“You have a faerie’s cold heart,” Og said. “But one day you will fall in love, Lara, and that heart will grow hot as your human blood warms it. You will see.”

“I shall try to bring you an especial treat from the prince’s castle. I know how you love sweets, dearest Og.” Then Lara walked outside to the litter chair awaiting her. It was not like the grand litter Gaius Prospero had sent for her. It was a simple conveyance of fragrant cypress wood, hung with diaphanous pale gold curtains. Two Desert men were its bearers.

Immediately the litter was lifted up, and the two bearers seemed to virtually fly over the ground until they reached the foot of the great cliffs. An entrance magically appeared, opening to allow them through. Lara was fascinated. Were the Shadow Princes faerie folk? She hoped she would soon learn the answer. Inside the cliffs, a road led upwards, lighted by crystal lamps filled with bright dancing creatures. What were they? She was going to ask. She had to ask. And then another door was appearing and opening before them.

The bearers never broke stride. It was as if they knew the way would be made smooth. They entered into a tall, wide corridor with walls of white marble streaked with gold, and lit by similar crystal lamps, but that these hung from a high vaulted ceiling. The floor beneath their bare feet was great squares of black-and-white marble. At intervals along their route were striped marble columns atop which were great onyx vases filled with a colorful array of bright flowers, some of which were unfamiliar to her. Now on her left an open colonnade appeared, and the bearers set the litter down.

A tanned hand drew the curtains aside and helped her out. She hadn’t seen him there when the litter had come to a halt, but he was certainly there now. He was tall, and ageless, but obviously no boy. His eyes were a startling bright blue, his short-cropped wavy hair, as black as night. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, with sharp aquiline features and high cheekbones. Warm lips touched the back of her small hand. “You are half faerie,” he said. “How charming! Welcome to Shunnar, Lara.”

“Thank you, my lord. Are you Prince Kaliq?” she asked, feeling suddenly shy.

“I am,” he told her, and tucked her hand in his silk-covered arm.

“You are wearing the robe I embroidered!” Lara cried, delighted.

“You have great talent with a needle,” he told her. “Who taught you? Your mother?”

“Nay, my faerie mother deserted us when I was an infant. My grandmother taught me. She raised me until I was ten, but then the Celestial Actuary called her home,” Lara said.

“Come, let me show you Shunnar,” he said. He led her over to a balcony between the columns. “There are the horses we raise below. Beautiful, are they not?”

Lara was astounded by the sight. Within the great Desert cliffs was a greater valley, and an incredible greensward filled with herds of beautiful horses. She looked up at him. “How is this possible? Is it magic?”

He laughed. “Must it be magic? Could it not simply be an aberration of nature?”

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. It has been here as long as we have.”

“And how long is that?” Lara asked him.

“Since the beginning, at least according to the chronological records of our kind,” Prince Kaliq told her.

“The Forest Lords claim to be the oldest clans on Hetar,” she answered him.

He laughed scornfully. “How would they know? They never venture beyond the boundaries of their trees. Their pride in their heritage is both overweening and foolish. The Desert clans have been here as long, if not longer.” He looked down at Lara. “Is that where you come from? The Forest? The giant who guards you is a Forest creature. We had heard they no longer existed.”

“They do not, but for Og,” Lara said.

“Your mother was surely a Forest Faerie,” Prince Kaliq said. “You have the coloring so typical of that race, with your golden gilt hair and green eyes.”

“Are there faeries in the Desert?” Lara asked him.

“We call them Peries, and yes, they exist here. They are rarely seen, however, as they prefer their own company to that of other races. But we have no giants. They always seemed to prefer the Forest and the mountains. What happened to the Forest giants. Do you know?”

“Aye. The Forest folk wiped them out. Og was in his mother’s womb. She escaped the slaughter, and fled into deep Forest where she had her child alone, and survived with him for several years. Then she was caught, and killed. Og was just four. They let him live, and taught him to serve them as his predecessors had done.”

“Why did this happen?” Prince Kaliq queried Lara.

“The giants knew a great secret affecting the Forest clans. But the Forest Lords did not want that secret known. They slaughtered the giants to protect themselves. They allowed Og to live because they thought he would not know their secret, but he did. The giants pass along their entire history and memories to the next generation in the womb. Og knew it all. But he kept his own counsel in order to survive. Only when he thought me in danger did he consider escaping his cruel masters.”

“What is this terrible secret of the Forest Lords?” he asked her.

“That will be for Og to tell you if he chooses to do so,” Lara answered.

“You do not seem inbred enough to be even part Forester,” the prince remarked. “Where are you from?”

“I come from the City, and that is all you need know,” Lara said. She had so far avoided telling him much of her own history, but Kaliq was not a man to be denied when his curiosity was aroused.

“Tell me!” he commanded her.

Now it was Lara who laughed. “Why is it important to you?” she countered, looking up into his handsome face. “Has your curiosity not already been assuaged by seeing what none in the village have seen? That I am young, and half faerie, and some would call me beautiful.”

He took her face between his two big hands. “I had seen you before today,” he told her. His lips were dangerously near hers.

“At the oasis as I kept watch in the night,” she said, “I thought the rustling in the bushes was a rat come to drink at the pool, and yet I felt something more. Was it you?”

He nodded, and gently brushed her lips with his.

“But there were no footprints in the sand; and I heard no horse,” Lara told him. “How did you reach the oasis? And for that matter, how did you get back here without our seeing you?”

