The Twilight Lord

by Bertrice Small

  Kol laughed, and without another word drove himself deep into her eager body with his dominant rod while his lesser rod pushed between her buttock cheeks and buried itself in her fundament.

  Vilia attempted to shriek with her surprise but Kol put his hand firmly over her mouth and shook his head at her.

  “Nay, Cousin, you must take both. Cease being afraid and realize that you like it,” he whispered. “Note the lesser rod will remain still while I am able to thrust myself back and forth within your delicious hot sheath.” He pumped her vigorously until Vilia was weak with exhaustion.

  She had reached her pleasure point several times now but he seemed not to be satisfied. She could feel both of his rods quite distinctly. They were swollen and throbbing within her lusty ripe body. Her lips felt raw with the kisses he was pressing upon her, yet she still wanted more of him. Vilia wrapped her legs about the man riding her and felt him slip even deeper into her body. “Yes!” she hissed at him, and Kol smiled down at her as he worked her harder and her nails raked his back ferociously.

  She is a juicy piece of lust, he thought, as he used her lush body to satisfy himself. Penned within his castle he had been unable to visit his women except upon the Dream Plain, but none had satisfied him. Until now. The carnal creature now gasping and moaning beneath his attentions pleased him well. She was newly with child by her husband, but his juices when he released them would bathe the tiny creature growing inside her with his essence. It would be almost as if he had created the child himself. And he planned for that child to one day accomplish what he had been unable to do. Conquer! His sons, he knew, would spend more time fighting each other than spreading darkness across the face of the land. But this child his cousin carried would be a perfect combination of both Vilia and Jonah—a man after his own heart, Kol thought. Perhaps one day he would visit him upon the Dream Plain.

  The woman under him was about to faint away. “You are going to have a son, Vilia,” he whispered in her ear. “Trust me, my cousin, that you will bear Jonah a son. You will name him Egon for it means formidable and he will be a great conqueror.” Then Kol let his lust burst forth and Vilia swooned with the power she felt filling her.

  When she awakened she was in her bed, amid a tangle of bedclothes. It was almost dawn and Jonah, as was his custom, was already in his library with his secretary, Lionel. Vilia reached down and touched herself between her legs. She was wet, sticky and naked. She knew she had gone to sleep in a light night garment, but even after she had gotten up and looked around her chamber, she could find no trace of it. Her lips felt raw, as if they had been kissed over and over again. Her nipples were tingling and sore as if they had been sucked and sucked upon. Of course it had been a dream. A terribly real dream, but a dream nonetheless. And yet it had seemed so real….

  When word finally reached Terah that the Lord High Ruler’s wife was expecting a child, Lara was not pleased. “I had hoped that if Jonah remained childless Hetar would continue to flounder. This child, especially if it is a son, will be a rallying point.”

  “They are an ocean away from us, my lady,” Magnus Hauk reminded his wife. “Hetar does not exist for us any longer.”

  “I wish that were true,” Lara murmured. Magnus Hauk, by virtue of the time in which he lived, was an insular man. It did no good to argue with him. Instead she waited until her husband slept, then she transported herself from the privacy of her little magic chamber into Lady Gillian’s house where she was warmly greeted.

  “You have heard our news then,” Gillian said.

  “It is certain?” Lara wanted to know.

  “Aye. She proclaims it is a son and that she will call him Egon,” Gillian replied. “I see you are with child also.”

  “It was time that the Dominus had a son,” Lara answered. “Tell me, how goes the attempt to get women into the government? Have you made any progress?”

  “Indeed we have,” Gillian responded. “I believe that the Lord High Ruler is going to support us to a certain extent. Lady Vilia has said he is interested and agrees it is past time that the women of Hetar had at least some voice in what happens to them.”

  “Interesting,” Lara remarked. “He obviously is not entirely certain of his position and seeks your influence and help.”

  “What does it matter, my lady Domina,” Gillian remarked, “as long as we get our slipper into the door?”

