Without a word Cam loosened his manhood from his breeches. A few quick strokes of his hand, and he was ready. Ciarda knelt upon the bed, her bottom toward him. Cam grasped her hips, and drove himself hard and deep. At once Ciarda moaned.

“You see, Wolfyn,” Cam explained, “she requires a great deal of slow preparation to ready her. Then a quick thrust to impale her firmly so she feels all of your length and thickness.” Reaching beneath the Darkling, he used one hand to squeeze her full breast, pinching the nipple hard before he released it. “Her breasts are particularly sensitive. Come, and slide your head beneath her so you may suckle and fondle her. She will like that, won’t you, Ciarda?”

“Yes!” Ciarda said breathlessly as the young Wolfyn did as Cam bid him, his mouth closing over the sensitive tip of her breast. “Oh, yes!”

“She is a greedy bitch where pleasures are concerned,” Cam continued on in a pleasant tone. “Since you have disappointed and angered her you must work twice as hard now to pleasure her. Suck her! And while you do I will begin to stoke her lust.” He began to move himself in and out of Ciarda, slowly at first, then with increasing vigor and speed. He could sense her grasping for completion, but he deliberately kept her just short of it, explaining as he did so that it would drive her wilder, and give her far greater pleasures to be denied for a time, and then finally satisfied.

The young Wolfyn crawled from beneath Ciarda’s breasts, which he had sucked until they were swollen and sore. Now he forced his manhood between her lips, growling at her to suck him until he bid her cease. The Darkling attained great pleasures as Cam’s juices burst into her as her sheath spasmed and tightened about his manood even as the Wolfyn’s juices spurted down her throat, and he howled again with delight before collapsing onto the bed.

Cam withdrew his now-satisfied manhood from Ciarda’s hot dripping sheath, rearranging his garments into a semblance of order. He smacked the Darkling’s plump bottom a stinging blow. Then, grasping her by her ebony hair, he yanked her head up, looking down into her face. “Did you dare to lay an enchantment upon Anoush, you bitch?” he snarled at her.

Ciarda scrambled to her feet. She was naked, and very beautiful. “Get out!” she said to the Wolfyn, and, scrambling to his feet, he fled her. “What are you talking about?” she demanded of Cam as she picked up a scarlet silk robe and wrapped it about her. “What has happened to your precious mortal lover? Nothing serious, I hope.”

“She lies in a deep sleep unable to awaken,” Cam said.

“Her mother has done this, you fool,” Ciarda said, tossing her black hair at him.

“Nay! There is even an invisible shield about her. Lara says it is not her doing.”

“And you believe her? She has done this to prevent you from wedding her child,” Ciarda said. “She has not given you her permission, has she? But the girl is in love with you. She will defy her mother and wed you. The faerie woman knows this, and so she has woven an enchantment about the girl.”

“Nay, if Lara says she is not responsible then she is not,” he defended her. “She is not known to lie. And I believe she will allow me to wed Anoush if Anoush wants it. And she does, Ciarda! You are jealous, Darkling! Remove the enchantment you have put upon Anoush, or you shall never know pleasures with me again.”

“How prideful you are, mortal.” The Darkling sneered. “There are other lovers I can take to my bed. You are not the only manhood available to me to ride.”

“I saw what you rode but minutes ago, and he did not satisfy you, Ciarda. Only I can do that, and you know it.”

“I swear to you that I have not laid any enchantment upon your beloved,” the Darkling said. “You will tire of the girl sooner than later, Cam. As you are the only one to satisfy my lusts, I know that I am the only one who can satisfy your lust. You have not taken pleasures with Anoush, have you?”

“She was not ready,” Cam said.

The Darkling laughed scornfully. “You were afraid to touch her lest she flee you,” she said. “Does she not like pleasures?”

“She is shy, but once she is mine I will cure her of that affliction,” Cam boasted. Then he said, “If you did not place that spell upon Anoush, and Lara did not, then we must at least find someone who can remove it.”

“Only whoever placed the spell can remove it,” Ciarda told him. “You must forget the girl at least temporarily. Soon you will make your first appearance as the Hierarch, Cam. You can think of nothing else.”

“Is she safe?” Cam asked Ciarda.

“Who? Oh, you mean your little mortal girl. If she has not been harmed other than being put into a slumber then aye, she is safe. If someone had meant her harm she would have suffered. She does not. She only sleeps. I still think it is her mother’s doing, but if not then someone close to her.”

