Ciarda knelt down, undoing the belt about his waist. She unbuttoned his breeches and pulled them down so he might step from them, which he did, kicking them away from him. He wore nothing beneath, and his rod lay supine amid a nest of tightly curled golden fur. She felt his fingers digging into her scalp, and knew what he wanted. Ciarda rubbed her cheek against his rod. Then she began to fondle it and to Ciarda’s surprise her fingertips brushed over a swelling pocket on the back of his rod. “What is this?” she asked him. “Kolbein did not have this deformity on his rod.”

Kolgrim laughed softly. “Then I am indeed the true Twilight Lord,” he said to her. “All Twilight Lords possess double rods, Ciarda. That which most men possess is called the dominant. It is not a deformity, it is a wonderment, and you shall be doubly pleasured. Suck me, and see what happens.”

His scent was in her nostrils, and Ciarda found it exciting. She reached beneath him to cup his seed sac. She fondled it, her excitement growing. Taking the tip of his rod in her fingers, she slowly licked it up and then down several times. Then she took him into her mouth, and began to draw upon him. Gently at first, but then with harder tugs of her mouth on him until he began to swell. He grew so quickly that his size stretched her lips and almost choked her with his length, which pushed against the back of her throat.

Kolgrim closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of her lips and tongue on him. He had always been embarrassed by possessing two rods until he learned studying with old Alfrigg that it was a natural attribute of a Twilight Lord. And Kolbein had not possessed it. When he discovered that, Kolgrim knew it was he who must triumph and take the throne of the Dark Lands. The twin rods made him his father’s true heir. He moaned as Ciarda’s mouth brought him almost to fulfillment. “Cease!” he commanded her. He felt the lesser rod ready to come forth. “Sit back, and see what pleasure awaits you,” he said.

Resting upon her haunches, Ciarda stared at Kolgrim’s long thick rod. And then her eyes widened as his lesser rod began to slide forth from beneath the dominant. It was far longer, but equally hard, and thin. Its tip was shaped like an arrowhead. “How do you use them both?” she queried him, staring, fascinated, at the two rods.

“You will be required to be placed in a special position to receive both, Ciarda. Are you woman enough to give yourself to me freely?” Kolgrim asked her.

“Will you seed me now?” she asked him. “What if later on you find a woman you prefer to me to bear your son?”

“I am certain over the years to come I will find many women I prefer to you, Darkling, but you are the perfect woman to bear the Twilight Lord’s only son. And in answer to your question, aye, I will seed you now, for I do not trust you. Know that without me by your side you will not leave the Dark Lands again. Now get on your back upon the bed, Ciarda, so you may be made ready for me. And from this moment on you will address me as your lord and master.” He pulled her torn garment off her.

“Yes, my lord and master,” she said to him, and, going to the large bed, she lay directly in its center. She hated him, his arrogance and yet…

Almost at once four chains holding round manacles dropped from the ceiling. They were silver, the manacles lined in silk and lamb’s wool. Kolgrim fastened two of the manacles to her wrists above her head. The other two he attached to her ankles, which were pulled wide and drawn back toward her shoulders.

Ciarda was fascinated. She had not known about double rods or restraints, but she frankly found her situation very stimulating. Kolbein had been a rough and crude lover seeking only his own satisfaction. He had been easily manipulated. Kolgrim, however, was not to be led, she now saw. But she realized that he excited her. “How long have you wanted to mate with me?” she asked him softly.

“From the moment I saw you,” he admitted to her. “Whether that comes from a genuine lust for you, my wicked Darkling, or because the mating season is upon me I cannot tell you. That was why my brother was so randy these past few weeks.” He slipped onto the bed next to her. In his hand appeared a small sable-haired brush dripping some silken substance. Leaning toward her, he spread her nether lips with his thumb and forefinger to stroke the brush back and forth over her love bud.

The sensation Ciarda felt was at first cool and the brush tickled. But then suddenly an explosion of hot lust hit her so hard she could barely draw a breath. “What have you done to me?” she gasped.

“Does it burn?” he asked her in nonchalant tones.

“Yes! Make it stop, Kolgrim! Make it stop!” The unfulfilled lust consuming her was almost painful.

“Make it stop, my lord and master,” he reminded her gently.

“Yes! Yes! Make it stop, my lord and master! Please!”

Leaning over more, he slid his forked tongue from between his lips and began licking her sex. The action but served to rouse her further, and she struggled against her bonds. Kolgrim laughed softly. “You must answer my questions honestly, Ciarda. Will you bear my son with a dark and willing heart?”

She nodded then said, “Aye, I will!” As angry as she was at having been outwitted by him, to bear the next Twilight Lord was an honor to which she had always aspired. What matter that the father she chose was not the man who now prepared to impregnate her with his seed? It didn’t matter.

“And will you accept your female inferiority, my naughty Darkling?”

“Aye!” she answered quickly, not daring to hesitate lest he refuse to use her body.

Kolgrim laughed. “You lie, Darkling, but I can control you, and so I will forgive you. I will always know when you lie to me.”

“I am not like the others,” Ciarda protested to him. “I have intelligence, and I will pass it on to our son, my lord and master.”

He laughed again then he grew serious. “Creation is painful, Darkling. Are you prepared now to be seeded?” Two fingers pushed into her sheath, frigging her wickedly.

“I am no virgin to whimper and whine at a strong manhood,” she told him.

She knew nothing really of what was to come, Kolgrim thought, amused. But he had learned much over the last weeks from the old chancellor who tutored him. His hair might be golden like his mother’s, but he was Kol’s son in every other way. He looked at the girl spread and waiting for him. He gazed at his twin rods, hard and eager. And then without another word he began to press his lesser rod into her rear channel.

