The Sorceress of Belmair

4

“WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?” Cinnia asked him.

“Because it helps us to know and trust each other better,” Dillon said.

“You Hetarians are so carnal,” she replied, giving him a wry smile.

He took the soapy sponge from her. “And you have been wed to the most sensual of their races, my queen.” He drew her into his embrace with his free hand, and bending his head, found her mouth. The kiss he shared with her was long, and grew more passionate with each moment that passed. Her lips were petal soft beneath his, and she did not resist. Rather, he sensed her shy attempt to share his desire. Finally Dillon released her. His bright blue eyes stared down into her face. “I think,” he said slowly as if carefully choosing his words, “that with time I can make you as naughty as a faerie.” Enjoying the blush that suffused her pale cheeks, he handed her a second sponge. “Now let us wash each other,” he suggested.

She mimicked his motions. His sponge swept down her slender throat. Hers followed down his. He laved across her chest, and then began to bathe each of her breasts, tenderly lifting each small globe as he did. Her nipples puckered, and unable to help himself Dillon bent his head and suckled on one. Cinnia whimpered faintly, trying to concentrate on the broad plain of his chest with her own sponge. He made circles as he moved down her torso and over her belly. Then he knelt and began washing her mons, pushing the sponge between her nether lips, rubbing up and down her well-furred slit. When he had finished he washed both of her legs, lifting them up to bathe her small feet. When he had finished he rinsed her off, saying, “Now it is your turn, Cinnia.” And he forced her to her knees before him.

Gathering up all of her courage Cinnia looked the enemy in the eye. She sudsed the thick mat of fur surrounding his manhood. She lifted the beast up, and ran the sponge back and forth along its length. It stirred, and she dropped it nervously, moving quickly to his long muscled legs and his large feet. When she had finished she moved to stand, but Dillon’s hands held her down.

“Stay there,” he said and turning he rinsed himself off. When he had finished he pivoted back to face her. “Now, my queen, I am going to give you your first lesson in how to pleasure me. Take my manhood into your mouth and suck upon it. Be gentle, and beware of scraping me with your teeth.”

She had never heard of such a thing, but then if the truth be known, he had taught her all she now knew of lovemaking. Following his direction, she took him in her hand, and, leaning, forward, her mouth closed over him. The flesh was warm and tasted faintly of the soap she had washed him with. Cinnia felt his hand upon her head as she began to suck upon him. She heard his indrawn hiss of breath and as she did she realized that the softness in her mouth had begun to grow firmer with each tug of her jaws.

“You can take a bit more,” he said, his voice almost strained as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. “Use the fingers of your other hand to tickle my sacs.”

She felt the thickening peg of flesh touching the back of her throat and struggled not to gag. Reaching beneath him, she found his seed sacs, cool and slightly hairy to her touch. She teased them with delicate fingers. As his manhood expanded within her mouth and he groaned low, Cinnia suddenly realized that her simple actions were indeed giving him pleasure. She felt a rush of power as she realized he was as vulnerable to passion as she was. Cinnia sucked harder upon him until her jaws were aching, and she could no longer contain him within her mouth.

It was at that point that Dillon growled a command to her to stop, and taking her by the hand led her to the bathing pool. Looking at him as they moved from one chamber into the other, Cinnia was astounded by the length and size of him. She had never really looked at him as she was now looking at him. He was magnificent! Together they stepped down into the perfumed water. Turning her about so that she was facing up the steps, he instructed her to kneel forward upon the steps, using her hands to balance herself. Then coming behind her he sheathed himself deep and fully within her body.

Cinnia gasped at his entry. His hands fastened themselves about her shapely hips, and he began to pump her, slowly at first with long, majestic strokes of his cock; then with increasing rapidity, with fierce, hard thrusts of his manhood. She whimpered, a sound of desperation, as he moved within her. “Please!” she begged him. “Please!”

“Tell me what it is you desire, my queen,” he whispered hotly in her ear.

“Give me pleasures, Dillon! Give me pleasures!” she cried. And the room filled with golden light, and the air crackled around them.

“Your wish, my queen, is mine to fulfill,” he murmured, kissing her ear, and then nipping hard on the lobe. Finding her pleasure center, he used it well, and she was quickly cresting as the feelings of delight swept over her. Withdrawing from her, he sat down upon the steps, cradling her within his arms, kissing her small face as she floated back to reality once again, and he kissed her slowly, murmuring softly against her lips, “Anytime, anywhere, Cinnia.” He reminded her of his earlier promise.

She opened her eyes at long last. Every inch of her tingled with excitement. “Do you behave like this all the time?” she asked him softly.

“You are mine,” he said simply. “I am going to fall in love with you, Cinnia. Not because you are beautiful or because you are my wife, but because we were meant to be together like this forever. I don’t want you resistant to pleasures. Not when the cojoining of our bodies is such a good thing.”

“The light was gold and the air crackled again,” she said to him.

“Because we were in tune with one another,” he told her. “You were not resisting me, my queen.” He dumped her gently from his lap into the warm scented water. He was still fully aroused, his manhood engorged with his lust.

Cinnia stared. “You are not satisfied,” she said. “And yet I was. Why?”

“I learned long ago how to prolong my desires,” Dillon told her. “I will make love to you again several times before we sleep. It pleases me to see you fulfilled, and there is time for me to reach that perfect state. We will relax together in the pool.”

