Nicholas. Elizabeth Amber
not at all tempting,” Raine stated baldly. “I’ve no interest in marrying again.”
Nick and Lyon exchanged glances.
“Marriage to a half-Faerie creature could succeed where one to a Human failed,” said Nick.
Raine shrugged. “Nevertheless, I’m unwilling to experiment.”
Lyon ran blunt fingertips through the tangle of his thick tawny hair. “I find myself in agreement with Raine. I’ve no interest in tying myself to a woman not of my choosing, be she Faerie or Human. Isn’t there some way to protect Feydon’s daughters short of marriage?”
“How? Shall we hound their footsteps over the years to come in order to guard them against trouble?” asked Nick. “They will have us arrested.”
“I still say marriage can be avoided. Why not simply bring them to Satyr land and let them roam about as they please?” suggested Lyon.
Nick laughed, and Raine shot him a pitying glance.
Lyon looked affronted. “What? They will be safe here under our protection.”
“Like your other pets?” asked Raine, referring to Lyon’s menagerie of exotic animals that ranged freely on Satyr lands.
“They’re females, not livestock,” said Nick. “They will never agree to so ridiculous an arrangement. We must husband them and bring them under our protection. I see no other way.”
Raine eyed his older brother. “You seem strangely committed to the idea of marriage after so little consideration.”
Nick flexed his wide shoulders, straining the seams of his waistcoat and causing the subtle design in the dark teal brocade to shimmer. It was an unusual coat selected from among the treasures of his ancestors. Something about it pleased him. But then, he relished the unusual.
“Granted, the notion of marriage was unlooked for,” he said. “But as I reflect on Feydon’s edict I realize it provides a certain…opportunity.”
Lyon gave him a look of false commiseration. “Poor Nick. Have you lacked for the attentions of a sufficient bounty of females all these years? You should have spoken sooner. Raine and I would be glad to share with you some of the legions angling for our portion of the Satyr coffers.”
Raine smiled, a fleeting lift of one corner of his mouth. “He makes a point, big brother. We’ve all had more than a few opportunities to shackle ourselves over the years.”
“We need heirs,” said Nick.
Raine and Lyon stared at him in surprise.
“My thirtieth year approaches. You trail me by only two years, Raine. And you by merely four, Lyon. Who else are we to sire sons and daughters on if not these FaerieBlends?” Nick demanded, gesturing toward the parchment. “They are by nature half breeds, a blend of EarthWorld and ElseWorld, like us.”
“But unlike us, Feydon’s daughters have Faerie blood in their veins,” Raine reminded him.
“And the Faerie are volatile,” added Lyon. “Who knows what diverse bag of tricks they may possess?” He shuddered.
“My material point is that while Human women might find certain of our ways strange or distasteful, a Fey wife would be less apt to present any objection to the manner in which we might presume to quest for heirs,” said Nick.
“But what sort of heirs will they provide?” Raine asked, shaking his head. “A half-Satyr husband mating a half-Faerie wife? What kind of children can come of it?”
“If we don’t intervene, it’s probable the FaerieBlends will marry and mate with Humans. What offspring do you imagine might come of that?” Nick asked pointedly.
Lyon rammed his hands into the pockets of his sturdy trousers and sighed. He dressed the part of a vintner, wearing rumpled trousers, a nubby cotton tunic, and greatboots. “You’re right. Neither they nor their children will know what to make of their abilities. That could prove disastrous.”
A brittle tension settled over the room.
“The Satyr have always looked after the Faerie,” Nick said decisively.
Lyon sighed. “It appears settled we must marry them. Bacchus, what if mine is stupid? Or offensive? How will I stand to bed her?”
“As I understand it, marriage and protection are our only obligations,” said Raine. “Feydon’s missive stated no requirement to mate or sire offspring.”
Nick’s eyes sharpened on him. “True.”
“You would bind your wife to a childless marriage?” asked Lyon. “Bind yourself to one?”
“The choice will be hers, the facts put to her before we marry,” said Raine. “I want no Blended children who will suffer the alienation of finding one foot in EarthWorld and one in ElseWorld while not properly fitting in either.”
“What of the wine?” asked Lyon. “Our heirs must carry on our work in the vineyards when we’re gone.”
The vine-covered hills at the center of the Satyr compound produced grapes, which were made into wine each season. Labeled Lords of Satyr, it was hotly sought by the wealthy and titled throughout Europe and beyond. Some whispered that Satyr wine possessed magical properties, which it in fact did.
The brothers’ trio of estates was strategically placed at triangulated points along the borders of an ancient forest, like guard towers at three corners of a fortress. At the center of each estate stood an ancient castle with extensive gardens and grounds that met and eventually mingled with the trees of the magnificent old-growth forest. The forest in turn ringed the base of the sloping hills of the vineyards, which formed the central core of their lands.
Theirs was ancient ground chosen by their ancestors for a special purpose—to serve as a sacred joining place for ElseWorld and EarthWorld. In centuries past, many Satyr had secretly dwelled here, protecting the portal that led between worlds. Now there were but three.
Raine flicked a speck of dust from his immaculate jacket, the expression in his gray eyes opaque. “Your offspring are welcome to my share. Let that settle the matter.”
“For now,” Nick relented.
Raine shrugged.
“Then it’s only left to determine which daughter we select,” said Lyon.
“Rome is most convenient for me,” said Nick. “Any objections?”
“None. I’ll take Paris,” said Raine. “Damn, I abhor traveling.”
“Traveling? To Paris? I’ll remind you I’m left with Venice,” said Lyon. “The journey there will be excruciating after the rains.”
Raine quirked an eyebrow. “It should be no hardship since you travel there to meet buyers with regularity.”
“Still, it’s a bad time to be away. Many of my animals are in foal,” said Lyon. “And the vineyards need watching.”
“We can exert enough of our combined Will to bolster the forcewall around Satyr lands for weeks,” said Raine.
“Why take unnecessary risk? It’s my opinion some of us should stay,” said Lyon.
“Agreed,” said Nick. “I will go first. Once I secure my bride, your searches can follow.”
Raine and Lyon assented, and soon thereafter, all three turned to the door.
Once outside, Nick breathed deeply. “The vines begin to awaken. I will make haste.”
Eyes of sapphire blue, ashen gray, and tawny gold locked for a potent moment and then slid apart as the three Lords of Satyr were dispatched into the late morning mist.
2
Tivoli, east of Rome