“My faerie mother deserted me when I was an infant,” Lara said. “I know naught of faerie magic.”

“But you gave me a faerie blessing,” Noss reminded the older girl, her lip beginning to quiver.

“I did, and I meant it.” Lara smiled. Then reaching out she ruffled Noss’s brown-gold hair. “Go to sleep, youngling. We leave tomorrow for the Desert.”

Noss obediently lay down, and was soon asleep.

Lara touched her star pendant. The flame flickered within the crystal. This is my fate? she asked it silently.

Nay, but you have a task to complete here, the voice responded.

What is it?

You will know soon enough, the voice of her magical guardian, Ethne, replied. You will have to sacrifice yourself, but we will help you. Be brave!

Lara closed her eyes. Be brave. She would have to be. She had been horrified when the Forest Lord pushed his finger into her body, but she had somehow managed to remain silent and still. Soon, she knew, he would push his manroot into her as well. She had seen the look in his eyes as he probed her innocence so boldly. And the other man, The Head Forester. He had licked his lips in open anticipation as the younger one examined her with rough hands. What purpose was there in all of this? Ethne, her guide, said this was meant to be so it must be. The flame within the pendant had always been with her, and she couldn’t even recall when it had first spoken with her, so familiar had the voice become. She wondered how Rolf Fairplay was doing in his negotiations with the Forest Lords. They wouldn’t be happy with his decision, she knew.

And they were not.

“You will sell her, but only when we reach the border? Do you take us for fools, Rolf Fairplay?” Durga demanded.

“My reputation is gold,” the trader said in icy tones, “but I must protect myself, my lord Durga. You have agreed to pay me a small fortune. But I do not see it, nor are your Forest clans noted for much wealth. Lara is an extremely valuable piece of merchandise. She was meant for a king’s son. I know her owner, for he is my own blood. Arcas has agreed to pay twenty-five thousand pieces of gold for the girl. You offer thirty thousand. I would be a fool not to sell her to you. My cousin would chastise me for such foolishness. But I have not seen your gold, and until I do there can be no agreement between us, my lord. And if indeed you pay me this great amount, and take the girl, what is to stop you from attacking my caravan before I reach the next district? My route for this journey, as for all the journeys I make, is public knowledge. Each trader must publish with the Guild the route he is taking, the stops he is making, the merchandise he is carrying. You could steal your gold back and murder me, yet claim no knowledge of me after I left your hall. I think not, my lords.

“I have agreed to sell Lara to you, but the transaction will not take place until we reach the borders between your land and the Desert region. The border guards will witness the compact between us. You will count out your coin, and when you have, I will turn the girl over to you. That is how I desire our agreement to be. If you choose not to do it my way, then I will depart, but you have my word that I will have a suitable slave girl sent to you as quickly as possible.”

“You offend us by suggesting we would betray you after we have the slave,” Durga said. His black eyes were narrowed in irritation. “And what makes you think we couldn’t take the girl now, and dispose of you and the rest of your caravan?”

“You live by a certain code, my lord. It would not be the honorable thing to do, and so I can trust you will not do it. If you give me your word this night, and we shake hands, I know you will keep your word, and all who bow to your authority will as well.”

“Very well, I give you my word,” Durga finally said.

“Then give me your hand,” the trader replied.

“Is my word not good enough?” Durga roared angrily.

“Nay, it is not!” Rolf replied just as loudly. “Give me your hand, or the agreement between us is null and void. I know your ways, my lord. The members of my guild have not traveled your lands all these years in safety because they are fools.”

Durga held out a fat broad hand, and shook the trader’s thin hand grudgingly.

“And your brother as well, my lord?” Rolf Fairplay said quietly.

Enda laughed, and offered his hand to the trader in a firm grip. “Then we are agreed, Rolf Fairplay?” he said. “I am eager to have the beautiful Lara beneath me.”

The trader nodded reluctantly. “We are agreed. I will leave at dawn. We should reach the border in two days of travel-I shall meet you there. The gold will be counted, weighed, and the girl will be yours.” Then he added, “While my cousin will certainly be pleased with this transaction, Arcas will be quite disappointed. I wonder if I should not send a faeriepost messenger to the coast, and perhaps you might bid against one another.” It did not hurt to keep up the pretense and worry the Forest Lords, Rolf thought. He was not happy leaving a girl like Lara with them. After all, her father was a Crusader Knight, and famous even before he won his spurs in the recent tournament.

“We have agreed verbally, and I have given you my hand,” Durga protested. “You cannot break our agreement now, trader.”

Rolf pretended to consider. “I suppose not, and why waste the time? After all, in my business time is always money. Oh, one thing. The girl wears a thin gold chain with a tiny crystal star about her neck. Her faerie mother put it there. Gaius Prospero requests that it remain with her. Who knows what magic it possesses?” He smiled at the two men, and then with a neat bow left them to ponder his words.

“The girl possesses faerie magic,” Durga said. “I knew it! She will be worth every coin we give the trader. And they say that faerie women are passionate beyond all other women. Take her virginity, brother, and teach her a few tricks, but then I want my turn, and I do not choose to wait. Was her sheath tight when you put your finger in her?”

“I have never known a virgin’s to be tighter,” Enda said wickedly, and then regretted his words immediately.

His brother’s black eyes gleamed in lustful anticipation. “I have said I will leave her to you, and I will-but the night you take her virginity I must have her, too, so I can also experience that virgin denseness. It is only fair, Enda, for I have put up much of my gold for this purchase, too.”