The watery enclosure was square, and had a depth of five feet. On one side of it was a pink marble flower from whose center water sprayed forth. The ceiling was glass, and revealed the velvety-black night skies above them ablaze with stars. He noted to her that the sky they watched now was different from that he was used to in Terah, or his father’s palace of Shunnar.

“What is the biggest difference?” she queried him.

“I cannot see Belmair,” he said with a smile. “What is that bright star?” he pointed to a particularly bright orb almost directly above them now.

“That is Hetar,” she told him. “It is magnificent from afar, isn’t it?”

He nodded, agreeing. “It is.” Then he asked her, “Why do you have no siblings?”

“My mother died shortly after giving birth to me,” Cinnia said. “My father chose not to remarry although there were several women of suitable families who would have made him a good queen. But since king’s sons here in Belmair do not necessarily follow in their father’s footsteps he felt no great urge to sire a son,” Cinnia explained. “He wed late in his life, and might not have married at all but he saw my mother once, and fell in love with her. They were wed for over two hundred years before I was born, and I was quite a surprise to them I can assure you.” She chuckled with her memories. “When a child was not born to them in the first years of their marriage they assumed they would never have one. Belmairans live a normal life span of several hundred years, but we age incredibly slowly,” Cinnia explained to him, for she could see he was somewhat confused.

“But you said you were seventeen,” Dillon said.

“I am,” she told him. “But I will live several hundred years if illness does not fell me first,” Cinnia said. “How long will you live?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “My father has lived since the beginning of time itself. My mother, being mostly faerie, should live for several hundred years. I suppose I will live at least as long as she does.” He swam across the pool to stand beneath the spray of water from the pink marble blossom. Their life spans were similar. He would not be forced like his mother to watch as Cinnia grew older, and he remained the same. It was likely that they would age together. Had the dragon and his father been aware of that, Dillon wondered? He would remember to ask Kaliq when next he saw him. Cinnia was looking at him, and the young king suddenly became aware of his throbbing member. He needed to couple with her again. He swam back to where she was awaiting him.

Cinnia leaned against the marble walls of the pool, enjoying the warm water as it lapped against her. This bathing had been a surprisingly good idea of his. She did feel more comfortable in his presence, and she was learning little bits and pieces about him. Her eyes closed and she listened to the flower fountain as it sprayed into the water. It was a most soothing sound. And then she sensed him. Her eyes flew open and he stood directly before her.

Taking her small face between his big hands, he kissed her slowly, lingeringly. “Now once more, my queen,” he told her.

She felt his hand cupping her bottom as he lifted her up.

“Wrap your legs about me, Cinnia,” he directed her.

As she did she felt his thick length pressing once again into her body. Cinnia sighed, clinging to him as he moved hungrily within her until she was dizzy with her own lust, and the pleasures being joined with him brought her. But then suddenly he withdrew from her, and she protested. “No, Dillon! No!”

“Come,” he said without explanation, and led her from their watery playground into the third chamber of the bath. Here the air was filled with an exotic and elusive perfume. There was a wide marble bench upon which rested a large pile of fluffy towels. Taking one he began to dry her. The towel was warm. When he had almost finished he lay several towels upon the bench, and instructed her to sit down. When she had he dried her feet, kissing and sucking upon the toes as he did so.

Cinnia couldn’t help but giggle. “You are a great fool,” she told him.

“Lay back,” he said in reply, and when she was stretched out upon the wide bench he spread her legs wide, and seating himself he leaned forward to peel open her nether lips with his thumbs, and lick the sweet coral-pink flesh.

Cinnia gasped, shocked. “What are you doing?” she asked, attempted to rise up.

“Stay still!” he told her sharply. “This is but a new pleasure for you, my queen.” Then his tongue began to explore her slowly as he licked and probed and tasted her.

Cinnia’s senses whirled with the sensations he was engendering. They were delicious, and she suspected, very naughty pleasures he was offering her. He seemed to be in no hurry to end the delightful torture. His tongue licked one side of her flesh, and then the other. He explored carefully, and when the tip of his tongue met what was an incredibly sensitive part of her, Cinnia squealed nervously. Immediately he began to taunt and tease that tiny jewel until she was almost mindless with the delight, and when she was certain he was going to kill her with it, Dillon was mounting her once more, and thrusting deeply into her body. “And again, my queen,” he said.

He rode her hard. Their breathing became ragged and rough as he pushed into her again and again and again. He was a fierce lover now, and Cinnia reveled in the wildness they were sharing. She wrapped herself about him so he might have deeper access to her. Their fingers intertwined restlessly as they climbed and climbed and climbed until they could climb no more. Then together their passions burst. Her cry echoed about the room. His shout as he allowed his juices to finally erupt mingled with her soft cries of pleasure, totally and completely fulfilled. The room was bedazzled and drenched in a quivering golden shimmer, and the sounds of crackling light could be heard. The glow danced about them, tiny darts of lightning shining within it, snapping noisily. And then the chamber grew quiet and dimmed as the light faded away and they collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs upon the wide marble bench. Finally Dillon pulled himself up and stood. Cinnia lay pale, her breathing now quieted, but obviously weak with satisfaction. He bent and, picking her up, carried her from the bath, and into her bedchamber, where, drawing back the coverlet on the bed, he lay her down. Walking to the hearth, he added more wood before returning to the bed and climbing in with her.

“Your sensual nature will be the death of me,” Cinnia murmured.

