Lady Vilia, please.”

“I don’t know why you want to know about her,” Lady Farah said. “She is my son’s past while you are his future.”

“I was taught kindness, and this woman will die shortly,” Zagiri said. “What harm is there in my knowing about my predecessor?”

Lady Farah shrugged. “She was the second wife of Gaius Prospero, the Master of the Merchants, who afterward became Hetar’s emperor. He shed his first wife to marry her. She is of the family Ahasferus, a very prominent clan here in Hetar. She gave Gaius Prospero three children, two daughters and a son. My son was her husband’s slave, and served as his confidential secretary.”

“Slave? My Jonah was a slave? Why was that?” Zagiri demanded to know. What else were they keeping from her? She was a princess of Terah, and she could not wed a man of low birth no matter how exciting and powerful he was.

“My son is of noble birth. His father, Sir Rupert Bloodaxe, was a great Crusader Knight as was your own grandfather, John Swiftsword. But I was not Sir Rupert’s wife. His wife had given him daughters, and he wanted a son of me. I gave him that son, and he treated Jonah with love, and devotion. But he neglected to free him before he died for children born to a man’s Pleasure Woman are considered the property of their male parent. His father’s wife, in a puerile effort to revenge herself upon me for giving her husband the son she could not, took advantage of the law, and sold my son into slavery. Fortunately Gaius Prospero purchased him, and Jonah, being clever, made himself indispensable. As for Vilia, she seduced him, and made him her lover. Later when Gaius Prospero fell in love with a beautiful woman he wanted to rid himself of Vilia, but was afraid of offending the family Ahasferus. Jonah offered to wed Vilia, and revealed at that point his heritage, making him a more than suitable match for her. Of course she was delighted. Why wouldn’t she be? She could see that Jonah was meant for greatness. She has been a devoted and faithful wife to him, always putting his interests before hers. I will give her that,” Lady Farah said. “And she did manage to birth my grandson, Egon, but he is frail. You must give my son strong sons, Zagiri.”

“Of course I will give him strong sons!” Zagiri said. Now that she knew a little more about this man she was so eager to wed she would ask him about his past, and about the poor lady who would soon die. It was obvious Lady Farah didn’t like Lady Vilia, but Jonah seemed devoted to her.

The litter came to a stop, and the curtains were drawn back by a servant. The two women exited their transport, following the servant into the house.

“You are now in the Golden District where the Lord High Ruler lives,” Lady Farah told Zagiri. “This is the house where Lady Vilia has lived in her last days. She did not want to die in the palace lest it be tainted. Come along, Zagiri.” And Lady Farah hurried briskly up a flight of marble stairs to an upper hallway.

A plump young man hurried forward. “Is this she?” he asked.

“Aubin Prospero, I present to you Princess Zagiri of Terah. This is Lady Vilia’s elder son, my dear,” Lady Farah said.

“I am so sorry about your mother,” Zagiri said to Aubin Prospero.

“It isn’t your fault,” he told her. “My half brother will get her life force shortly, and be strong again. She gives her life for him. That is the kind of mother she has been. She has chosen you to be her successor. Know that I hold no ill will toward you, Princess. And you will have the loyalty of the Merchants Guild. We honor your grandfather John Swiftsword of famed memory.”

“Thank you,” Zagiri replied. She knew little of her mother’s father but that he had sold her mother in order to further his career, and he had won his place in Hetarian society with his skills.

They had reached the door of a chamber at the end of the hallway.

“Go in,” Aubin Prospero said. “She is waiting for you. Nay, not you, Lady Farah. My mother specifically asked that the princess come alone.” He opened the door to the room and ushered her through, closing the door behind her.

Zagiri walked slowly to the curtained bed where Lady Vilia lay pale and gasping. “I have come, my lady, as requested,” she said.

“Come closer, and let me see you.” Vilia beckoned with a clawlike hand. “Aah, you are even more beautiful than I imagined. You will make Jonah very happy. Now, Zagiri of Terah, you must promise me that you will take the finest care of my husband and my son, who will shortly belong to you.”

“I promise, Lady Vilia,” Zagiri said earnestly.

“Why, you love him already,” Vilia said, surprised. “That is your innocence, and loving upbringing. Tell your mother that I thank her for that.”

