“It shall be as the Celestial Actuary ordains,” Lara said sweetly. “If I am meant to give one of these Forest Lords a child, I will. But will they not favor my offspring, with its faerie blood, to that of a slave woman?”

“You are a slave, too!” Truda said angrily, her hands going to her belly.

“But I am special, being half faerie,” Lara taunted her wickedly. And then she turned, and went down the dim corridor to the sanctuary of her rooms. Stepping inside, she was shocked to find Durga there awaiting her. Her heart began to beat nervously. “My lord,” she greeted him.

He arose from the chair by the hearth where he had been sitting. “You smell sweet,” he said. “Are you just come from your bath, Lara?”

“Yes, my lord,” she replied. Her hands by her side were balled into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

He took a step toward her, and Lara instinctively backed away. He smiled wolfishly, and reached out for her before she might evade him again. Drawing her against his chest he said, “I desire you, faerie girl. I am a man of vast appetites, and the big-bellied bitch in the hall can no longer be mounted lest I endanger my son. You belong to me as well as to Enda, and he is gone for the next few days on a hunting trip. While he is gone you will open your legs for me.”

“Does my lord Enda know you do this?” Lara asked him.

Durga smiled, but it was a cold smile. The fingers of one large hand dug into her scalp, and he yanked her head back. “Yes!” he said. “And do not ever dare to question my actions, faerie girl. I am master in this hall, and you are my slave.” He pushed her against the door to her bedchamber. His hands reached down, sliding beneath her gown to cup her bottom. He lifted her up, commanding her, “Put your arms about my neck, and your legs about my waist, Lara,” and when she obeyed, afraid to do otherwise, he released his grip on her a moment, lifting his tunic up to release his manroot, which he then pushed into her with a smooth, hard thrust. “Now, faerie girl,” he said, his hands cupping her buttocks once more, “you are going to be well used, and thoroughly seeded by the hour of the evening meal.”

Lara was in shock. Enda had always been gentle and thoughtful with her. She was even learning to gain great pleasure in their passion. Durga, however, was a hard man, and a cruel lover. He ground into her brutally, making her whimper with each thrust of his loins. She thought of the faerie woman Og had told her about today, and realized that this is how the poor creature must have felt as she was violated. Her head slammed against the bedchamber door as he pushed into her again and again. And then it was over. With a roar he released his seed into her and lowered her to the floor. Lara’s legs buckled, and she would have fallen but Durga caught her up in his arms and, kicking the door open, brought her into her chamber, and laid her on the bed.

“I’ll get you some wine, faerie girl, and then we will begin again,” he told her, going back out into the day room. When he returned, Lara had managed to seat herself on the edge of the bed. He handed her the wine. “Drink it all down, and then get out of your gown, Lara. I don’t want you damaging your clothing for you have little enough.”

She swallowed the wine almost eagerly, relishing the fact that it burned her throat as it meant she could still feel something. He took the goblet from her when it was gone, and she stood up, disrobing slowly, her fingers all thumbs as she undid her laces. She laid her gown aside, and pulled off her chemise.

“On your back now, faerie girl,” he ordered her, and as she lay upon her bed she saw that Durga had also disrobed, and was now quite naked. She trembled, to her surprise. It was unlike her to be fearful of these men, but the tale Og had imparted to her earlier made her realize how dangerous the Forest Lords really were.

He was a big man, his hairy arms and legs like the thick tree trunks in his Forest. His chest was massive and broad and covered in wiry dark curls as was the area surrounding his manroot. He climbed into the bed and pulled her up into his arms. His fingers tugged the pins from her long gilt-colored hair. “It’s like thistledown, faerie girl,” he complimented her. Then his hand patted her mons. “It matches the pretty curls you have grown back since you came to us.” A finger pushed between her nether lips to find her jewel. He began to play with it gently. “You should have begun a child with my brother by now, Lara. Perhaps his seed is not as potent as mine. Perhaps he weakens it going between two women at night. My seed is fertile. I will plant your hidden garden fully and well in the next few days. You will ripen with my child, faerie girl.”

“I am not some animal to be bred!” Lara cried out, finally finding her voice.

“That’s exactly what you are, my pretty faerie girl. You are a sweet beast to be bred.” He pushed two fingers into her, moving them vigorously, then withdrew them. “Almost ready,” he noted. “Has Enda taught you to play with his manroot yet? I expect not. He gets little joy out of it, but I enjoy it. Take it in your hand, Lara. Fondle it gently. Tickle the seed sacs beneath it. They are filled with life!”

She took him in her hand, afraid to disobey him. He made a sound halfway between a growl and a purr, praising her skill and encouraging her onward. Her fingers moved beneath his manroot to tickle the seed sacs. They were almost icy to her touch. She fondled them in her palm, restraining her urge to squeeze them so hard they would pop.

“That’s it, girl,” he said approvingly. His hands fondled her young breasts, squeezing them tenderly, pinching the nipples sharply so that she squealed aloud. He laughed saying, “Such pretty little apples, faerie girl. Now, on your back!” And he dumped her from his lap onto the mattress. “Put your hands above your head now.” His dark head lowered, and he kissed her breasts and her belly, his bushy black beard scratching her delicate skin. Then without another word he was atop and into her, thrusting and withdrawing as he panted with his exertions.