“Not for at least a thousand years,” he replied, and he pulled her into his arms. “I’m going to sleep with you tonight. I cannot be certain yet that my lusts are satisfied.”

“Mine are,” she half groaned. “Your passions are enormous.”

He laughed softly. “Are you learning to trust me, my queen?”

“It would seem I have no choice,” Cinnia answered him.

“Passion is not so terrible, is it? You seem to enjoy my attentions,” he teased her.

“I do,” she admitted softly.

“I want you to trust me in other things, too, Cinnia. If you do we can solve this problem besetting Belmair,” Dillon told her.

“And you will teach me some serious magic,” she said sleepily.

“When you are ready, aye, I will,” he promised her.

“Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, my queen,” he replied. But he lay awake for several minutes listening to the sounds of her breathing, enjoying the voluptuous young body within his embrace. Cinnia was not an easy woman to know, he thought to himself as he had earlier. Though the Belmairans scorned those they had sent into exile many centuries before, they were much like them in their desire for order and conformity. Their need for tradition, sameness. But the king their dragon had chosen was anything but Hetarian or Belmairan in his thoughts and methods. It was going to be an interesting time as they all came to terms with one another.

Several days later the scholar, Prentice, sent a request to the king that he come to his chambers at the Academy. Gara, who had been assigned as the king’s new secretary, set the message aside, for he did not think a missive from an unimportant scholar worthy of his master’s immediate attentions. Gara knew of Prentice, for he had been educated at the Academy. The fellow was half-mad it was said. But then Dillon thought to tell Gara that he was awaiting word from Prentice.

“A message came yesterday, Your Majesty,” Gara quickly said, “but this Prentice is not a scholar highly thought of by the Academy. I considered it of no account.”

“Prentice is doing some very important research for me on ancient Belmair,” Dillon told his secretary. “In future all communication from him is to be brought to my attention immediately. I apologize I did not advise you of it sooner,” the young king said, soothing the ruffled feelings he saw rising up in Gara. “The administration of a world is quite new to me. I understand that you served the old king’s secretariat.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty, I did,” Gara replied. “And I will serve you personally with every ounce of my skill and loyalty. I shall put Prentice on my list of important personages immediately.”

“Thank you,” Dillon replied, smiling. “Now I shall go to the scholar and see what it is he had found for me.” He left his library. Gara, mollified, carefully scribbled Prentice’s name into a small book upon his desk. Out of sight of his secretary Dillon swirled his cloak and directed his magic to the scholar’s chambers. Stepping from the shadows, he greeted him. “Good morrow, Prentice. I have just now been informed of your message. Such a delay will not happen again.”

“Your Majesty!” Prentice jumped, slightly startled by Dillon’s appearance, but he realized he would have to get used to such comings and goings. The king did have the blood of the Shadows in his veins. “No, no, I understand. You have been given Gara for your secretary. A good man, but his name does mean mastiff, and he will guard you carefully from what he considers unimportant distractions,” Prentice said wryly.

Dillon laughed. “He has added your name to his list of important personages.”

The scholar barked a sharp laugh. “How it must have galled him.” He chuckled. “I do not believe, Your Majesty, that I have ever been considered a personage of import.”

“What have you found?” Dillon asked him.

“I sought out from our archives histories from our furthest known past,” the scholar said. “And within I found two small references to the wicked ones. Both said virtually the same thing. That the wicked ones had been told to depart Belmair. There is nothing else. No explanation of who these wicked ones are, or why they were told to leave or if they did.”

“Are you certain these two references do not refer to those sent to Hetar?” Dillon questioned the scholar.

“Those histories themselves were written at least two centuries before that event took place, Your Majesty,” Prentice replied. “However, there is a locked room hidden somewhere within the archives that is forbidden to us all. Byrd would have the key to that room, for it is passed down from one head librarian to the next. If I could gain access to that room perhaps I might find the answers you are seeking.”

“I shall speak with Byrd, and have him give you the key then,” Dillon said. Then stepping into the shadows of the scholar’s chamber, he directed himself to where the elderly head librarian sat behind his desk. “Good morrow, Byrd,” Dillon spoke.

The old man looked up. He had been concentrating upon a book, and his hearing no longer good, he had not observed Dillon’s arrival. “Your Majesty!” He stood politely.

“You hold a key to a locked room within your archives,” Dillon said. “I should like that key, and then you will take Prentice and me to that room.”

“Your Majesty, I will gladly give you the key,” the old man said, and he carefully extricated an old-fashioned brass key from the large key ring attached to his rope belt, handing it over to Dillon, “but I cannot take you to the room because I do not know where it is.”

“How can you not know where it is?” Dillon asked him. “You have a key. Did not your predecessor tell you where it was when he passed the key on to you?”

“My predecessor did not know where the room was, nor did his predecessor, and so forth back many, many generations, Your Majesty. The key has been passed down to each of us holding this post at the Academy, for it is tradition that the head librarian hold the key to the forbidden room, but no one has ever known where the forbidden chamber is. That, too, is tradition.”

“Are you even certain it exists?” Dillon asked Byrd.

“Of course it exists. I have the key to it,” the old head librarian replied.

Dillon didn’t know whether to laugh or to weep at Byrd’s answer. Thanking him, he returned to Prentice’s rooms by more conventional means in order to have a few moments alone to think it all through. Entering the scholar’s abode, he told him of his conversation with Byrd. Prentice did laugh out loud at the old man’s assurances that even though no one knew where the room was that it did exist because he had the key. Dillon joined him in laughter, and they sat down together over two cups of strong tea.