Enda laughed. “Mother always said you were greedy, too, Durga. The girl will receive a full measure of our lust that night. And if she conceives then it matters not which of us is the child’s sire, the infant will have her faerie blood. We should have thought of this before. We must find more like her so all of our men may breed sons on faerie women. The curse will finally be lifted from us.”

“You must marry Tira as soon as possible,” Durga said. “She must be ready to receive her son from the faerie girl.”

“We cannot kill her as we do the others,” Enda told his brother. “This disaster came upon us because our men murdered a faerie woman in the first place. This faerie, and the others we find, must be treated well, for their wombs hold our future.

“I am ashamed that my blood is tainted by that of a Midland woman. Once our seed was pure, and we wed only with each other. We did not have to bring strangers into our midst in order to breed up our sons.”

“At least the same breeder gave us life,” Durga said. “She must have been a clever creature to lure our sire back into her bed when she was nursing me. None before her had done so. They suckled their nurslings like good little ewe sheep, never knowing that when their children were weaned they would be taken away and given to their real mothers. Never suspecting, poor little lambkins, that the men who filled their wombs would strangle them, and bury their bodies in the darkest part of the Forest.” He laughed.

“It will not happen in our generation,” Enda said, “but possibly in our sons’ time, or our grandsons’? One day we will produce sons on our own women again. One day our women will not weep with the curse of their infertility because the men of our grandfather’s generation murdered a faerie woman, and then refused to atone for their crime. This is a new beginning for us, Durga. We will be hailed as heroes by our descendants.”

Durga nodded and then, swilling down his goblet of wine, he arose from the high board. “I am going to bed,” he said. “I have a fresh and juicy woman to give me pleasure this night. The trader may depart tomorrow unharmed. ’Tis only a day’s ride to the border by horse, though the caravan travels slower. I intend plugging the fiery Truda until her legs can no longer hold her up-the memory of the beautiful Lara will encourage me onward,” he chuckled. “I will tell Sita you are to wed her sister, Tira, soon. I think the autumn is a good time, eh?”

Enda nodded. “Why not?” he agreed. “We will plan the date for a time when Lara’s moonlink is broken. She is unclean then, and I will need a pretty outlet for my lustful nature. Tira will be a good substitute. Now that I have a breeder to get a son on it is time I wed.”

The brothers parted, Enda remaining in the hall drinking. He considered taking one of the new slave women for his amusement, but he knew now he would never be content knowing that Lara lay sleeping below the hall in the trader’s wagon. He licked his lips in anticipation of their first night. She would be afraid, of course, but he would soothe her with kisses and caresses. And when he had convinced her she had no other choice but to sweetly yield herself to him, he would fill her tight little sheath full with his manroot, leaving her breathless with his skill. And while he plundered her virginity his brother would watch, his own need for Lara swelling. When Enda had finished with her that first time, Durga would cover the girl’s fair body with his own. He would howl with his satisfaction, for Durga was a noisy lover. How Lara’s eyes would widen when his brother’s thick manroot filled her sheath! He fully admitted his elder sibling had a bigger mass of man flesh; but Enda had a much longer organ. He would push it right to the mouth of her womb, and she would cry out when he filled her full with his potent seed. Then Enda grinned, looking down to see his manroot engorged and poking up beneath his tunic. The mere thought of the beauteous half faerie girl set more than his pulses racing. He was afire with need for her. Standing up, he walked slowly from his brother’s hall and stood on the treed portico looking down at the trader’s encampment, where the object of his intense desire slept her innocent sleep. Or was she thinking of him, and tossing with her own thoughts?

SHE COULD FEEL HIM. He was somewhere near, and his very presence was disturbing. I don’t want this, she murmured silently to the crystal. You have a fate to follow, to live out, the voice said back to her. They repel me, these Forest Lords, she replied. You will not be long with them, Ethne promised her. Just a little while. Be brave, child. You are protected.

The caravan awoke before the dawn. Noss gently shook Lara awake, and handed her a piece of flat bread with cheese. The older girl nodded her thanks, and began to eat slowly. She had not slept well at all, but she knew she would need all her strength and her wits about her if she was to survive what was to come. She smiled suddenly, remembering Rolf Fairplay’s lies yesterday as he attempted to save her from the determination of the Forest Lords to have her for themselves. What made them want her? Surely it was not just her beauty. If it was, then her beauty was an anathema, and she didn’t want it. But no, she sensed it was something more. But what? She hoped the revelation would not be too awful.

Noss brought her a basin of warm water.

“You don’t have to wait upon me, Noss,” Lara told her.

“You saved me from those men,” Noss whispered. “I shall be forever in your debt, and must do what I can to serve you while we are yet together, Lara.”

“Thank you,” Lara said, quickly washing herself. Then she grew serious. “In two more days I will leave you, Noss. You will be protected by my mercenary friend, but you must stop being afraid of life, little one. It is an adventure to be lived. Promise me whenever you think you are growing frightened to remember those words and me.”

“You are braver than I,” Noss said.

“Until a few days ago I had lived all of my life in the Mercenaries’ Quarter of the City, Noss. I have no deep well of experience to sustain me, and I am only three years older than you,” Lara replied. “We are on a journey, you and I. How we travel our journey’s road is up to us. If we choose to live in constant fear, the journey will be an unpleasant one. But if we live it with enthusiasm, taking each day as it comes, enjoying the surprises and appreciating the quiet times, then we will travel a far less bumpy road.”