Читать книгу The Shadow Queen - Bertrice Small - Страница 9

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.