“I tell you her mother is too distraught to have done it,” Cam said.

“If that is indeed so then the faerie woman has another enemy,” the Darkling said, and she smiled. “I wonder who it is, but then it has naught to do with us. Leave me now, Cam. I will call you in a few days, and begin your tutelage for your appearance in Hetar as the Hierarch. I vow, mortal, you have quite exhausted me with your vigorous lust.”

Using the small magic she had given him, Cam took himself back to where his horse stood waiting. It had begun to snow. The first snows of the Icy Season. He hurried the beast along, eager for the warmth of Sholeh’s hall and a cup of hot mulled cider. The horse beneath him was as anxious for his stable. Anoush’s state still disturbed Cam. Someone was lying, but he trusted neither Lara nor the Darkling enough to be able to discern which of them it was. Both had a reason to keep Anoush from him.

Finally the roofs of his village began to be distinguished amidst the falling snows. The day was ending in a blue-gray light. Reaching the headwoman’s hall, he stabled his horse, instructing the stable boy to see to its comfort. Then he hurried into the hall where the evening meal was just being served. Sholeh waved him to her High Board, pointing to a place to her left.

“Tell me what has happened,” she said. “Has Lara given you her permission to marry with her daughter?” Sholeh pushed a cup of cider into Cam’s hand, nodding to the servant with the tureen to fill Cam’s trencher with hot stew.

Cam drank deep of the mulled cider. Then he told Sholeh what had happened.

The headwoman listened quietly. When he had concluded his tale she said, “I am sorry, Cam. It is obvious some enemy of Lara’s has attempted to strike at her through her beloved daughter. She will learn their identity, and Anoush will then be restored to you.”

“She did not say she would give us her permission to wed,” Cam said.

“But she did not refuse you, either,” Sholeh noted with a small smile. “Lara is a careful woman, and this is Vartan’s daughter you ask for, my lad. When Anoush awakens her mother will ask her what she wants. And if it is you, Cam, then knowing Lara as I do she will, no matter her own reluctance, allow you to marry her child.”

Sholeh was right, of course, Cam thought as he lay in his bed afterward. Lara did not like him. He could sense it even as he sensed her busybody friend, Noss, Liam’s wife did not like him. But Anoush loved him, and that was all that mattered. But what if she didn’t awaken by the time he must reveal himself as the Hierarch? She was an integral part of the plan to get Hetar to accept him. If the Lord High Ruler Jonah had Lara’s daughter Zagiri for his wife, then the Hierarch must have another of Lara’s daughters. Jonah must have no advantage over the Hierarch. And with her two older daughters wed to the husbands they would have, the faerie woman could not, would not, interfere. She would never show partiality. Anoush must awaken!

HETAR WAS SUFFERING THROUGH one of the worst winters in its history. The Forest and the Midlands were blanketed in snow. In The City the snows seemed to fall more heavily. The streets were blocked, a narrow passage being opened down the center of the main avenues. The ground floors of many houses were blocked by the white. The Pleasure Houses, however, were available to the wealthiest of their clients, who somehow managed to reach them. Their lights glittered through the nights as the sound of music and laughter echoed through the unusual quiet of The City. And many of the Razi kiosks remained open, the narcotic drink being the escape of the poor from their cold, their hunger and the dead bodies lying frozen in the streets. The more humane among the magnates tried to feed the poor with what was left in their warehouses. The less humane among them called the charitable fools, and said that with fewer mouths to feed what was left would go further.

The Lord High Ruler of Hetar was becoming more and more concerned by the situation. Especially when his young wife was accosted by beggars on her way to visit her relations in the Garden District, and saw the truth of the situation. Zagari had known only love and comfort in her life. To have skinny fingers clawing at her fur-lined cloak while rasping, whining voices begged her for a coin or two had been a revelation to her. She had emptied her purse as her litter bearers struggled to get her into the safety of the district populated by the Crusader Knights.

“The poor are always among us,” Jonah told her when Zagiri had related her adventures to him. “I’ll hire a troop of mercenaries next time you wish to visit your uncles and grandmother,” he said.

“Poverty like this is not known in Terah,” Zagiri said. “Hetar is wealthy. There should be no poverty here at all. And Susanna is not my grandmother. She was my mother’s stepmother, and disowned Mother after she went to Terah. As for my uncles, other than Mikhail, I find them too rough-natured. It is not likely I will visit them again.”