“Come with me into our archives, Your Majesty,” Prentice said.

“Perhaps two sets of eyes can find the door to this room.”

Together the two men went to the archival chamber, but although they searched and searched for several long hours, they could find no evidence at all of a hidden chamber. They finally returned to the scholar’s cozy chambers.

“I wonder now myself if this room exists,” Prentice said.

“It exists,” Dillon said certain. “A head librarian in your distant past filled that room with books he did not want scrutinized by just anyone. He locked the door to that chamber, and the key has been past down ever since. I do not believe this is a myth, Prentice. But somewhere along the line, that room was enchanted and concealed by means of magic. It can only be found by magic. I will need more help than Cinnia or the dragon can give me, for this is special magic that was worked to hide that room. I will call upon my father and ask that he send my uncle, Prince Cirillo of the Forest Faeries to me. Cirillo and I are of an age, and we were raised together in my father’s palace of Shunnar where we studied the strongest magic. Together he and I can find this chamber, and then, Prentice, we will unlock its secrets!” Dillon stood, and with a swirl of his cloak he disappeared.

The scholar ran a bony hand through his graying red hair. The young king was quite interesting and intelligent. And his interest in Prentice had already drawn the curiosity of several of the more important scholars at the Academy. In time, he thought, I shall be vindicated, and others will see that my studies of our ancient past are not foolish. And now he would meet a faerie prince. Prentice wondered if there had ever been faeries in Belmair. Until now he had never considered it.

Dillon returned to his library. “Permit no one to disturb me,” he told Gara. Seating himself by the fireplace, he said silently, Father, I need you. Several moments later Kaliq appeared from the shadows in the room. Rising to greet his sire, Dillon embraced him, and without any preamble said, “I need Cirillo. Can you bring him to me? Or must I return to Shunnar and meet with him there?”

“I can bring him,” Kaliq said, “but whether your grandmother will allow it is another thing. You know he is her heir, and she dotes upon him. Then, too, there is the fact that I doubt your mother had gotten around to telling her yet of your good fortune. Why do you need him?”

“I have set a scholar from the Academy to work attempting to learn if there was once magic in Belmair. He found two small references to wicked ones who were told to depart Belmair. It was two centuries before the Hetarian exile, so we are certain it does not refer to that. There is a locked chamber in the Academy archives with forbidden books. The old head librarian possesses a key to it, but no one can find the room. My scholar, his name is Prentice, and we have looked ourselves. It is obvious to me that the room was hidden by faerie magic. Cirillo was also very good at solving puzzles when we were boys together. I will wager he can find that room.”

Kaliq nodded. “Aye, faerie magic can be quite convoluted when they wish to hide something. I would be interested to know why they wanted the room with the forbidden books hidden. The answer to that may actually be the answer you seek. I will ask your mother to intercede with Ilona for us.”

“You’ve told her then,” Dillon said, “and yet you live, my lord.”

The Shadow Prince laughed heartily. “Aye, I’ve told her. She kept castigating me for deciding your future, and reminding me that you were her son. When I told her you were my son, too, she was even angrier at first, but eventually she overcame her ire. Of course it is not something she will tell your stepfather. It seems after all these years he is still jealous and wary of me,” Kaliq said, amused.

Dillon laughed, too. “Aye, when I lived with them in Terah, Magnus was never certain when you would suddenly appear from the shadows, and come into their life again.” He engaged the Shadow Prince with a look. “You will always love her, won’t you, my lord? My mother is your weakness, I fear.”

“I will always love her,” Kaliq agreed, “but believe me when I tell you she is not my weakness. If she were, you would have been born several years earlier, and lived an entirely different life. Loving her as I do I could still let her go. But we are not discussing your mother, Dillon. I will return to Shunnar immediately and see how we may arrange for Cirillo to join you here in Belmair. How is your sorceress wife?”

“Her powers are small, but eventually I will teach her so she may be stronger,” Dillon replied. “Right now I am educating her in the ways of passion. She is reticent, for they do not speak of love in Belmair. She is less reserved with me now than several days ago,” he said with a smile.

“Does the chamber glow golden and the air crackle when you possess her as it did in the joining?” Kaliq asked, curious.

Dillon nodded.

Kaliq shook his head. “There is no doubt in my mind that you were meant to be together. I always sensed the woman you wed would be the great love of your life. That is why I encouraged you to pleasures early. I wanted you skilled in passion, and I wanted you to be satisfied when you did marry.”

“You were wise, my lord,” Dillon told him. “I want no other.”

“Will you love her?”

Dillon smiled. “Aye, I will, and Cinnia will love me although she yet bridles against me like a skittish young mare. She is a riddle, but I will solve her!”

“I am pleased,” Kaliq said, and then he was gone. He was pleased, the Shadow Prince thought as he reappeared in his own library in his palace of Shunnar. Dillon was strong, as Kaliq was strong. Vartan, a good and loving man, had needed Lara to direct his every step. He had been a magnificent warrior. There was none better in battle. But he had not the skills to plot and to plan. He could have never produced a son like Dillon, the prince considered smiling slightly. He had been in Belmair a week now, and already he was on the trail of the mystery plaguing his new kingdom.

Kaliq poured himself a goblet of cool frine and drank half of it down. Setting the goblet aside upon a table he spoke in the silent language. Domina of Terah, heed my call. Come to me from out yon wall.