  Lara laughed a short laugh. “I am amazed to find Hetar ahead of Terah in this matter. Perhaps it is time I put my efforts to helping my own people. You obviously have everything well in hand here in Hetar. You have my permission to call me should you ever need me or my help.” She began to fade away.

  “Wait!” Gillian cried and when Lara had rematerialized she said, “Will you not continue to aid us, my lady Lara?”

  “I do not believe that you need my help now, my lady Gillian. You have a strong group that still remains passionate. Lord Jonah knows what you want and appears willing to help you. There is naught more I can do for you.”

  “But what if Jonah is simply placating his wife who carries his child?” she wondered. “What if he is trying to learn more about us so he can arrest us?”

  “You do not need me to tell you what to do if that should prove the case,” Lara said. “You are capable of making your own decisions. You must accept the consequences of taking responsibility.” She leaned forward and kissed Gillian’s cheek. “Farewell, my friend,” she said. And then Lara was gone in her mauve mist. And Lady Gillian had to admit that the faerie woman was right.

  THE SUMMER HAD gone, and now autumn was almost over. Lara was slipping slowly back into the contentment she had once known with her first husband, Vartan. Kemina had been right in her advice. Reaching up she touched the crystal star that hung from its gold chain about her neck. You have been silent of late, Ethne. Have you nought to say to me any longer?

  For the moment you do not need me, Lara, her faerie guide said. To be honest with you, I have welcomed the respite from the tumult that usually surrounds you.

  Lara laughed softly. It is almost like it was in Vartan’s time, isn’t it? I grow fat with child and am content with my life and my family.

  Ethne chuckled, sounding like water running over a bed of little rocks in a forest stream. You’ve done much, my child. Rest is not a bad thing. How grows the child, this son you will give the Dominus?

  He seems more restless in my womb than the others.

  It is the sign of a brilliant creature. One who will lead his people, Ethne answered.

  Will he have magic like the others? Lara wondered.

  I do not know, my child. But given your bloodlines I would expect that he will have some magic about him.

  Poor Magnus. Lara giggled softly, and Ethne chuckled again.

  As her belly swelled Lara drew closer to her children. Dillon was shooting up into a giant of a boy. He was his father’s image and gave evidence that he would one day be as tall as Vartan had been. He longed to leave Terah and attend the school of the Shadow Princes. Even without training his powers were growing. Lara found him in her private chamber one evening playing Herder with her half brother, the faerie prince, Cirillo.

  “How did he get here?” she demanded to know.

  Both boys looked nervously at her.

  “Do you want me to speak to Mother?” she asked Cirillo who paled.

  “I brought him,” Dillon said quickly. “It’s an easy spell, Mother.”

  “You are not to cast it again,” Lara said sternly. “If you want to visit with your uncle I will bring him to you, Dillon. I am astounded that both of you would be so cavalier as to use magic when neither of you has been properly trained. Magic is not just words, and you, Cirillo, should know that better than Dillon, for you are faerie. Go home!” She waved her hand strongly at him and Cirillo tumbled over himself as he disappeared. Lara put an arm about her son. “I understand, Dillon, I truly do, but you must be patient.”

  “It seems so long until next autumn,” he s
ighed.

  “Patience is something you should learn to cultivate, Dillon,” Lara told her son. She ruffled his dark hair. “You are not to come in here again without my permission,” and he sighed again, causing Lara to smile over his head.

  Anoush seemed to grow up a little bit that icy season. She was tall like her brother and slender. She had Vartan’s dark hair and blue eyes but her profile was delicate. While she didn’t look quite like Lara, it was obvious she was going to be beautiful one day. She kept the magic beginning to grow within her well masked for she was not yet certain that she even wanted it, and of course the choice would be hers.

  As for Lara’s littlest daughter, Zagiri, she was a mischievous and adventurous child who seemed to need far more watching over than her siblings. With her dark blond hair and her turquoise eyes she was her father’s child in every way. Lara worried that when Magnus Hauk’s son was finally born Zagiri would find herself relegated to second place. She was not a child who liked being put aside and she adored her father. Zagiri was quick and like her siblings excelled at her lessons. She was plainly Master Bashkar’s favorite student for she had the habit of rhyming and making up stories, and her tutor, being Devyn-born, appreciated her talent, especially when she composed music to accompany her tales.

