“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Vilia remarked once again. “She would be worth a fight, wouldn’t she, Jonah? If Terah will not give her to you then you must take her.”

“If Egon grows strong again with your sacrifice, Vilia, then why do I need a young wife to give me more children?” he asked her.

“I have told you that your offspring will be bargaining chips not just to solidify your power, but their brother’s, as well. His best allies will be his kinsmen and-women.”

“Has the Darkling fixed the time of your death?” Jonah asked Vilia. His mind was filled with lustful thoughts of the girl in the miniature. He couldn’t keep his eyes from it, and now the golden beauty was spreading her nether lips open with her fingers to reveal to him her hidden treasures. Her love bud was swollen, and pearly with her juices. The picture was so real that he could almost sense the taste of her on his tongue. Jonah had to turn away, for his lust was close to boiling over. The manhood beneath his robes was swollen and throbbing. He wanted Zagiri as he had never wanted another woman. And he would have her! Nothing, not even the faerie woman, would stand in his way.

“I cannot let go of my tenuous hold on life until I am certain that you will take this Terahn princess for your wife, Jonah,” Vilia answered him. “Bring her to Hetar. Let me see her, and I will be satisfied, but you must not delay, for our son grows weaker with every passing day. We will send your miniature to Terah, and ask once again for Princess Zagiri. If they refuse us then you will take her by force. Who are these Terahns that they dare to deny the Lord High Ruler of Hetar?” Vilia held out her hand. “Give me back the princess’s miniature.”

“Nay,” Jonah replied. “I would keep it.”

She laughed. The Darkling Ciarda had told Vilia that the picture held an enchantment that would make Jonah lust after Zagiri of Terah. And the miniature they would send secretly to the innocent girl would also be enchanted. Zagiri would fall in love with Jonah in spite of herself. She would want him, too, and would become his loyal minion. And the faerie woman Lara would have no choice but to ally with Hetar then. Jonah would be safe against the Hierarch if indeed he actually existed. I will die happy, Vilia told herself. Jonah and Egon will be safe. And Terah will be ripe for the plucking when my son is old enough to take it. Did not my cousin Kol promise me that night on the Dream Plain that Egon would be a great conqueror? “Aye, keep your miniature,” she told her husband. “It will keep your appetite whetted for the girl, won’t it, Jonah?” And Vilia laughed weakly. Then she closed her eyes, listening as he retreated from her bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

He shoved the small magical painting into the pocket of his robes. A young serving wench was sweeping the carpet in the dimly lit corridor. Striding up to her he said in a harsh voice, “Lift your gown, wench, put your palms against the wall and bend over for me.” She did not argue or even speak but obeyed his rough commands instantly. Jonah was grateful that Vilia had taught their servants total obedience. Pulling up his robe, he directed his aching manhood, thrusting into the serving girl, pumping her hard as he imagined her to be Zagiri of Terah. He pushed deeper and deeper. The girl moaned as she shared pleasures with him. Finally satisfied he released his juices, withdrew from the servant and, pulling down his robes, hurried off down the hallway.

The encounter had taken the edge off of his lusts for now. Jonah was surprised by his reaction to the painting of the young princess. He had always been a careful man. A man who retained complete charge over himself, and those about him. But seeing the girl’s beautiful face, and then her even more beautiful body, a body that was obviously filled with passion, he had found himself helpless to his own lusts. He had to regain control of himself again. He would not be like his predecessor, Gaius Prospero, who had found himself ensorcelled by a young and beautiful wife, and lost all of his abilities to rule in his desire to be with her. Nay! This beautiful, royal young wife would bring him prestige among the magnates of Hetar, and the people. He would convince them all that his marriage to Princess Zagiri of Terah would be the beginning of a new and prosperous era for Hetar. He would miss Vilia. But her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Once again the Lord High Ruler of Hetar applied to the young Dominus of Terah for his sister Zagiri’s hand. Taking Vilia’s advice, he told the Dominus that his sister would be known as the First Lady of Hetar, a title created especially for her. She would have a home in The City, and a villa in the Outlands on the sea. She would have vineyards, horses and cattle that would be hers. And all the slaves and servants she desired. He would treat her with respect and honor.

“If this came from any other man,” Lara said, “I should seriously consider it, but not Jonah. The man is wickedness personified. His persistence disturbs me.”

“He has sent a miniature of himself,” Ampyx said, holding it out to his mistress.

She looked at it. “He does not flatter himself,” she noted. “I will give him that. Dispose of it, and send the Lord High Ruler a final refusal. Be less diplomatic this time, Ampyx,” Lara instructed him. “Polite, but firm.”

“I will attend to it, Domina,” Ampyx replied, taking the miniature and bowing himself from her library. In his own small chamber the first secretary set the miniature down on his writing table and wrote the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. Then, calling an undersecretary to him, he dispatched the missive not noticing that the miniature had disappeared from his large writing table.

ZAGIRI AWOKE THE FOLLOWING morning to find the miniature upon her pillow. Picking it up, she gazed into the dark eyes of the man pictured, and an odd feeling she could not put a name to overcame her. He could not be called handsome. His long face was perhaps a bit too severe, but there was a distinguished air about him. “Who are you?” she wondered aloud, and turned the miniature over. Jonah, Lord High Ruler of Hetar were the words inscribed upon the reverse of the little painting.