“Why me?” Zagiri asked softly.

“Harder times are coming to Hetar, little princess. My Jonah will need a good woman by his side advising him, supporting him, if he is to survive, if Hetar is to survive. No ordinary woman will do, and we may need Terah’s aid. With you the First Lady of Hetar, your mother and brother are more apt to help. He already cares for you, Zagiri of Terah. He has given you a title. I have never had one despite all the years I have looked after his interests.” Vilia grew very pale, and slumped deeper against her pillows. “Watch over my son, Egon. It was foretold that he would be a great conqueror one day.”

“I will!” Zagiri said.

“I will die shortly, little princess. Take that small lavender crystal bottle from the table. Catch my life’s essence quickly, and see that my little son, Egon, drinks it. Aah! My time is finished,” Vilia cried suddenly.

Zagiri gasped as the light faded slowly from the older woman’s eyes. She quickly took up the container, blinking as a thin wisp of fog seemed to stream slowly from between Vilia’s blue lips. Zagiri captured whatever it was in the bottle as she had been instructed. When no more of the substance came forth she stoppered the vessel, tucking it into the pocket of her gown. Then she ran to the door. “Someone! Quickly!”

Lady Farah hurried forward, putting an arm about Zagiri. “Quickly. You must leave this house.”

“Wait! I have something from his mother for your grandson. He must have it now. Is the boy here?” Zagiri asked anxiously.

“Aye. Very well, we shall find him.” Taking Zagiri’s hand, Lady Farah led her through the house until finally they came to a pleasant apartment where a young boy sat quietly reading.

He was very pale and slender. Looking up, he smiled as they entered the chamber. “Grandmother, how nice. Have you come to visit me?”

“Your mother has departed,” Lady Farah said without preamble. “This is Princess Zagiri. She brings you something from your mother.”

“What is it?” the boy asked. His dark eyes had grown large with the news of his mother’s death, but he did not cry.

Zagiri withdrew the crystal bottle from her pocket. “Open your mouth, little one,” she told him, and when he obeyed without question she poured the foglike substance from the vessel into his open mouth.

The boy swallowed it eagerly. “It tastes like berries,” he told them when he had finished it all up. “Leave the crystal, Zagiri, for I shall retain it as a keepsake from my mother. Thank you.”

“Now we must go!” Lady Farah said. “You cannot be seen here. Your half brother is here, Egon. Go and find him. You must send to your father now.” She practically dragged Zagiri from the chamber, through the house and to her litter. “Quickly, quickly!” she told her bearers. “We must not be here when word gets out,” she said to Zagiri. “The simple people are so superstitious. When they learn that the Lord High Ruler has taken the Domina of Terah’s daughter to wife, and she was with his dead wife when Vilia died…” She paused. “Well, you know the rumors that will arise. Especially since the common folk are not privy to certain information.”

Zagiri was surprised by what Lady Farah said. Hadn’t she been told that poor Vilia could not die until she had met the Terahn princess? Did the people of Hetar not realize that Vilia had done a noble thing in order to preserve her son’s life? That she had personally chosen Zagiri of Terah for Jonah’s new wife? Why would anyone suspect her of…of disposing of Jonah’s old wife so she might be his new one? Her mother had not wanted any marriage between Terah and Hetar.

And then Zagiri began to recall little things that her mother had said when, curious, they would ask her to tell them about her girlhood in Hetar. Lara would tell them of the riches and magnificence of the Hetar of her youth. But she would also warn them that often the most beautiful things covered up the ugliest. Hetarians are manipulative, she’d said, and Zagiri was certainly seeing it in Lady Farah. For whatever reason Vilia could not die until she had met and spoken with Zagiri. And the longer she lingered the weaker her little son became. Why was that? What dark force was at work here? It had been powerful enough to bring her from the Dream Plain to Hetar. Suddenly Zagiri was afraid.

“I want to see Jonah,” she said.

