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“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.”