“Did you hear the scream of a hawk above you that day?” he asked her. He spoke against her mouth, his blue eyes engaging her green ones, her head still between his hands as he refused to allow her to look away.

“Aye.” She was almost breathless with his touch. His jeweled eyes.

“That was I,” he told her.

“You are a shape-shifter!” She drew away, a little afraid now.

His hands released her heart-shaped face. “When it pleases me,” he admitted, “and that day it pleased me greatly to watch you as you swam in the crystal waters of the oasis of Zeroun. You have a beautiful body that matches your face. Are the bruises on your inner thighs gone yet? Who dared to mark you so cruelly?”

Lara turned away from him, looking down into the beautiful fertile valley below, her hands spread out flat upon the balustrade. “My father was a mercenary,” she began. “A great swordsman who was meant to rise in the world, not remain among the lower orders. But we were poor. And the rules of the Crusader Knights are quite firm.”

“And foolish,” Prince Kaliq said quietly. “What does a man’s appearance matter if his talents are legend? So your beauty was bartered in exchange for the gold to make your father’s application a reality. What happened then?”

“I was willing,” Lara told him. “There was no coin for my dowry, and therefore no hope of a marriage for me. I was to be sold by the Master of the Merchants Guild into a Pleasure House. But the Headmistress of the Pleasure Guild would not permit it. She said there was already infighting going on as to who would purchase me. That patrons had begun arguing over my first-night rights. She said I would cause naught but trouble, and she forbade my sale.

“So I was consigned to a Taubyl Trader, Rolf Fairplay. He meant me for a Coastal King. There were other women with the trader’s caravan meant for the Forest Lords. One, however, did not suit them, and the Head Forester was angry. Then a mean-spirited woman in the special consignment told the Head Forester that there was another slave carried by the trader. They demanded to see me, and nothing would do but that they purchased me.”

“You are not an ordinary slave,” the prince said. “You must have cost them a fortune. I am surprised they paid it.”

“It was my heritage that fascinated them,” Lara murmured, “and part of my story is wrapped up in Og’s tale. You know all you need know of me now. I am an escaped slave, but I am told I cannot be retaken in the Desert. I am told if I can live free for a year then I am legally free, and can return to the City without fear.”

“Do you want to return?” he asked her.

“I don’t know. Somehow I think my journey is just beginning, my lord.” Lara told him, and she turned to face him once again. “Is your curiosity satisfied now, Prince Kaliq? May I return to the village?”

“Of course you may return, but I had hoped you would remain to see the breeding of the mares. My fellow princes and I have several stallions. Each is let loose, one at a time, to choose the mares he will have. The stallion drives them off from the main herd, and mates with those mares who particularly please him. The mares are owned in common by all. The mares that are mated are then taken to the stables of their stallion. We wait to see if the individual stallion’s seed has taken. If not, the mares are released back into the common herd. That is how we keep the bloodlines pure.”

Lara looked back at the valley below, and it was then she saw open balconies similar to the one where she now stood. “All the palaces are clustered about this valley?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Is there to be a feast?” she said.

“Aye.”

“Then I will stay. I am tired of bread and cheese, goat’s meat and water,” Lara said. “And may I bring some of your feast back to Og?”

She charmed him. Part of her was so sure, and another part of her was so girlish, and a third part of her was so mysterious. He wanted to know, and to examine each bit of her, but the prince also knew he would have to have great patience. “Of course. There will be more feast than appetites, as always. Your giant may have whatever is left over for himself, and I am glad to give it to him. What does he like to eat best?”

“Everything.” Lara laughed. “The Forest folk did not treat him well, and fed him badly. He will welcome new foods, particularly the sweets. He, too, is tired of bread, cheese, goat meat and water. We haven’t had any wine since we drank the last at the oasis. What did you call it?”

“The oasis of Zeroun. Once a very learned man made his home there, Zeroun the Wise,” the prince explained.

“I liked it there,” Lara said. “I liked the peace, and the pool with its waterfall. I liked the sun, and the trees that did not hide everything, but just sheltered us from the sun. I think I could live there and be content.”

He smiled at her. “The Desert can be cruel,” he told her.

“As cruel as men?” she asked softly.

He was surprised by her astuteness. “Sometimes,” he answered. His knuckles grazed her cheekbone. “What a pleasure it is to look at you, Lara. You are so fair. You know that I would make love to you,” Kaliq said, “but I will not unless you wish it as well.”

“Love is a girlish dream,” Lara told him. “You wish to copulate with me, and satisfy your desires on my body. Do not hide behind the nebulous word ‘love,’ my lord prince. I do not need to be cajoled. You are attractive, and eventually, if it is indeed my choice, I may enjoy your passion. But not today.”

The Shadow Prince looked horrified by her blunt words. He stepped away from her, saying, “I will have you escorted back to the village, Lara.” And then he disappeared into a haze that had suddenly formed around him.

Lara shrugged. She had obviously offended him, and she was sorry. She had enjoyed his company. But like all the men she had known since leaving her father’s house, the prince was only interested in pleasuring himself with her. At least he had not forced her as her Forest masters had. If he summoned her again she would yield herself to him as a gesture of apology.

“Lady, your litter awaits,” a servant at her elbow said.

Lara turned and followed the man to her transport. The return trip seemed far quicker than her coming had been. She was in front of her small tent again, feeling the heat of the sand beneath her sandals. She entered the dwelling.