Ciarda squealed, surprised, as the pointed tip of the lesser rod began to penetrate her sharply. But the brief pain faded and she felt the slender rod push itself deep into her. When he had filled her she felt the power of it throbbing. Her eyes widened, and it was then Kolgrim drove his dominant rod into her sheath. As he did Ciarda felt little tiny sharp nodules rising up to tear at her tender interior. “What are they?” she cried out to him. “You are giving me pain, my lord and master!”

“The nodules only appear when a son is to be seeded, Ciarda,” he told her. Then he began to thrust the two rods in perfect unison. “They will heighten our pleasure.”

Oddly he was right, Ciarda realized. The pain of the little nodules drove her excitement to a height she had never before experienced. She screamed with her pleasure, and begged him to release her from her restraints. When he did with a silent command that opened the manacles so that they dropped away from her limbs, Ciarda wrapped her legs about his torso to take him even deeper. Her fingernails clawed his back in a frenzy of lust, drawing blood.

Now he began to thrust rhythmically with both of his rods. He drove harder and deeper into her until Ciarda was screaming with both pain and delight. Kolgrim roared with his own satisfaction as he felt her sheath tightening and releasing about his dominant rod. He felt his juices boiling up. When they exploded furiously into her he shouted with a sound of triumph as she shrieked with her release, and ferocious pleasures overwhelmed them both in a tidal wave of pure hot lust.

“By Krell, Darkling, I have seeded you well this night,” Kolgrim declared. “And when I decide it my seed will bloom within you, and you will bring forth my son.” Withdrawing both of his rods from her body, he told her, “You may sleep now, Ciarda. You have earned your rest. Tomorrow I will send for you to come to the castle, where you will confirm to Alfrigg what my father said to me.” He arose from the bed, and with a wave of his hand reclothed himself. Then he left her.

Ciarda lay, exhausted. She had thought Cam a lover without peer, but now she realized that no mortal could equal Kolgrim. And now that she held the key to the future of the Dark Lands within her body, the new Twilight Lord was in her power, although he knew it not. She was not an inferior female, and one day she would rule. Ciarda fell asleep with a smile upon her lips even as, crossing the bridge over the gorge, Kolgrim returned to the castle.

“Fetch the chancellor to me,” he told the first servant he saw. “Send him to my throne room.”

“Yes, master,” the servant said with a bow and hurried off.

Kolgrim entered the designated chamber. Walking across the ebony floors, each board separated by a narrow stripe of pure silver, he mounted the dais, and sat down upon the gray and silver marble throne. Smiling, he gazed about the room with its black marble walls veined in silver. His eye went to the black marble colonnade framing the mountains beyond. The sky above them was a reddish dun color. The silver censers that lined the room burned fragrant oils. The flames from them flickered and made shadows against the dark walls. Kolgrim leaned back, his eye catching a glimpse of the new silver-and-purple-striped silk canopy above his head. Then he sighed. It was a sound of deep contentment.

Alfrigg hurried into the throne room, and, seeing Kolgrim seated upon the throne, came slowly forward. “My lord?” he said, the question unspoken but still needing an answer from Kolgrim.

“The matter of my father’s inheritance has now been settled, Alfrigg,” Kolgrim said. “On the morrow the Darkling will confirm what I am about to tell you.” Then he told the chancellor how Kol had reached out from his prison cell. How Ciarda had answered her father’s call. How she had used the power of three to bring them to Kol and what had transpired during the visit.

“Do you know where this prison in which he is kept is located?” the chancellor asked, but he expected even if Kolgrim did he would not reveal it.

“I do not, Alfrigg, nor does Ciarda,” Kolgrim answered.

Alfrigg nodded.

“While I want Ciarda to speak with you,” Kolgrim said, “I can show you my father and my brother. As I have already said, I did not kill him. No royal blood has been shed by me, I swear it.”

“It was most clever of you, my lord, to solve the problem in the way you did,” Alfrigg said, and, unable to help himself, he chuckled.

Kolgrim smiled at the sound. “You will continue to serve me for the interim, Alfrigg. In a few years’ time we will seek your replacement together, but for now it pleases me to have you by my side. Come now, and I will show you.” The new Twilight Lord stepped from the dais and walked to the center of the chamber, where a silver tripod was set. It contained a black onyx bowl filled with crystal-clear water. Kolgrim waved a hand over the bowl. The water roiled, grew dark, and then, clearing, revealed the former Twilight Lord and Kolbein within the tiny stone cell. Kol sat silently, but Kolbein moved restlessly about, seeking a means of escape, but there was none.

Alfrigg peered into the scene within the bowl. He nodded. Then he asked Kolgrim, “If I may be so bold, why did your father choose you over Kolbein, my lord?”

“I told him I was our mother’s favorite,” Kolgrim said with a small smile.

Alfrigg chuckled again. “Indeed, my lord, I believe that you are,” he agreed. “She would, however, be quite distressed to realize that you know it. She was very angry when she learned she had been chosen to bear your father a child. But she has always been a good mother to her children, and loves them well. I know although she would not ever admit to it that it pained her to desert you and your brother. Despite everything that has happened there is a drop of darkness in her even as there is a flicker of light in you.”

“You have lived a long while, Alfrigg, haven’t you?” Kolgrim said.

“Indeed, my lord, I have. Now might I have your permission, my lord, to discuss what is to be done with the Darkling?” the old dwarf asked his master.

“I have already decided. I have mated with her, and given her my son. When I am ready she will bear him,” Kolgrim said.