Lady Farah did not notice that the girl had become pale with fright. “He will probably come to see you tonight,” she said. “And when he does we must sit together and discuss what to do with this foolish virginity of yours, my child. Vilia has a marvelous sex slave, Doran, who will be without a mistress now. He might be of help unless, of course, Jonah wants to sell him off. We have several Pleasure Houses that now cater to women here in The City. My son could make quite a fine profit on Doran. But we shall see what he wants to do. Gracious, you have become very pale, Zagiri. I imagine being transported via the Dream Plain from Terah to Hetar must have been quite exhausting. We’re almost back to my house. You must have a nice rest when we get there. You will want to be at your best when you see Jonah tonight.” And she smiled at her young companion, but the smile, Zagiri noticed, did not quite reach to her dark eyes.


CHAPTER FIVE

ZAGIRI TRIED TO sleep, but she could not. She needed to see Jonah. She needed his reassurance that everything was going to be all right. She did love him. She did! But suddenly she was beginning to wonder if she had perhaps acted too hastily in agreeing to come to Hetar. Everything was so different here. She already knew she was not going to like her mother-in-law. But she would hide her dislike. The woman was too aggressive, and her constant nattering on about Zagiri’s virginity distressed the girl. In Terah women did not give themselves quite so freely as they obviously did here in Hetar. Nor were they as consumed with sensual matters as in Hetar. Finally she fell into a restless sleep, but she did not dream.

A serving woman awoke her. “Princess, the Lord High Ruler is below in his mother’s private salon. He wishes you to come to him,” the servant said.

Zagiri’s head ached, and her mouth was dry. “Frine,” she said, and drank down the goblet the woman handed her. “I need to bathe my hands and face,” she said, and the servant brought a basin of water and a cloth. Zagiri felt slightly restored after washing her face and hands. She smoothed the wrinkles from her gown.

“Let me brush the tangles from your hair, Princess,” the servant said.

Zagiri sat down, and, picking up a brush, the woman tended to the girl’s beautiful golden curls. “There isn’t a woman in this house that has hair like yours, Princess,” she said. “Men would pay a fortune just to touch such hair.”

Zagiri said nothing, but she gave the servant a small smile. Finally, her hair once again in order, she arose. “Will you take me to your mistress?” she said.

“Please follow me, Princess,” the servant said, leading the girl from her chamber and down a gracious flight of stairs.

They passed several beautiful women coming up the stairs with gentlemen. All of the men stared at Zagiri but she ignored them. How rude! she thought.

“Here we are,” the servant said, opening a door and gesturing for Zagiri to enter.

She saw him at once. “Jonah!” Zagiri ran toward him.

“My beautiful golden girl,” he greeted her, and, taking her into his arms, kissed her. “Aah, how sweet your lips are, my lovely princess. Let me drink my fill of you.” He set her back, and his black eyes surveyed her. She was lovelier in reality than she was on the Dream Plain. “You are perfect, Zagiri. And I am so proud that you were brave enough to come to me. In just days we shall marry. Come now, and sit by my side.”

“I told them I was going to my grandmother Persis for a visit. I shall not be missed for several days,” Zagiri told him. Reaching up, she stroked his stern face. “You are everything that I dreamed, my lord. I was frightened earlier. I thought perhaps I would want to return to Terah, but now that I am with you all my concerns are gone.” She lowered her voice so that only he might hear her. “Your mother is a forceful lady.”

Jonah barked a harsh laugh. “You are kind in your judgment, Zagiri. However, you are a virgin. You have no skills at giving pleasures. If you are to be my bride you must know how to please me. Tonight, if it pleases you, we shall enjoy each other’s bodies for the first time. Then my mother shall have you trained properly so that on our wedding night you and I may enjoy each other fully.”

“What do you mean have me trained, my lord?” Zagiri asked him nervously. Coupling with him did not frighten her, but this talk of training her did.

“You will be taught how to please a man with your hands, your lips, your tongue and your most intimate female parts,” Jonah told her. “On our wedding night you will show me all you have learned, my golden girl, but tonight I shall have your virginity of you. We call it First Night rights. A beautiful, well-trained virgin commands a high price, Zagiri, here in the Pleasure Houses of Hetar.”

“I do not know…” Zagiri began. Then she gasped. “I am in a Pleasure House?”

“My mother is a Pleasure Mistress,” he replied. “She is head of her guild. As such she has access to many resources. She will see you attain perfection for me,” Jonah told the girl. “Only the most skillful of male Pleasure Slaves will be chosen to tutor you.”

Zagiri was at first speechless. Then she said, “But I am a virgin, my lord, and I want only you for a lover!”




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