After several minutes the marble wall seemed to fade in one spot, and Lara stepped into the chamber. “Greetings, my lord, what mischief are you or have you perpetrated now? You do recall it is the middle of the night in Terah. I cannot remain long lest Magnus wake up and seek me.” She was wearing a house robe of peach silk.

“I need you to help me convince your mother to let Cirillo go to Belmair for a short while,” Kaliq said candidly. Did she ever look less than beautiful? he wondered.

Lara burst out laughing. “I haven’t even told mother yet that you have taken my…our son away from Hetar. Now you wish me to convince her to allow her only son and heir to be whisked away? I do not think she will permit it.”

“Dillon needs his aid,” Kaliq said.

“What has happened?” Lara demanded to know.

“Nothing yet,” Kaliq responded. “There is a hidden chamber in a great library, and while all know it is there, they cannot find any evidence of it. We need to find it, and get into the room. The books there will probably tell us what magic existed in Belmair once and why it is gone. If indeed it is gone.”

Lara nodded understanding. “You think it is faerie enchantment, and only a faerie can undo it,” she said. “I could go to Belmair and help my son.”

“You are faerie, my love, but not entirely. I would take no chances with this. Besides I suspect your brother will enjoy escaping his mother for a brief time. And he will particularly enjoy a fresh hunting field.”

Lara laughed again. “He does enjoy women,” she admitted. “He has our mother’s sexual appetites. It is certainly not from Thanos, his father, who is surely the most conservative faerie man I have ever met. Very well, I will help you. But first I must tell my mother of Dillon’s true parentage.”

“We will go together,” Kaliq said.

“Not now,” Lara told him. “I must away home. In the morning I will tell Magnus that I am going to visit my mother for a day or two. He prefers it to mother visiting us. Whenever she does, Magnus’s mother, Persis, learns of the visit and hurries to visit us at the same time. The two are in constant competition over the children although I will say Persis favors Taj to the girls.”

“Will you ever give Magnus another child?” Kaliq asked her.

“Why would I? I have given him three, and he has a son to follow him now,” Lara responded to the question. “Nay. I have enough children. I shall have to watch four of them grow old, Kaliq. Dillon, of course, will live long. Did I tell you that Hetar is proposing a marriage alliance between Marzina and Egon, Jonah and Vilia’s son?”

“Turn it down,” Kaliq said. “The Twilight Lord took pleasures with Vilia upon the Dream Plane. While the child is Jonah’s seed, for he had already been conceived when Kol took Vilia, Kol’s essence bathed the child before its birth.”

Lara shuddered at the mention of Kol, the Twilight Lord. “He was certainly busy, wasn’t he,” she said acerbically.

“The boy will be evil and grow more so as he ages. Your innate goodness has kept Marzina safe, but a child born of her loins and Egon’s seed would be a disaster. Of course that is what Kol hoped for when he violated you, and then took pleasures with Vilia. Jonah’s wife, like Kol, is a descendant of Usi the Sorcerer, who caused such misery in Terah. A child born of Usi’s blood on both sides is certain to be dangerous.”

“How long have you know about Vilia’s ancestry?” Lara asked him.

“We always knew that Usi had two concubines he had impregnated. We knew that when Usi’s brother had no sons it would be Usi’s son he made his heir, and so the line of descent has been clear there. We did not know about Vilia until Kol took pleasures with her on the Dream Plane. There was no need for him to use her unless he had a very good reason. He could not create a son with his cousin, but he could influence who that child would be by bathing the unborn creature in his juices. And doing that with just any woman wasn’t enough. He needed a child that carried Usi’s blood as Vilia’s son did through her,” Kaliq explained.

Lara nodded. “I will tell Magnus,” she said. “We will meet in my mother’s forest palace tonight.” Then, stepping back into the shimmering tunnel through which she had traveled earlier, she was quickly gone from his sight. She stepped from the tunnel into the small windowless room she used for these journeys, and hurried back to her bedchamber where she was relieved to see her husband sleeping soundly. Lara slipped back into bed.

When the morning came she told her husband, “I think I shall go and visit my mother today, my darling. It has been some time since I last saw her. The children will be at their studies, and Anoush will work in her herbarium as she does most days.”

“Must you go?” he grumbled. “I miss you when you are gone. How long will you remain with Ilona?”

“A day, possibly two,” Lara said, stroking his rough cheek. “Isn’t it better I go and visit with her, than she come here? You know as well as I do that your mother has a spy or two among our servants. The second my mother arrives, yours will be close behind. Then they will quarrel over the children as they always do. I just want to spend some time with Ilona without any fuss.”

He chuckled. “Why are you always right?” he asked her.

“Because I am,” she teased back.

“Go then with my blessing, Lara, my wife,” Magnus Hauk, Dominus of Terah, told her. “Go and enjoy your faerie world with your faerie cakes and wine. And take my love and deepest respect to your mother. Maybe I will call Dillon home to visit with me while you are gone. We haven’t seen him in some time, either.”

“Dillon contacted me last night on the Dream Plane,” Lara lied. “He is off on some magic business of Kaliq’s, and will be gone several weeks. He didn’t want us to worry, Magnus, my love.”

“Drat!” the Dominus swore lightly. “Well, perhaps I shall take Taj and visit Uncle Arik at the Temple of the Great Creator. It’s time my son began learning some of the responsibilities that will be his one day.”