  The Icy Season set in. Terah’s trading ships were all in port, for the Sagitta was not a hospitable place at this time of year. The vessels would be refitted and repaired over the coming months in preparation for the next trading season. In the villages the Terahn folk crafted the goods that would go to Hetar. In the warm weather they would tend to their livestock and gardens.

  When the Icy Season was half over, the time came for Lara’s child to be born. The Dominus’s mother, Lady Persis, had traveled from her own home up the fjord and through the snows to be there when her grandson arrived. She arrived wearing the beautiful fur cloak that Lara had given her when Lara had wed the Dominus. Because it had been fashioned through magic, the fur cloak always appeared as if brand new. The Dominus’s mother loved it dearly. Lady Persis was not a woman to mince words but she was in awe of her faerie daughter-in-law.

  “So, at last you are giving Terah an heir,” she said as she settled herself into a comfortable chair in the great hall of the castle, accepting a goblet of rich wine.

  “I have already given Magnus one child,” Lara replied, amused.

  “Zagiri is a female and cannot rule Terah one day,” Lady Persis said. “This is not Hetar, where I hear the women of the land are suddenly involving themselves in how it is governed. Ridiculous! We all know what we are good for and governing is not it.”

  “Why not?” Lara asked. “Government affects women. Why should we not have a say in how it is run?”

  Lady Persis sniffed. “Ridiculous!” she repeated.

  “I agree with my lady wife,” Magnus Hauk said, surprising his parent.

  “What? You would have women telling us all what to do?” his mother cried, shocked. “I cannot believe that you said that, my son. This is the influence of your faerie wife, I fear. The Great Creator help us all!”

  “Some changes must come to Terah if we are to survive successfully,” Magnus Hauk said. Lara’s eyes were bright as she listened to him. “Our family has always produced benevolent rulers, but we have ruled without any council from our people. I would create a ruling council to advise me and I will want women’s voices in it, Mother.”

  Lady Persis shook her head. “Terah will not stand for such a thing,” she said.

  “I think they will. Every village has its leader and I know, though it is not spoken of aloud, that the women of the villages advise their men. It is time for the women to speak for themselves. After our son is born I intend implementing my plans to do just that,” the Dominus said. “In the New Outlands the women sometimes lead.”

  Lady Persis said no more but she did send a fierce glare in Lara’s direction.

  And it was at that very moment that an odd look crossed the Domina’s face.

  “Are you all right?” Lady Persis asked Lara.

  “Aye, but I believe the child has decided it wishes to be born,” the Domina announced. “Mila,” she called to her body servant. “I think the time has come now for me to go to the birthing chamber. Someone send for the midwife.” And arising slowly from her chair, Lara left the great hall, her hand on her great belly.

  The birthing chamber had large windows that ran all around the room, and the view of Terah’s green mountains and the fjord below was spectacular. It was believed that, be it day or night, the newborn should greet the world into which it had come. The room had a small fireplace to bring warmth into it should it be needed and this night it blazed with a rosy fire. There was a large wide comfortable birthing chair of sturdy ashwood with a padded back. The seat was also padded with soft material so that the infant slipping from its mother’s body through the hole in its center into the hands of the midwife would not be harmed in any way. There was water, swaddling clothes and a woven willow basket with comfortable bedding for the newly born child set upon a table. There was a decanter of sweet frine and goblets. Everything was in perfect readiness for Terah’s heir.

  Lara was already naked and seated upon the chair when the royal midwife, Aminta, arrived. She smiled broadly at her patient. “Greetings, Domina!” she said. “So the time has come, has it, for our next Dominus to make his entrance into our world? Let us see how far along you are. Mila, elevate the chair, please.”

  The seat of the birthing chair was cranked up by the serving woman with a strong arm, and Aminta stepped under to inspect Lara. Her small size was her greatest advantage to her chosen profession. Most of the midwives had to crawl beneath an elevated birthing chair. Aminta just had to bend slightly.