Lara closed her eyes. A sweet beast to be bred. She would not be bred, for she wanted no child of this man, or his brother. But neither her beauty nor her faerie blood would save her from their revenge if they chose to kill her. She had to get away from the Forest Lords before they grew suspicious of her. But how? And where could she go that she would not be branded an escaped slave? She shuddered, and Durga took it for passion rising in her and redoubled his efforts on her body until finally he cried out loudly, satisfied for the interim.

“By the old Forest gods, faerie girl, you know how to give a man pleasure,” he told her approvingly. Then he arose from the bed. “I’ll send some supper for you, but rest, for tonight I will share your bed until the dawn. This brief interlude has but whetted my appetite for your sweet faerie flesh.” He pulled on his clothing again, and left her.

For the first time since she had left her family, Lara cried. The human side of her was showing itself at last, after months in which her faerie blood had allowed her to be as hard as nails. It had aided in her survival, but with Og’s tale today she was only too aware of her precarious position within the realm of the Forest Lords until she produced the desired child. She needed to speak with Og, but she dared not leave the hall again today. And the night loomed long and dark ahead. She rose from her bed and washed herself clean of his juices, but his scent still clung to her body. The tears kept coming until finally she fell into a fitful sleep.

It had been early afternoon when she dozed off, but the sun had been already setting, for winter was upon them. Lara awoke in darkness but for the scrap of flame in the bedchamber hearth. She scrambled up and fed the fire until it was blazing again, then dressed, went into the dayroom and repaired the fire there. A tray had been set on her table, and as the food was hot she guessed that the footstep of the servant delivering it had awakened her. Everything smelled delicious, and she found she was hungry. She ate everything on the tray, and then began to drink from the carafe of sweet wine. She was going to need it to sustain her courage in the hours ahead. When Durga finally entered the room, she was able to muster up a small smile, which pleased him greatly. But the night was a long one.

In midmorning when Lara was finally able to rouse herself from her bed, she dressed quickly and fled the hall for the bathhouse.

“What is the matter, Lara?” Og demanded, seeing her lovely face with its tearstains. “What has happened to make you weep? Faeries rarely weep.”

She told him, the tears coming again, and to her surprise he lifted her up, and cradled her against his shoulder. It was an incredibly comforting gesture, and leaning her golden head against the giant’s shoulder seemed to renew her strength. “You can put me down now,” she said finally, and he gently set her on the floor.

“How typical of Enda,” he said scornfully, “to go off without telling you his brother would come to your bed. He is the more beautiful of the two, but he has less character. They are unique, you know, for they share not only a father, but the same mother as well. Before Durga was weaned from her teat and given to the lady Ida, the slave who bore Durga managed to lure his father into her bed again, and conceived Enda. I think she had discovered what was happening, and tried to save herself that way. Of course, they killed her after Enda was weaned. Her master never visited her bed after Enda was born.”

“Poor girl,” Lara sympathized, “but for Enda to go off and not tell me what to expect was more than unkind. It was cruel!”

“It was,” the giant agreed, “but typical. Enda is a beautiful weakling. Durga is a crude fellow, but he is proud of his family, and desperate to maintain the fiction of their heritage. For centuries, each of the clans in the Forest have only intermarried with one other family. The bloodlines have never varied. They were becoming very inbred, and in a way, Maeve actually did them a kindness. But Durga and his generation have only a quarter pure Forest blood in them. Their children will have less. They know it, and fear if their secret is revealed they will be considered weak enough to be attacked. Still they maintain the old ways, and keep to their traditions and customs. But times change, Lara, and nothing remains the same forever, even if we might wish it so,” Og said. “I had thought you would be given more time, but Durga has always been an impatient man. You must escape the Forest, and very soon, I think.”

“I will be considered a runaway slave,” Lara said.

“Nay, for the law gives you some small protection. Once you have crossed the border into another province without being caught, and can live free for a year and a day, you are legally free, Lara. The only place to which you may not return in safety is the Forest or the City. But live free a year, and you can return to the City.”

“But if I cannot return to the City now, where can I go?” she queried him.

“Ask Ethne,” he told her with a smile. “She is your guardian and your guide. Now, you must bathe before they wonder why you are gone so long,” the giant said with a smile. “Ethne will have some of the answers that you seek, Lara.”

“Ethne once told me I should find a good friend here in the Forest. I believe that friend is you, Og. You must come with me. I cannot go without you.”

“I have often thought of travel,” Og said. “I am told there are other races of giants on Hetar, but I have always been afraid to probe my memory too deeply for fear of what I would find. Perhaps now I should. I owe the Forest Lords nothing.”

“We must make a plan,” Lara said.

“The best plans are those carefully considered,” he advised her. “I know what you must bear now can only be difficult, but if we are hasty, we could fail, and that would be far worse.”

Og was right, of course, and Lara knew it. And now that Durga was certain that he could satisfy himself on her body at will, Durga came only in the night to grunt and strain over Lara. But her life grew no easier. Enda’s bride, Tira, was open in her hatred. Truda, her belly growing larger by the day, could scarce contain her jealousy. Even the soft-spoken Sita avoided her unless there was no other choice.

Enda returned from his hunt six days later. He brought a great deal of game with him, and was welcomed joyously. Now the hall’s larder was full for the long winter ahead. Lara was mending a piece of clothing when he swaggered into her chamber and, sweeping her into his arms, kissed her heartily.

“Did you miss me?” he demanded with a boyish grin.