“What a grand idea!” Lara said. “Give your uncle my love.” Her conscience was now clear.

They dressed and ate breakfast together. Then Lara sought out her children to tell them she was going to visit their grandmother.

“Your father and Taj are riding to the Temple of the Great Creator and so it will just be you girls,” Lara said. “Anoush, I expect you to keep order among your sisters. Zagiri, Marzina, you will listen to your elder sister, remembering she speaks for me. And no, Marzina, you may not ride Dasras in my absence. He is much too big a horse for so little a girl. Do you understand me?”

Marzina looked up at her mother with her beautiful violet eyes. “Yes, Mama,” she said meekly. “But can I ride out on his daughter? She doesn’t have Dasras’s wings, but she goes so swiftly on her four feet. And, yes, I will take a groom with me.”

“If Zagiri goes, too,” Lara said, “yes, you may ride your own horse.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Marzina said.

Zagiri rolled her eyes. It was a look that said “she’ll disobey you if she thinks she can get away with it.” “Give Grandmother my love, Mama,” Zagiri said.

“I will bring her all your loves,” Lara said, and then kissing each of her three daughters, she hurried off to the small windowless room she used for privacy. Closing the door she looked directly at a wall and said silently, Open! A shimmering tunnel of light appeared before her. Again her silent voice commanded, Golden road I wish to roam. Take me to my mother’s home. Then she stepped into the tunnel and walked quickly through it, exiting into the dayroom of Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries.

“Good evening, Mother,” Lara said. “Kaliq should be joining us shortly.”

“Lara! What a lovely surprise!” Ilona said rising to kiss her daughter. She drew Lara down onto a pale lavender silk couch with her.

“If Kaliq is coming it must be important,” Ilona noted. Wine! A carafe and three crystal goblets appeared on the low brass table before them. “Can you give me a hint?” Ilona smiled, reaching out to stroke Lara’s face, an almost mirror image of her own, with her slender fingers.

They looked like sisters separated by a year or two rather than mother and daughter. Their faerie blood allowed them to age very slowly. Ilona was over four hundred years old, but she didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“I am here!” Prince Kaliq suddenly appeared. “Ah, Lara, you arrived before me. Have you told your mother yet?”

“Told me what?” Ilona filled the three goblets with wine.

“Nay,” Lara said sweetly. “On reflection, I thought I should leave it to you, my lord.” She smiled brightly at him.

“I will tell half,” he bargained with her, “and the second part needs my voice. You must tell your mother the beginning.”

Lara stuck out her tongue at him. Turning to her mother, she said without any preface, “Kaliq has recently told me that Dillon is his son, and not Vartan’s.”

“Of course he is,” Ilona replied calmly. “All that talent for magic he has did not come from just you, and it certainly didn’t come from Vartan who could do nothing more complex than shape-shift into a bird.”

Lara looked astounded. “You knew?” Was she a fool that she had not guessed it?

“I suspected it although each time I broached the subject yon wily prince either denied it or led me into another topic,” Ilona said, amused. “Well, I am glad now that it is all out in the open. What did Magnus said?”

“It is in the open only in the magic world,” Lara said. “I have no intention of telling Magnus. Despite my husband’s best intentions he is still jealous of Kaliq. I wish to remain with my mortal husband until he is no more. If I told him that Kaliq is Dillon’s sire, do you really think he could accept it? Especially as he loves Dillon as his own. You will say nothing to him, Mother. Do you understand?”

“I can’t believe he hasn’t figured it all out himself,” Ilona muttered.

“I didn’t,” Lara replied. “I believed Kaliq when he lied to me. After all, is not the great Shadow Prince my closest friend? My friend would not lie, but he did, didn’t you, Kaliq?” She smiled at him again, but it was a wicked smile. “Now, do tell my mother all the rest of it, my dear friend,” Lara said in dulcet tones.

“You are still angry with me,” Kaliq said softly.

“Aye, I am,” Lara admitted. “If Magnus ever learns the truth he will think that I lied to him because he believes his faerie wife to be indomitable.”

“Now, do not quarrel with the man, Lara,” her mother said. “Shadow Princes rarely fall in love, but if they do their love is an endless one. Kaliq cannot help himself.”

“Thank you, Ilona,” the prince responded drily.

“Tell her,” Lara taunted him, and she laughed when a tiny flash of irritation appeared in his bright blue eyes.

“What?” Ilona repeated.

“My son was needed on Belmair,” Kaliq began.

Ilona’s green eyes darkened. “What have you done?” she demanded to know.

“A powerful sorcerer was needed on Belmair,” Kaliq continued. “The old king was dying. The dragon could find no successor to him, and the king’s daughter, the sorceress, wanted to be queen in her own right. Belmair is not ready for such change. Their world has found perfection by living in an orderly fashion. Change needs to be introduced slowly to the Belmairans, Ilona. You know I speak the truth. With King Fflergant dying, an heir had to be found. The sorceress needed a husband, and Belmair needed a new king. I spoke with the dragon myself, and she agreed that Dillon was the answer. The sorceress needed a husband she could not intimidate although if the truth be known the dragon could teach her little, and Cinnia, for that is her name, can only do simple sorcery. But she is beautiful and clever, and Dillon is already half in love.