  “Ah, my lady, you are well along, but then this is your fourth child, isn’t it?” she remarked as she withdrew. “The pains are regular now?”

  Lara nodded. She wished it were her fourth child—and not her sixth—but few knew that, of course. She pushed away the thoughts of her last delivery and labor, and concentrated upon this child. The pains grew stronger. She kept Aminta informed, and finally the midwife knelt beneath the chair and told her when she might push.

  “I see the boy’s head,” she said excitedly. “His hair glistens like gold, my lady!”

  Lara gazed out at the night sky that was now, after several hours, beginning to glow faintly with the coming dawn.

  “Push, my lady! Ah, yes, that is it! His head and shoulders are now free. Oh, he is beautiful!” Aminta said excitedly.

  Her son! Their son! Lara could barely wait now to hold him. What would Magnus name him? she wondered.

  “Push, my lady! He is coming! He is coming!” Aminta said, her voice trembling with her delight. “Mila! Have the warm oil ready to cleanse him! One more push, my lady!”

  “Welcome my son to Terah!” Lara cried with a loud voice as she pushed the infant entirely from her body and heard his strong cry. “Oh, let me see him, Aminta!”

  The midwife held the squalling child up, beaming with pleasure. “He looks just like the Dominus, my lady! The nose! The high cheekbones and forehead!” She handed him to Mila. “The Dominus will be so pleased, my lady,” Aminta said. “But now we must attend to the rest of this business.”

  Suddenly Lara cried out in genuine pain. Distressed by the sound of it the midwife bent once again beneath the birthing chair. “The pain! The pain!” the Domina cried.

  “There is another child,” Aminta gasped, “and it wishes to be born now. Push, my lady! You must push!”

  “Nay, there cannot be another!” Lara said angrily.

  “My lady, there is, and the child will not wait. It comes!” Aminta said.

  Pain such as she had never before known racked Lara. In spite of herself she screamed, her cries of agony mingled with her cries of fury. There could be but one heir to Terah! Ethne! she called out silently to her faerie protector.

  Be calm, Lara, Ethne’s soft voice couns
eled her.

  I do not understand! I wished a son for Magnus. One son, not two!

  Then it will be one son, Ethne assured her.

  A female? This child is a daughter? I did not ask for a daughter! Only a son! Tears began to roll down Lara’s face. Find Kaliq for me, Ethne! He will know what has happened. Find Kaliq! Find Mother! I must speak with them!

  I will bring them to you, my child. Now let this infant be born, Ethne said.

  “Push!” Aminta instructed her. “Push!”

  Lara bore down with every ounce of her strength and the child slid forth in a rush from her straining body. Her shriek of final pain echoed about the room mingling with the furious cries of the child.

  “A daughter!” Aminta cried out. And then she grew silent.

  “What is the matter?” Lara wanted to know. “Show me the girl.”

  Aminta held up the baby for its mother to see.

  Lara stared. The infant had a head full of black curls and pale skin.

  “Why, she favors my great-aunt,” Ilona, queen of the Forest Faeries said as she appeared in her usual haze of mauve smoke. “She will be a great beauty one day. My son-in-law should be well pleased, daughter.” And she bent to kiss Lara’s moist brow.

  18

  “WHAT GREAT-AUNT?” Lara demanded to know as Aminta handed the female child to Mila and began attending to her patient.

  “My grandfather’s sister,” Ilona said calmly. “She was the offspring of his mother and a mortal who was as pale as the moon, and had hair as black as night and deep violet eyes. She became a Nix, a guardian of a beautiful pond and had many lovers both mortal and faerie. Her name was Marzina.”

  Lara’s heart was beating furiously. Her mother was lying. Why was her mother lying? But she could hardly accuse her before Aminta and Mila.

  “And she was not the first dark-haired faerie in our midst,” Ilona prattled on. “There must have been others, for now and again one will be birthed. And of course, your father’s mother had dark hair as a girl, too. I shall now go and fetch Magnus, Daughter.”