Surprised, Zagiri turned the oval in her hand back again to look upon his face. His dark eyes compelled her and when his thin lips twitched with a small amused smile Zagiri gasped with surprise, dropping the miniature in her hand. It fell toward the floor of the chamber, and then jumped back up directly into her palm again. Her fingers closed about it as if to protect it from further misadventure.

Suddenly the picture went dark, and when it grew light once more it pictured the dark-eyed man upon a large bed making love to a golden-haired girl Zagiri recognized as herself. She could not turn away from the tableau playing out before her eyes. The man was slender, but well muscled. His male member was quite large. He reached out to caress the breast of the naked girl and Zagiri could feel that hand caressing her breast. His mouth closed over a nipple, and Zagiri felt the tug of his lips, the swipe of his tongue as he licked the warm flesh of her bosom. She sighed with pleasure as those lips touched hers. She felt the pressure of them, the heat of them. Oh, it was wonderful! She had been kissed before, but never quite like this. A little moan escaped her, and, startled, she turned away from the miniature. When she looked back again it was his face she saw.

Had she imagined that erotic scene? Of course she had! Pictures of people didn’t become alive. Zagiri laughed weakly. How had the miniature gotten into her bedchamber, and upon her pillow? She somehow knew her mother would not approve. Why did Lara dislike the Lord High Ruler of Hetar so much? Oh, she said he was wicked, and indeed the man in the painting did look a bit wicked. But he fascinated her, too. She was seventeen, and not a baby like Marzina who was four years younger. Shouldn’t she be allowed a say in her future?

The search was on for a suitable prospective husband for her. Her mother and her grandmother were both involved in it. They would undoubtedly be parading a group of handsome, wealthy young men before her sooner than later. Suddenly Zagiri didn’t know if she wanted to be married to a handsome, wealthy young man. She glanced down at the miniature again. The Lord High Ruler of Hetar had a seductive face that hinted at a very sensual nature, and while Zagiri was the most mortal of Lara’s daughters she had her mother’s passionate and fierce sexual nature. Jonah of Hetar looked like a far more interesting bed partner than the respectable scion of any wealthy Terahn family.

I want a man for a husband, not a boy, Zagiri thought to herself. Then she wondered again from where the miniature had come. She would ask Marzina about it. Her younger sister was good at keeping secrets, and usually knew everything that went on in the castle.

“Mother got another offer from Hetar for your hand yesterday,” Marzina was pleased to tell her elder sibling. She very much enjoyed knowing what Zagiri did not.

“Why wasn’t I told?” Zagiri said, annoyed. “I am not a child. Why does Mother insist upon treating me like one?”

“There was a miniature with the missive, but Mother told Ampyx to dispose of it,” Marzina cheerfully volunteered.

“This miniature?” Zagiri said, holding it out for Marzina to see.

“Where did you get that?” the younger girl asked.

“It was on my pillow when I awoke this morning,” Zagiri replied.

Marzina looked at the portrait. “He is not young,” she noted. “And I feel the wickedness about him even just looking at his picture.”

“I think he is very attractive. He looks like a man who knows how to rule,” Zagiri said. “I would not mind if they made me his wife.”

“You would have to leave Terah, and go to live in Hetar,” Marzina responded.

“Terah is quiet and dull,” Zagiri answered her younger sister. “Hetar, I think, would be exciting.” She took the little portrait back from Marzina. “Don’t tell anyone I have this. It is probably the closest I will ever get to Hetar,” she said with a sigh.

“You need to take a lover,” Marzina remarked wisely.

“I do not want a lover. I just want a husband,” Zagiri said.

“But if you don’t take a lover or two before you must wed then you will never know what other men are like,” Marzina said. “It is not forbidden to take lovers once we reach the age of fourteen. Don’t tell me you would go to your husband a virgin, Zagiri? If you have no experience, and do not know how to give and share pleasures you will disappoint him greatly. A woman should know how to offer pleasures, sister.”

“There are none who have attracted me,” Zagiri replied. Until now, she thought. “I should like to take pleasures with the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. I think he is probably the only man I should ever want.”

“Oh, you just think that because Mother says you can’t have him.” Marzina chuckled. Then she grew serious. “If our mother says this man is wicked, and not suitable, sister, then she is right. Remember Mother comes from Hetar. She knows these people, and we do not. If she believed this man was the right man for you, Zagiri, she would let you have him.”

“If I married this man I should be on an equal footing with Mother,” Zagiri said. “I should be the wife of a powerful ruler of a great kingdom. Indeed, Mother is merely the widow of a ruler, and parent to a Dominus. I should hold a higher position now.”

“Well, since you aren’t going to marry the Lord High Ruler of Hetar there is no need for us to have this discussion, is there?” Marzina said. She wasn’t sure she liked the attitude that her sister was suddenly taking.

“You will not tell anyone I have this miniature, will you?” Zagiri said.

“Nay, it is harmless enough, and if it amuses you…” Marzina answered.

During the nights that followed Zagiri began to dream of Jonah, the Lord High Ruler of Hetar. To Zagiri’s surprise she found herself upon the Dream Plain each night, and he was always there. The first night it happened she asked him, “How has this come to be, my lord Jonah?”

“Do you think your mother is the only one with magic at her command, my golden girl?” Jonah answered Zagiri.

“Do you have magic?” she asked him.

“I have it at my beck and call,” he told her, “but I am but mortal as you are.”

“But you brought me here tonight,” she reminded him.

“Aye, I did. I want to know you, Zagiri, and they will not allow it. But they do not know, shall not know, that we will meet upon the Dream Plain in the nights to come. And then you shall become my bride, my golden girl.”