“Belmair, however, has a problem that has plagued them for over a hundred years, but being the people they are, they have avoided the issue because it was distressing. Now their world stands in danger of extinction unless the answer to the mystery can be found. For a little over a century young women of marriageable age have been disappearing from Belmair. Sometimes one of them will return, but when they do they are old, and have no idea where they have been or what has happened to them. Dillon is now attempting to learn what magic exists on Belmair for other than the dragon, and now Cinnia, the Belmairans have no remembrance of magic in their world.”

“But of course it is magic!” Ilona said impatiently. “So you have wed my darling grandson to a Belmairan princess, and made him a king. Is it totally legal by their laws? And have the Belmairans accepted him?”

“Everything was done according to their traditions,” Kaliq assured her. “And the three dukes have approved the dragon’s choice and pledged their loyalty to Dillon.”

“Well,” Ilona allowed, “that is something at least. And the girl. Cinnia? Has she received him as her bridegroom and her king?”

“Before everything could be legal a joining had to take place. Both the dragon and I bore witness to it. Cinnia seems content, Ilona. And my son has had enough women in his lifetime to be ready to settle down now with one,” Kaliq told Ilona.

“If she’s mortal she will die, and he will know others,” Ilona said drily.

“Belmairans live several hundred years,” Kaliq informed her. “It is something in the water, I believe.”

“Tell her the rest,” Lara said.

“What rest? There is more?” Ilona sounded outraged.

“Your mother knows the rest.” He turned to the faerie queen. “It is the true history of Hetar to which she refers,” Kaliq explained.

“Oh, of course I know that,” Ilona said. “It is, after all, a part of the history of the Forest Faeries, for we, like the Shadow Princes and the Terahns, are native to the world of Hetar. We were already long here when they came.”

“Why did you never tell me?” Lara asked her mother.

“There was no occasion to tell you. Until now it should not have mattered to you. Belmair is that great star in the evening sky, and nothing more,” Ilona explained.

“Until now,” Lara said softly.

Ilona nodded. “Aye,” she agreed, “until now.”

“I need Cirillo,” Kaliq said.

“What?” Ilona cried. “You are not satisfied with removing my favorite grandson from our world? You would take my only son and heir, as well?”

“Dillon believes there is faerie magic involved in Belmair’s difficulties,” Kaliq explained. “Only a faerie prince can undo faerie magic, Ilona. You know that is truth.”

The queen of Hetar’s Forest Faeries glared at the Shadow Prince. “Indeed it may be truth, but I cannot put my only son at risk even for you, Kaliq. And you are cruel to even ask it of me.”

“There is little risk, Ilona,” Kaliq assured her. “A door to a room of forbidden books has been hidden within Belmair’s Academy library. We know that all the books and histories referring to magic in Belmair are within that room. Only Cirillo can find that door, and we need to find it if we are to learn the kinds of magic that once existed in Belmair. Only then can Dillon begin to solve the puzzle of the missing women, and why whoever is taking them needs them.”

“Thanos will have a fit,” Ilona said. “He dotes on his son. Would you go with him? Remain by his side and protect him?” she asked.

“Aye, I will,” the Shadow Prince promised her. “I will guide my son and yours as I have always done, Ilona.”

“Is there another way?” Lara, who had been silent until now, asked him. “I do not want my younger brother in any danger, Kaliq. Could I not find the door for Dillon?”

Kaliq shook his head. “Your blood is not one-hundred-percent faerie, my love. And even if it were you could not undo this magic. Only a faerie prince can overrule a spell created by other faeries.”

“You cannot even be certain it is faerie magic,” Lara replied.

“If it isn’t then Cirillo will be gone but a few hours,” Kaliq said. “But you yourself know that all worlds have faeries living within them. Dillon believes it is faerie magic, and I must concur with him that it probably is. We need Cirillo.”

“For what do you need me?” Prince Cirillo of the Forest Faeries had just entered the room. “Mama.” He kissed Ilona’s cheek. “Big sister.” He kissed Lara’s cheek. “I shall not kiss you, my lord, never fear,” he told Kaliq with a grin. He was a tall, slender, handsome faerie man with silvery-blond hair and crystal-green eyes. He was garbed in beautiful ice-blue silk garments.

“I suppose you are in the mood for an adventure now that you have discarded your latest little mortal lover,” his mother said drily.

An interested look came into the faerie prince’s eyes. “An adventure? Aye! I should enjoy a good adventure! It’s dull as muffins around here these days.”

Lara laughed and shook her head.

“Clarify it to him,” Ilona said, her voice tinged with irritation.

The Shadow Prince took his time, and explained to Cirillo all that had happened to Dillon, and the reason his assistance was necessary. When he had finished he asked the young man, “Are you ready to come with me now?”

“Indeed, my lord, I am! It’s been over a year since I last saw Dillon. So he’s your get, my lord? Well, I suppose I knew it all along. His powers are so extraordinary. No mortal could sustain them.” The young faerie prince chuckled. “And you’ve given him a kingship and a wife. You quite dote on the lad, don’t you, my lord? Is she pretty?”

“She is beautiful as you will shortly see, Cirillo.”

“Blond? Brunette? Redhead?” Cirillo asked.

“Her hair is as black as a raven’s wing,” Kaliq answered.

“Then she’ll be fair,” Cirillo said.

“Her skin is like moonlight,” Kaliq told him.

“Eyes? Let me guess? Violet? No. Blue? Perhaps. No. Ah, green! Am I right? Green?” His look was both boyish and eager.

Kaliq nodded. “As green as springtime,” he responded.

“There is faerie then somewhere in her blood,” Cirillo remarked. “If her eyes are green then a faerie once mated with one of her ancestors. And a sorceress to boot.”

“Her sorcery is limited, but on Belmair it is considered unique,” Kaliq said.

“How long will it take us to get there?” Cirillo wanted to know.

A stricken look touched Ilona’s beautiful face. “You will be careful, Cirillo,” she said to him, her hand touching his silken sleeve. “And you must come quickly back, for your father will give me no peace until you are safely again within our forest kingdom.”

“I’m being asked to find a door, Mama, not fight Belmair’s dragon,” Cirillo said patiently to his mother. He patted the hand clutching his sleeve.

“You are sometimes reckless, Cirillo,” Ilona said. “I would simply beg you remember that you are heir to our forest kingdom.”

“I will remember,” he promised her. Then he turned to Kaliq. “Can we go now, my lord?” And he stepped next to the Shadow Prince.

“We can,” Kaliq said, enfolding them both in his cloak, and before either Ilona or Lara could say another word the two men were gone.

To Lara’s amazement her mother gave a little sob. “Mother!”

“He is my baby,” Ilona said, and she wiped a single tear away. “I am allowed a tear now and again, Lara. The last time I wept one was the day I left you.”

“He will be all right,” Lara comforted her mother. “And he will be with both Kaliq and Dillon. He’ll return in a day or two with all sorts of gossip about Belmair, and you will enjoy listening to him spin his tales of adventure.”

“Do not speak to me as if I am some old woman,” Ilona snapped, her composure restored. Then, “Are you going home now?”

“Nay, I think I shall remain with you for a few days, Mother, if you would not mind my company,” Lara told her. “Magnus has taken Taj to visit his uncle at the Temple of the Great Creator, and Anoush is watching her sisters.”

“Well,” Ilona allowed, “I suppose it would be nice to have your company. It has been some time since we have had a good visit. Every time I go to Terah that wretched old cat, Persis, invades your castle, and we have no time together. Yes. Remain if you choose. I do not object,” the queen of the Forest Faeries said. “What gossip do you have?”

“Hetar wants Marzina for Egon, but Kaliq says no,” Lara replied.

“He is right,” Ilona answered. “I hear the boy is a little tyrant. Have you heard that a civil war has broken out in the Dark Lands between the adherents of your twin sons?”

“I don’t want to know,” Lara said in a hard voice. “They are Kol’s, not mine.”

“You birthed them,” Ilona reminded her daughter. “Everything is going quite nicely, my daughter. Kol remains imprisoned where none can reach him, and his brats have begun a war to further disrupt the Dark Lands. No one knows where they are, of course, but each of them has his adherents. They quarrel for supremacy. Eventually, of course, when they reach maturity in a few more years they will come into the open, and then, Lara, the real fun will begin. One of them will have to be killed, and since neither of them under their own laws can destroy the other it will be both fascinating and exciting to learn which one will survive. It could take years before the Dark Lands are again in a position to threaten the rest of Hetar. You did a great service, my daughter. Because of you the light is stronger than the dark,” Ilona concluded.

“It is a part of my life I can never forget, Mother,” Lara told her parent, “but I do not wish to remember, either. Please do not remind me of it.”

“Then we will speak on your half brother, Mikhail. He has been elected to the High Council as a representative for the Crusader Knights,” Ilona said. “And he is, it seems, quite respected. Your wretched stepmother, of course, is not satisfied. She wanted him to follow in your father’s footsteps. Her other four roughnecks are all in training, for as the sons of John Swiftsword they are entitled to places within the ranks of the Crusader Knights. Mikhail holds a position among them, but prefers to serve within the political venue as opposed to the military. Of course none of your stepmother’s brats will ever be the swordsman your father was,” Ilona said smugly.

“Hopefully the Crusader Knights will never be needed again,” Lara told her mother. “The women of Hetar are slowly but most surely gaining equal power with the men. But it is a waiting game, I fear. In the meantime it is good that young men like Mikhail are willing to serve on the council. We speak now and again, and he is a forward-thinking man. I will forever be grateful to my father for telling him of me when Susanna would not. When he came to me on the battlefield after we had defeated Kol’s army of darkness to tell me that John Swiftsword was dead, and that he had been proud of me…” Lara own eyes grew teary with the memory. “I promised myself then that I would stay in contact with him no matter my stepmother, and I have.”

“He is a fortunate mortal to have you as his half sister. Did you tell him of your father’s faerie blood?” Ilona asked.

“Aye,” Lara said, “and he laughed when I did. He said it would be our secret, and he would not reveal it to his brothers or his mother. Mikhail is a good man.”

“How long do you think Kaliq will keep Cirillo away?” Ilona said, changing the subject. “I imagine if it is not too long Thanos need not know until after the fact.”

Lara laughed. “I think you are safe keeping Cirillo’s whereabouts from his father. As long as Thanos is involved in his arboretum you will be safe from his curiosity, Mother. The trees are his passion, aren’t they? So let us, you and I, enjoy ourselves these next few days while our men are about other things.”

Ilona smiled. “I never thought to have a friend in my daughter, Lara, but I can see that I do. Aye! We will drink wine and eat sweetmeats and do the outrageous things that women love to do. I have these two marvelous mortal masseurs I have enchanted. Shall I call upon them?” And the queen of the Forest Faeries smiled wickedly.